Archive of Our Own

Look, Blitzø is trying, OK?!

It's been a year since the trial, since Stolas' banishment, since—since Octavia.

And yet Blitzø is actually living his almost-best life! He's got a successful business, loving daughter, hot boyfriend, and great employees (who he still stalk out of habit, but his heart isn't really into it anymore).

And Stolas? Well, Stolas is doing OK.

He's stopped sobbing himself to sleep in the middle of the night when he wakes up and remembers Via is gone. Blitzø is going to call that a win. (As much of a win as finally getting their own fucking room; that couch was too small for an owl demon with legs for years and a squirmy imp who—well, who loved the idiot owl and wanted him to be happy and, oh Satan's shit stain, Blitzø was disgusting when he was… nevermind.)

It's just that Blitzø's trying to do something nice for the first time in his Lucifer-forsaken life and here he is, fucking that up.

"Whatcha doin'?" Loona shouts from the reception area.

"Nothing!"

"Looks like you're throwing away your dead plant."

Blitzø starts when Loona appears by his ear, dropping the horse-shaped pot.

"Shitting fuck, that was a limited edition," he mutters, looking at the brown and black ceramic that's shattered across the cracked wooden floor of his office. "They died on their own," he says, louder. "And it's not like I haven't killed plants in here before."

"Yeah," Loona says with a grin. "But that one wasn't for your boyyyyyyyyfriend." She shudders when she's done. "Gross, I sound like M&M."

Blitzø finally looks up from the dead plant. Nodding, he says, "You really do, and the only way to take it back is to clean up this mess."

Loona laughs, walking out the door. "You wish," she says. "Team A has a job in like five minutes. I'm just waiting for Millie to get here."

"A job?" Blitzø shouts. "How come I don't know anything about it?"

"It's in your fucking planner, asshole," Loona growls from the other room.

Blitzø sighs and looks at his fucking planner.

There, in ridiculous calligraphy, is 'L&M Job 246.1' scheduled at 3:00, which is about four and a half minutes away.

"Fine!" he yells. "Let me know where to go, and I'll open a portal."

It had been Stolas' idea, the planner. With only one Asmodean Crystal and two teams, Team Smart and Stupid Imp and Team Girl Power, they'd actually had to have things organized better. And it helped, it really did. Things had changed a lot since the trial, and Blitzø was getting better at not defaulting to the whole ‘self-sabotage instead of being vulnerable’ routine he'd gotten so good at. So he was a little surprised he hadn't remembered the job.

"It's time to go, Blitzø!" Millie shouts from the main office. "Quit trying to cover your shame and portal Team Cornbread to the human world! I've got a new knife that needs breaking in!"

"Thanks for telling everyone about my accidents, Loonie," Blitzø complains, making his way into the main office. "And I expect that loser of a—huh."

Millie's alone, Moxxie nowhere to be seen.

"He's doing errands," Millie says. "And he's not a loser."

"Potato, po-apples and oranges."

Loona rolls her eyes. "That's not the saying."

"What?" Blitzø exclaims. "They're all different—"

"If we could do our jobs, Blitzø," Millie says, grabbing Blitzø's arm and gently stroking the crystal on his wrist. She rubs it for a few more seconds before a portal opens up into the human world.

"Bye, dick-face!" Loona says, jumping through the diamond-shaped hole in the universe.

"Why does she always insult me when she's leaving for a job?" Blitzø asks, snorting. "When she leaves the apartment, I don't even get a fart."

Millie sends him a pitying look. "Really, B?" she asks, following Loona.

"Insults are a love language," he says with a put-on sigh. But he shouts, "Love you, Loonie," into the gap between realities.

Blitzø closes the portal and rubs at the tears starting to form in his eyes. He's really turned into a sniveling pussy in the last year. Stupid bird and his stupid bird feelings making Blitzø have stupid emotions at his stupid job.

Speaking of the bird, Stolas had gone out for lunch an hour ago, and while there were no real 'breaks' at I.M.P., they usually were in and out (Blitzø snickers, whispering like fucking) in a couple of minutes.

As if reading his mind, Stolas picks that exact moment to stumble through the door.

"Blitzy," he says, voice wrecked. "Please help." He drops to his knees, tears running down his face, his eyeliner ruined.

"What's wrong, Stols?" Blitzø asks, running to him, tail thrashing in worry. They're at almost eye-level, with Stolas on his knees. Blitzø reaches up to wipe away a loose tear.

Stolas acts like he's been struck by lighting at the contact: body going stiff; breath stuttering to a halt; eyes closing. It's almost like when he—

Art by MRianih (twitter(x) and bsky)

"Did you just come?" Blitzø asks with wonder.

Stolas shudders through the rest of whatever that was and collapses to the floor.

"I seem to have been cursed," he says, pulling his hands inside his sleeves. "Everything feels too much."

"That doesn't answer any of my questions." But Blitzø sits by Stolas on the floor, deliberately not touching him.

"I was on public transport on my way back from lunch. Suddenly, I was enveloped in a blue mist and everything was far too much." He lets out a sob. "Do you realize how many casual, accidental touches strangers share when they're on a bus together?"

"That doesn't explain why you just jizzed all over my rug!"

Stolas opens up his eyes to look at Blitzø, tears still streaming down his face. "I don't know, but so far, it's been the only tolerable touch since I was cursed."

And what the ever-loving fuck is Blitzø supposed to say to that.

— —

Blitzø cleans up the rug (that really pulled the room together, Lucifer-damnit) gets a cup of tea for Stolas, texts Moxxie to NOT come to the office, and finally is able to sit with his boyfriend.

"Do you prefer boyfriend, partner, or lover?" he asks, holding on to Stolas' sleeve and pulling him into his office. If the bird has an orgasm there, it won’t be the first time.

They make themselves comfortable in the chairs Blitzø has for clients.

"I use all three," Stolas replies, docile as he is during a scene. Though this is definitely not a scene. Just some weird magic fuckery.

"You call me your lover?"

"Well you are, Blitzy."

Blitzø sighs. "Technically you're right, but I dunno. It seems too classy for someone like me." He shoots a look at Stolas, who is glaring. "Lovahhhhhhhh," he drawls. "We are lovaaaaahs." He's trying different ways to see if he likes the way it feels in his mouth.

Stolas rolls his eyes, but Blitzø knows it's funny. He's fucking hilarious.

"Speaking of how things feel in my mouth, what the ever-loving fuck just happened? You usually don't fall apart like that unless I'm eating you out."

Blitzø winks and Stolas' cheeks turn pink. "I don't believe we were talking about that at all," he says in that prim way he still hasn't gotten over, even after however long they've been fucking. It should be that all the shitty erotica he reads and repeats when they're fucking would desensitise him, but Stolas is still pretty fucking repressed when it comes to actually talking about their sex life.

"But it appears I've been cursed."

"To come? Cause, no joke? That sounds like it would be amazing."

Stolas rolls his eyes again. "I'm hypersensitive to touch," he says, like that explains anything.

"Sooooo…"

"So," Stolas says, "my skin feels everything multiplied to a thousand. When you touched me, it felt divine, but my clothes hurt—"

"Well, strip down, sexy!"

"—and this chair is uncomfortable, but I've thought that before, so that may just be a personal preference." His eyes fill with tears. "I'm sorry to complain about the office again. I know it's—"

"Let me stop you there," Blitzø says seriously. "If you're hurting, what can I do? I could not give less of a fuck what you think about the office right now." He reaches to wipe away a tear, but pulls back at the last second, not wanting to set off another chain reaction. "But we will be talking about budgeting again when you feel better."

Stolas laughs wetly. "I know, I know," he says, wiping away his tears. "Right now I think the only thing we can do is try and find out how to break the curse.”

"I'll ask Fizz," Blitzø says, pulling out his phone and sending a quick text. It immediately rings.

"What do you mean Stolas got cursed?!" Fizz shouts as soon as Blitzø answers, immediately putting him on speakerphone.

Blitzø flips off the phone.

"Look, buddy," he says, "that's literally all I know! He came back to the office and his skin is all fucked up."

"Like, blue or something?"

With a sigh, Blitzø lowers his hand and counts to ten. "He's already kind of blue."

"I've always thought more gray than blue but—"

"Is this going to be helpful?" Stolas interrupts. "Because my trousers are still wet from my, um…incident earlier."

"What sort of incident!?" Fizz shouts.

"Don't fucking worry about it," Blitzø grumbles, just as as Stolas says, "I was cursed with hyper-reactive skin and Blitzø's touch had some unintended consequences."

"Ohhhh," Fizz says, no longer shouting. "You made a mess in your pants, huh? We've got a good spot cleaner for that if you need it."

Stolas' cheeks turn pink and Blitzø winks at him, then immediately zeroes in on the large wet spot between his soft thighs.

"Is it for all fabrics or just clothes?" Blitzø asks. "Because it would be handy if it was both; we keep having to throw our sheets away."

"Blitzø, please," Stolas says, shifting uncomfortably in his seat, a grimace replacing the cute blush.

"I'm sure it was that cunt Stella or that ice bitch brother of hers," Blitzø says with one last, quick-ish glance at Stolas' soaked crotch.

"I have a feeling you're correct," Stolas says, nodding. "The magic felt particularly…cold."

"I'll get Ozzie on it," Fizz says, then abruptly disconnects.

"It's like he was raised in a barn," Blitzø complains.

"Is that vastly different than growing up under a circus tent?" Stolas asks, clearly trying to lighten the mood.

"Barns have earth horses in them, sometimes."

"They do have that."

Blitzø's phone rings, Fizz's name up on the screen.

"We figured it out!" he shouts.

"That was unbelievably quick," Stolas says. "And must you shout? A regular volume is sufficient."

"That's just his voice," Blitzø says, while silently agreeing: Fizz is loud and it was an incredibly fast response to Stolas' dilemma.

"Do you want us to fix Stolas or what?" Fizz grumbles.

"Yes!" Stolas chirps. "I wish to be cured of this ailment."

"Alright, birdie babe," Asmodeus says, and then there's the clatter of phone meeting floor.

Blitzø rolls his eyes. "What have you got for us, your… uh, your royalness?"

There's a pause, then Fizz says, "Ozzie got it all solved!"

Stolas touches his arm then winces. "I hate to disagree, but—"

"Yeah," Asmodeus interrupts, "the thing about this curse is that it's easy to reverse, but the sensitivity won't go away for at least twenty-four hours."

Stolas slides down in his chair, groaning. "So I'm going to feel like this for at least another day? Uncomfortable and—"

Blitzø tunes him out, the beginnings of an idea starting to take shape.

"And I—"

"We should have sex for science!" Blitzø shouts.

Stolas turns bright red, while Fizz and Asmodeus giggle.

"Remember, it's only scientific if you write your findings down," Fizz says, always helpful.

"Fine, but you'll have to do it, Stols," Blitzø agrees. "Because you know I can't write for shit."

— —

Blitzø texts Millie and Loona telling them they have about three more minutes to finish their mission and portals Stolas and himself home.

A quick confirmation comes from Millie, and Blitzø looks at Stolas.

He seems fine, if a bit flushed.

"Anything I can do for you?" he asks, checking his phone for the time. "I need to open a portal and get Mills home."

"And preferably take Loona somewhere that isn't here," Stolas suggests in a small voice. "Perhaps somewhere other than the office, come to think of it."

Blitzø snickers. "Yeah we did kinda stink up the place," he agrees. "Maybe I can portal them to the van and they can drive it back to Millie's. She and Moxxie can pick everyone up in the morning."

After one last, quick look at their clock, Blitzø opens a portal from the living world to his apartment.

"Gross," Loona says, stepping through. "It smells like— Blitzø! You're not supposed to fuck in the office or common spaces anymore!"

Stolas blushes. "I'm afraid it wasn't your father's fault," he says. "I seem to be cursed."

"To fuck?!?" Loona asks, almost hysterical.

"We haven't even fucked yet!" Blitzø shouts. "So I really need you both to leave so I can fuck my boyfriend for science!"

Millie sighs. "I assume there will be more of an explanation…"

"In a day or two," Stolas finishes for her. "For now, we would really like it if you could retrieve the van."

Loona is already gone. Blitzø's phone pings with a text from her reading, 'I'm going to a friends for this bullshit.'

"Well, Loonie's out," he tells Stolas cheerfully. "Now we just have to get Millie to the office and we can start our experiments."

"Is this payback for all the themes on the full moon?" Stolas asks wearily. "Because I know you had fun with those too."

"Can you send me back, Blitzø?" Millie asks, her voice as dry as any Wrathian desert, but she winks so Blitzø knows she's just fucking with him.

Blitzø caresses the crystal on his wrist, opening up a portal into the I.M.P. van. "Keys are—"

"You already gave me a set," Millie says with a smile. "Now, have fun and don't forget to make a graph!" She jumps through the tear in reality with a smile and Blitzø closes the portal.

"Now it's just us," he says, walking up to Stolas, eyeing his wet crotch. "I need a notebook."

Stolas rolls his eyes, but walks to their room, pulling out an empty journal and pen from his bedside table.

"I suppose, if it's for science."

— —

Stols Sexxx Srvy Survey

s cum how mny tims 3 mins

how mny tms untl S crys

Cn s cum withot touh

intke vs outpt fluds

hw fasssst cn S cum: difrnt bdy parts- dick, hnds, tng

"We are not measuring the volume of my come!" Stolas says, while Blitzø is busy doing science. "And it looks like you're conducting a sex scurvy; please spell it correctly."

To keep the peace, Blitzø changes the list, but he makes a mental note to try and measure fluids during their bone session.

— —

After the very important task of writing down all the things they're going to try for science, Blitzø makes a nest of all of their softest blankets and pillows on their bed. He lets Stolas undress on his own.

"Which one do you want to start with?" he asks, pulling his pants and boxers off. They, of course, get stuck on his boots.

"Fucking stupid fucking shoes," he grumbles, kicking them off. "Need to be more like you and just go out without them."

He looks up, briefly, and immediately regrets it. Stolas is laid out on their bed, completely naked, face flushed, neck feathers standing on end, eyes trained on Blitzø's half hard cock.

Art by yama (bsky and twitter(x)

Blitzø pounces, gentling the landing so he doesn't hurt his pretty bird.

"I see you're taking the sartorial advice of Earth cartoon characters," Stolas says with a giggle. "Some duck or bear, if I remember correctly."

With a huff, Blitzø pulls his jacket and shirt off, finally leaving him as naked as Stolas. He gingerly crawls up Stolas' body to give him a short, chaste kiss. Stolas kisses him back and they spend a lazy minute trading soft kisses.

"I think we need to do things in order," Blitzø finally says, grabbing his phone and setting a timer for three minutes. "Tell me when you're ready to go."

Stolas grins. "I'm ready whenever you are, darling."

Blitzø hits start on the timer and wiggles so he's staring straight into Stolas' birdpuss. The small, downy feathers are clumped together, the moisture making them stick out in different directions and darkening the light gray to a gunmetal color. It reminds Blitzø of when he wears cheap mascara and the brush doesn't split the lashes. But when it's Stolas' cunt, it's much hotter.

It's still damp from when he'd fucking squirted in the office, a familiar scent and taste. Blitzø flicks out his tongue to really taste the pure, unadulterated essence of Stolas' desire. His tail instinctively curls around Stolas' left ankle.

"Blitzy," Stolas gasps. "I can feel the air moving around my cunt."

Blitzø does it again, this time closer. A pearl of slick slides out of Stolas' hole and Blitzø hurriedly licks it away. His cock, half hard from small kisses and looking at Stolas, fills out completely. It's a familiar feeling, being between Stolas' thighs while hard, and Blitzø leans into it, both physically and metaphorically.

He scents the air with his tongue for a third time, only millimeters from Stolas' cunt.

"I'm close," Stolas says with a moan, plush hips shifting impatiently. Blitzø licks his hole again and Stolas falls apart, flooding Blitzø's mouth. It tastes like smoked almonds, with a hint of sharp florals. It's familiar and Blitzø wastes no time flicking his tongue all around Stolas' pussy.

"Yes, Blitzy," Stolas says, shoving his cloaca more firmly against Blitzø's mouth. "Eat my leaking, gaping hole."

Blitzø shoots him two thumbs up and continues to lick around his cunt, making sure to catch the nubby part with the fork of his tongue. It takes three licks to get to the middle of a tootsie roll pop make him come again.

"That's twice," he says quickly before diving back in again.

This time, he flicks his tongue gently, little kitten licks against the raised bump over and over again. He feels Stolas tense up, and backs off.

"I thought you were keeping up with how many times I could climax, not edging me," Stolas says, cranky.

Blitzø ignores him and starts moving his tongue in gentle, short strokes again over his clit.

Stolas's thick thighs tighten around Blitzø's head and Blitzø stops his ministrations.

"Asshole," Stolas grumbles, pulling on Blitzø's horns.

Blitzø licks him once, twice, watches as Stolas' thighs tremble, and stops.

"Blitzø," Stolas whines.

With a grin, Blitzø gently blows cool air on the wet, swollen nub. Stolas reacts like he's being electrocuted, shouting and shaking. He waits until the shouts have turned into guttural grunts and firmly licks the same spot.

This time, when Stolas comes, his release absolutely fucking covers Blitzø's face. Blitzø rubs his hips against the bed, trying to get some friction against his dick. He can feel himself dripping on the sheets, his pulse pounding in his chest and between his legs.

"Four," he says before shoving his tongue as far as it will go into Stolas' cunt. He's rewarded by yet another orgasm, Stolas' inner walls clenching around Blitzø's tongue in rhythmic motions. It's definitely more than half-way done when the timer goes off.

"I'm calling it five," he says, his tail slapping Stolas on the thigh. "Good show."

"I fucking hate you," Stolas says with a big smile. "And it was four and a half."

"Pretty sure you're wrong about both things, but whatever."

— —

After a break, both for Stolas to recover and for Blitzø to come to terms with his absolute raging boner, Blitzø decides to move to the next item on their list.

They're curled up together in their bed, Stolas gently stroking Blitzø's back, making sure to end with a firm scratch at the sensitive base of his tail.

Blitzø kisses his shoulder, muttering, "I'm gonna make you cry, pretty bird."

Art by MRianih (twitter(x) and bsky)

Stolas absolutely shudders. "You got fairly close last time," he admits.

"It's not hard," Blitzø brags.

Biting back giggles and blatantly staring at Blitzø's junk, Stolas says, "I beg to differ."

"You dirty bird!"

Blitzø decides there's no more time for their familiar back-and-forth and climbs up Stolas' body so they can kiss. After the first round, he's got a better idea of what feels good versus what could veer into 'too much' territory. Not that he's going to pull back—overstimulation is the goal for this particular line item.

As their tongues wrap around each other, Blitzø lets his tail inch up Stolas' inner thigh. He keeps the touch light. This isn't a race against time, it's an exercise in efficiency. He wants to get Stolas crying with as few orgasms as possible.

They continue to kiss as the spade of Blitzø's tail reaches Stolas' cloaca. Even with the decreased sensitivity of his tail, Blitzø can feel the intense heat between Stolas' voluptuous thighs. He gently rubs against Stolas' hole, pulling back in shock as Stolas' breath catches in his throat and laughing as his spade is immediately covered in come.

"Just from kissing?" he asks as Stolas fights to get his breath back.

"You were doing more than kissing," Stolas replies, a little grumpy.

"I'm calling it ten seconds and adding it to the list."

"Must you leave?" Stolas whines as Blitzø gets up to add to his very professional, very scientific list.

Once done, he climbs back into bed with Stolas.

"As comfortable as the blanket pile you made—"

"It's a nest," Blitzø interjects. "On account of you being a bird."

"The nest," Stolas corrects in that prissy, stuck-up voice he knows drives Blitzø batty. "I'm much more comfortable when you're here with me."

Blitzø jumps out of the bed again, smiling at Stolas' cranky, "That's the opposite of what I said, Blitzø."

"Relax your puss," Blitzø says, grabbing the notebook and pen before climbing back into the bed. He lays his scientific equipment on his bedside table and grabs Stolas' face, pulling him into a kiss.

"Now I don't have to leave," he says when they're done.

"I believe you were going to make me cry," Stolas answers, narrowing his eyes.

"Greedy fucking bird," Blitzø says with a big smile. "I'll make you cry, alright."

"Bring it."

Blitzø lets his tail rub against Stolas' birdpuss again, really letting it get wet. Once he can feel slick dripping off the spade, he brings the tip to Stolas' mouth. Because there's nothing that Stolas likes more than the taste of their arousal. He says he prefers Blitzø's jizz, but he laps up his own off of Blitzø's tail.

"Oh Blitzy," he moans. "Feed me my juices."

And yeah, it's cheesy as fuck, but the stupid dirty talk never fails to get Blitzø hard. Granted, he's barely softened during their break, but the look of satisfaction on Stolas' face combined with the feeling of his tongue on Blitzø's spade gets him back to maximum hardness.

"Let me drink yours down," Stolas continues and Blitzø has no choice but to replace his spade with his tongue in Stolas' mouth. He lets his tail trail up and down the insides of Stolas' thighs again.

Blitzø makes him come like that again, just rubbing the spade of his tail on Stolas' pussy. Orgasm three happens when Blitzø falls and his leg shoots down against Stolas' cunt like it's a fucking Slip-N-Slide. Number four is during a heated frotting session; Blitzø wants to feel the molten lava of Stolas' pussy on his dick before they're both incoherent. He blows his load all over the small, come-matted feathers that surround his pussy.

Orgasms five, six, seven, and eight are almost indistinguishable from each other. Blitzø has decided to clean up some of the excess fluids with his mouth and he's counting each section cleaned as a different orgasm.

The count gets fuzzy after that, with Blitzø fingering Stolas until his pupils shrink and they're almost completely invisible.

Blitzø shoves his tongue alongside his claw, wiggling them both as Stolas shouts and shudders through another orgasm.

"Please Blitzy," Stolas slurs as a fat tear falls down his cheek. "Please!" Another tear falls and Stolas starts chanting, "Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me please."

Blitzø lifts his head and pulls his claw out of Stolas' cunt, watching as even that little motion causes him to gasp through another orgasm. A small spurt of come gushes out and Blitzø watches it trail down into the enormous wet spot in the middle of the bed.

"We're gonna need a new bed after this," Blitzø says, offhandedly. "I'm billing your stupid ex-wife for it."

"What, darling?" Stolas whispers.

"Nothing," Blitzø says quickly. "And you're sure I can fuck you?" he asks, getting back on track.

He hadn't quite gone soft after marking up Stolas' hole-feathers, his however-many orgasms not doing anything to subdue his extreme need to fuck his bird.

"I'll let you know if it's too much." He's still whispering and a shudder runs though Blitzø's body as he realizes Stolas has shouted himself hoarse.

"I'll make you tea with so much honey after," he promises, knowing Stolas is absolutely going to pass the fuck out after this session. Blitzø needs sleep just as much, but he's got an overstimulated owl to plow into the mattress first.

Blitzø spits into his hand and wraps it around his cock, stroking himself a few times. He knows he's blowing his load about zero point one second after he gets inside Stolas, but he needs some sort of friction.

"Put it in me." Stolas' voice cracks mid-request.

Throwing Stolas' legs over his shoulders, Blitzø has no choice but to obey.

The first push in feels like he's dipping his dick into liquid flame. It's hotter than Hell on a sunny day and as he bottoms out, Blitzø can feel Stolas come.

"Don't stop," Stolas whispers, more tears running down his cheeks.

"Fuck you're so fucking gorgeous like this," Blitzø says, absolutely mesmerised watching Stolas cry. He thinks this might be orgasm number thirteen or maybe thirty. But before he can decide on anything, his hips get impatient and start slamming into Stolas.

Stolas lets out a broken scream and comes and comes and comes.

And there's nothing left for Blitzø. He's completely lost both his grasp on his sanity and his ability to not blow his load like a fucking teenager.

Blitzø comes so hard he cries.

Blitzø comes so hard he quits breathing until he's a little dizzy.

Blitzø comes so hard he's pretty sure his balls implode.

When he's finished watching the universe burn, Blitzø collapses on Stolas.

"Hurts, darling," Stolas says, and Blitzø quickly rolls off of him.

"Sorry, Stols," he says, reaching for Stolas' hand.

Stolas lays his hand on top of Blitzø's and starts to snore.

— —

They sleep for ten hours.

Blitzø is crusty in places he didn't realize could get crusty. His eyes crack open and he immediately regrets it. Not only does it let in the light of a million thousand suns, the cold air scrapes over the nerves in his corneas like sandpaper.

"Gah," he says.

Stolas groans.

"What were we thinking?" he whispers. "We're middle-aged dads. We're not super-hunky professional sports athletes."

"Super hunky?" Blitzø complains, but his heart isn't really into it, due to the fact that he is both slowly and very quickly dying from the uncommon, incurable disease of post-tantric sexual dehydration. "Also, who's middle-aged? We're only mid-level adults; we're like a third-aged at most."

"Oh," Stolas says, obviously tuning Blitzø out. Then rustling noises surround Blitzø as Stolas leaves their jizz-soaked nest.

"It appears Asmodeus and Fizzarolli have left us libations."

"Huh?" Blitzø grunts, opening his eyes again. This time, the brightness has scaled back to just half a million thousand suns.

His eyes still feel like they got fucked by a sandpaper dildo, however.

He focuses on Stolas, who is holding two dainty fucking plates that are covered in pale pink flowers with a pile of cookies and a little vial on each of them.

"These flowers have penises in them," Stolas titters, staring intently at the plates.

"'Drink me'?" Blitzø asks, eyes narrowing in on the drink, the little vial with shimmering blue liquid and a paper tag. "And 'eat me'?" he says, referencing the cookies. "Do they not think I know what food is?"

"I believe it's a reference to a children's book, but the note said it will help these terrible sex hangovers we seem to have." Stolas lifts one of the little cookies that has 'eat me' in red frosting, and breaks off a piece to eat. He sighs as he swallows, and Blitzø would be turned on if he hadn't died like, four minutes ago.

"Oh," Stolas says again. "I feel much better."

He then shoves the rest of the cookie into his mouth, like he'd been raised in a barn. With a wicked glint in his eye, he grabs the vial, and lifts the plate to his beak, dumping all the cookies down his throat.

"Oh Satan," he sighs, nearly collapsing.

Blitzø has to roll to grab his plate, because weird druggy cookies are one thing, but the five second rule is another, and he is definitely not up for bending over, even if the cookies on the ground might fix him.

Stolas pulls the cork out of the top of the vial and chugs it.

"I feel much better, darling," he says, licking his mouth. "You should take your medicine so you can continue to fuck me."

"Stolas, I'm going to have a heart attack if we keep fucking," Blitzø says, closing his eyes again. But he opens his mouth when Stolas taps a cookie at his lips, chewing like the pussy-whipped simp he is.

Stolas is correct, though—he does start feeling better the more he eats. When the cookies stop, he feels the glass of the vial at his lips and lets Stolas tip the concoction into his mouth.

It's heady, rich and sweet, like the mead he'd chugged at Bee's party so long ago. But where that was tinged with honey, this tastes of the artificial flavor only seen on earth: blue raspberry.

Once it hits his stomach, Blitzø groans in relief.

"How is that so good?" he asks, sitting up and taking stock of their room.

Most of the mess is confined to the bed. They've been pretty diligent lately about not knocking over all the storage bins and baskets Stolas had bought, secondhand, to keep Blitzø's massive amount of horse paraphernalia contained and off the floor.

But the bed is disgusting.

Blitzø feels a surge of pride at the diameter and circumference of the wet spot.

They're definitely going to have to buy a new mattress after Stolas stops feeling everything. And fucking burn the old one because it's a biohazard. Blitzø is rooting around his bedside table for his phone to take a photo for posterity when he hears Stolas giggle.

"What?" he asks, finding his phone and quickly taking three pictures of the bed.

"There was a second note," Stolas says, walking to the bed. "From Fizzarolli. It says 'Don't forget to write things down, otherwise your research doesn't count.' Then he's drawn a red prick and a gray cloaca and added—uh, thrusting embellishments around them."

Blitzø snickers and starts pulling the sheets off the bed. Thankfully there's a washer and dryer in the bathroom, because if they leave these too long, they're going to stand up and walk away. And his next plan involves the bathroom upgrade he had graciously accepted as a ton of belated birthday presents from Fizz.

The clawfoot tub takes forever to fill with the apartment's shitty water pressure, but at least the hot water never runs out. So Blitzø turns the tap on as hot as it will go, then starts the sheets in the washing machine. Stolas wanders in, mid-laundry detergent measurement, and smiles.

"We're having a bath, are we?"

Blitzø looks him up and down very deliberately and grins.

"Yeah," he says, shutting the lid and pressing the start button before hopping off his step-stool. "We're having a bath because you're covered in jizz and you know I love that, but I also know you don't."

Stolas doesn't answer, but he does grimace when he looks down at his birdpuss.

"We do seem to have made a mess, darling," he says with a frown, then wobbles a little.

Blitzø rushes over to pick Stolas up, bridal-style, and carries him to the tub. He unceremoniously dumps him in the water, laughing as Stolas cackles.

"You're such a brute," Stolas mock-scolds. But he's shifting around, making himself comfortable in the still-rising water.

"Do you want lavender and sandalwood, or that weird smoky tea bubble bath that the parrot gave you."

"His name is—"

"Vassago," Blitzø complains. "I know you say he's not trying to steal you away, but—"

"He's just a good friend, Blitzy," Stolas says, comforting. "But the lavender is fine if it's a problem."

It's an old argument, one with little heat. Neither Blitzø nor Stolas think Vassago is trying to do anything but help Stolas out, but also Blitzø is trying to help the bird with his self-esteem, so if a royal parrot thinks Stolas is hot, Blitzø will deal with it.

Just to be spiteful, Blitzø gets the lapsang souchong and flower bubble bath and dumps a good bit into the tub.

"I do love this one, darling," Stolas says, inhaling deeply. "Thank you."

"It matches the vibe of your demon form," Blitzø says, tearing off his clothes and climbing into the tub.

"I think so, too," Stolas says, pulling Blitzø close and dropping a few kisses across his horns. "If you truly hate it…"

Blitzø rolls his eyes and leans up to kiss Stolas. "You know I love it," he admits.

"And I love youuuuuu," Stolas says in his irritatingly adorable sing-song voice.

So Blitzø grabs at Stolas like he's going to kiss him, but at the last second, swerves and dunks Stolas under the water-line.

"I hate you," Stolas says when his face emerges, head feathers dripping and messy.

"Nah," Blitzø says. "You love me. And you're about to really love me," he says, reaching for Stolas again.

This time, he follows through with the kiss, tasting sour morning breath and the hint of bergamot that always tinges Stolas' breath.

While they're making out, Blitzø lets his tail trail up and down Stolas' plush thighs, briefly dipping in to check his cunt.

"Are you ready for the next phase?" Blitzø asks.

"I'm not exactly sure what is next," Stolas says, letting out a small gasp.

Blitzø keeps the spade of his tail centered on Stolas' inner thighs and hole, rubbing and massaging him under the water.

Stolas moans and Blitzø starts rubbing faster, focusing more on the nubbin that brings him so much pleasure. He smiles as Stolas falls apart, a hot stream of come covering his tail.

"I think we're going to have to take a shower after our bath," Stolas says when he stops shaking.

"I don't think you'll be able to stand in the shower," Blitzø says with a smirk, then dives under the water. He settles between Stolas' legs, nosing at his cloaca. He rubs his mouth up and down it for three seconds before shoving his arms under Stolas' legs and lifting until Stolas is precariously perched on the edge of the tub.

Mentally running through his totally-real, totally-scientific list, Blitzø says, "I'm going to make you come without touching you."

Stolas slides off the edge of the tub and Blitzø is pushed underwater.

"Bleh!" he shout-gurgles.

When he's able to break the surface, he hears Stolas giggling.

"You're trying to kill me!" he shouts, trying to blink the water out of his eyes.

Stolas giggles some more. "I'm sorry, darling, but you startled me." A calculating look crosses his face. "And you did dunk me first."

He clambers up to the edge of the bathtub and spreads his legs; Blitzø watches with interest.

"I believe you were going to attempt to make me climax without touching me," he says, prim as anything, but Blitzø can't take him seriously with his feathers dripping into both sets of eyes and the absolutely evil grin on his face.

Blitzø gently splashes him before moving to the opposite side of the tub.

"Do you have enough room on the edge of the tub?" Blitzø asks. "Don't want you to assassinate me."

Stolas giggles and moves his hips until he seems pretty stable. Blitzø stares at him until he says, "Yes, I'm settled, Blitzø."

"Good," Blitzø says, pitching his voice low. "Now close your eyes."

Stolas does, taking directions as beautifully as always

Blitzø is hit by a crisis of confidence, but decides to bravely push through and spew some filth to try and get Stolas off. He will admit to himself that if he fails, he'll just fuck Stolas until they both come and everything will be hunky-dorie.

"I want you to picture…" He trails off. Talking is easy, but describing a scene is harder than he'd anticipated.

"Yes," Stolas says. "You're rubbing me all over."

"I am."

"And you," Stolas continues, "feel so good. Your claws are always so rough against me, hurting me exactly the way I adore. Pinpricks of pain and blood."

Blitzø nods. "I love when I do that." He clenches his claws. "You look so hot like that."

Stolas moans. "I feel hot like that." He shifts his hips on the lip of the tub. "And then when you pull me close and fuck me--my mouth, my cunt, anything really--it feels so good."

While he's talking, Stolas' eyes open so all four of them are staring at Blitzø.

"You make me feel so good, Blitzø," he says. "You take care of me so well."

This time, Blitzø groans.

"You're so attentive to my needs."

"You do have a needy birdpuss," Blitzø says. He scents the air with his tongue, tasting smoky tea and ylang ylang from the bubble bath, and the faint hint of Stolas' arousal.

"And you're a good father and partner," Stolas says, "as well as a good boss."

Blitzø groans again, the praise going to his exhausted cock. "Keep this up and I'll have to fuck you again when we're done."

"Oh, please do, Blitzy," Stolas says. His hips start shifting side-to-side. "I love feeling you inside me."

"What do you love about it?"

"You fill me up, and you get so hard, and it feels so good and ohhhhhhh…" he whines and shudders.

"What else?" Blitzø asks. He's thankful Stolas is doing most of the work because he's exhausted and suddenly horny again at the sight of Stolas gyrating on the edge of their bathtub.

"When you fill me up with your come, and it drips down my thighs." Stolas shudders again, but this time stiffens and lets out a few frantic screeches before falling limp.

"Ummmm," Blitzø says, moving towards Stolas. "Did it work?

Stolas laughs, bright and clear. He's the happiest Blitzø has seen him in a long time.

"I got wet thinking about all the things I love about you and something dripped."

Blitzø moves closer, looking at his cloaca.

"Ahhh," he says, spotting the little river of slick, making its way down his thigh.

"This tiny bit got you all hot and bothered?" he asks, before licking it up.

Stolas screeches again, this time covering Blitzø with his come. Blitzø licks him several more times, just in case.

When he's finally done with his orgasm, Stolas slides back into the tub, pulling Blitzø into a kiss.

"That was wonderful, thank you."

Blitzø sits in the tub, surrounded by his love, and is quietly, very horny.

Apparently Stolas is aware of that, because his talons start to scratch at the sensitive base of Blitzø's horns while his hips shift and move until Blitzø is practically inside him. They kiss and frot, letting the water flow over their bodies, twisting and turning, their hips setting the pace. When he grabs at the base of Blitzø's tail, Blitzø groans.

"Bed," he says.

"But the water feels good on my skin," Stolas says with a smirk, moving away.

"Nope!" Blitzø says, working to flip them so Stolas is on top. "We have more experiments!" he shouts, lifting Stolas out of the water. He wraps Stolas in a big, fluffy towel and carries him towards their bedroom.

"You're dripping everywhere," Stolas complains, halfway through the thirty second trip.

"I'm mostly dry," Blitzø counters. "I don't retain water like a feathery bitch."

They get to their bed and Blitzø tosses Stolas up on the mattress.

"If you're really tapped out, that's fine," Blitzø says, once they're both on the bed. He sends his boner a quick 'sorry, we'll take care of this once the bird is asleep.'

But Stolas shakes his head. "I'm fine," he says, still a little breathless. "Unless you need a break."

"We're not doing this," Blitzø says, scooting under Stolas. "We're not talking ourselves out of more sex."

Stolas giggles and moves on Blitzø, lining up his birdpuss with Blitzø's dick. "Agreed," he says, the tip of Blitzø's cock in his cloaca.

Blitzø's head hits the bed and he comes like the needy bitch he is, giving their memory foam mattress something it should want to forget.

Stolas, for his part, also comes like a freight train.

Then he falls chest fluff first on Blitzø's face, nearly suffocating him.

"Don't die, my love," Stolas says rolling to the side.

Blitzø spits out a few feathers. "Helluva way to go, though."

— —

Stols Sexxx Srvy Survey

s cum how mny tims 3 mins: 5 4.5

how mny tms untl S crys: lost cnt

Cn s cum withot touh:

intke vs outpt fluds lol stols cume luk a guyser

hw fasssst cn S cum: difrnt bdy parts- dick, hnds, tng spde: 10 sex- spde peen- jst the tip

— —

The next morning they're 'rather rudely,' as Stolas likes to say, woken by Loona barging into the apartment. The door slams and her voice pierces through the quiet of their morning.

"If you fucked in the living room, you're paying to deep clean the carpet!"

"We didn't leave our room!" Blitzø shouts back, for posterity.

"You're both so gross!" she shouts and starts banging pots and pans around in the kitchen. "And it smells like you didn't even shower!"

Blitzø looks at Stolas and shrugs.

"We kinda forgot," he admits, and Stolas hides behind his hands, letting out a little giggle and making Blitzø laugh in turn.

"We did," he says, once they're finished laughing. "And we will have to buy her so many things."

"So much," Stolas agrees.

"I think she's making coffee," Blitzø says and Stolas sits up, smelling the air like a cat.

"We should eat, darling," he says, rolling over and grabbing a robe. "She's made coffee and it would be rude to not partake."

With another laugh, Blitzø gets up and pulls on some lounge clothes and heads out to the kitchen where his daughter is actively working to take care of him and his bird.

"I lied," he says, smacking her on the hip with his tail. "We also fucked in the bathroom."

Her groan is drowned out by Stolas' chirping laugh, and isn't that the best thing that could happen to a little red asshole with abandonment issues and a fucked up brain.