Archive of Our Own

Blitzø has never been much into roleplay. Shocker, he knows. He prefers to keep things real.

It kinda helps with his line of work, you see. You don't get down to fuck some succubus bitch in the back alley of a rundown club and don't expect that at any point the asshole mobsters you've conveniently forgotten to pay back your debt to might show up and try to kill you - or the pussy you were in just a second ago. Collateral damage sure sucks, but. Hey. She went out with a-

Okay, he's not going to go there. Again. His therapist thought the joke was 'gross' or whatever. The exact words were 'severely lacking in empathy and capability of processing emotional trauma', but it's not like Blitzø could understand that shit and it probably was just some posh way of saying 'gross'.

Anyway, Blitzø's had his fair share of experiences in realism, and he knows who he is - which is the best dad and the best boss in all of hell - so why would he ever need to pretend to be someone else?

This is why it shouldn't come as a surprise when Stolas suggests a roleplay on their first ever Full Moon - technically their third 'date', Stolas had called it, but- fuck him. It's literally just a job and Blitzø is doing what they agreed to so he can keep on making a living and not have his daughter die from starvation. But he guesses it's true in the sense that they've fucked twice before, so. Whatever.

Stolas is... he's weird, okay. That's the very first thing Blitzø thought when he met the bird, decades ago. Weird, lame, stuck-up. It's still mostly true, even after all these years. He's exactly what Blitzø's deadbeat of a so-called father always told him royals were like. Probably the only thing Cash ever was right about in his pissy little excuse of a life. Well, that and how being an imp in hell was always going to be a bitch, but it's not like Blitzø can give him credit for something so obvious, and he isn't going to.

What Blitzø's trying to say is that of course someone like Stolas wants to do a roleplay. Just look at him: royal bird puss - cloaca, he knows, he knows, shut up - stuck in his sad, privileged life with his hoarde of imp butlers at his feet - talons, Christ on a stick, bird demons are fucking complicated - and his rainbow starlight magic powers, in his three-storied probably fifteen hundred-whatever square foot palace with his fucking immortality - he's literally got nothing to fear. Nothing to loose. Nothing to want for.

Hell. Stolas' father used to literally pay for company. So there.

Of course someone like Stolas expects that he'll get everything he can ask for, try out everything he ever wants to try, and whenever he wants it too - including living out his ridiculous and over the top fantasies. As if getting fucked by a lowly imp isn't already a fantasy for him in and of itself, but maybe that isn't enough anymore. Figures.

Unlike everyone else, like Blitzø for example, literal peasant that he is to Stolas and his ilk, who has to actually live in the real world with real problems that don't piss off with the wave of a hand, whether from magic or because your servants take care of them doesn't even matter.

"Roleplay," Blitzø repeats, voice carefully indifferent. He's... wary of Stolas' suggestion, to say the least. Sure, he knows he's got a job to do here, and he should probably be going along with what Stolas wants, but get off his dick and cut him some slack. Blitzø swears, if the bird thinks he can pretend to be a king of some sort while Blitzø is his personal 'court clown/whore-he-fucks-in-secret-and-gets-to-degrade-at-every-turn', he's going to fucking-

"I was thinking... maybe you could be a... pirate?" Stolas is looking at him with what even Blitzø can only call a hopeful expression.

Huh.

Okay.

Blitzø's listening.

"A pirate?" he says, raising an eyebrow. Not quite what Blitzø expected, but definitely better than - he grimaces - court jester. And he does like pirates, to be honest. Only problem is it's kinda hard to keep a horse on a ship, not that he hasn't thought about it before. He's got a few ideas on that matter and he's pretty sure he can fucking make it happen if he wants to, just you fucking watch Moxxie.

Stolas fidgets a little before he continues, "And... I thought- that is, only if you want- I could be your... captive?"

"Like a hostage?" Blitzø asks, and that- oh. Yeah. He's starting to see the vision here. Maybe Stolas is a little less of a pompous ass than he thought.

Instead of answering, Stolas nods enthusiastically. Blitzø swears he hears a groan coming out of that wicked little beak. Interesting.

Weird, lame, stuck-up, horny - he definitely has to add that onto the small pile of words to describe this royal bitch with. Blitzø's sure met his fair share of horny hellborn before - he literally used to date a succubus, thank you very fucking much, and that not-relationship totally didn't go up in flames, and if it did, it sure as shit wasn't Blitzø's fault you whiny, lame-ass, dick-sucking hoe, so shut the fuck up - and Blitzø isn't a stranger to being somewhat perpetually horny himself. But he's slowly starting to come to the conclusion that Stolas might actually be... something else.

Though pirates is still mostly vanilla, he'd say. But he can't help but wonder what Stolas' sex life must've been like before. Did he use to do that shit with his wife or is it a new obsession?

Granted, Stolas did tell Blitzø that he hasn't had 'relations' in so many years. For the record, Blitzø hadn't even asked. Didn't really care either. What's it to him if Stolas has fucked his way through hell - like Blitzø did- does? - or not. He's only been maybe wondering out of morbid curiosity or something.

Despite that, Blitzø has gotta admit the sex between them so far was... fine.

Okay, okay, it was great.

Fuck off.

Sue him.

It was fucking awesome, both times.

Thing is, Blitzø's had pussy before, and he's had dick before, and technically he's had all kinds of holes before, but cloaca? Yeah, that was something new. Holy shit, that was something new. If he'd had to rate it, he'd give it at least a 9.5. 10, if you don't count the fact that it belongs to some royal dickhead who believes himself above everyone else like all royals obviously do. Great things are never free and always come with drawbacks, Blitzø guesses, so it's only fair.

Anyway, he's getting off track here. And hard. Shit.

Blitzø thinks Stolas must either be a fucking liar about not having had much experience before or it's got something to do with... dunno, bird anatomy or whatever. Like, maybe it's made for dick or something? Yeah, that's probably it. That's why he's so unsatisfied with his wife, probably. No way did Stolas fuck his way through hell anyway, and even if he did, he's not gonna want anyone else after Blitzø, simple as that.

Blitzø decides to go along with Stolas' suggestion. He can't help a small smile from sneaking onto his face when he asks, "And I'd, what, kidnap you from your royal tower, princey, in the middle of the night so I can bring you back to my ship?"

And have my way with you, he doesn't say, but that's obviously what Stolas is going for. So predictable, after all.

Stolas hoots. Fuck, it's not cute. Fuck off. "I mean, I could- I don't have to be a pri- I could be whatever you want."

Whatever Blitzø wants, huh? Yeah, that's right. He's calling the shots here. Good little birdie; Stolas maybe isn't as unaware as he looks.

Blitzø would have to lie if he said that he isn't starting to enjoy this. Not like someone's going to come crashing in through the window and ruin Blitzø's day by trying to kill him, which kinda also helps. He might as well indulge himself, as well as Stolas.

Stolas, Stolas, Stolas, Blitzø thinks to himself. His smile goes from shit-eating to You-don't-know-what-you're-getting-yourself-into-birdie. Advancing slowly, unable to keep his tail from holding still, he's very aware of the growing tightness in his pants. Stolas takes a few steps back accordingly, until he hits the bed and has nowhere else to go.

Just look at him, pretending to be afraid, but he's still rubbing his thighs together so desperately - and those fucking long-ass legs, Blitzø swears, one day he needs to just fuck those and nothing else, maybe leave Stolas gagging for it while Blitzø selfishly gets himself off between them - and he's trying so, so hard not to be too obvious about it too. As if Blitzø couldn't already tell that Stolas is dripping with it.

When he's close enough to pounce, well.

That's exactly what Blitzø does.

xxx

Stolas is a light sleeper.

That's not why he's lying awake in his bed in the middle of the night, though. There's a storm raging outside, sure, but his mind is entirely occupied with one thing and one thing only: his upcoming marriage.

It's set to take place tomorrow, at noon, no less than thirteen hours from now. And Stolas, well.

He has thought of running away.

He's not ashamed to admit it. There's really no point in lying about it anymore, is there? Even if only to himself- although he's quite sure his servants at least must've suspected that something is off. Maybe that's why they made sure to lock him in his room tonight. Or, rather more likely, it was by order of Stolas' father.

In any case, this isn't simple pre-ceremonial jitters. Stolas has no fear of commitment, not at all - he was looking forward to marriage someday. Up to a certain point, that is. He'd been mapping out his life for years and years, imagining what it would be like, how wonderful it could be.

There's two very big problems, though. Two simple facts that prevent him from ever having any chance at happiness.

One, he's very, very gay. So very gay. That's something he's become increasingly aware of while fingering himself to completion and thinking of big, fat, large cocks driving into his core relentlessly.

And two, quite worst of all: he's forced into marriage with a literal fucking harpy.

No, Stolas is not going to take that back. Fuck you. And fuck anyone who tries to convince him of the contrary, but especially his father.

The woman he's set to marry is a disgrace to all womankind, or any person with an ounce of decency in general for that matter, and Stolas will stand by his opinion. He will take that sentiment to his fucking grave.

Which might actually come soon enough.

In thirteen hours or less.

It's no use, really. There's no way out, he knows. It's too late.

At noon he's going to be forced into the worst mistake of his whole life - and he's absolutely helpless to do anything about it. Unless he wants to jump out of the window, maybe. Alas, seven storeys high and his wings will never hold him up in this storm. He will plummet to his death like Icarus when he flew too close to the sun- but maybe that's the best Stolas can hope for at this point.

If he doesn't kill himself, he will have to get up soon enough, to do his morning routine under strict supervision by his father's servants, before he's escorted to accompany his harpy of a bride-to-be, not to mention her equally unpleasant brother, for an undoubtedly dreary breakfast, where he will eat literally nothing, only to then be escorted back to his chambers where he will be forced to get ready to be married off-

Wait.

That's just like killing himself! It's a literal fucking funeral service!

Stolas gags a little.

He watches the shadows on the ceiling above his bed for a while, dejected, feeling so very sorry for himself. He also wonders whether he's maybe, possibly overreacting a little. His father certainly likes to tell him just how much he is. Can't you be more like your brothers and sisters, son of mine whose name I definitely remember, and less like yourself?

Maybe his father is right. Maybe Stolas is the problem here. Maybe Stella could be-

Who is he kidding, she's going to fucking murder him. Not literally, mind - or possibly quite literally, now that he thinks about it, Stolas wouldn't put it past her to hire an assassin when he's fulfilled his duty and isn't useful to her anymore - but in any case, she will suck the life out of him, every tiny bit of joy he has left, and it isn't much to begin with.

He will end up hollow, prostrated, a shell of himself.

Stolas sighs deeply.

He blinks at the ceiling.

Or...

A tiny fleck of light has snuck between the shadows, somehow. Stolas watches it, fascinated, his mind working as he's suddenly hit with inspiration.

Or... he could built a rope of some sorts out of his bed linens and climb down the window? Maybe? No, no, that's- but could that work? Couldn't it? He certainly remembers the heroine in one of his story books doing exactly that. If it worked in fiction, it should also work in real life. Seems only logical. In any case, it would certainly not hurt to try, right?

Determination flaring in his heart, Stolas jumps out of bed. The marble floor is cold under his talons and he shivers but doesn't falter in his steps. When he comes to the window, the storm outside is truly gruelling. Deep dark clouds in turmoil, rain splattering against the glass and stone walls, a single crack of lightning illuminating the night sky from a distance, the sound of thunder on its heel, before the world is once more plunged into everlasting darkness.

Quite the metaphor for Stolas' life, really.

He needs to escape it, by any means necessary.

Gathering up his courage, he opens the window to take a look outside. He's managed to get it up against the roar of the wind, meaning to peek over the edge to see just how far down he'd have to go - when he's suddenly met with a very real, very unexpected obstacle in the form a person climbing up and over the window sill.

Not a person but an imp.

Stolas doesn't have the time to think as he instinctively stumbles back, letting out half a scream before said imp barrels after him, closing a wet hand over his beak to cut him off as they tumble and then land together on Stolas' bed from the force of it all, with the imp towering over him. There's a not unfamiliar click sounding like the crack of thunder in Stolas' ears, as he feels the edge of something cold and hard and metal, and altogether quite frightening, being pressed against his throat.

Stolas gulps.

Despite the storm still raging outside, he swears one could hear a pin drop.

Then someone knocks on the door.

Stolas keeps looking at his intruder, just as his intruder keeps looking at him. Neither of them moves.

Another knock, this one more insistent.

"Sir, is everything alright?" comes the voice of one his butlers from beyond the door. The very locked, very safe-from-escape door.

"One word and you're dead," growls the imp. It's not even a whisper. Stolas' heart is hammering in his chest like it's trying to escape his ripcage.

He should scream. He should. It would be unreasonable to- and what has he even got to fear or to loose, one minute ago he was contemplating literally climbing down his window, risking his life to-

The heart-shaped tattoo is what does it. Stolas remembers it. And those horns, now that he thinks about it, zeroing in on every one of the imp's features, and it feels like being transported back in time; these very stripes, that tail, those eyes. The scars are certainly new, but-

"Blitzo?" His words are muted under the imp's hand, but still comprehensible enough for both of them.

Blitzo falters for a second, hand loosening from Stolas' mouth enough to let him speak, although he presses the barrel of the gun deeper against Stolas' throat in the process. Stolas gulps once more against it.

"It's Blitzø, the 'o' is silent. Look bitch, just because you've heard of me-"

"You kidnapped me!" He snaps his beak shut almost immediately, putting his hands over it for good measure, but the damage is done. Stolas didn't mean to say that out loud - and he didn't mean to sound accusing, he swears! Well, okay, maybe he did a little bit.

It's true, though. Back when Stolas was just a little owlet, he was kidnapped by an equally little imp child. Although, granted, 'kidnapped' might be a bit of a stretch.

It was the first time he'd been allowed outside of his father's residence. Naturally, he was accompanied by his governess, though before long he'd somehow managed to loose both her and get lost himself- which was when he met a small imp about the same age as him, maybe a little younger, in an alleyway he'd stumbled into in his panic.

The imp child promptly proceeded to bind him with a rope he'd been playing with and demanded Stolas pay him money for his freedom. Of course, being just a small child, Stolas didn't have any on him, so the imp - and it has to be said, they were maybe seven or eight - told him he would now have to kill him if Stolas couldn't pay. That in turn had made Stolas cry. That then led to the imp eventually consoling him, freeing him, and dragging him by the hand to the market.

Stolas did later find his governess, or rather the governess found him, but that was after the imp child had stolen fruits and candy for them and they'd gorged themselves on everything until they were lying on the sandy beach at the docks in the afternoon sun, happy and full and laughing together.

It was the best day in Stolas' life.

Stolas never forgot the imp's name. He never forgot the imp himself. It - he - was his most precious memory.

Stolas had never had a friend before, or after.

There's another loud knock on the door, making Stolas jump a little. Blitzo - Blitzø? - doesn't even react to it, keeping his eyes on Stolas, and his gun pointed straight up his throat.

"Sir?"

"I'm fine!" Stolas yells, before he can stop himself. "It's nothing, I'm fine! Going back to bed now!"

That seems to be enough. Nobody comes barging in to look after him, to see if he's truly alright - or in the middle of being threatened by an intruder who somehow managed to climb through his window seven storeys high.

Just how did Blitzø do that? Stolas would like to know.

Blitzø grins at him. He almost looks proud, if Stolas were to guess. "Good little birdie," he breathes, voice dangerously low. A shiver runs down Stolas' spine, he can't help it. Blitzø seems to notice too, his grin widening.

"What-" Stolas gulps once more, acutely aware of the metal against his skin, parting his feathers so easily. He tries not to imagine blood dripping from it. "What are you going to do to me?"

Blitzø is looking him up and down, calculating. Stolas swears he's shivering in fear and nothing else.

"You're coming with me." Blitzø seems to have decided.

Stolas squawks. "What!?"

"You heard me, birdie."

"You can't- that's not-"

"What. I kidnapped you once, right? I can do it again. And you never even paid for your freedom the first time, did you?"

Blitzø shifts suddenly, his knee landing right between Stolas' legs. Stolas' breath stutters. He holds very, very still.

Desperately, even though he realises how stupid that is, he tries to keep his voice down. "I don't- I- I don't have any money!"

"Bitch please." Blitzø is rolling his eyes at him.

"No, I mean it. I- my inheritance- it hinges on my marriage!"

Blitzø cocks his head at that. He sounds a little surprised when he says, "So you're going to be married?"

"Well, I was trying not to marry-" Stolas begins.

"What the fuck," says Blitzø. "Which is it now? Pick one or the other."

Stolas fumbles. "I was- that is- I don't want to marry- I do not like-"

Suddenly, Blitzø is lowering his gun, putting it to the side. He's grinning again, a devastating smile that easily manages to weaken Stolas' knees more than the threat of possibly being shot ever could. Something tickles Stolas' right calf, and he realises it's Blitzø's tail wrapping around it.

"So then there's no problem in kidnapping you," says Blitzø.

"I just told you, I have no money-"

"Your royal-ass family does."

Stolas lets out a small hoot. "I'm not sure my father would care enough to-" He shakes is head, looking away. "I wouldn't count on that," he settles on.

Blitzø regards him for a very long time. "What else do you have to pay your freedom with, little bird?"

Stolas is entirely too aware of Blitzø's knee still between his legs. He's probably imagining the slow way it's hiking up and up, but even so- Stolas is throbbing. His underwear is getting messy. Dear Lucifer, this can't be happening.

He lets out a pitiful noise somewhere between a hoot and a whimper. It has Blitzø's grin turn wicked.

"Tell me, pretty bird-" he says. Stolas blushes furiously; he's never been called 'pretty' before. And Blitzø's knee-

Stolas moans. Loud. Blitzø is definitely doing it on purpose, that much is clear now.

He cackles at Stolas. "-what else have you got for me?" Blitzø finishes, leaning even closer. He could've put his gun back on Stolas' throat and Stolas would've been fine at that point. He would've been fine.

But for some undiscernable, Lucifer-forsaken, lunatic reason, Blitzø decides that it's good a idea to put his tongue there instead.

Several things happen quite fast then.

Stolas gasps, about to let out something - he isn't sure what, himself, but it's going to be loud, far too loud not to overhear from outside - Blitzø quickly gags him again with one hand while the other scoops up Stolas' admittedly useless arms by the wrists and holds them above his head, and then he doubles down on his knee pushing between Stolas' legs- and then Blitzø bites him.

Stolas comes to a few seconds later. Or maybe it was hours. Or days. He isn't sure.

What he's sure about it that his underwear is suddenly drenched, and his breath is so shallow it must be the reason his brain feels so foggy - obviously he's lacking enough oxygen to sustain reasonable thought - and he's trembling from the aftershocks of- what, exactly? Who even knows.

Stolas knows only this: he needs more.

Slowly, as if Blitzø is very consciously releasing him from every single sharp tooth that's embedded itself into Stolas' skin one by one, surely marking him for later, the imp loosens his bite, then elects to sooth over the wounds with his tongue because-

Stolas guesses Blitzø just wants him to suffer. It's the only explanation that makes sense.

And that's about as much as Stolas can take. If Blitzø keeps this up, Stolas is going to die from overload, whether physical or mental, it doesn't matter. He's going to fucking explode if Blitzø doesn't-

"You gonna be a good birdie, or not?" Blitzø asks him, breath hot on Stolas' throat, and fuck him. Bastard.

How can he think Stolas is in any condition to process information, let alone an entire question?

Blearily, Stolas notes with the last few poor braincells left in his messed-up head that Blitzø's gun is lying somewhat forgotten beside them, and Stolas is technically still in danger, but technically he isn't. Technically Blitzø isn't actively threatening him, right?

Or maybe Stolas is just stupid and maybe he's absolutely, one hundred percent going to do everything that Blitzø wants him to do regardless of whether Blitzø is going to hold him at gunpoint from this point onward or not.

Getting away from his marriage would simply be a bonus now, Stolas supposes.

Dazedly, he nods.

"Good." He swears he can feel Blitzø's answering smile right against his throat. Blitzø flexes the hand he's got wrapped around Stolas' wrists for good measure but doesn't let go. That wicked knee is back, too, doing another upward motion, twice, over Stolas' dripping cloaca. Stolas whimpers weakly. "Like I said, pretty bird, you're coming with me. No arguments."

Oh, Stolas isn't going to argue. Far from it.

He does make a mental note to maybe change his underwear before he follows Blitzø to the end of the fucking world.

---

As it turns out, Blitzø didn't climb up Stolas' window. He came from the roof - and then slipped, so he almost fell down.

"I didn't fall," Blitzø insists, huffing. "It was a fucking- it was- shut up."

"A stategic downward motion?" Stolas suggests.

"Whatever," says Blitzø, tugging him forward a bit more roughly.

Somehow, they've ended up holding hands after they both managed to climb back up to the roof without any, er, 'stategic downward motions' by themselves. The rain is still going quite strong, although at least the wind has lessened a little. Stolas shivers, this time definitely from the cold, and after the third shiver Blitzø clicks his tongue at him, shakes off his big leather coat and shoves it into Stolas' hands. Stolas is so utterly dumbfounded, he accepts it without question and puts it on.

It's warm. And the fact that now Blitzø's upper torso is entirely naked leaves Stolas even warmer.

Together, they shuffle step-by-step, tile-by-tile along the wet roof. Stolas is amazed he doesn't slip, though he has a feeling that even if he did, Blitzø wouldn't let him fall.

Finally, they're all the way to-

"The bell tower," Stolas breathes, realisation hitting him at last. "Of course, that's- that's so-"

"What? That's what?" Blitzø looks back at him, challenging, while also reaffirming his grip on Stolas' hand. Stolas knows he shouldn't feel so secure with the pirate imp who literally kidnapped him, and he definitely shouldn't feel cared for or anything stupid like that. Again, he reminds himself, he's being kidnapped. Technically, that is.

He definitely shouldn't be smiling about that either! Stop it!

"That's really smart," he finishes, glad that the cold and the rain don't allow for a blush to form. "I was wondering- but of course. The bell tower is deserted at night, all you'd have to do is get in-"

"Yep," Blitzø says, grinning. "Didn't even take five minutes to pick the lock. You're working with a pro here."

"Working with-?"

"Getting kidnapped by. Whatever. It's the same."

Stolas doesn't quite see how 'it's the same', but then again he did promise not to argue.

Once they've reached the bell tower it's easy to climb down the stairs until they're back on ground level, leaving through the door Blitzø so easily lockpicked for them. Then they're leaving the property as well, ducking behind a bush or two to not raise any alarms from the numerous guards. Stolas notes just how natural it seems for Blitzø to get around unseen- especially since he never once lets go of Stolas' hand.

The town is quiet when they make their way down to the docks. No one is up anymore so they're almost free to just... walk. Stroll, even. The rain stops, too, the storm passing until all that remains is a quiet serenity. Stolas can't believe it.

"Where are we going?" he asks absentmindedly, marveling at the fact that this is really happening. He's leaving. He's done it. As unconventional as it came to be, but still.

"My fucking ship, where else?"

"Oh, of course. You have a-" Stolas does a double take. "You are the captain?"

Blitzø seems to take issue with his tone. "The fuck are you sounding so surprised for, huh?"

"I- I'm not!"

"You fucking shouldn't be."

"That's actually- wow. You're so-" Stolas is reaching for words here. Don't be impressed with your kidnapper. Yes, thank you, easier said than done. Basically impossible, at this point.

Blitzø raises an expectant eyebrow at him.

"Sublime," Stolas lands on, though his voice titters out at the end. His cheeks are fully flushed by then.

Blitzø frowns at him. "Hey, who are you calling a slime, bitch-"

Stolas is quick to correct him. "Sublime. Like, incredible. Um, awesome."

"Oh. Okay." Blitzø nods, seemingly satisfied. "I'm totally awesome, yeah. You got that right."

It isn't long before they reach the docks proper. Stolas hasn't been there in ages, he suddenly realises, and can't help but admire just how beautiful the sea looks in front of them - dark and mysterious, calm after the storm has passed, with the moonlight shyly breaking through the dispersing clouds and bathing everything in a beautiful, silvery light.

Blitzø then herds them both into a small rowing boat, and before Stolas knows it they're leaving his home island behind. Just like that.

Thank Lucifer.

It was so easy, in the end, wasn't it?

Stolas looks back to the island - his true prison - and can't help but feel like he's somehow managed to break out of the shackles binding his past, present and future, all at once, for good.

Funny, that it took him getting literally kidnapped to get there.

After a while, he asks Blitzø whether they should take turns rowing. He could certainly help, seeing as Blitzø has saved- that is, kidnapped him. And a prisoner should have to work some, no?

Blitzø scoffs at him. "How about you keep your pampered royal hands to yourself and let the professionals do their job." And that's that.

Stolas certainly isn't opposed to watching Blitzø's muscles work in the moonlight, upper torso a sight to look at, glistening with a sheen of sweat over his pecs, while the sound of the sea accompanies their romantic voyage-

It's a kidnapping.

Stop it.

Once they've turned a corner, a vessel starts to come into view. It's Blitzø's ship, evidently, and it's-

Oh. It's quite small, to be honest. Maybe 'dainty' would the right word? It definitely doesn't hold up to the much, much larger ships under Stolas' father's command. Stolas isn't sure what he expected.

But it is... interesting, nonetheless. Despite the small size, it looks sturdy, like it would hold up against any storm, any wave, safely carrying them to seas and shores beyond. And besides that, but most of all, it looks cozy. Stolas struggles to explain it well. Somehow- it's lived in?

Loved - maybe that's the word.

And on the side of it, in bold, slightly wonky letters, the initials 'IMP' are displayed.

Stolas asks what they mean.

"Immediate Murder Professionals!" Blitzø says proudly. Stolas can't help but smile at him. Instantly, he knows who named the ship.

"Seems like a good name. For a pirate ship."

"Yeah, well. I'm a pirate, so." Blitzø shrugs.

"How did you become-?"

"Yeah, let's not get into that."

Stolas hums but decides not to pry. He has a feeling that he's got- time, as strange as that sounds. It's certainly something he's never had before, not like this. It will take a bit to get used to.

When they reach Blitzø's ship they climb up the side of it, Blitzø helping Stolas over the edge, and then they are greeted with-

Oh.

Stolas blinks.

Six pairs of eyes blink back at him.

Of course, a ship would need a crew. He doesn't know why he hasn't thought of that sooner.

They're looking at him as surprised as he's looking at them - two imps, one male and one female, as well as a hellhound. A moment passes by, then another.

"Er..." The female imp finally breaks the silence. Giving Stolas a last fleeting once-over, she addresses Blitzø. "B," she says, slowly, carefully, like she's trying not to be too criticising, but also would like to know what the fuck is going on. "Where's the money, gold? Didn't you mean to bring back, y'know... stuff we can sell?"

"Oh, yeah yeah, thaaat..." Blitzø looks at Stolas, visibly panicking as he quickly eyes him up and down. He lands on the gold ring on Stolas' right hand - "Ha!" - which he promptly takes off of him.

Stolas, utterly perplex, doesn't even think to protest.

"That a family heirloom or some shit?" Blitzø asks him, holding it up against the moonlight.

"No," Stolas chirps, too dumbfounded to even comprehend what is happening to him. In fact, he's incapable of shaking a nagging feeling of surrealism that has followed him ever since Blitzø burst through his window. It might all just be a dream, he realises suddenly.

If it is, he doesn't want to wake up.

Blitzø seems satisfied enough with the answer as he throws the ring at the female imp. She catches it with her teeth.

"There you go, Mills. That'll save dinner or whatever."

The imp regards the ring for a moment, having spit it out into her hand, before she shrugs to herself. She somehow strikes Stolas as the easy going type, not to be too troubled by whatever situation arises - like foreign bird demons suddenly being brought to their ship as hostages.

"I mean, it's better 'n nothin'," she says to the imp beside her.

"Sir," the male imp starts then, still looking warily at Stolas. He strikes Stolas as the type to be troubled by everything.

Stolas can relate.

"Not now, Mox. I've got shit to do." Blitzø waves him off. "Go suck someone else's dick for a while."

"Sir," the imp insists, voice strained, wildly gesturing to all of Stolas. Stolas can't help but shrink a little under all the attention. "What about-"

"Oh, right, yeah," Blitzø says, as if he's just now remembering. Proudly, he desclares, "This is-" Blitzø stops dead. Frowning, he looks at Stolas. There's a question in his eyes.

Realisation setting in, Stolas timidly gives him his name.

"Right," Blitzø continues. "Everyone, this is Stolas. He's my fucking hostage."

All three of Blitzø's crew look between Blitzø and Stolas, lingering on the way Blitzø is holding Stolas' hand. Blitzø doesn't let go, his grip only getting tighter even when Stolas loosens his own a little out of embarrassment.

"What?" Blitzø snarls at them.

"Uh, sir, at the risk of being possibly out of line-"

"Which you fucking are. So shut the fuck up, Mox." Blitzø turns back to Stolas. Calmly, he proceeds to point out every one of his crew one by one. "Anyway. That's Millie, and the loud-mouth's Moxxie - they're married, don't ask, I don't understand either."

His tone of voice suggests that everything about this situation is perfectly normal. Stolas couldn't agree less.

"And over there is Loona - she's my daughter and an absolute delight. Best fucking thing to ever happen to the seven seas."

"Fuck off," the hellhound says, flipping Blitzø off without looking at him, bent over what Stolas assumes is a map of their current location. Blitzø dreamily gazes at her as if she's just hugged him and told him she loves him too.

"Everyone, say hi to Stolas. He's our hostage," Blitzø reiterates. Clearly, this is what they do every stormy night out on the sea - steal reluctant grooms-to-be to take them back to their ship, and maybe their private quarters to-

Stolas flushes about three shades of red when he remembers why he's here. He desperately tries to hide a smile, and is entirely unsuccessful in doing so.

There's a chorus of "hi"s ranging from unenthusiatic to confused directed at him. Stolas dutifully hoots a "hi" back at the crew.

"Okay," says the male imp - Moxxie - back to adressing Blitzø. "Again, why do we need a hostage?"

"Fuck you, he's my hostage!" Blitzø hisses, nostils flaring, tail lashing out behind him.

"But you just said-"

"Get your own fucking bird prisoner, go on, Mox. I'm fucking waiting. Yeah. Thought so." Blitzø keeps glaring at him until it's clear that's there isn't going to be any follow-up questions. Moxxie sighs, his wife rubbing his back sympathetically. Stolas doesn't want to read too much into it - he's been here for only, what, five minutes at most; certainly not enough to get to know everyone - but it sounds like the imp has perfected this particular way of sighing from years and years of experience.

"Anyway, I'm taking him with me. To my cabin. Don't fucking call on me," Blitzø instructs.

"And if somethin' happens?" Millie has her hands on her hips. She certainly doesn't look like she couldn't handle almost anything on her own, especially with that large axe on her back, but Stolas thinks it's a good question nonetheless.

"Okay, yeah, good point," Blitzø agrees. "Call on me only if something happens."

"Like what?"

"I dunno." Blitzø throws up his hands - one of them, anyway. The other one is still steadfastly holding onto Stolas. "Maybe if the fucking Kraken comes or whatever. If it isn't explicitly life or death, fuck off. I'm busy."

"Ew," Lonna says, still not looking up from the map she's studying. She's marked something in a red circle. Stolas idly wonders where they're going to go, and whether he'll see later this night- or much, much later in the morning.

"Yeah, yeah." Blitzø motions at all of them to scatter. "Now, everyone back to whatever you were doing." He turns to Stolas once more. "And you," he adresses him, grinning like they haven't left Stolas' bedroom half an hour ago, and he's maybe thinking about biting him a second time. Stolas' breath catches, heartrate picking up instantly. "We've got an account to settle, don't we, pretty bird?"

Stolas gulps.

He knows he should probably hesitate to follow Blitzø. At least he should try to seem reluctant. But who is he even kidding?

Snickering and blushing furiously, he follows Blitzø into his cabin. No further persuasion needed.

---

Once they're in Blitzø's chamber - a mildly spacious captain's quarters, full of horse memorabilia, for some reason, and pictures of his crew and daughter, among other things, plus a large, rather cozy looking bed - Blitzø insists on both of them toweling themselves off because they're "drenched like a pussy on the outskirts of Port Royal". In any case, Stolas is grateful for the opportunity, never one to like getting his feathers wet or leaving them so.

Meanwhile, he takes the opportunity to walk around the room, both to make himself more familiar with it, but more so because he's just trying to soothe his nerves. It doesn't really help much, as he's too on edge to take note of anything at all.

What he does manage to take note of is that they've obviously set sail a little while ago, what with the ship having started to sway much more forcefully side to side as it catches up speed. Stolas looks out to the rushing sea through the rather large window overlooking the bed - and there is the island they've just left as well, now slowly but surely sinking into the distance. Mesmerised, he watches it disappear over the horizon, there and then gone the next second.

"We aren't gonna return, you know."

Startled, Stolas turns back around to meet Blitzø's eyes, who looks like he's been watching him for a while. Stolas didn't realise just how lost in thought he was. Blitzø's expression is calm, though, matter-of-fact. He's obviously not trying to scare Stolas off, just telling him what to expect.

This may very well be the last time Stolas sees his former home town - and his family along with it.

"Oh." Stolas says. And then, like a breath he's been holding his entire life, "Good."

Blitzø smiles.

"Now," he says, and just like that the atmosphere suddenly shifts. Stolas is back to panicking in an instant.

Grinning, Blitzø moves closer, slowly, stalking almost. Stolas is watching him with bated breath, unaware that he's moving back at the same time until his legs hit the bed and he's got nowhere else to go. Surprised, he lets himself fall down into a sitting position. This way, Blitzø is almost eye-level with him.

"About that payment," Blitzø begins but doesn't elaborate, instead lets his razor-sharp teeth convey the message for him. Stolas swears Blitzø regards him like something that needs to be eaten at some point. Stolas might just be in danger of getting that second bite sooner rather than later.

He can't help but stare back at Blitzø, unblinking, spellbound. But then Blitzø is advancing further, and he's pushing Stolas onto the bed, crawling over him and-

"Wait!"

Blitzø stops immediately.

He frowns down at Stolas.

"What," he says after a moment. "Don't you-"

"I do!" Stolas is quick to reassure, although he doesn't quite know just what he's saying yes to. He has a feeling that if it's Blitzø, he's not really going to mind. That's probably a little stupid, isn't it, he's still a hostage here, shouldn't he be putting up a fight? He must be the worst hostage in history.

Blitzø sits back at that, looking even more confused, and Stolas panics even more, one hand shooting out to hold onto one of Blitzø's arms so he doesn't leave.

Blitzø raises an eyebrow, obviously waiting for an explanation that doesn't come. He huffs, shrugging Stolas off. "Look, if you don't want to, it's fucking fine-"

"That's not- I do! I swear!"

"Then what the fuck-?"

Stolas starts fumbling with his hands, unable to hold eye contact. His cheeks are blazing when he stutters all over himself, "Well, you see, I've- I mean, I'm not- The thing is, I haven't- I never had the chance to- I'm a-"

"Ohhh," Blitzø says. Stolas holds his breath, only for Blitzø to then immediately follow that up with, "Yeah, that's fine. I can totally work with that."

Stolas' exhale sounds suspiciously like "Oh thank fuck".

He's about to completely relax into the bed again when Blitzø runs a sudden claw down his jawline, somehow both tickling him and scatching him at the same time, which has Stolas instantly tensing up again like a string on bow. Sultry, Blitzø whispers, "Don't you worry, pretty bird. I'm gonna take real good care of you."

Oh, Stolas has absolutely no objections to that.

Blitzø lowers himself back over Stolas, and Stolas takes that opportunity to boldy run his hands over his chest, marveling at Blitzø's pecs which he's wanted to touch ever since Blitzø took off his coat. Thankfully, Blitzø doesn't seem to mind.

"So how about you tell me what you like," Blitzø says, apropos of nothing. Meanwhile, his hand moves steadily lower, from Stolas' jaw over his throat - reminding him of the bite Blitzø took out of him before, which stings oh so heavenly - further over his chest and abdomen, as Stolas squirms under him, and then right into his underwear, between his wet folds-

"The fuck...?" Blitz stops. Stolas is short-circuiting, so he doesn't immediately realise. Before he can come to his senses, Blitzø has hooked both his hands into Stolas' underwear and quickly pulled it down. His face goes from confusion to questioning, back to confusion. "The fuck's that?" he asks, back to questioning.

All the while he's literally just staring at Stolas' cloaca.

Stolas blinks at him innocently. "My... genitals?" he tries, his tone slightly hopeful, but more so apologetic. Suddenly he's feeling incredibly selfconscious about himself. He hadn't thought about the possibility that Blitzø might not like what he sees. He'd thought- but maybe Blitzø isn't into- what if- oh Lucifer.

Stolas hurriedly scoots back on the bed, trying to cover himself up with his hands in the process. He's about to tell Blitzø that he's so very sorry for misleading him, for being not what he thought he was. Maybe, just maybe, Stolas can somehow salvage this situation.

Or maybe, Blitzø will actually kill him now. If Stolas isn't at all useful to him, if he isn't living up to expectations-

Blitzø carelessly bats his hands away. "Hey, I was looking at that," he says, like he isn't talking about Stolas' fucking private parts. Stolas is too nervous and embarrassed to stop him.

Clenching and unclenching his fists, and resisting the urge to cover himself back up again, Stolas lets Blitzø look his fill. It takes an unreasonable amount of time. With every passing second, he wonders about a new way Blitzø might be thinking about to dispose of him any second now.

Shot to the head, hanging by the neck, leaving him out to dry on a deserted island, drowning-

"Is this like a pussy?" Blitzø asks all of a sudden.

Stolas lets out a breath. His voice is slightly shaky when he answers, "Technically... no?"

"And untechnically... yes?"

A surprised laugh leaves him, he can't help it. Some of the tension in his shoulders leaves with it. "Blitzø, that's not even a word-" He shakes his head, amused. "It's called a cloaca," he explains instead.

Blitzø, bless him, puts it as bluntly as he sees it. "Looks like a pussy to me." He cocks his head. "I mean, kinda. If you squint."

"Well..." Okay. Maybe Stolas can't quite argue with that. Besides, explaining the exact differences to Blitzø would be a bit getting out of hand, so to speak, and probably kill the mood as well, and that's certainly the last thing he wants to do.

"So..." Blitzø hesitates, eyebrows raised. "Can I use your bird puss, please?" His expression is too innocently hopeful for someone who just asked to literally utilise someone's genitals.

Stolas can't help but snicker again. Blitzø is absolutely serious about it too. This imp, he swears.

"Of course, silly, that's the whole poi- oh!

Blitzø hums, satisfied. "Yeah, that's definitely a bird puss I can use," he confirms, having pushed one of his fingers in up to the first knuckle. Stolas moans at the intrusion, then can't help himself when he pushes down a little because it isn't enough yet. Thankfully, he's already so fucking wet, despite the circumstances.

"Look at you enjoying yourself. Greedy bird." Blitzø grins at him.

"Yes, well, you're- hah!" Stolas grips the bed on either side as Blitzø pushes in deeper, then adds a second finger for good measure.

Already, Stolas feels quite overwhelmed. Sure, he's fingered himself before - so many times - but having someone else do it is different. His legs fall open almost on instinct, inviting.

"Tell you how this'll go," Blitzø continues, heedless of the way he starts thrusting his fingers in and out, and how that has Stolas already short of breath in seconds. He's about maybe ten to twelve thrusts away from reaching his peak, give or take a few. "I'm gonna get you off, and then I'm gonna get you off- but, I mean, with my dick. Obviously. And then maybe we can fuck some more? And then fuck a lot! Oh, and can I lick your bird puss? You can lick me fucking anywhere if you want."

Stolas wants to answer. He really does.

But he's somewhat busy crying out and shaking through his sudden orgasm, so.

When did the ceiling in Blitzø's cabin become shooting stars?

"You okay there, birdie?" Blitzø asks him, a bit of laughter in his voice as he's working Stolas through his death and rebirth. Dear Lucifer, he can certainly be such a bastard. Stolas shouldn't even consider falling in love with him.

Wait, what.

Stolas manages to focus his eyes back on Blitzø, just in time to see him retrieve his fingers from his still throbbing cloaca, then put them in his mouth to lick them clean.

Oh motherfucking-

"Yeah," Blitzø says when he's done, and after a moment's brief contemplation, "I definitely gotta go down on you at some point."

Stolas throws his hands over face, groaning. He's too embarrassed to keep looking.

"Hey, hey. No hiding, pretty bird. We haven't even begun!" Blitzø bats his hands away again. "Be a good little hostage and gimme a hand here?" Grinning, he points down to his crotch.

Stolas makes a noise that's half embarrassment- but also half barely contained desire. Fuck yes. Finally.

Eager - maybe too eager, but he's passed the point of caring - he really wants that cock, okay - he reaches out, his hand closing over the considerable bulge in Blitzø's pants. He gives himself a moment of quiet reverence and triumph.

Blitzø hums, sort of, although it sounds much deeper than that. It takes Stolas a second to realise that it's a purr.

"That's the spirit!" Blitzø cheers him on. As if Stolas needed the encouragement, really. He's basically been waiting his whole life for this. Now that it's finally here?

Something in him just snaps.

He sits up - hitting Blitzø's head with his beak in the process - and starts impatiently working on getting Blitzø's pants open. Whoever invented belts and buttons should be shot.

"Okay, okay. Wow. Hey." Blitzø is still dumbly rubbing his head as he watches Stolas with widening eyes. "You're- really fucking eager, I guess. Okay there, birdie, hey, slow do- holy shit!"

He cries out when Stolas has finally managed to get his hands around his erect cock. His really big, red, perfect-for-ramming-into-Stolas'-cloaca-over-and-over-again erect cock. Stolas may be salivating here. He doesn't fucking care anymore.

"Satan's taint- ow!" Blitzø catches his wrist, halting Stolas in his motions. "Slow the fuck down!"

Reluctantly, Stolas releases his grip. He realises he may have been a bit... overeager. Maybe.

Blitzø is glaring at him. Oh oh. "If you want it to actually work, maybe don't fucking try to kill it first!"

Stolas looks at him apologetically. "Sorry..."

Blitzø huffs. "Whatever." Then he spits in his hand and holds it out for Stolas to spit in it too.

Slightly grossed out, he complies.

Afterwards, Blitzø wraps it around his cock, coating himself with their combined saliva and rubbing up and down a few times. He grumbles all the while, "...been here for like a second and already trying to fucking castrate me, what the fuck". It's kind of cute.

And kind of hot.

Stolas lifts a hand again - to help, maybe? If he's allowed? - but is immediately halted by Blitzø's tail wrapping around it.

"Ah-ah," Blitzø says, giving him a pointed look. "At least let me fuck you once before you try to chop off my dick again, kay?"

Okay. Stolas isn't going to argue with him.

He scoots back on the bed, lying down as Blitzø follows him. He's starting to really like Blitzø weight above him. But wait - where does he put his hands, if not Blitzø's cock? Stolas opts for Blitzø's face first, who then looks at him like he's lost his mind. Okay, maybe not. He puts them on Blitzø's shoulders instead.

"You're the weirdest bird I've ever met," says Blitzø, but he doesn't sound angry.

"How many birds have you met?"

Blitzø considers for a moment. "Tushy," he says eventually.

"Do you mean touché?"

"Are we gonna do this or not?"

Oh, right. The sex.

Stolas wasn't going to forget or anything.

Blitzø brings himself in position, holding his cock steady while Stolas makes sure to let his legs fall wide open. Then Blitzø is slowly sliding in, just with the head. It's still enough to make Stolas' breath halt for a moment. This is quite different from a finger, he thinks to himself.

Kindly, Blitzø stops and waits for him. It takes another moment but Stolas manages to relax again, exhaling in the process.

"Okay?" Blitzø asks him, regarding him with careful eyes. Ah, such a gentlemen pirate, after all.

Maybe Stolas is falling a little bit in love. Sue him.

He nods, smiling.

Blitzø pushes in a little further, obviously trying to be gentle, going slow- just when a particularly high wave jostles the ship and Blitzø falls forward, suddenly sliding in all the way.

Stolas sucks in a sharp breath, tensing up.

He looks up at Blitzø in shock.

Blitzø stares back at him equally in shock.

There's a pause between them.

"Oh my Lucifer!" Stolas is the first to break out into laughter.

After a moment, Blitzø joins him. "Holy fucking Satan," he snorts, "Next time we do that before I kidnap you."

Stolas is still laughing, tension thankfully gone as his core relaxes, when he reminds him, "I fear the guards might have taken issue with that, darling."

Blitzø makes a face. "Fuck them." He meets Stolas' eyes again. "You good there, birdie?"

Stolas nods. Eagerly, this time.

And that's when Blitzø finally starts moving.

He takes it slow, at first, though once Stolas gives him the good to go he picks up considerable pace in no time. Which is when it starts to get really good.

The way he's driving into Stolas over and over has him shaken to the core, hyperaware of the slick sounds between them, the slapping of their hips, and the gentle swaying of the ship to accompany it all. He's trembling, heart fraying at the edges, thoughts and emotions stumbling all over themselves and into each other.

"Oh." Stolas looks up from where he's apparently closed his eyes at some point, just to see Blitzø buried in his chest feathers, licking and biting at the skin there. Stolas can't help but wrap himself around Blitzø in answer, legs locked behind his hips, arms around his shoulders and hand, holding on for dear life as Blitzø keeps rocking them both with increasing desperation.

The combined sensations of Blitzø's thrusts as they tickle something primal and deep within him, together with the ministrations on his chest, have Stolas steadily climbing to a peak he isn't sure he wants to fall from. It seems too high, too dangerous at this point. But Blitzø sneaks a hand between them, rubbing at where they're joined, and Stolas cries out, helpless to keep from falling anyway.

Even while he's still in the throes of ectasy, Blitzø keeps up his pace, seeking his own high. Dazed, thoughts scattered, Stolas regards him wondrously. Blitzø's eyes are squeezed shut, his breath stuttering, hips falling more out of rhythm by the second. He's so close.

"Please," Stolas urges him on. All this time he was begging for a miracle, to save him, to take him away, and then along came this imp, this pirate, and did exactly that. He takes Blitzø's face in his hands, after all. "Blitzø," he breathes his name.

Blitzø crashes.

He shudders and buries his claws tightly into Stolas' thighs at the same time - more marks-to-be for the future, surely - his hips stopping with one final, deep thrust, and Stolas feels Blitzø's release like a tidal wave inside him, warm and satisfying.

It takes them both a while to come down from their respective highs after that.

Stolas has never felt more at ease with himself. The ship is gently rocking with their shared serenity, as Blitzø slowly softens inside him and then softens above him too. He lets himself sink into Stolas like a sigh, face buried back inside his chest feathers, not licking or biting, just relaxing. Stolas thinks he could stay like this probably forever.

Sadly, forever is over after another minute or so, as Blitzø gets up and pulls out of him far too soon, hissing as he goes. He doesn't leave though, thank Lucifer, simply lying down beside Stolas. Blitzø then eyes him up and down, one hand supporting his head. He seems... expectant?

Stolas is so confused.

"Well?" Blitzø asks after a moment.

Stolas blinks at him. He still feels like he's slowly floating down from whatever cloud Blitzø has fucked him all the way up to. Is he supposed to come up with thoughts already, now? While his mind is still scattered all over the floor?

Blitzø frowns at him. "That bad, huh?"

Stolas catches himself. "Are you talking about our... copulation?" he asks, baffled.

"The fuck- copu- what?"

"It was- I- that is, er..." Stolas reaches for words. Suddenly he feels bashful. He didn't think he'd have to talk about it. Is he supposed to rate the experience? Is that something one does after sex? On what scale, then? How do you rate mindblowing, anyway? Eleven out of ten scattered brain matter?

Why can't he just wallow in this life-changing moment of transcendental elevation into heaven in peace? Stolas whines.

"It's fine," Blitzø says, though he sounds a little like he's disappointed. "Don't worry your princely bird brain over it. It's just- I just meant-" He snaps his mouth shut, looking away.

Stolas panics.

"I would very much like-!" he starts, just as Blitzø says, "Do you-?"

They both stop.

Blitzø goes first, after searching Stolas' eyes for a second, "So you up for another round? Maybe?" He sounds a little bashful. But also... hopeful?

Oh.

Stolas nods before he's even considered his next words. "Please. Oh Lucifer. Yes. Absolutely. If you could fuck me into oblivion once again that would-"

Blitzø holds up a hand, laughing. "Wow. Okay." All hints of bashfullness are gone within an instant. "Look at you all eager to get some of this again." He's pointing to all of himself. He continues, more serious, "In a minute though. Gotta gimme some time to get it up again, you horny little bitch."

"I could help," Stolas offers, innocently enough.

"Uhu," says Blitzø's, then, "No."

Stolas snickers.

Blitzø takes that opportunity to turn fully on his back, lacing his hands behind his head while he looks at the ceiling. He seems like he's truly enjoying himself, although there's nothing in particular to enjoy above him when Stolas follows his eyes. Stolas is happy to keep looking at Blitzø instead.

Free spirit, he thinks, marveling at him. Pirate. Imp.

Lover?

Stolas keeps staring, unable to take his eyes away. Then they stray lower, to Blitzø mouth, his lips, he's wondering...

Blitzø suddenly turns his head. "What?" He's completely oblivious to Stolas' thought process. Stolas blushes furiously. A question bubbles up but immediately fizzles out the next second. He groans internally.

He can't believe they've just had sex and he's too shy to ask for a simple fucking kiss. He shakes his head at himself and decides to leave it for later - for when he's braver. Or maybe for when Blitzø has fucked Stolas' brains out again and he's too stupid not to ask.

There's going to be a later, right?

"Where are we going?" he asks instead, to keep himself occupied and his mind off... other things. Lip things. He's been wondering about their future whereabouts for a little while, anyway.

"Dunno," says Blitzø honestly.

"Shouldn't you know? As the captain of this very vessel?"

"Maybe." Blitzø seems entirely unperturbed about his ignorance. Then he's grinning. "It's gonna be a fucking surprise, eh?"

Well, Stolas wouldn't be exactly opposed to that. He knows that as long as they're not returning to where he came from, he's going to be fine.

He's silent for a moment. "Am I-" he starts but then stops himself just as quickly. He doesn't know how to finish the question, unsure whether he even wants to hear the answer.

Blitzø looks at him, studying his face. He seems to contemplate something. "I guess we gotta get you some new clothes when we make port," he says.

Stolas hoots in surprise. "Clothes?"

"I mean, you didn't take anything with you, did you?"

"Oh." Blitzø isn't wrong. Stolas didn't take anything with him, unless one counts the ring he had on him just by lucky accident, which has since been taken off of him. Technically, he doesn't even have anything to pay with now. Except maybe his body. But that's for Blitzø alone, he's decided.

To be fair, Blitzø was the one who kidnapped him in the first place, so it's kind of his fault too.

"Tell you what," Blitzø says to him. "We'll make port somewhere and I'll buy you whatever you want. Unless it's like, expensive shit, 'cause then we'll have to steal it." He pauses. "Actually, we might have to steal it anyway." He pauses again. "Maybe I should teach you how to use a gun first."

Stolas snorts. "So..." His heart stumbles all over itself as he prepares himself. He doesn't want to assume, but. Oh fuck it, he should just ask. "Am I staying then?" He keeps his voice to a whisper, trying and failing not to sound too hopeful.

Blitzø stares at him like he's stupid. "You're my hostage," he says. Which is certainly a known fact.

"Yes."

"You're staying," he declares.

Stolas releases a breath he didn't know he's been holding. "Oh."

Blitzø gives him a smile. Then he laughs at the expression on Stolas' face. "Don't look so fucking happy about it, what the fuck." Touching Stolas' cheek, he catches a few stray tears in his hand. "Like I was gonna let you get away from me again. You're not even done paying off your first capture."

And really, where would Stolas go anyway?

He's already found his home.

xxx

"Leaving so soon?"

Caught, Blitzø turns back to look at Stolas, who has opened one of his top smaller eyes to regard him with. Blitzø was just about to sneak out of bed, hoping not to disturb him.

Shit.

"Yeah, well, look," Blitzø stalls, thinking about what kind of excuse he should go with this time to get Stolas off his back. Technically, he does have a daughter at home, who could be waiting up for him. It's as good a made-up reason as any.

"I know you have a lot to do," Stolas says, before Blitzø can come up with the right words to lie, "and you're very busy." He catches Blitzø's hand in one of his, smiling dopily. "Thank you so much for indulging me tonight."

Indulgi-?

Blitzø gags internally.

The fucking nerve of this guy, he thinks. As if Blitzø's indulging anythi-

This is a fucking job. Nothing else. Blitzø isn't fucking indulging shit. End of story.

"Sure. Yeah."

Stolas seems to sense the sudden shift in atmosphere, as he sits up after Blitzø has pulled his hand away. "Did I... are you alright?"

"Uhu," Blitzø mumbles, not looking at him. "Gotta go. Lots to do." He doesn't say that it's been like two days since they've had any clients at IMP. It's none of Stolas' business anyway.

He gets up, quickly gathering his clothes, pulling on his pants but leaving everything else in his hands to not waste any time. He makes sure not to forget the book. Just before he can disappear over the balcony though, Stolas calls out to him. Blitzø grits his teeth but reluctantly turns back around.

Stolas has gotten up and, tightening up his robe, he comes to stand in front of Blitzø. Then, smiling, he bends down and fucking kisses Blitzø's cheek - like they haven't just spent three hours fucking each other from hell to heaven and back.

"Have a nice day tomorrow," Stolas tops it off with and. That.

That.

Blitzø's head stops working.

He doesn't say anything.

He turns around and falls off the fucking balcony again.