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Stolas, for all the magic he handled and wielded, was not immune to fucking up.
Truthfully, he’d done so a lot - but his mishaps were trivial and were for the most part, easily corrected.
This one… not so much.
“Blitzø, darling, there really is a simpler solution, sweetheart.”
“Fuck off!” Came the immediate outburst, a pillow hitting the owl in the face as he stood there, watching as his very agitated Imp glared at him from the mound of robes and other soft garments that had been purloined from the Prince’s wardrobe. “You never said it would be like this!”
Truthfully, that was because Stolas hadn’t known it would be like this.
“Following your dumb fucking book-ideas and fucking me up- I was supposed to be the fucking Alpha!”
Truthfully, Stolas had wanted Blitzø to be the lead in this fiction-born dynamic, too. He’d admittedly ran before he could walk, posing the idea to his fairly recent boyfriend because the smut written within the pages of Stolas’ novels of this particular, fascinating genre, had swept him away in a multitude of fantasies.
So why not have some fun and bring it to life between himself and the demon he loved ever so much?
Well, it was a creative idea, and Blitzø had been more than enthusiastic even though he was a little critical of the whole genre himself.
Stolas had just executed it poorly, and thus his tetchy and definitely disappointed boyfriend was trapped in an unexpected heat-cycle that demanded he surround himself with Stolas’ scent despite the owl being the last demon that Blitzø wanted to see.
“I am sorry, darling. I genuinely didn’t know it was a random assigning between us,” Stolas attempted to soothe, holding the pillow to his chest before offering it back to the Imp who snatched it with a growl.
It was terrible, really, that Blitzø was so enticing when riled up as he was. His small frame was swallowed up in one of Stolas’ large t-shirts, the presence of so much as boxer shorts proving too much for the Imp to bear. His mismatched cheeks were dusted a heavy rouge, his mannerisms were bordering on wild and his scarlet hues were glassy, pupils dilated despite all his ire.
He was so fucking cute, and Stolas honestly wanted to gobble him up.
The way Blitzø hissed and spat at him like a pissy animal was deterrent enough, however. Stolas may have four eyes, but he wasn’t willing to lose any of them in a bid to snuggle.
“What do you need from-”
“Just get the fuck out!” Blitzø yelled, spines jutting out as he once again threw the pillow. Stolas caught it and set it down gently, not wanting to push.
“Alright then, my love. Please rest, we don’t know exactly what this will entail, after all.”
He didn’t get an answer, and the Prince exhaled softly as he exited his bedroom.
Blitzø was unbelievably adorable when feral.
What ‘this’ ended up entailing, was Blitzø all but crying for him not even twenty minutes later.
Stolas had - of course - been close by, well aware of what the fiction-based biology would likely result in given the nesting behaviour. It wasn’t one-hundred percent the same, it was a set rule that nothing could be so perfectly translated from fiction to reality, but it was close enough that he knew better than to be out of ear-shot.
It was a good job he was near, because Blitzø would never have made it out of the bedroom without hurting himself.
“I’m sorry, I was just mad!”
“It’s quite alright,” Stolas assured, a little taken aback by the flood of tears and clingy claws. He settled his lover back into the circle of clothes, trying not to think of the amount of laundry he was going to be subjected to.
Or rather, his servants, would be subjected to.
Stolas sighed as he was snuggled into, Blitzø’s tail curling around his waist as the Imp tucked himself up completely, wanting to be surrounded in the feathers he loved more than anything currently in contact with his sensitive skin.
Stolas blinked, not expecting the way his clothes were pulled at, his boyfriend whimpering with a need that couldn’t be voiced.
Stolas, at least, understood it.
“Let me get undressed, darling,” Stolas whispered, peeling himself from the admittedly bordering-on-feverish Imp in order to rid himself of his loose shirt and slacks. He moved to drop them onto the floor when Blitzø snatched them up at a terrifying speed, shoving them into random spots of the nest that would take hours to address once all this was over with.
Stolas hooted softly, pulling off the damp t-shirt that Blitzø wore and feeling himself excite at the blatant arousal that flushed across his lover’s frame.
Blitzø was clearly aware of it because he sniffled self-consciously, pressing closer with a contrite demeanour. “I’m sorry.”
“You do not need to be,” Stolas assured him, cupping mismatched cheeks and nuzzling the Imp who whirred in response. “You’re ever so warm.”
“I’m aching real bad,” Blitzø complained, scrunching his eyes shut as he rolled over onto all fours. “My ass is real wet.”
Stolas felt his face redden at his lover’s complete disregard for how lewd he was being, and the fact that he wasn’t entirely sure how to proceed only made it worse.
“Stolas, please,” Blitzø begged, arching his back and raising his hips. “I feel really fucking empty. I hate it.”
May the Seven Rings Collapse in his name, Stolas was near-rooted to the spot, heart fluttering wildly as he just stared. The longer he remained in place, the more depraved Blitzø seemed to get, going as far as to smush his face into a random fleece robe and rock his hips against nothing.
The sight of that was what did it, and the Prince heaved in a stuttering breath, lowering a hand to his Cloaca. He was unsure if the spell had done anything in regard to himself, because he had not been affected in any notable way.
Still, he was going to have to do something, because Blitzø was in need of very particular attention - a type that under normal, natural circumstances, Stolas would not need nor be asked, to provide. Reciting the spell again was risky, though the Prince was no amateur. He had an idea of how it now worked and he furrowed his eyebrows in slight discomfort as his body adjusted, taking on the incantation and warping the reality that existed throughout Stolas’ feathered frame.
He clicked his beak at the unfamiliar weight that settled between his thighs, blinking through the haze of magical residue as the sweetened scent of sun-kissed cherry wood and ylang ylang swarmed his senses.
Right.
That was a thing.
Stolas bit back the immediate want that pushed at him, knowing that he needed to exercise self-control more than ever. He was aware of how tense he felt, how sharp his beak truly was, how easily he could do harm if he let himself slip.
A nudge at his unfamiliar length snapped him from his inner conflict and he dipped his chin, Blitzø having shyly flicked his forked tongue over Stolas’ sensitive flesh in a silent, timid attempt to ask for what he so desperately yearned for. Stolas’ stomach flipped and he tentatively reached out, brushing the pads of his thumbs over Blitzø’s eyelids, savouring the feel of fine lashes dampened with moisture from unshed tears.
Blitzø whirred, pushing into the contact and Stolas clenched his jaw as his neck and chest were snuffled, his lover inhaling deeply with a needy whine.
This, might be the best-worst moment of his fucking life.
After many prior best-worst moments he’d had to endure, but having to be careful right now was hellishly close.
“Stolas, fuck me.”
Said demon tore himself from his thoughts only to blink widely, his boyfriend’s behind all but shoving into his face. He leant back with a surprised chirp, hands quickly grasping those wriggling hips and guiding Blitzø into a more practical position.
The heady aroma of Blitzø’s aroused state mixed with the Imp’s natural scent, was enough to make Stolas dizzy, and he nuzzled into his lover’s nape, reaching between them to deftly check that Blitzø was as wet and prepared as he boasted- because it was absolutely a boast, make no mistake about it.
“No-o, I want your dick!”
“I’m going to give you my dick, be patient,” Stolas murmured, ignoring the petulant whine of protest that Blitzø emitted in response to being pushed into with only two digits.
“I want your cock, why won’t you give me your cock? You fucking have one, you didn’t fucking get it as an accessory. Wear me as your accessory, fucking dammit, Stolas, just give me-”
Stolas clicked his beak, silencing the rather ridiculous rant with a light nip.
“Be, patient.”
He got a huff for that, a whiny grumble resonating from Blitzø’s chest as he hugged the robe-wrapped pillow under him. “I don’t wanna be fucking patient. I shouldn’t have to be fucking patient, this is all your fault anyway. I just wanna be fucked, stupid Alpha Owl.”
Oh Stolas was going to fuck the attitude out him.
Inhaling a short breath, the Prince procured a bottle of lube, thankful that Blitzø’s neediness was more arousing than his constant complaining was irksome.
“Why are you bothering with lube? I’m fucking soaked!”
“Because I wish to,” Stolas muttered, gliding a palm up and down himself before placing a hand to Blitzø’s lower back. He took a steady breath, watching as their bodies inched together, savouring the feel of slickened walls, hot and tight, pulling him in. Blitzø keened immediately, pushing back until they were blissfully locked together and Stolas’ heart skipped several beats as he caught onto just how gone his lover had been.
The sight of Blitzø trembling uncontrollably, the feel of him clenching around Stolas’ length and the way he cried out was all proof enough, but the unmistakable spurts of liquid bliss that hit the sheets under them were what had Stolas struggling with his resolve.
He tutted fondly, easing himself back before thrusting forward, aware that Blitzø hadn’t even recovered from the high of his own climax. The corner of the robe that Blitzø had been obsessively clinging to was tugged closer and Stolas clicked his beak, feeling a rise in jealousy over the way Blitzø wasn’t clinging to him.
“Focus on me,” he chided, pulling out entirely and rolling Blitzø over. The owl was met with a flurry of pleasured tears, intoxicated scarlet hues and heavily flushed cheeks.
Blitzø was a stunningly beautiful display that could never be described adequately enough in any book, story, or written passage.
“You will forever take my breath away,” Stolas whispered, sliding his arms under his lover’s knees.
Blitzø whined as he was folded over, and he reached out blindly as Stolas returned to him once more, the immediate reprieve of being filled causing him to shake uncontrollably.
The Prince rolled his hips forward with a quiet grunt, pausing to watch his boyfriend come undone almost immediately.
“Oh Blitzø,” he breathed, blinking down at his Imp’s euphoric expression. Stolas rocked forward, his own need blotting out everything else and he cupped the back of Blitzø’s head as he kissed him, revelling in the heat of his lover’s body.
Blitzø mewled wantonly, gasping again as his body spasmed with pleasure. The Prince reached down between them, pumping Blitzø’s excitement until he gave way to another wave of liquid bliss, his voice muffled by the robe that he was holding tightly to his cheek, a clingy and needy mess of everything Stolas was utterly besotted with.
“Oh I could eat you entirely,” Stolas hissed, leaning down to lap at those parted lips, driving himself forward with a burning desire to fill the Imp he was so wholly in love with.
This time, Blitzø arched off the bed, and Stolas wrapped his arms around him, burying his face in a glistening chest as he puffed out several breaths, thrusting into the velveteen heat tightening around him. He hit his climax with a low note, the pleasurable static skittering down his thighs and abdomen as he shoved himself forward, sheathing himself as deeply as possible.
Blitzø’s released a shattered moan, clutching at florentine tufts as he clung to the Prince with a shudder, relishing in the sensation of being filled. He whirred softly as his body began to relax, the tension finally ebbing away and leaving him with a sticky sense of rapture that he was content to wallow in.
Stolas slowly inhaled, the dizzying pleasure having knocked him for six as he realised a little too late how he had swelled at the base of his shaft, locking himself and Blitzø together in a most delightfully intimate way.
He shifted onto his side, careful not to jostle his lover who was already purring up a storm and trying to nuzzle him.
Stolas hooted, situating Blitzø into a cuddle. not at all willing to address the fact that Blitzø was still holding onto the corner of the robe that would need at least two washes.
“Love you, love you,” Blitzø was whispering incoherently, grooming Stolas’ cheek as he lay them atop the quilt, leaving them deeply connected as they spooned comfortably.
“I love you, too, Blitzø. I love you ever so much,” he uttered sincerely, peppering Blitzø’s face with kisses and nuzzles. He rocked their bodies together gently, watching as that feverish flush to his boyfriend’s face lessened considerably.
It wouldn’t leave entirely, however.
If Stolas knew anything from the books he’d been sticking his head into, he had a very long night ahead - which wasn’t at all a problem as a one off experience.
Still, something told him that some genres were best left within the pages.