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“Thanks for agreeing to watch the babies. Means a lot!” Robotic feet glide across marble flooring, and cyborg arms scoop up as many mangled-looking pooches as will fit in their grasp. He manages three, the fourth one wiggling free and going back to play fighting with friends. It’s always a delight to see the Hell-famous clown pretend he has his shit together. He does a half-decent job at convincing his newest friend, Stolas, but Blitz sees straight through the over-caffeinated nervous wreck’s attempt at normalcy. He considers calling him on his bullshit, but decides it’s bad form to piss off the drama queen this bright and early. Especially with his conflict-avoidant boyfriend standing so close. Yeah. Terrible idea.
“Well, it’s not like we had better things to do at six a.m. on a Saturday.” Blitz doesn’t mean to sound like an asshole, but he’s never been a morning person. Fizzarolli knows this. He woke him up anyway, with twelve deliberately vague, deeply alarming messages. Blitz nearly gave his bird a heart attack with how fast he launched out of bed and scrambled for his pants. If Blitz had known the emergency was of the pet-sitting variety and not the my-best-friend’s-life-is-in-danger-again variety, he would’ve snuggled his little red ass back into bed and told Fizz to figure it out.
“Oh! Okay. Then I feel less bad. Not that I was feeling bad earlier. Figured you guys could use a break from that stuffy little apartment.”
Christ on a stick. Dating a Deadly Sin really got to the clown’s head. The ‘stuffy little apartment’ is a huge step up from the tattered nylon tarp they once called home. Sure, it’s no penthouse suite overlooking Crystal Stadium’s bustling nightlife, but that’s an absurdly high bar to clear.
“Oh, fuck you, bitch. I’ll have you know I keep my apartment real fuckin’ tidy, and I don’t rely on fifty butlers and maids like a pampered little trophy wife.” Blitz’s mouth works faster than his brain, and it takes him a minute to consider his owl might have caught the stray. He glances over his shoulder to check on Stolas. He looks fine, if only mildly annoyed.
“I think what Blitz means to say is, we’d be happy to look after your little creatures. What are they called again? I’m not too familiar with non-pedigrees.” Even when Stolas means well, he can’t help but come across as a pompous blue-blood. Old habits die hard.
It’s subtle, the twitch in Fizz’s eyebrows at creatures. “Quieves. With a v,” Fizz interjects as he goes through his phone, most likely sending Oz a goodbye text. Or a nude. The sexy rooster demon is probably cooped up in his dildo factory, working round the clock to concoct the tingliest lubes and the softest handcuffs. Half the sex toys that have been crammed into Stolas’ and Blitz’s holes are courtesy of Asmodeus, and the couple have made a monthly tradition of scrolling through his online catalog for more fun pieces to add to their collection.
“Oh! That’s what Blitzy calls it when I—”
“Don’t you dare fucking finish that sentence!” The duo shout in unison as their tails snap upright, like a well-rehearsed bit. Old habits and such. Fizz looks about ready to hurl, while Blitz cycles through a million different ways the other imp could use this information against him. Blackmail? An apt but embarrassing new nickname? His face plastered on the front page of some trashy gossip rag? Anything’s game when your best friend is Fizzarolli.
“I said with a fucking v, bougie bitch. Now, their names. Blitz already knows them, but we can’t have their other uncle going around calling them ‘creatures’ now, can we?”
In typical Stolas fashion, he doesn’t catch Fizz’s snark. He’s still wearing that stupidly wide smile, just happy to be here. Somehow, Blitz’s new boyfriend has grown on Fizz in the way an annoying younger brother does. Off-putting, unwanted, barely tolerable. And so fun to bully, since the bird is impervious to the clown’s rage baiting. Remarks that would send Blitz flying into a fit leave the owl mildly befuddled. “Yes. That would be nice. I’m sure you picked out very fitting names for your quieves.” Stolas is careful to pronounce it correctly this time. Fizz is scary when he’s mad.
Fizz practically beams at the compliment. “You bet we did! This one’s Pipsqueak, Pip for short. He loooooves playing fetch. We got a chest full of toys you can toss around. Careful. Once he starts, he doesn’t stop.” He puts the plump critter down, satisfied with the introduction he gave him. “These two are Pierrot and Pickle. If any of them are like me and Blitz, it's these two." The pups clamber out of his arms and investigate the stranger’s enormous feet. Stolas pulls his ankles up like they’re suddenly radioactive. “They don’t bite. Well, not unless you forget to feed them. They’re cranky when they’re hungry.”
“Awww, just like their mommy!” Blitz quips, fully risking the possibility of Fizz roundhouse kicking him in the shins. Quadruple amputee perks: he dishes out bruises and takes none. Blitz turns to Stolas, like he’s letting him in on a secret, though he doesn’t bother to lower his volume. “Can you believe they didn’t name one of these fuckers Penis? Or Pussy. Ha!”
Blitz isn’t funny. He’s never been funny. And yet, Stolas is doubling over like he just heard the most clever one-liner ever.
“Anyway…” Fizz carries on like he didn’t just get rudely interrupted. “This feisty one’s Pretzel! Named her after my favorite carnival snack.” Her ears perk up at the mention of her name, and in no time she’s scampering over to her papa. The minute she’s in his arms, she’s nuzzling her proboscis snout to his cheek. “That’s a good girl.”
Blitz feigns a look of hurt, asking “I thought your favorite was popcorn?”
“That’s my second favorite. Speaking of.” Fizz puts two robotic fingers into his mouth and whistles. “Pop! Come say hi.”
A quieve peeks his head out from behind purple curtains and cautiously approaches the trio before settling by Fizz’s feet. “This one’s Popcorn. Only answers to Pop. He’s a lil shy but warms up real fast. He’s bonded to Pretzel. Do not, and I repeat, do not separate.”
“Just how many of these cre— quieves do you have, Fizzarolli?” Stolas’ head hurts. These are way too many names to memorize. He’s usually decent at remembering names, but he’s also nocturnal. His brain is barely functioning right now.
“Just a few more, princey! This lil gal’s name’s Pony. In honor of my pervy best friend’s horse fetish. Sorry you gotta deal with that, by the way.” That’s definitely not why Fizz picked the name, but he never misses an opportunity to fuck with Blitz. Bonus points if he can drag Stolas into it, too.
“Oh, it’s not a problem at all,” Stolas replies with the understatement of the century, considering he’s the one initiating half of their horse roleplay sessions as of late. What can he say? Blitz is irresistible when he’s in horny stallion mode. And the bird would be lying if he said ‘broodmare’ wasn’t one of his favorite pet names in bed, trailing closely behind ‘slut’, ‘whore’, and ‘cumrag’.
“Hey! Twinks! How about we don’t talk about my sex life when I’m standing right-fucking-here?” Blitz didn’t have a lot of expectations for how this morning would go, but the other men casually discussing his proclivities was not on his bingo card. In a less inopportune scenario it might actually turn him on, but right now, he just wants the roll call to be done with and return to his couch as soon as demonly possible.
“This is Pocket. She sleeps in Ozzie’s coat pockets. That’s the story.” Fizz continues rambling away as a skittish quieve hobbles her way to him. She’s anxious and Stolas wonders if his height and looming presence has anything to do with it. “Party! C’mere big girl!” A more confident quieve then emerges from seemingly out of nowhere, walking right past Stolas like he’s another floor lamp. “No cool story behind her name. But she’s got a lot of energy, so I say it fits.”
Party sniffs at Blitz’s boots before sinking her small teeth right through them, causing him to shriek at the top of his lungs and kick his leg until she flings off.
“Fucking bitch!”
“Oh! And she’s a biter too. Almost forgot to mention that.” Fizz most certainly didn’t forget to mention that, if his cocky grin is anything to go by. He takes a few steps over to the coffee table and picks up a framed picture. The creature in the photo is a soft baby pink, unlike the seemingly identical grey blobs that are scurrying in and out of view. “This little girl is Precious,” the clown says, his voice carrying a note of concern. “She’s at the vet right now.”
Fizz spots the look of uneasiness on Stolas and offers him assurance. “Don’t worry, I’m not gonna pop-quiz you on their names. Now, any questions before I go collect my daughter?”
“Um... well, I was wondering what we should feed them, and if there’s anything we need to be... aware of?” Stolas’ voice trails off at the end as uncertainty creeps in. He’s not sure what he and Blitz have gotten themselves into. Rather, what Fizz signed them up for.
“Asking the important questions, I see. I like this one, Blitz.” Not entirely true, but showing concern for his babies is a sure-fire way to get on Fizz’s good side. “This way!”
Fizz bounces his way into the massive kitchen, with Blitz and Stolas trailing close behind. The place is clearly built for a giant Deadly Sin, and Stolas doesn’t remember the last time he’s felt so small. Even the fridge is enormous, its top towering just above his head. He has the sudden, deeply undignified urge to crane his neck, as though he were a little nestling again. Stolas grabs onto his boyfriend’s horns to ground himself. The ridiculous scale of this place makes him feel uneasy and slightly overstimulated. He wants to ask Fizz how he manages living here at four feet and some change. Definitely a question for another time.
“Oh!” Stolas can’t help but vocalize. The refrigerator light is blinding. The barely functioning fridge in their apartment only has a dim bulb, with just enough light to tell mustard apart from mayonnaise.
“Okay, get this. The pups’ favorite snack is…” Fizz wears a shit-eating smirk, like he’s been waiting to drop this punchline all morning. He pulls out a giant plastic bowl covered with cling wrap, with an ambiguous goop of yellowy-white cream inside. “...banana pudding! Pretty fuckin’ neat, right?”
“No way, you’re fuckin’ with me!” Blitz is in tears, half choking on his own spit and damn near out of breath. The pair of imps are laughing up a fit, clearly sharing an inside joke Stolas is not privy to. He’s amused at how adorably happy they look. If this damn funhouse wasn’t giving him a massive headache, he might’ve thrown in a hoot or two along with them.
“Nah. Watch!” Fizz giggles away as he peels off the clingwrap, and in under three seconds, the winged fuckers are swarming his ankles. He grabs a fat, sloppy spoonful of pudding and dumps it on the floor. The quieves go berserk, squealing like they haven’t eaten in days. “They can smell this shit five floors down.”
“Is that really considered food? I was expecting something more… meaty— Oh?” Stolas feels some of the slop land on his talon, and a quieve abandons the chow pile in favor of lapping it off him.
“Bad boy, Pickle!”
Fizz’s scolding falls on deaf ears. Pickle continues to nip at the black toes, completely unfazed by Stolas’ frantic squirming. Robo arms extend and snatch the little guy back, and Stolas is left staring at his foot, now coated with sticky cream and quieve slobber. “Sorry about that. But you see what I mean about him being like Blitz? Bet that freaky fuck loves sucking on your feet.”
“I’m right here, dickwad.” Not even remotely in the zip code of a denial. Blitz can practically see the jester’s brain tabling the talon kink he may or may not have for another time. Stolas hasn’t loosened his grip on Blitz’s horns, and the imp has seen it enough times to know his boyfriend is teetering on the edge of going nonverbal. This place is an autistic demon’s worst nightmare: massive central lights, gaudy clashing colors, and a gang of quieves flitting about. It’s a little late for comforting gestures, but Blitz winds his tail around Stolas’ thigh anyway.
Fizz meanwhile adjusts his outfit in the mirror. “Aside from food, they’re mostly independent. And I already walked them, so no need to worry about accidents. So, anything you need from me before I head out? Just make it quick. Gotta be out the door in fifteen.”
“You wouldn’t happen to have any painkillers, would you? For Stols?” Blitz’s tail tightens around Stolas just slightly. His boyfriend is too quiet, and Blitz would be lying if he said he wasn’t a little freaked out.
“Shit— Are you okay? You’re not sick, are ya? If I had known, I wouldn’t have asked—”
“He’ll live. Mornings just ain’t his thing. Ya know… owl,” Blitz interrupts Fizz’s panicked rambling. In no time, the jester is rifling through the cupboards, extendable legs handling the height problem. His whirring arms fly across the kitchen and by some clownish sleight-of-hand, he materializes a glass of water and a jumbo bottle of pills.
“And If you ever need to lie down, the guest bedroom’s down the hall, third door on your left. I know the babies can be a lot, so don’t feel bad about taking breaks.” There’s a rare hint of sincerity in Fizz’s voice, and Stolas offers him an appreciative smile as he gulps down three pills with water. “Seriously. Go rest. You look like shit, and I’d rather you not throw up in my kitchen.”
Stolas smiles back. It’s so rare for anyone to show him any concern, but since having Blitz in his life, it’s become a much more common occurrence. Blitz has truly genuine friends. “Thank you, Fizzarolli. I think I’ll do just that. Now, run along. We wouldn’t want to keep you any longer.”
Fizz doesn’t need to be told twice. He snatches his fourth cup of coffee and bounces his way into the elevator. The penthouse then falls quiet, as though Fizz’s presence comes with its own theme song. Blitz turns to Stolas, keeping his voice low to avoid worsening his discomfort. “You holding up okay, birdy? I can handle the quieves. Go crash for a bit and sleep that headache off.”
“Oh, I’ll be fine, Blitzy! The pills are starting to kick in. I can stick around for a bit longer. And besides, I’d like to play with the little ones, too. They’re quite charming.” Stolas gracefully sits himself criss-cross applesauce on the cold marble. Not standing might do his headache some good. “Would you please pass the pudding, dear?”
Blitz hands Stolas the bowl and spoon. Its weight in his hands is surprisingly hefty; that’s certainly a lot of pudding for such little things. He tries not to let himself get overwhelmed but he can’t help it. Eight quieves, all at once, crawling into his lap and clawing at his clothes is way more than Stolas is used to. He’s a plant guy, and even his most lively carnivorous babies don’t put up this sort of commotion. But life has taught him he’s adaptable to change, and a fast learner. One dollop, two dollops, three dollops, and in no time, he’s feeding the pooches as though he’s known them their whole lives. He’s thrilled by how quickly they’re taking a liking to him.
“Ha! Pony keeps stealing from Pierrot. Greedy bitch,” Blitz snorts. He’s having the time of his life watching his boyfriend slowly win his way into these puppies' hearts. He rummages his own spoon out the cutlery drawer, not wanting Stolas to hog all the fun. “‘Kay babe, scoot over and make some room for me.”
“Jealous? Now Blitzy, Pickle could never compete with you, no matter how much Fizzarolli insists you two are alike.” Stolas teasingly flicks a tiny drop of banana fluff onto the imp’s cheek, hooting with delight when an impish forked tongue swipes it clean. His Blitzy is so cute. One of the quieves hobbles up to Blitz and sniffs his tail. “Look, dearest! Party likes you. That is Party… right? Oh dear, I’ve already forgotten half of their names. Forgive me, sweet darlings. I’ll try harder to remember.”
“You got it right the first time, babe. Party. You’re doing amazing. See? Got them rounded up in your nest like a big mama bird or something.”
Some of the quieves are starting to doze off, as though the banana pudding had been laced with Ambien. Pierrot is snuggled inside the crook of Stolas’ knee, and Pretzel finds a home under his long tail feathers. Pony called dibs on the bird’s left thigh. Smart move, Blitz thinks; those thighs make for the best pillows. One by one, the round-bellied critters huddle up close to their mama bird and drift off, the room growing more peaceful with each sleeping quieve.
“I suppose I did pick up a thing or two in 18 years of parenting. Why hello! I think your name is Popcorn. But you prefer Pop, right?” The little guy climbs Stolas’ arm and makes himself comfortable on the shoulder. The bird is tickled to see Pop’s ears perk up at the mention of his nickname. He isn’t half bad at telling the quieves apart. Just as Blitz said, he’s totally got this mama bird thing down.
“Sooo… you thinking about getting one of our own?” Blitz lets Pipsqueak clean the spoon before picking him up and placing him on Stolas’ unoccupied thigh, earning him an eyeroll in feigned annoyance.
“Oh, I don’t know about that. Making a decision that big from a first impression alone would be foolish. I’m sure they’re a lot of work. But…” Stolas gently removes the quieve from his shoulder. For something so small, he’s remarkably heavy. And so cute. “...I’m not writing it off completely. I think a quieve or two could be good for us.”
“Mom had a bunch of these bastards when we were growing up. If you ever decide you wanna adopt, I’ve got experience.”
“That’s reassuring. Though, I’d imagine no two quieves are the same. Who knows what our hypothetical pet would be like?”
“It usually comes down to which ring they were born in. Pony’s probably Greed or Gluttony; those two sins overlap so much it’s hard to tell. Pierrot’s Pride for suuure. You can see it in how he begs for attention.” Stolas’s eyes widen at the new information, tucking it away for later, should they ever seek to adopt. He’s already trying to suss out the birth Sins of the eight. “They say to get a quieve that matches your birth sin, but Fizz has never given a shit about rules.”
“Well, we’re both Pride demons, so wouldn’t we go for one like Pierrot? I mean, if we were to give a shit about the rules. Though I’d wager Sloth quieves are probably the easiest to raise.”
“Yeah, that’s what everyone thinks. Till they’re six years in and drowning in vet bills for sleep apnea. Nope, Sloth’s out of the question. First one mom lost was from there.”
“Oh, dear! Well, I can’t suppose Wrath quieves would be ideal, either. And could you imagine an Envious quieve? We couldn’t take them anywhere without them stealing,” Stolas laughs, and he looks down to find the quieves have finally conked out, the sound of chatter carrying them into sleep. He longs to stretch and settle more comfortably, but he can’t do much in his current predicament. “Darling, what are Lust quieves like?”
Blitz doesn’t skip a beat. “Horny. I know. Shocker. They hump furniture, legs, you name it. And they fuck through a shitload of calories, they have to constantly eat their weight in food. Loads of people adopt them thinking they’re Gluttons. I bet a couple of these hungry fuckers are from Lust. We’ll know which ones when they wake up.” It’s impressive how Blitz manages to keep a relatively straight face while describing their sexual habits.
“Fascinating.” Stolas is rarely a man of few words, but the intrusive thoughts of horny quieves have him far too preoccupied to speak. “Do you think it’s safe to move, Blitzy? I don’t want to disturb them, but I really have to use the bathroom.” In an instant, Blitz gathers the sleeping quieves from on, under, and around his boyfriend and places them gently on the floor. “Thank you, dearest. You were right; you have a real talent with them. All that experience shows.”
“Anytime, babe. I’ll follow ya. Haven’t pissed since I woke up. Which reminds me, you didn’t get a chance to bathe yet. And I bet the baths here are real fancy, like the ones in your old place.” Stolas immediately picks up what Blitz is putting down, and in no time scoops his imp in his arms and walks them towards the guest bedroom and into the adjoined bathroom.
With one hand tucked securely under Blitz’s butt, Stolas opens the bathroom door with the other and just as Blitz said, it’s an expansive bathroom befitting a King. It’s not nearly as ornate as the one Stolas used to spend hours at a time bathing in, but that makes sense considering Asmodeus is not one for pomp and frills.
Blitz clambers out of Stolas’ arms like a cat, and with an amused hoot Stolas sets him down again. The couple disrobe, slowly, putting on a little show for each other before hurriedly running the bath. Who knows how long before Fizz is back from the vet? Stolas can’t help grinning at the sight of a bottle of lavender-scented bubble bath placed on the edge of the enormous porcelain tub. He spills in a generous amount, and with a single toe he tests the temperature before sinking his whole body in. Ahhh, this is nice. Blitz fiddles with the dimmer switch, lowering the light to Stolas’ liking, before joining his boyfriend in the warm foam. The imp’s tail playfully swats the water, sending splashes flying and soaking the other’s feathery chest and shoulders. Stolas had hoped for a relaxing bath, but that’s not usually the case when he takes them with Blitz.
“Come here and kiss me, you dirty bastard.” Stolas hisses, pulling Blitz forward and causing him to slip and land chest-to-chest. Their mouths find each other, nipping and sucking in messily uncoordinated fashion. Talons and claws roam their bodies, and the silent room fills with their desperate moans. Stolas parts his legs and closes what little space remains between them.
“Mmmmhh… wasn’t expecting to get lucky this morning. If I knew you’d be in the mood I’d’ve told Fizz to fuck off,” Blitz breaks the kiss to speak, then smashes their mouths together again. Stolas is not a particular fan of morning sex, and usually shoves his half-hard boyfriend off of him when he tries to initiate. On rare occasions, he lets Blitz eat him out before breakfast, then rolls over and knocks out again. It cannot be overstated: he isn’t a morning person, even less so than his partner. But right now his body is on fire, and something about the abode of Lust has had him on edge since they portalled in.
“You won’t be lucky for long if you don’t shut up and fuck me already, Blitzy.” Stolas growls against Blitz’s lips before shoving his tongue back into his mate’s mouth. Blitz’s hardening cock grinds against the soft bed of feathers on Stolas’ plump belly, and the bird mewls with need. He hopes his debauched moans and wanton hip thrusting are enough for his beloved to get the hint. Thankfully, Blitz’s large claw makes its way down his feathered body and starts rubbing circles against his aching hole.
“Satan, babe. This wet already? Whatcha been thinkin’ about?” In one go, Blitz slips three thick fingers in, sinking them as far into the cloaca as he can. Caught off guard, the bird squawks and attempts to close his legs, but Blitz is faster. His free arm grabs onto a thigh and tosses it over his shoulder, leaving Stolas’ sensitive hole open for him to play with. “Missed my dick that bad? Didn’t I fuck you real good last night?”
“Don’t flatter yourself. I am in the water, after all. Should make sense that I’m wet everywhere, darling.”
“Uh. Nope. This is definitely— yeah this is definitely pussy juice. A fuck-ton of it, too.” Blitz pulls his fingers out and spreads them apart in front of Stolas, who darkly blushes watching his own sticky fluids cling to the fingers before stretching and snapping.
“Blitzy. If you don’t have your way with me on that guest bed, so help me Lucifer I will—”
Blitz doesn’t let Stolas finish that thought before draining the tub and pulling his bird up to his feet. He does a quick, half-assed job of drying the both of them, because he’s far too desperate to crawl up Stolas’ pussy to care.
“Well, w’dya waiting for? Get that tight ass in bed, bitch.” Blitz gives the feathered ass a sharp spank, and Stolas chokes down an excited squawk. He loves it when Blitz roughs him up so unexpectedly. He fumbles for the doorknob, and the imp groping his butt is not making this easy. He finally swings the door open, but not before Blitz slips a finger up his drooling cunt and thumbs his clit while he’s at it.
“Ahhh, Blitzy! Oh fuck, darling that feels so— Uh… Blitz? H-how did they get in here?” A pair of quieves are rough-and-tumbling in the center of the bed. Well, there goes their plans of squeezing in a quickie before Fizz gets back. The bedroom door is ajar; that explains the intruders. Blitz pulls out of the cloaca and shifts to chase them out, but Stolas stops him with a hand on his shoulder. “Leave them, dear. Fizzarolli’s probably headed back already. We’ll have plenty of time to ourselves when we get home. Now, what do you say we play with… Pop and Pickle? I think? May as well entertain ourselves while we wait.”
Stolas grabs the complimentary bathrobe laid out on the bed and wraps it around himself before plopping beside the quieves. The puppies tickle-fight him instantly, and Stolas is a giggling mess. “Blitzy! Help me!” Stolas begs.
“Ughh. Fine. But you owe me a blowjob the second we portal back.” Blitz puts on the smaller, imp-sized robe and climbs up the bed. He should probably help Stolas before he chokes on his own spit, but this is really entertaining. The bird is downright precious when bombarded by tickles. After taking in the beauty that is Stolas reduced to tears and gasps, Blitz finally rips the winged bastards off of him and unceremoniously tosses them to the floor. Stolas glares daggers at him for taking so long to intervene, though his breathless panting undercuts any real threat.
“You’re lucky I love you, honey. Lords, I really am out of shape, aren’t I? I blame that cooking of yours.”
It’s true. Stolas’ weight gain post banishment has been a labor of love. His picky eating and depression have made finding a reasonable diet quite the challenge. But Blitz is nothing if not determined. And it turns out, Stolas is really only picky when it comes to the bland crap those royal bird fuckers call food. When it comes to the poverty staples filling the pages of his cookbook—lovingly titled ‘Mama’s receepees’—Stolas can put away double Blitz’s portion.
“You’re the perfect shape, babe. Just the right amount of meat for me to hold on to when I’m dicking ya.” Stolas shouldn’t be so flustered. He’s had sex with this man for three years, two of which on a very regular basis. Yet dirty talk related to his weight has been the hardest to get used to, and the hottest to hear. “‘Sides, this gives us an excuse to go shopping again. I know how much you love that. Speaking of, wanna hit up the mall later today? My treat. Ya know, after that blowjob, I mean.”
“Yes, after the blowjob. And a nap. And breakfast. And an uninterrupted hour of Between Heaven and Hell.” It’s this new Saturday morning drama series Stolas is hooked on. Something about sinners whose partners made it to Heaven. Blitz doesn’t pay much attention to it, but the melodramatic crying and Stolas’ running commentary serve as decent background noise while he’s piecing together a horse puzzle on the floor. “But yes, I gladly accept your offer. You’re always so thoughtful and practical with your date plans, though, I suspect some selfish motives are involved. Perhaps… accompanying me in the changing rooms?”
“Guilty!” Blitz leans down and nuzzles his snout into Stolas’ soft headfeathers, right between his top set of eyes. He breathes in the lavender bubble bath and damp skin. Something about Stolas’ scent puts him in a trance, and his hand slips under the other’s bathrobe, pawing at the soft flesh of his chest and belly. He then reaches lower and strokes the sensitive crease between belly and pubic area, coaxing chirps of arousal from his bird.
“Shall we remove these pesky garments? I want to touch you, too.” Stolas doesn’t wait for Blitz’s answer, almost frantic with want as he unties the front of his partner's robe and… wow. Blitz is already half-hard, from a few stray touches and his scent. Stolas takes a second to soak in the ego boost before reaching forward and tugging at the red cock. This prompts Blitz to slide his body closer to Stolas so they’re laying on their backs, side to side, with their heads tilting towards one another to exchange languid kisses. Blitz’s hand continues kneading the owl’s stomach, his fingers sneakily grazing the dense mound of pubic feathers. Moans spill out of Stolas and Blitz drinks them all up. Not able to contain himself much longer, Stolas lets his legs fall open in hopes of encouraging the hand to venture lower, but Blitz is a fucking tease, and he isn’t going to give in easily, no matter how tempting his pretty bird’s moans.
“Such a good boy. Keep singing and maybe I’ll reward ya.” Blitz’s mouth barely parts from Stolas’, just long enough to drink in the hot, breathy cries as his skilled claws rake through the sensitive feathers where thigh meets crotch. So close to Stolas’ aching core, yet so agonizingly far. Blitz captures his beak once more, swallowing up those desperate hoots. He takes his time preening the matted jungle, untwisting, detangling, and smoothing down each feather. He doesn’t have to peel his eyes off Stolas’ face to know his cloaca is sopping wet. The rich scent of his arousal is unmistakable, and he had already been leaking plenty of slick in the tub. “Just a little longer, baby.” He’s almost done with his bush. It’s a really nice bush. The poor bird groans into Blitz’s mouth, clearly frustrated at the impromptu preening. “There, there. I’m not gonna leave you hanging. Just be patient and you’ll get your puss played with, okay?”
Stolas would normally make a fuss at being told to wait, but pulling the brat card would only stretch the agony. His best bet is to relax. Or, try his damn hardest to. He shifts his focus to the tongue assaulting his own. He had given up the battle as soon as it started, letting his boyfriend explore his mouth unchallenged. No matter how many times they kiss, he can never get used to how overwhelming it all is. Blitz’s taste, scent, weight, everything, floods his senses. He’s delirious, and just when he feels he’s out of breath, Blitz pulls back enough to let him gasp for air. Their mouths meet again, and the kiss morphs from passionate to ravenous. Stolas’ pussy is all but abandoned at this point, and he’s almost too buzzed to notice. Their combined spit spills out the corners of their mouths. A forked tongue scoops the stray slobber and shoves it back down Stolas’ throat. It’s loud and wet, though certainly not as wet as Stolas’ neglected cunt. His clit is throbbing, crying for relief. He needs Blitz to move his hand lower, or he might just pass out.
“Ahhhh!” Finally, euphoric respite. The finger is clumsy, probably because Blitz is too occupied sucking his face. Doesn’t matter. His poor cunt spurts out cum like he just received the finger-fucking of his life. “M— more, darling. Touch me again!”
“Stols, what are you talking about? I’m not touch— What the fuck??”
Blitz leaps back to the far end of the bed, as if burned by Stolas. Stolas blinks at him, confused. Even more baffling, he can still feel Blitz’s finger on his cloaca, despite both hands currently slapped over the imp's mouth. Blitz looks like he just saw a ghost.
“Oh… oh my!”
Stolas goes wide-eyed and can’t find his words. Wiggling between his plush thighs isn’t a finger, but a tiny quieve dragging its snout across his slit. His head is coated in Stolas’ spend, and he’s already hungry for more. Stolas tries to yell, to join Blitz in disgust. That would be the appropriate reaction, right? He should scream, puke, hop in the shower and pretend it never happened. But instead, he’s frozen, helpless to do nothing but accept the pooch’s attention. His pussy quivers around the quieve’s snout as more slick gushes from his hole. This only seems to fuel the little guy on, and Stolas can’t believe he’s just letting him. It feels good. More than good, in fact. He pulls his knees up, and Pickle shoves his snout in deeper.
Stolas feels Pickle’s tongue explore the deepest parts of him, drinking up the slick gushing out of him in abundance. He can’t help but clench around the proboscis, at first worried he might hurt the poor thing, but it only riles the quieve even more. Fuck. His cunt feels like it’s being electrocuted, every nerve ending coming alight. After a good few slurps, Pickle seems to have enough of his hole and pulls out. Stolas whines, canting his hips up to chase the lost contact, and Pickle reacts with a poke and prod at his throbbing clit. The end of the snout sucks at the hard nub, and Stolas doesn’t know how it’s possible for something this wrong to feel this good.
“F— Ahh.” A whimper slips out of Stolas, involuntary, as he can't shake the image of how revolting he must look to Blitz right now. On his back. Robe undone. Legs spread impossibly wide. His preened pubic feathers are now thoroughly disheveled from the slick clinging to them, and he’s moaning like a slut for Fizzarolli’s pet to push him over that edge again. Lucifer. He can’t bear to look his darling in the eyes. Tears sting the corners of his crimson eyes, half from shame and half from blissful pleasure. All the while, the quieve laps at his sopping cunt. Stolas feels himself about to pass out, and try as he might, he can’t stop his whorish whines as the quieve licks him to a second orgasm. “F— fuck— ahhh!!”
Stolas’ thighs spasm around the little creature, and it takes all his willpower not to crush it in his grip. He’s fucked things up already. The last thing he needs is his boyfriend’s best friend’s dead pet on his conscience. He wills himself to steady his breathing. It takes him way too long, though unsurprising considering the mind-bendingly freaky shit he came to. When sensation returns to his legs, he registers the quieve still prodding his cloaca and, this time, finds the strength to shove it off. He closes his legs for good measure, wincing at how overstimulated his clit is.
What the fuck just happened? How did he get here? Oh, Lords. His Blitzy hasn’t said a single word. Stolas doesn’t mean to, but the tears he tried in vain to hold back spill down his face. He’s fully sobbing now. He’s ruined everything. The only man he’s ever loved now sees him for what he truly is: a monster. He was never meant for love. It was only a matter of time before Blitz looked at him with the same disgust as the rest of the Goetia. His throat is raw, and his cries give way to broken gasps. He’s hyperventilating in a pathetic attempt to regain control of his breathing, but all it does is hasten his fading vision. Somewhere in the haze, he hopes asphyxiation would just hurry up and take him already. Or maybe he’ll choke on the bile swirling at the back of his throat. At least in death, he’s no longer a disappointment.
Stolas barely makes out Blitz’s voice screaming, “Stols! Stols, look at me!” He doesn’t recall it happening, but he’s tucked under the comforter, his head resting against his boyfriend’s solid chest. Blitz is here, holding him. He didn’t discard him for his perversion, though Stolas would not fault him if he did. He smells nice, like always. Lavender and sweat. There’s also a heady layer of musk, which Stolas decides he’s hallucinating; imps exude musk when they’re aroused, and there should be nothing remotely titillating about this situation. Blitz doesn’t sound horny, either. One hand caresses Stolas' cheek while the other claws through his messy headfeathers. Stolas assumes he’s acting out of pity, and fresh waves of shame crash over him. “Stolas? Hey, look at me. It’s okay, babe. I got you.” Stolas is completely silent. Blitz never expects a response from him when he’s like this, for which Stolas is grateful. His bird brain is too scattered to form cohesive thoughts even if he wanted to, and he certainly doesn’t. Blitz’s steady heartbeat anchors him, and it doesn’t take long for his own to sync. Blitz’s fingers combing through his scalp make his skin buzz, like his nerves are coming back to life with each touch. He risks a glance up at his lover, and is met with a tender smile. Not a hint of disgust to be found. Instead, Blitz leans in and kisses away the worried thoughts swirling in Stolas’ mind. Forehead, cheeks, and tip of beak. Stolas is too worn out to laugh, so he settles for a few labored hoots. “There’s my pretty bird! Was starting to miss that smile already.”
Stolas’ stomach does several backflips. I’m his pretty bird. Me. It doesn’t matter that he had unnatural relations with a quieve only moments ago. Blitz loves him. Stolas is breathing easier thanks to that massive weight off his shoulders, though his lightheadedness doesn’t seem to let up. He also feels his cloaca start to throb again, which would explain the lack of blood to his brain. He clenches around nothing, the phantom sensation of Pickle’s snout haunts his pussy. Oh, fuck me. What did that dog do to him? Why is he mindlessly chasing that filthy pleasure again? His guts churn as that familiar pressure starts to squeeze him from the inside. He needs to be filled. To be fucked. To feel the rough glide of a barbed cock tear him apart.
“Mmff…” Stolas’ hand comes up to vault his beak shut. How pathetic. He’s narrowly concealing the moans, and whatever escapes echoes through a thick layer of saliva coating his fingers. He shifts his thighs in an effort to reduce the pressure, but the slimy juices spreading down his legs cause him to stumble. His thighs squeeze around his pulsating hole, and his aching clit ruts into his own feathers. With a choked sob, the bird seizes up, trembling as his cloaca spasms out of control. In the half-seconds between clenches, his brain registers the thick cum oozing out of him. Not again. Why does he not find me contemptible? He should. I certainly do.
He rides out his third orgasm of the morning through not-so-silent tears on Blitz’s chest. He hates me. He’s only with me out of pity. I’ll never be enough for him. He never even wanted me to begin with. They always come into your life and grow bored of you sooner or later. Nobody wants to be with you, Stolas. When will you ever learn? You’re so stupid, so desperate to feel wanted. He wants to shrink himself and hide away. He’s never felt more oversized than he does now. Ironic.
“I’m gonna need ya to breathe for me, birdy.” Blitz’s voice is barely audible, but audible enough, volume honed after so many improvised post-coital therapy sessions. It hits Stolas how shallow his lungs feel now. He pants as gentle fingers tap his back and lift him back to reality. “Scared me there for a sec. Let’s get you some water, kay?”
“Actually, Blitz. Is it alright if I stepped away for a moment?” If Stolas gets up, Blitz is sure to see the fresh semen leaking out of him, but he can’t just lay in his own mess. On the guest bed, no less. He shifts and his face rapidly blooms when he hears a loud squelch. Blitz seems to be doing his damndest to pretend he didn’t catch that.
“Are you sure, big guy? You’re still shaky. I can crack open the window if you’re hankering for fresh air.” Why is Blitz looking at him so fondly? Why does he still care? Like he didn’t just come untouched to the sordid memory like the dog-fucking whore he is. Blitz wears the same smirk he does every morning when he watches Stolas stir awake beside him. The same look he has just before asking him “Pancakes or waffles? Or would you rather take my batter raw?” Stolas is certain Blitz only makes those jokes to get a hoot out of him, if the prize-winning smile after is any indication. Fuck. I don’t deserve him.
“I just— I need to use the restroom. I think I can manage.” Stolas attempts to rise but is too weak, and stumbles forward instead, and before he can process what’s happening, his upper body falls to the floor while his ass hangs off the edge of the bed. Foolish of him to think he’s capable of any real movement, much less a trip to the toilet. Blitz is right, he’s shaky, but it’s too late and he can’t go back to before he put himself in such a compromising position. The morning sun casts a shadow on the floor, betraying Blitz looming behind him, and Stolas can feel Blitz’s eyes searing into his wetness. He wants to sob. Blitz is doing everything to not make this weird, and here Stolas goes messing up again. He tucks his tail between his legs, covering his shame.
It doesn’t take him long to feel that too familiar warmth radiate from his cunt, and he wishes the depths of Hell would just swallow him whole. This orgasm hits him faster than the others, and his tail goes up reflexively, as it does when he’s close. Please. Oh dear Lucifer. Don’t do this. Not right in front of him. His cloaca contracts, and another load of cum squirts out. He’s sure some of it landed on Blitz. If he could go back in time, he would avoid ever having met Blitz and sparing such a misfortune to this beautiful, caring, and sweet man. A man who could be living an amazing life with a better lover. Stolas has been nothing but dead weight, and he loathes himself everyday for not being strong enough to walk away from Blitz.
“Stols! For fuck’s sake. Stolas! Hell to Stolas!” This time Stolas is sitting on the floor, his back to the bed. He’s wrapped loosely in a pulled-off mattress cover. Breathable, but modest. Blitz is beside him with a glass of water in hand. Stolas should be more grateful; others would kill to call this gentleman theirs. Such a dedicated partner, and Stolas is undeserving of him. Blitz has been unfairly tethered to him from the start, and now he’s bound by some unspoken sense of duty to deal with his miserable shortcomings. “We need to see the doctor. C’mon. I’ll text Fizz. He’ll understand.”
“Are you fucking joking!? You’re not seriously considering telling Fizz what happened, are you?” Stolas’ throat strains from coming so many times so early in the day, and his voice cracks like he’s a teenager all over again.
“I’m not gonna tell him… everything that happened,” Blitz falters, like he just replayed that scene in his head, though he’s still doing a passable job at appearing unphased. “I’ll just tell him you have the flu.”
The bird defiantly crawls back onto the mattress, crossing his arms for emphasis. “No. You are not calling him while I’m in this condition.” Blitz sighs and rolls his eyes before rejoining the big baby in bed.
“And what? You wanna just stay here while I watch you pass out?”
“Yes, we’ll stay here until I— wait, what was that? I… passed out?” Well, that would explain the spotty memory.
“Yeah, three times. Looked like you were having a little too much fun.” Blitz’s smirk combined with the sing-song way he says it makes Stolas blush. He should be ashamed, not flustered, but he’s so conditioned to Blitz’s charms that he can’t help it.
“Oh. I didn’t— I’m so sorry you had to deal with that. I do not know what’s the matter with me. This has never happened to me before. Blitz, I’m scared.” Stolas leans his body until his head rests on Blitz’s shoulder, somewhere to catch the tears he can feel welling up again.
Blitz’s hands come up to caress the crying owl. “Hey. If you didn’t like what happened we can always get it sorted with the therapist. We’ve been through worse, baby.”
“Blitz. I’m scared you’ll leave me. I can’t fathom how repulsed you must be. I cannot forgive myself for what I did. I understand if you don’t want to—”
Stolas cuts himself off with a choked sob. He hasn’t cried this hard about anything that didn’t involve Via. Losing her is his biggest fear, now rivaled by the terror of losing Blitz. His life is constantly falling apart, it seems. And it’s all his own doing.
“Don’t want to, what? Be your boyfriend? It’s gonna take a whole lot more than experimenting with a pooch to keep me from you, you big idiot.” There Blitz goes, so earnest and gentle as if Stolas moaning like a kennel-raised bitch in heat as a beast tongue-fucks him is just another Tuesday.
“I… I don’t deserve you. And you don’t deserve to feel so burdened with me. You mustn't hide your disgust for my sake.” Stolas steadies his crying. It’s hard to look Blitz in the eye right now, but Stolas feels he owes him at least that much. Maintaining eye contact isn’t easy when he’s spiraling like this, but Blitz gives him the strength to do a lot of things he otherwise can’t bring himself to do.
“I meant it, Stols. I’m not gonna stop wanting to spend time with ya. I’m yours as long as you’ll have me,” Blitz says, taking one of Stolas’ trembling hands to his lips and peppering it with kisses, from fingertips to wrist. Stolas pays him back with a weak smile, a wordless thank-you.
“I hate how you say it so sweetly. You make me believe you do mean it, and that... that would be cruel, wouldn’t it? If it turned out you didn’t." His smile is short-lived, beak curling with self-doubt.
“Want me to prove it to you another way?” Blitz wiggles his eyebrows while darting his eyes down to his crotch. One probably shouldn’t pivot to sex when their partner is cycling through multiple fainting spells and a panic attack, but Blitz and Stolas are the exceptions to most dating rules. And thank Satan for that, because Stolas lights up upon seeing the engorged cock weeping between toned red and white thighs.
“Oh! Oh, my. Darling, how long have you been this way?” Stolas tries his best to not sound too excited, but he’s so easy to read, now more so with his pupils giving him away.
“Fucking hell, Stols. Since we got interrupted by fucking— uhh… Pierrot?”
“Pickle, actually.” Stolas can’t help but correct him.
“Not the point.” The imp leans in, intentionally letting his dick bounce in his lap. Stolas' eyes are glued to it. The guy is still adjusting to having pupils, but Blitz is absolutely loving it. His bird is cute when he’s staring. Blitz shimmies a little closer, precum dribbling out his tip. A string of drool threatens to spill out of Stolas’ agape beak, and Blitz beams with satisfaction, his big schlong clearly having the desired effect on his man. “Someone’s hungry!”
“I’m sorry.” Not the reaction Blitz is hoping for. To get his point across, he wraps his fist around his hard-on and starts jerking it. Stolas’ gaze is still stuck on that dick. “Like I said, Blitzy. I’m not sure what came over me. My body has never been this erratic before.”
“Oh, it was erotic, alright!” Blitz’s reassurance is all the confirmation Stolas needs; Blitz was bricked up watching him and Pickle getting it on. He doesn’t loathe or resent him. “You wanted to know what Lust quieves are like, right? His saliva’s got a fuck-ton of sex chemicals in it. That’s what’s got your puss all tingly.”
“Oh, dear. Why didn’t you stop him— ...us?” Stolas finally peels his eyes from the thick cock and looks up at Blitz. He hasn’t felt this awkward around him in a long time, but Blitz looks normal. Maybe Stolas and his worrisome brain is making a bigger deal out of this than it needs to be.
“You were having a good time, and it didn’t look like you wanted to stop. You’re one freaky bitch, ya know?” Blitz’s hand slides up the bird’s thick thigh, stopping just south of his warm hole. He’s hungry, and he intends to make it very clear. “I kept my hands to myself while you were coming your brains out over and over, but I don’t have a lot of patience left. So… ya gonna let me have my fun?”
“Oh Blitzy! I—...” Stolas clears his throat, afraid the desperation in his voice sounds more obvious than he’d like. “...I’d like that a lot. Please. Touch me.”
“Shit. No need to tell me twice. Just lie back and relax, baby bird. Daddy’s got you.”
And just like that, Stolas is flat on his back, with the throw pillows under his neck and shoulders raising him just enough to see his boyfriend take his rightful place between his feathery thighs. They’re still pretty ruffled from… prior activities, and Blitz looks excited to dishevel them further. A red claw trails up to the wet mess of feathers clinging to Stolas’ cloaca. The slit is agape, thanks to his aroused state, and Blitz’s fingers carefully move white fluff out of the way to expose Stolas’ puffy black folds. His cloaca is more engorged than usual, thanks to the rapid-fire orgasms and traces of horny dog saliva.
Though light is his touch, Blitz manages to pull a few suppressed moans out of Stolas. “Ahhh, darling. D-don’t tease me.”
“Ever done this with your fancy schmancy pets?”
“I can assure you I— Ah! I’ve never even dreamed of doing anything inappropriate with animals before.” Stolas is not entirely sure if that’s an honest assessment, considering so much of his childhood is a blur. There’s a non-zero chance he has at least thought about opening his legs for one of his father’s trusted watchdogs, but Blitz doesn’t need to know that. Not yet, at least.
“Uh huh. But ya do now, right?” Blitz teases, a single skilled finger slipping right in. Stolas’ warm heat envelops it and sucks it in deeper. “C’mon, Stols. It felt good, didn’t it?”
Stolas clamps down on the digit, not quite satisfying his itch but it’s enough to drive him insane with need. “Um… well… yes. I suppose… I suppose it did.” He does his best to keep his breathing steady. He wants this high to last longer than the last few climaxes have. “It felt incredible.”
A second finger makes its way to join the first, and Blitz works his boyfriend open. “Yeah? Tell daddy how you liked it,” Blitz urges. Stolas isn’t as tight as he usually is. His cunt has plenty of give, probably a side effect of Pickle’s saliva. But boy, is it warm, almost hot to the touch. Blitz wonders how incredible that furnace would feel enveloping his cock, and he nearly blows his load at the thought.
“Ahh! Um. I really liked how his tongue felt on me. He was so eager to lick me clean, and ahh!— Fuck! H-he found my clit so quickly, too.” The quieve is already a better lover than Blitz was on their first night, but he’s gotten a lot better at eating bird pussy over the years, at least. “Oh, Blitzy. I’m getting close.”
“Keep talking, beautiful.” Blitz’s other hand expertly traces shapes all over Stolas’ puffy hole, paying special attention to his overactive clitoris. If Pickle found this little button ‘so quickly’, as Stolas put it, it must mean the quieve lapped at it with a generous amount of aphrodisiac. No wonder he couldn’t stop climaxing.
“Oh, Lords. I will regret saying this later, but his rough tongue. It felt like… like wet sandpaper rubbing against me. In a very good way. And h-he was s-so deep. I— Ahhh! I… I can still feel him on me. I—” Blitz shoves a third finger in, jackhammering them in a rhythm he’s perfected, a rhythm he knows will send his bird flying. “Fu— Ah— Ahh! Blitzy. This feels so wrong. Oh, I feel so filthy!”
Blitz’s expression grows hungrier. He pauses his thrusting to ask, “You’d let him do it to ya again?”
Stolas lets out a weak “Mmhmm,” but Blitz doesn’t resume his touches.
“Words, birdy.”
“Yes…yes. I-I’d let him eat m-me out again. I’d let him tongue fuck m-my… bird pussy.” Seems like Stolas’ answer is good enough, because Blitz fingers pick up some speed again. “Fu-hu-hu-uck! Blitzy, right there!”
“Fuuuck… that’s hot. And what else would ya let him do?” Blitz sounds so hot and bothered right now. It’s so clear Stolas and Pickle’s little show did a lot more for him than he even let on.
Stolas hesitates to speak. “C-can I really say it?” Fingers slow down again. “I— shit… I’d let him… let him knot me.”
Satisfied once more, Blitz fucks his fingers in and out, faster now than ever. “Good boy. You’d let me watch?”
“Ahh… A-always. I love it when you… watch me.”
“Yeah? I bet you’d look real good with a fat knot stretching you out.” Blitz gawks at the hole he’s assaulting, as though imagining how it’d look stuffed with dog cock. He instinctually growls as his fingers piston in and out of Stolas at an unforgiving speed.
Stolas props himself up by his elbows to get a better look at his man and his own wrecked hole. He clears his throat before asking, “W-would that please you, d-darling? Would you… ahh fuck… like to see me take his cock? Because I’d… mmmm… I’d really like that.”
“I’d really like that, too… Fuck, Stols. You’re soaking.” Blitz punches several loud squelches out of that cunt. It ought to be illegal for all this juice to come out of one pussy. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”
“I— I want to be bred. I want his cum sooo deep inside me.” Stolas feels braver now, and wants Blitz in on his darkest fantasies.
“You’re a filthy little slut, ya know that?”
Blitz finger continues to slosh inside his slimy guts, and the obscene noises seem to grow louder and louder with each passing second. He’s now four fingers in, knuckles deep and fondling his walls in search of that sensitive patch of nerves he knows Stolas loves getting played with.
“And you love me,” Stolas says with a pout. He’s irresistible when puts on a bit of brat. “I want you to watch it drip out of me.”
“Actually, I’m bringing a plug next time. Seeing you carrying its kids around is too good to pass up.” Blitz whispers that last part.
“...N-next time?” Stolas is processing those words, his brows furrow and boy does he look so fucking cute all confused while getting damn near fisted. Finally, his face settles into a shy smile. “I… I can’t wait, B-Blitzy…”
Blitz’s fingers falter thanks to the slick mess leaking out of Stolas, but he braces himself by sitting back on the heels of his hooves, and just starts pounding away. It doesn’t take him long to locate Stolas’ G-spot, and now both his hands are driving the bird into a frenzy. “Oh, Blitzy! I’m so close. I’m coming. Please, please let me come, darling. Please, please, please. Oh, Lords!”
“Come then, bitch. Come for daddy. Go on, you dog-fucking whore.”
That last part shouldn’t sound as erotic as it does, but Blitz’s evident excitement over Stolas being a ‘dog-fucking whore’ is so fucking hot it melts away the last bit of shame he has. Stolas screams a crescendo of rapid-fire Ah Ah Ahs before his throat locks around a gasp. The tight coil deep within his guts snaps, and several thick ropes of semen shoot out of his throbbing cunt, coating Blitz’s sturdy forearm and sullying the sheets even further. “That’s it, that’s it. Come for me. Good boy, Stolas. Shit. That’s a lot of jizz.”
There’s a sudden emptiness between Stolas’ legs as Blitz withdraws his fingers. This orgasm was more intense than the others combined, and Stolas nearly passes out again if not for the sticky fingers now cradling his head. He leans into the touch, and looks up at his lover with a smile. His cloaca feels downright sore from overactivity, but it seems whatever chemicals the quieve left behind have lost their potency. The dull throbs slow down until he can no longer feel his own heartbeat through his cunt.
“Darling. Your dick is still hard… do you want to—” Stolas starts to pull his knees wider apart for emphasis, exhaustion evident in the way his thighs spasm. Blitz stops him with a kiss to his cheek.
“I’d rather not get quieve juice on me. It’s a lot harder to hide a boner than a bird puss. ‘Sides… I still get to shove it down that sweet throat of yours.” Ahh yes, the morning blowjob. Stolas is actually looking forward to it. It’s the least he can do for everything Blitz does for him, and it helps that his imp has a very tasty cock. Blitz crawls out from between Stolas’ legs and reaches for his phone before climbing atop Stolas’ fluffy chest. “Fizz just texted. Says he’ll be another hour. Fuck, I need a nap.”
Stolas cranes his neck to glance at the clock on one of the side tables. A quarter till nine. Seems they’ve wasted an hour already. No wonder his Blitzy is tuckered out. He gently swipes the phone from the sleeping imp’s grasp and unlocks it. He sets an alarm to sound off in half an hour, then switches to the camera app and snaps a few pictures. Stolas can’t help but admire how insanely hot he looks right now. His tousled feathers frame his face so nicely, and the dark blush and wanton eyes haven’t left him yet despite already climaxing moments ago. He wraps one arm around Blitz’s back, almost possessively, and clicks the shutter a few more times before putting the phone down.
“Rest well, darling. I love you more than you know.” Stolas presses kisses up and down Blitz’s horns, and the latter snores in response. Stolas giggles, then feels a yawn bubble up. As tempting as it sounds to watch Blitz slumber, Stolas needs his own dose of beauty sleep, if he plans on giving even a half decent blowjob later.