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“Yeeeeeees!” Andrealphus squawks as he throws open the doors to Stolas’ palace. He prances through the foyer, spinning and raining dazzling snowflakes from his fingertips.
This was everything he wanted and more. Stolas’ banishment may only be for one hundred years, but that’s more than enough time for Andrealphus to lay out further schemes. The most important thing is that he'd won. Despite the odds being stacked against him, he'd won.
Andrealphus is practically skipping as he makes his way through the halls of his new palace. By Lucifer, he's so happy he could break into song…
Eww, no. The fuck is he, some fresh little fruit whose juices are still too sweet before the ripening? No, he is a fine wine, a well-aged fruit given glorious purpose!
Still, maybe that stupid owl was onto something. Musical catharsis. Andrealphus takes a deep breath. “Looooong have I wait-”
“What the fuck are you doing, Uncle?”
Andrealphus turns around and fluffs his tail feathers, only to relax when he sees it's just Octavia. The girl looks like she's been crying. Deep in Andrealphus' cold, frozen heart, he wonders if he should comfort his poor niece in this trying time. She does love her father, after all.
No, he wouldn't let such things spoil such a glorious victory for him! Leave the comforting to Stella, she's at least halfway decent at faking that.
Andrealphus glides his way over to Octavia, bending to her eye level. “Ohh, nothing, my darling niece! Just testing the acoustics in my new palace! Isn't this exciting? Your dear old uncle, come to stay with you!”
Octavia's eyes narrow and she crosses her arms. “Whatever, old man.” With that, the owlette turns on her heels and walks back to her bedroom, slamming the door behind her.
Andrealphus stands up straight and puts his hands on his hips, glaring at her bedroom door. How rude! He would have to talk to Stella about the girl's attitude. That was a task for later though, because the time for celebration is now!
He glides through the halls of the manor, happy as a clown. He peeks into the study, the den, and the gardens. The greenhouse is magnificent! So many different plants of all shapes and sizes. He would have to hire someone to maintain them since they would make for delightful decorations. The peacock reaches out towards a Venus flytrap with multiple eyes and an innocent look about it, intent on scratching its chin. Before he can, the wretched little thing chomps down on his finger.
“Augh! You awful little bastard!” he snarls, pulling his finger back. On second thought, this entire room would look better as an ice sculpture garden.
Andrealphus exits the greenhouse and makes his way back into the house and kitchen. He pokes around for a bit before his eyes catch on a door tucked off to the side. It has a golden sign with a wine bottle on the front, with “cellar” written in fancy script along the bottom.
Perfect!
Stolas’ alcohol dependency is no secret, and the peacock knows he had to have some of the finest vintages and top-shelf liquors squirreled away. Andrealphus flings open the door and descends a small set of stone steps. At the bottom, the room opens up into a massive cellar with dark brick walls. Rugs with Stolas’ summoning sigil line the floor. Constellations are painted onto the ceilings. The walls are lined with shelves full of wine bottles and barrels. Fully stocked cabinets line the furthest wall of the chamber, their glass doors giving Andrealphus a peek at the goodies inside. A fainting couch and television occupy the middle of the room.
Oh yes. FUCK YES!
The peacock snickers, covering his beak. He peers back up the stairs to ensure that the door to the cellar is closed. Once he’s confirmed that it is, he releases a maniacal cackle.
He plucks a bottle from the nearest shelf. He doesn't even bother to check the vintage or anything of that ilk, nor does he take the time to properly uncork it. He forms a needle-pointed icicle on the tip of his finger and jabs it into the top, plucking out the cork and flicking it to the side. The second the cork is out of the way he has the wine bottle to his beak and is guzzling from it greedily. This is everything he wanted!
In moments, the bottle is completely drained, but Andrealphus doesn't feel anything. He plucks another bottle up, repeating the same procedure as last time. All elegance is lost as the peacock drowns himself in the fruits of his labor, relishing in his victory. He grabs three more bottles from the shelves and saunters his way over to the couch that occupies the center of the room, plopping himself down. He finds the remote on a side table and turns on the TV. It's a Hell-a-Novela program.
Andrealphus isn't surprised that Stolas would devour trash TV such as this, but he is baffled that he enjoys the same one.
He doesn't dwell on the connection for too long though, instead popping the cork on another bottle of wine and chugging it. It spills down onto his beautiful clothes, but doesn't care. With all the money he has access to now, he could buy a million of this outfit without a second thought! Let it be stained.
******
Ten bottles of wine, seven drunken attempts at a song, and two seasons of his favorite Hell-a-Novela later, Andrealphus finally decides to call it a night. He groans and stands up from the couch, well and properly drunk. His vision is blurry and he has to use the shelves for support in order to stumble up the stairs and out of the wine cellar. It's dark by now, but Andrealphus doesn't know how late it is.
The peacock trips out of the kitchen and up the stairs, using the railing and the wall to ease his climb. He makes his way through the halls blindly, ignoring all the covered portraits on the walls until he arrives at his destination: Stolas' bedroom.
Andrealphus walks into the room, slamming the door behind himself. He's never been in Stolas’ bedroom and he takes a moment to drink it in. A massive canopy bed, double doors leading to the balcony, a horseshoe-shaped bookshelf lined with tomes, and another fainting couch. The peacock begins to poke around, examining the bookshelves. He finds that one half is dedicated to boring topics like pirates and plants, but that the other half is stacked with all sorts of smut. One titled “Ice and Brimstone” catches Andrealphus’ eye, and he mentally catalogues that for later.
Stumbling away from the library, his foot catches on a rug and he falls forward. He's too drunk to catch himself and he lands hard on the floor.
“Ow, fuck! Lucifer's asshole, damn it…” he mumbles, starting to sit up when something catches his eye. It's a large, ornate-looking box underneath the bed. Curious, the peacock fumbles around, trying to drag it closer. He eventually finds a handle and pulls it out.
Fully revealed the box is far larger than Andrealphus had realized. What could it possibly contain? The peacock's mind fills with all sorts of fantasies. Diaries and embarrassing secrets most likely. A devilish smile forms on the peacock's beak as he throws open the lid, giddy at the prospect of more ways to tear Stolas down!
What Andrealphus finds instead is a fucking mountain of toys. Sex toys.
His jaw drops as he takes it all in. A tiny golden gnome thing, dildos, and straps in more shapes and sizes than he can count. A particular one catches his eye: a small purple thing, shaped like a wand with a single button on it. He pulls it out and sets it to the side while he examines everything else. Whips, chains, ball gags, handcuffs, fucking bear traps!
What the fuck is wrong with that owl? Andrealphus is mortified, but incredibly curious. The peacock has never had time for such depravity, but now? He could let loose a little bit, see what this is all about. Feeling heavy from a bellyful of wine, Andrealphus lifts up the small purple wand and examines it. The button probably activates some sort of vibrating feature. He presses it, wondering what frequency it vibrates at and whether he'd like it.
The thing trembles in his hand before quickly growing. Size, length, and girth all extend several feet beyond the original half-foot length of the device. A massive, tiered cock sprouts forth, blossoming like some unholy plant of pleasure. It rumbles and shakes like a jackhammer. As if that weren't enough, several tentacles sprout from the base and writhe around. Andrealphus squawks in surprise as he's slapped across the face by the tentacles, dropping the beast of a vibrator. It lands on the ground with a thud, bouncing before folding itself back inwards.
What. The. FUCK?
Andrealphus’ mind is spinning. That bird, that kinky fucking bird. The imp too! But Stolas… A royal, higher in station than Andrealphus, who found joy in such depravity? By Lucifer, how horrific! How… exciting.
Stolas was always viewed as a bit of a boring, stick in the mud. A nerdy prude who lacked any joy beyond plants, books, and alcohol. This throws all of that on its head. Andrealphus is awestruck. Stolas isn't a prude, and he hadn't just been fucking that imp. They'd fucked. The peacock's drunken mind is awash with fantasies of Stolas plowing that ridiculous little imp. He digs his fingers into his knees and squeezes them together. Andrealphus kneels in front of this box of pleasure just imagining the passionate fornication that must have occurred between Stolas and that little imp he enjoyed.
Andrealphus tosses countless other items aside from the box until his eyes land on something that he deems incredibly out of place: a candle. He hefts it out of the box, setting it to the side. All of this other shit he understood, but a candle? The peacock gives it a curious sniff, wondering if it has some sort of special scent.
What entered Andrealphus’ nostrils was indescribable, but the results became clear in mere moments. The peacock feels a tingling between his legs, deep in his loins that he hasn't felt in years. He locks his knees together and clicks his beak together excitedly. Andrealphus’ tail feathers unfurl and puff up behind him as he grips his knees tighter.
Oh fuck!
Andrealphus’ heart is pounding in his chest. The warmth from his loins is spreading its tendrils all throughout his body, hooking into his heart and mind. This candle smells fucking horny . His entire body is getting warm, and he has no choice but to start disrobing immediately. The peacock moves with reckless abandon, tearing his clothes without a second thought. The only thing he cares about is getting them off of his body!
Stripped completely naked and surrounded by his shredded clothes, Andrealphus is panting. His wine-filled stomach feels warmer and heavier now, but he doesn't care. He digs through the box, examining each dildo and vibrator. Too big, too small, too weird…
Perfect!
He pulls out a bluish-gray strap that fades into black around the base. Andrealphus has never done this before, but he's certain that he can make it work. How hard could it be? The drunken peacock rests his back against the bed and spreads his legs. His heart races as he tries to position the toy with his shaking hands. Such depravity is unbecoming of him, and yet, he can't recall a time he's been more shamelessly horny in the last ten years. Besides, he's earned this!
As Andrealphus’ eyes dart around the room, looking for something to focus on, they land on a portrait of Stolas.
Stolas.
Staring up at the art, Andrealphus finds himself… enamored. His white face, that kind smile, his four piercing ruby eyes. The owl is spindly but tall. Lanky in a way that Andrealphus can't help but find enticing. How had he never noticed how beautiful Stolas was before? He'd seen him around holidays and for the occasional party for the last twenty-five years but never lingered on him. Maybe it was something to do with Stella being with him, or just his dour attitude. But now, it's different.
No. No, but yes!
Andrealphus’ eyes don't leave Stolas’ portrait as he teases the lips of his cloaca with the strap. He grips the base tighter as the lightest touches send waves of pleasure pulsating through Andrealphus’ body. He lets out a low, guttural moan. His talons click on the floor, and his free hand grips one of the poles of the canopy.
“Stolas…” Andrealphus moans to himself. The peacock continues teasing himself with the toy, wanting to work towards taking that final plunge.
“Stolas…” The portrait of the owl looks down on Andrealphus, unmoving.
“Stolaaaas!” Andrealphus repeats. He’s done teasing, now fully inserting the strap. His claws dig into the canopy pole he's been gripping, and he's certain he'll snap it with the force he's putting onto it. He doesn't care. He guides the strap in, then out, in, then out. Slow at first, but far more rapidly as he adjusts to his girth and feel inside of him.
The peacock stares up at the owl’s portrait the entire time, his mind awash with fantasies. Stolas vigorously fucking him on the very bed that Andrealphus was leaning again. He can hear the owl's voice chastising him, scolding and mocking Andrealphus for thinking that he could get away with harming his little imp. The peacock imagines Stolas’ hand on the back of his head, tugging it back by the feathers while the strap plunges in and out of him.
Andrealphus drowns in the bliss of his own imagination. He huffs and moans the owl's name, his tongue hanging out from his beak all the while. He's gasping for air, so lost in his fantasies that he hasn't even noticed his free hand is now gripping his own throat. The combined pleasure of the strap and his own hand strangling the air from him is making him light-headed. Just as his head begins to spin and spots appear in Andrealphus’ vision, he finishes.
The peacock releases a howl of pleasure as he climaxes all over the floor next to Stolas’ bed. His chest rises and falls rapidly, and he rubs his throat. He looks down at the mess he's made on the floor and catches his breath. He coughs, letting out a small groan as his vision clears and he can see Stolas’ portrait clearly once again.
That dirty fucking bird.