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“A catsuit isn’t always a cat suit, darling.”
“Yes it fucking is, that’s why it’s called a fucking cat suit!”
“Are you saying you know better than I?”
Whoops.
“You really aren’t built to be obedient, are you.”
Blitzø didn’t dare reply, already at the mercy of the Prince who was smiling coyly at him, obsidian hands still wandering down the insides of Blitzø’s thighs.
Blitzø had slugged through one fucking heck of a day, but despite the crappy meddling he’d gotten dealing with that suicidal old wrinkle, he had been in a good mood. The high of defeating those poxy Cherubs, of not fucking shit up with Loopty, and of seamlessly arranging to have the office fixed up, had left him in perhaps too much of a good mood.
Which was why he’d agreed to let Stolas take the lead, so to speak.
Or rather, literally.
Truth be told, Blitzø liked the leather that Stolas was wrapped within, and the Imp had admittedly found himself growing somewhat shy in the face of Stolas’ confidence.
Stolas… really was handsome, especially when he was being suave and commanding.
Especially when he looked at Blitzø like that.
“Daydreaming, are we?”
Blitzø averted his gaze, already out of his comfort zone for this month’s rendezvous with the Prince of the Ars Goetia who he was rather intimately tied up with- in more ways than he’d like to admit.
“Hm? Seems you need a little more obedience training,” Stolas purled, petting the back of Blitzø’s head which was no longer swathed in faux fur.
“Such a pretty physique,” Stolas praised, sweeping a hand between plump cheeks and causing Blitzø to shudder. He whirred in light surprise, tucking his limbs under himself as he moaned softly. The position clearly pleased the Prince who kissed down Blitzø’s spine before ushering him to lift his hips, which he did because Stolas had asked him to, and Blitzø…
Well…
“Good Kitten.”
That.
Blitzø hissed through his teeth as a wet warmth pressed to his backside, and he gasped at the slick firmness that slipped within him, scrunching his eyes shut at the way his lower stomach flipped. “Fuck, Stolas-”
“Quiet, Kitten.”
Damn it. He was putty in the Prince’s hands and he whined as the pad of thumb brushed up and down just below where Stolas was lapping. The way the owl curled his tongue within, the way he fondled and caressed- it had Blitzø all but melting into the sheets, puffing out short breaths as his body was teased and manipulated in ways he would never let anyone else do so.
“Mm… you sound so pretty, Kitten,” Stolas cooed, kissing Blitzø’s flushed skin before replacing his tongue with two talons.
Blitzø jolted at the intrusion, cheek smushed to the pillow as he felt the knowing digits flex within him in a practiced rhythm, breaking any resolve he’d had to keep as quiet as possible out of sheer spite. He curled his claws into the bedding, tail coiling around Stolas’ arm as the owl teased the very tip of him but didn’t go as far as to offer any attention to the beading shaft nestled between unsteady thighs.
“Stolas, please-”
“Hush, Kitten. I did not give you permission to speak.”
Fucking Hell.
Fucking in Hell, to be exact.
“You’re lucky your outfit was so cute, otherwise I would not reward you at all,” Stolas continued with an aloof lilt to his voice, too calm, too controlled, too fucking sexy.
Blitzø clenched his teeth as he arched his back, unable to keep himself from moaning outright as he twisted awkwardly, a large palm wrapped around his throat but not applying any pressure. He felt a thumb press to his lips and Blitzø responded automatically, suckling on it with a whine as his he felt himself flush with a heady heat.
“I do love how desperate you look when you’re close,” Stolas uttered reverently, undeniably affectionate as Blitzø’s chest heaved, heart starting to flutter as the tension within began to pull unbearably taught. Blitzø tipped his head back, soaking up the way his neck was licked and nipped the closer he crept to the edge.
“That’s it, Kitten. Be good for me. Be good for your Prince.”
Blitzø’s heart skipped a beat and he felt his stomach flip, the words sending an array of unexpected emotions through him. The mere suggestion that Stolas was his in any way, shape, or form had Blitzø keening pathetically as he unravelled, those sinful talons massaging just right as Blitzø tumbled over the precipice of liquid bliss.
He mewled as Stolas kissed him through it, spooning him close. Blitzø squeaked as he was suddenly grasped, slickened talons curling around his shaft and pumping firmly without warning. The immediate sensation that bubbled up had him squirming, clutching at florentine feathers as more was demanded of him than he could give.
Words failed him as he writhed, nonsense flittering past glistening lips as Blitzø found himself helpless in his lover’s hold.
“I can’t- I can’t-”
“Oh yes you can, Kitten,” Stolas purled, dusting hickeys up Blitzø’s neck whilst the Imp whimpered and whined.
The saccharine flush that had been so very delicious just moments prior now bubbled with a pleasurable burn, and Blitzø felt his cheeks dampen as his frame quaked, his body already having given all that it could. He grit his teeth, arching away from the leather behind him and hitching his hips into the palm that worked him despite the unbearable stimulation it offered.
Blitzø choked on a moan as he came without any form of lead up, an almost ache blooming across his abdomen as he found himself sinking back against the Prince who cooed in delight.
Blitzø barely registered the way he was kissed, unsure how or why he’d allowed Stolas to reduce him to such a state when no-one else could.
“Good Kitten.”
Ah.
That’s why.