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They’ve done a whole lot of shit together in the year that they've had the arrangement, but of any of it, this is the one mostly likely to fuck him over.
It’s relatively vanilla on the surface, no ropes, no gags, no pain, no roleplay, just the two of them. That in itself is enough to have his spines rising, it’s easier when he has a mask to hide behind. But of course, it only gets worse from there, the fact that magic will be involved, that he’ll be putting himself at the whims and wants of a Goetia. He’ll be completely at Stolas’s mercy, more so than he’s ever been. There are no physical restraints to claw against, nothing that he can gnaw his way out of. His pleasure, the complete and utter control, will hang on Stolas’s words, on whether he wants to praise or punish him.
But that's not even the worst part. Stolas wants to expand on a ‘little kink’ he’d managed to stumble on. The prince had wrapped his hand around Blitzø’s tail, given it a sharp tug that made the imp arch on instinct, and when Blitzø hadn’t stifled the moan, Stolas had leant forward, beak grazing against his cheek, and in the low tone he saves for special occasions, he’d purred, “Good boy.”
Blitzø had blown his load instantly.
Honestly, it had been fucking mortifying, that Blitzø could spend hours taking Stolas apart, and all it took was a little tail pull and two words and he was folding. But it got worse. Of course it got worse. As soon as Stolas had realised, he’d been trying to trigger it every opportunity he had. Blitzø would be dicking him down, sweat pouring down his chest with how hard he was pounding against him, holding out until he heard Stolas scream on his cock alone, but then the bird would let something slip, try a different one each time. You’re so good to me Blitzy, so perfect. Look at you, my beautiful, strong man. You’re so brilliant at fucking me, take me Blitzy, the way only you can. And he fucking caved. Every. Single. Time.
It's the reason Stolas has insisted on the use of magic, and Blitzø foolishly agreed, mostly because he didn’t think he’d survive the embarrassment of coming 30 seconds into the session.
“The charm is in place,” Stolas announces, finally pulling back to rest his hands on his knees and look down at his handiwork.
“And it wears off after an hour, right?” Blitzø asks hesitantly, lightly prodding at the glowing sigil that’s plastered across his lower abdomen. It’s not one he recognises, not that he knows many sigils, just Stolas’s, and… Yeah, just Stolas’s.
“Yes, though I can dispel it sooner if it’s too much for you.”
“Doubt it,” Blitzø smirks, offering up the challenge perhaps a little too early, given that he really has no fucking clue how this whole ‘magic sex sigil’ bullshit actually works. “Just to double check the rules, this thing triggers when I’m being ‘well behaved’ or whatever the fuck that means?”
“Those are the terms we agreed upon,” Stolas confirms.
“But I’m not gonna be able to cum?”
“Not until I allow you,” Stolas clarifies, a glint of something in his eye, before again insisting, “But you must promise you’ll let me know if you need a break.”
Blitzø probably should have taken it more seriously, seen the insistence for the clear warning sign it was. But instead he just mutters, “Yeah, sure, I’ll give you a heads up.” But then he slips into a grin, turns his voice low and sultry, as he asks, “Now what’s the plan? You expecting me to fuck you for an hour? Would that be ‘well-behaved’?”
Stolas smiles, but there’s something sly, mischievous, that Blitzø doesn’t have time to question, because Stolas opens his mouth and practically whispers, “So eager to please me, you’re so thoughtful Blitzy. Such a good boy.”
The moment the praise leaves his lips, Blitzø is gifted with a sudden jolt of pleasure, like nothing he’s ever felt. Every muscle in his body tenses with the alien sensation, a strange pulse, starting in his crotch, but rushing outwards quickly, making his spines rise and skin prickle in its wake. It’s like the feeling not long before orgasm, when the tension is still building, but there’s no physical contact, no source, just the pleasure. And in the aftermath, he can almost feel the steady trickle of endorphins, making his body warm and limp, a dopey smile slipping onto his lips like a miniature version of post sex bliss, that disappears too fast for his liking.
“Does that feel good?” Stolas coos.
It takes Blitzø a moment to find his tongue, to remember how words work, and even then, he can only stutter out, “F-Fuck, it feels... Amazing.”
“Excellent, it seems to be working as intended then,” Stolas chuckles, “Now the fun really begins.”
“What do you want me to do?” Blitzø asks, sounding far too eager for his own liking, but Stolas just smiles wider, as he lounges back against the headboard and pillows, the very image of a pampered prince.
"I think you're underdressed; would you like to put on the outfit I picked out for you," he posits as a suggestion, hand gesturing lazily towards the little bundle of fabric on the loveseat. Blitzø is being conditioned, he can already tell, but after learning what his reward will be, he's not exactly going to deny himself the pleasure.
Regardless, he brings back a little bit of the bratty attitude he's been trying to maintain, whips his tail as he walks across the room to pull on the 'outfit' Stolas picked out. It consists of two incredibly stingy items. First of all a belt, attached to garters that cling to his thighs, all of it soft dark red lace with hanging threads of black beads that do nothing to provide any sort of modesty, essentially framing his pussy for the prince's viewing pleasure. The second item matches perfectly, a burgundy lace, the same dark beads dripping from it like blood, in little loops all the way around his throat, except the most prominent ropes, two long strings with little clasps that he hooks into the metal piercings that adorn each of his nipples. He'd picked these ones out especially, knowing the little hoops would be perfect, but he'll never tell Stolas that.
Somehow, he feels even more naked than he did a moment ago, the prince's eyes raking over him slowly, hungrily, teasing his bottom lip with his beak. The silence feels heavy until Stolas breaths, "There's my good boy."
It hits again, before the sentence is even over. Trying not to buckle under the sudden feeling, Blitzø’s legs shake as muscles tense, hooves unsteady, but he manages to stay upright. Even if when the feeling flows away, he is left panting, forced to hunch over and place his hands against his knees to catch his breath.
When finally his breathing has evened out enough to manage walking, he struts towards the bed as if nothing happened, putting on a show, trying to roleplay defiance, even as he starts to crawl onto the sheets, to close the distance. Until Stolas raises a hand, and he stills as if there was magic forcing him to stop his advancement, but the only magic he feels is the sudden jolt of pleasure, the blossoming warmth that makes his body clench around the sensation, that brings him a step closer to something. But as he's released from its grip, as the heady pleasure slips away, even the fleeting happiness it brings with it, he's left feeling empty, craving it. The thought slips in, the start of the end. If he wants more, he needs to be a good boy. Stolas’s good boy.
"Did that feel nice," Stolas asks, still lounging casually, as his hungry gaze rakes over Blitzø.
“You- You didn’t even say anything that time,” Blitzø huffs, finding his breath a little harder to catch than he'd expected.
“I didn’t need to," Stolas explains, "You did exactly as told, you were very well behaved. Now, let me see you.”
Blitzø follows the command faster than he feels necessary. He’s supposed to be playing hard to get, supposed to be keeping up the facade. But he folds, like he always fucking folds under Stolas's words.
With his tail swishing in anticipation, he sits back on his hooves, leaning back to press his palms flat against the bed, to push out his chest and give full view of his torso, of the metal studs adorning each of his nipples, the slim beaded ropes dangling from each, the defined muscles under his patchwork skin, lean but strong. But most importantly of all, his knees press into the sheets and spread wide to give an unfiltered view of his slit, of the slight arousal peeking out, and he waits on the words, but all Stolas does is smile, and it crashes into him.
Hands press harder against the mattress as he involuntarily arches into the feeling, pushing out the sigil that glows on his abdomen as the sensation strikes him and then starts to course outwards. The same breath stealing pleasure radiates from his centre, then the gentle tingling that permeates everything, making him feel light and floaty for a moment, as if he were in freefall, caught by the safety net of the pleasant itch in the back of his brain, the something that feels like happiness.
"You look exquisite. Touch yourself for me," Stolas commands, and Blitzø's hands immediately fall between his thighs, the mere brush of his fingers against his soft lips makes his entire body shudder with desire. Despite the spikes of pleasure he's barely even wet, and wonders if that's the sigil’s fault, if it's trying to make certain he doesn't cum, but his brain stalls as Stolas declares, "Not there."
The feeling doesn't ebb, as Blitzø had expected, instead, as he pulls his fingers away sharply, he's greeted by a second wave, piling onto the first and making his dick throb inside him with sudden overlapping spikes of gratification.
His fingers shake, as he trails them over his own body, the sensation still holding, coming to him in waves that make him want to relinquish his hold. Each jolt is building on the last as his unsteady fingers travel over the dips and hills of his abs, before rising to his chest, to his pecs, slipping over his nipple, which he pinches between his fingers, and receives a low, "There. My perfect, beautiful boy, so good for me."
Fuck, the cadence of the words alone, the tenderness behind them.
It's too much. He's going to... He needs to...
He yanks his hand away, gasping through the feeling that was close to orgasmic, it felt strange without the build-up and tension, no physical sensation, just immediate pleasure. As it dissipates, he's left with the happy buzz that's much slower to recede but can barely catch his breath. It feels like edging, like pushing himself close to the precipice and pulling back at the last possible moment. But he can't cum, even he wants to.
"Fuck. It-… it just kept going," Blitzø pants, trying hard to come down, but it feels like each pulse has been stronger than the one before it, and he doesn't know how much more if it he'll be able to take.
"Well you were being so well behaved, that was the deal," Stolas chuckles and Blitzø hadn't noticed the prince move, until a slender finger wraps around the chain between his throat and chest, pulling him closer, and Blitzø crawls. The gentle tug against his nipples makes his breath quicken, until it finally lets up, only when he’s sat in Stolas’s lap. "You know what to say if it's too much."
Swallowing away the apprehension, Blitzø settles against Stolas’s thighs, and is reminded just how small he is to the Goetia, as he has to crane his neck to look up at the smile on the owl's beak. Because Stolas, eternal asshole that he is, hasn't just picked up on the praise thing, oh no, that would be too easy. No, he's picked up on the size thing too, realised that Blitzø is very receptive to being in his lap, that his breath flutters a little when Stolas manages to wrap a hand around his scrawny little waist. But is it any fucking surprise he has a kink for being the little guy? He's almost always the little guy! Just makes sense to capitalise on it, ham it up when he's topping, and when he isn't... Well, sometimes a guy just wants to be manhandled, sue him for having a good time.
Frankly, it’s a fucking miracle that Blitzø is in control most of the time, an imp calling the shots in a royal’s bedroom. So used to it that the way Stolas leers at him now makes his breath hitch, makes him want to be small, makes him want to hand over complete control, makes him want to be a good boy.
Suddenly Stolas is touching him, caressing him slowly, gently, making his still tingling skin shudder under the touch, as the prince decrees, "I think that my handsome little imp should let me touch him."
Immediately the skin under Stolas's gentle touch lights up. Talons trail agonisingly slow over his skin, making his body shiver in desperate unfulfilled want. Gliding over his thighs, he feels the slick start to gather, the gentle throbbing, begging, but the hands travel upwards, appreciating the soft lace on the way. They still a moment at the little bump under the sigil, the bulge where his cock is still nestled inside him. One single stroke pressed down hard enough that he can feel some of the fire in his dick, enough to make his breath shudder, but not enough to satisfy the building need.
Hands that usually feel so small in his own, splay against his torso, spreading the feeling wide, before sliding tenderly over his skin to capture his nipples, to take them gently between finger and thumb, making him press into the electric feeling.
But they slip away so quickly, arms wrapping around him, and he's lifted so easily onto his knees, like he weighs nothing. One strong hand rests against the arch of his back, the other slipping between his spines, making them splay out and twitch. They mould his limp quaking body with ease, bringing his chest to the beak waiting to devour him and he goes willingly. As a tongue reaches out to taste him, hot and wet, he's forced to reach out, to wrap his arms around Stolas's shoulders. Whether to steady himself or draw the feeling closer, he doesn't know, it's instinct. The pleasure sparks again as the tongue runs over his chest, catches on his nipple and stays there, teasing, with gentle flicks playing with the metal stud there, making him moan. He can’t contain the shiver as breath catches the wet trail, sending a chill that makes him twitch.
His whole body is alight with the feeling, whether he tries to pull forward or pushback to escape it, he finds no release, but he isn’t trying to escape, not really. It all just feels like it’s too much, like he’s careening towards the edge, even as an invisible force pulls him backwards. He's going to come, he has to come, because it's reaching a peak, it's becoming too much, and all of his muscles tense, clenching in preparation. Preparing for something that never arrives. His cock is still mostly sheathed, his cunt dripping but completely unused. The throbbing continues though, and Stolas's hands are trailing lower. Slender fingers glide over his lips, smearing slick, and trailing soft and gentle. Breaths are starting to sound more like whimpers with every single one.
“You’re being such a good boy for me, let me hear those sweet little noises,” Stolas coos, and now it's building with every fucking breath.
He can only pant and moan, heightening the feeling as Stolas’s fingers dance around his slit, and gently they draw out his dick, making him writhe under the tender touch. It’s too much, feeling himself grow hard under Stolas’s commands, his mind is begging to be released, in whatever way he’s allowed, but he can’t pull away. He needs the feeling, just as much as he needs it to end.
"Look at your big, beautiful cock," Stolas sighs, more reverence than command, but Blitz's forehead lolls against Stolas's chest as his eyes slip down to his aching dick, the precum desperately beading at the tip. At the same time his head hits the feathers of Stolas's chest, the feeling igniting in his skull, and the moan that's punched out of him only doubles the feeling, climbing so hard it makes the edges of his vision start to distort.
It's a pathetic whimper that slips out of him, something that sounds vaguely like, "Stolas."
"You're so strong, so handsome, my precious little imp. You look divine like this, begging for my fingers, lost in pleasure."
He can feel as his eyes start to glaze over, as his mouth hangs open and everything else starts to slip away, nothing left but the pounding incessant pleasure and the feel of soft feathers against his face, each one a pinprick of light in his rapidly fading vision.
"Need," he whines, and even that feels like too much. He can't, can't go any higher, can't feel any more, his entire body is white hot pleasure. "Please."
"You've done incredibly well, so polite, so obedient, so strong. But do you know what would make me so proud darling,” Stolas asks sweetly, tips of his fingers slipping into Blitzø, slick dripping down the velvet feathers and making his cunt throb with magic, “If you come when I tell you to, will you do that for me darling?"
His head feels heavy as he pulls it up, like it lolls as he nods vigorously, begging for it in the only way he can, words too difficult, the soft down brushing against his face.
The hand that rests against his pussy stokes the fires until he is seeing stars amidst the void of his vision, and he cries as he feels a hand around the base of his tail, a strong, steady tug that makes him moan and arch, tears gathering at the edges of his tight lids. Then hears the breathy words, "Then be my good boy and come for me."
It rips out of him, painting feathers white as he cries and drives down against the fingers that have barely touched him, bucks into them desperately to draw out the pinpricks of pleasure that light up under his skin. The tingling under his skin eventually washes away, and rushes to his head, makes him feel drunk with the sensation, and even as the orgasm peters out, the residual rush is enough to pull an uncertain, giddy laugh from him, as he slumps forward and pushes his face back into the feathers, nuzzles them, as Stolas's arms wrap around him, to stop him from toppling over completely.
“Was that good?” Stolas hums quietly, gently trailing the tips of his talons down Blitzø’s spine, enough to make him shiver.
"Yeah, was alright," Blitzø mumbles into the feathers and Stolas laughs, already knows that it was better than ‘alright’. Somewhat uncertainly he asks, “You- uh, you need me to…?”
“No, this isn’t about me. You're always so good to me Blitzø, so attentive and strong and selfless, I thoroughly enjoy returning the favour," Stolas purrs, and the pleasant warmth swells in his gut, a rush of endorphins.
"Could you turn off the spell? I can’t take anymore right now.”
Stolas chuckles before he coos, “It’s already gone darling. Why, do my words still feel good?”
“Fuck you,” Blitzø grumbles into the feathers, hiding the blush coating his cheeks, even if it feels hot enough that he worries Stolas can feel it through the feathers.
With the wave of a long slender hand, the clock on the bedside table flashes to life and Stolas announces, “You lasted almost 15 minutes, longer than I expected.”
“Oh, absolutely fuck you,” Blitzø growls this time, “You said you set it for an hour.”
“I hardly expected you to last that long, but I couldn’t exactly have it coming undone before we’d had our fun now, could I?”
Blitzø scowls a moment, before he announces, “Then let’s go again.”
“You’ve barely recovered,” Stolas argues, "If memory serves me right it'll be at least another 10 minutes before you're able to get hard again."
“Better make sure I last longer than last time if you want to make me come then, huh?” he quips, and the mischief springs back into Stolas’s smile, the kind that means he’s got ideas brewing. Blitzø’s nerves from earlier in the evening dissipate with the tingle still itching the back of his mind, and maybe he’ll regret the vulnerability later, but in the moment, it feels good, it feels like nothing else matters. It’s perfect.
It’s too perfect.
Perfect enough that even the thing they have doesn’t matter, the book that keeps them together, how everything could crumble, and he’d have no control, no way to stop it. But it won’t matter. He doesn't matter.
Stolas pulls him close, a soft smile on his beak, a gentleness that makes Blitzø’s chest ache, but he pushes down the voices and smiles back, presses into the sloppy kiss waiting for him.
It will end sooner rather than later, but it doesn't matter.
He tells himself it doesn't matter.