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Stolas waited as long as he could. A rhythmic rain fell from the graying sky, drops pooling on the railway platform where he stood with an unnatural stillness that betrayed the human form he wore, not that anyone around him would know. This particular station, nestled on the outskirts of a hilly little town, was sparsely populated on this wet afternoon, not enough eyes to take notice of the birdlike stretch of his neck or the touches of magic ( a glittering, shifting cosmos within the baubles that dangled from his ears ). Or the otherworldly red gaze that moved in a continuous sweep, searching, seeking a sight that had yet to appear.
He knew, sadly, it was entirely possible that it never would, though that didn't keep him from hoping as the train bound for London approached and eventually slowed to a stop. His heartbeat fluttered faster, anxiety churning in his stomach when the boarding call begun and still, nothing came. Every second he had was given, rain catching on his lashes and blinked off as he gave one final look around -
There was no choice but to climb aboard.
He lingered as the train chugged to life, leisurely making his way through elegant dining cars as if he wasn't falling further and further into despair with every step he took. Glancing through the rain and steam outside the window just in case, straining to hear any shout to wait, to stop. Nothing, no one, once again, and by the time he reached his sleeper car, the sigh that had been building within left him with so much heaviness, it might as well have carried the weight of total existence.
( Inside the car, someone might've snorted, “Christ on a stick.” )
The door was barely unlocked before it flew open and Stolas found his outstretched arm caught in a firm grasp of black-painted nails, unceremoniously yanking him inside. His back hit the door as it closed, a gasp of surprise taken by a pair of parted, warm lips, trading the sound for the taste of hell beneath what was undeniably mouthwash. He could only melt against such insistence, knowing his face was very clearly flushed when it ended.
“Harriet,” the smile around that name was just as sharp in this form as any other. “Where the fuck do you think you're going?”
“Oh, darling!” The unfettered joy needed no faking. “You came!”
“Well, not yet. Didn't wanna start without you.” Blitzø didn't look terribly scolded by the mildly withering look from his lover - it didn't help that Stolas's lips were pursed in an attempt not to titter at such cheek. He corrected himself, anyway. “I mean - ‘course I came. You know I can't be without you.”
( “I know this theme is quite…specific,” he'd said some nights before, somewhat timidly as his talons stroked between the imp's spines. “But - if I could just ask - that is - if you think - ”
“Stols.” Blitzø had stretched under his attentive touch like a pleased cat. “Spit it out.”
“If you could…perhaps, try not to say too much that you wouldn't actually mean?” )
Eyes widened with emotion, Stolas surged into another kiss, threading long fingers through dark hair streaked with white and guiding him in, tugging as he normally would on his horns. Their mouths fit so differently like this, easy and soft, though Blitzø certainly did his part to fight that. Teeth sank into his bottom lip and he could feel the drag of them all the way down to his buckling knees, saved from dropping to the floor by the hands slipping inside his open rain-damp blazer, encircling the waist cinched nice and slim in a lace bodysuit.
“No poofy dress today?” Blitzø asked without moving even an inch away, palms feeling along the shape of him.
“Mm, no,” he murmured back, struggling not to be distracted by the way their lips met with every word. “I went with a more modern interpretation of the romantic heroine look.” More fashionable career woman than delicate Victorian flower.
“Buuut you kept the name Harriet?”
Stolas bit back at him, nipped the clever tongue that moved to lick into his mouth, delighting in the muffled yelp it provoked before giving the appendage a loving suck to soothe the sting. “I hope you aren't disappointed.”
“Hell no.” Reassurance was kissed down his neck, all the more sensitive without feathers. Bruised over his collarbone, Stolas's head thudding against the door as it tipped back, encouraging. “You look so sexy.” That would've been compliment enough, reddened marks blooming across pale flesh wherever his mouth went, but then he amended, “You're fucking gorgeous.”
A sound of overwhelm flew from Stolas's throat, not much more than a shuddering exhale, and sexy as they might be, it was time for some of these clothes to be quickly and effectively discarded.
“As are you, my darling.” He shrugged the blazer off his shoulders and down his arms, watching the glint of hunger in the other's stare as more skin was exposed. “My Blitzy.”
( “Hmm…Thomas?”
“Nah.”
“Frederick?”
“Hard pass.”
“Richard?”
“You wanna call me Dick?”
The suggestive jumping of Blitzø's eyebrows practically could’ve been heard through the phone, and Stolas had been unable to hide his amusement. “Then why don't you tell me what I should call you.”
Silence had answered him at first, then a shuffling noise or three. Finally, a grumble, utterly incoherent.
“What was that?”
Another, just as bad. Worse, even.
“Blitzø, really.”
“I said - ” Groaning, loudly, as if he'd been asked to perform some grueling, herculean task. “I wanna be…Blitzy.”
“O-Oh.”
“Just - it's been a minute and it's fine, for this. This time. Don't make it a thing.”
“Oh, of course not.” )
When Stolas shoved at the other's spiked jacket with enough force and intention, and then even harder, Blitzø finally relented, releasing his hold until it fell. His shirt was already being rucked up his stomach, fingers gliding over brown skin and scar tissue, but he rudely ignored the attempt, not to mention the whine of half-protest when his hands reached for the prince again.
A squeeze of his ass through form-fitting slacks and any complaints were forgotten. A step in between his legs and a slow grind, and anything that wasn't yes or more ceased to be. He blessed the new height difference these forms allowed them, far more manageable for kissing again, and again, open and consuming and keeping him relatively quiet while Blitzø rocked up against him, Stolas feeling the concealed hardness pressing right to his core. He craved it, his body clenching for it, but he couldn't demand it, or beg for it, with Blitzø's mouth dizzying him. With Blitzø's tongue, shorter now but skilled as ever, working over his own and keeping the same, steady pace as his hips.
“B-blitzy…!” He could only pant for it, arching in relief when hands slid around to unbutton, unzip his pants, and reach inside. The crotch of his bodysuit was thin, flimsy where it snapped closed, and covering very little.
“Harriet, you idiot,” Blitzø was almost purring, stroking over what he could touch of the silken cunt, teasing along wet lips. “What were you thinking, trying to leave me?”
“I - I wasn't sure you’d stop me.” Voice hitching, Stolas chased after the bursts of pleasure, rolling onto the fingers that caused them. “I thought starting over would be better if - you no longer wanted me.” His nails scratched beneath Blitzø's shirt, whatever welts they left behind nothing compared to the bleeding streaks his talons would've given, but the urgency just as plain. “If you never did.”
A pair of eyes snapped to his, the look between them holding a universe of understanding, something bright, something raw, knowing they were straddling a line. Pretend and reality pushed so close together there was nearly nothing to differentiate between the two, and maybe that was the point, but Stolas still expected a sign the other might run. A flash, a twitch, a survey of every exit.
Blitzø let him go, but before Stolas's heart could drop -
“Turn around.”
He did as told and the reward was immediate, kisses on his shoulder, hot breath through the lace at his back while his pants were peeled down. He shimmied his legs to help, giggling at the smack to his asscheek the effort earned him.
“Ya know, my first thought was blowing up the train tracks to keep you from going anywhere.” The clink of a belt buckle being undone was music to his ears, and it took every speck of will power to let Blitzø take his time hooking a finger between his legs and unsnap the closure, instead of ripping it open on his own. “But this is good, too. ‘Sides, you dropped all this dough on a whole-ass room.”
“It's so good, Blitzy.” Hands on the door, he bent forward at the waist, yearning etched into every line of his body as he presented himself, trained well. “I did want a private place to weep, if you didn't show.”
“Drama queen.” He huffed a laugh, then paused. “Hey, can you do that thing - ” But one hand was already reaching back for him, magic tingling under the fingers that ran over Blitzø's erection, lubricating it. “Fuck, yeah.”
It was always glorious, the first push inside, and Stolas bit his lip to keep from wailing at the stretch, the tight connection. His pussy drew him deep, enveloping the thick cock that nudged over all the right places with every thrust, growing in speed, in force, stars spinning about behind his eyelids.
“Still need me to tell you what I want, Harriet?”
Please. He needed it like breathing. Like moonlight on his feathers. He needed it so badly he could scream, he could burn alive, he could flay himself open waiting, just please. Please, please, please -
“Please, Blitzy.”
Blitzø bottomed out and stayed there, grinding a warbling cry out of him, pressing in until his chest kissed Stolas's back. “I want you to stay. Be with me.” Roughened, like it was dug up from ancient soil, handed over before it was cleaned off and polished. “I want this - ” Fingers traveled around a trembling thigh to the place where they joined, rubbing at his clit until he clutched around his dick in orgasm, small but powerful, gasping but as close to silent as Stolas could handle, not daring to miss a word from Blitzø's mouth. “And I want this.”
Fingers at his heartbeat. Holding his pulse.
“Yours, Blitzy.” He promised. Gazing back at him, planets colliding in the earrings that jangled to emphasize each hit of hipbones against him. “It's all yours, you have it.” And always had.
“Then - ” Blitzø gritted his teeth, taking him faster, hurtling them to the edge. “You ever do have to go? You just better fucking take me with you.”
When he came again, the world tilting and throwing him off, falling through space, Blitzø spilled over with him, a delirious rush inside of him. He leaned against the door to remain more or less upright as hands smoothed over his quivering muscles, as a kiss found the nape of his neck.
“Blitzy,” he sighed, letting the words knock loose in the aftershocks, in the air of far more truth than play. “I love you.”
( “ - try not to say too much that you wouldn't actually mean?”
Blitzø had been quiet, so much so that he'd briefly thought the imp had gone to sleep on him. But then he'd turned in Stolas's soft, feathery embrace, tilting his head to look up at him, so seriously.
“For you, birdy, I can mean every damn word.” )
“Yeah. I love you, too, Harriet.”