Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The guy at the end of the bar was wearing the most ridiculous thing Blitzø had ever seen- and that was saying a fuckin’ lot. 

He’d seen his fair share of shit, of course. Working nights will do that. This, though? Definitely the first time anyone had ever shown up to this shitty ass dive bar looking like they got lost on their way to some prissy, high-society thing. The high collar underneath the clasp of an honest to Satan cape boasted a cascade of delicate ruffles, spilling out like a frothy waterfall, adding an almost theatrical elegance to his ensemble. The whole getup looked like it cost more than Blitzø's monthly rent.

Working nights will also teach anyone wise to give the weird shit a wide berth, but well– wisdom was something Blitzø had never been overly accused of. He was definitely going over there. Sue the hell out of him, but however odd the guy looked, there was also no denying that he was fucking gorgeous. That perfectly done makeup and the way those long legs crossed at the ankle under that ridiculous cape was doing something to his brain he couldn't quite shake. 

Blitzø pushed off the sticky counter, shoving a worn bar rag into his back pocket with a practiced flick, his eyes never leaving the extravagant figure at the end of the bar.

“The menu here is good but it’s not winning any Pulitzers,” he said as he approached. “That intense reading for fun or do you need a recommendation?”

Two sets of gleaming red eyes glanced up at him, the color of hellfire and twice as dangerous. They widened slightly, and yeah, that was definitely a blush creeping across those sharp cheekbones. Shit. He'd meant to come off smooth, not like an ass.

The stranger gave a small, nervous laugh, laying the menu back on the counter and patting it awkwardly. “Oh, no! Thank you–” a glance at the nametag clipped to Blitzø’s black t-shirt, “Blitzo?” 

“The O is silent.”

“Oh, I see. Yes, thank you, Blitzø. Lovely of you to ask but that’s alright. I just– I’m waiting for someone.”

Wow, even his voice was light and refined. Blitzø wondered briefly if whoever was coming would be wearing anything similar to the designer, Victorian aesthetic this guy was rocking. Or maybe this bar was about to witness an extremely awkward first date–  something about his slightly nervous energy and meticulously done makeup had that ‘first meeting’ vibe. Maybe there was something to be said about the getup, though– with the way it was accentuating those slim curves, it definitely demanded Blitzø’s attention at the very least. 

“Well, do you want something while you wait at least? I’ve heard we’ve got the best ice water this side of the pentagram.”

“Oh, well, that is impressive. Is the competition steep?”

“No. I got tap water and a semi-fresh lemon. I can hook you up with our cleanest glass though.”

“Practically Michelin, I’ll take two. Could we start my tab now? That way there won’t be any ‘let me pay,’ ‘no let me pay’ awkwardness later.”

Ah. Dead ringer on the first date then. He’d have to keep an eye out over at this end. No one invited a meetup to this bar with pure intentions, and doe-eyes here practically emanated an aura of sophisticated naivety. Blitzø took the sleek black card being held out to him. 

“Sure thing, ruby reds.” He flipped the card over. “Wait– the hell? Goetia, are you serious? Aren’t you guys like, royal celebrities or something?” 

Something about that put a line of tension in the other man’s posture. 

“Just Stolas is fine,” he said. Blitzø raised an eyebrow. 

“Noted,” he amended, swiping the card through the reader on his belt, “meant no harm. Tell you what, that Michelin ice water is on the house, just to prove my good will.

Stolas took his card back. “What a gesture,” he said, “and what would you usually charge for such amenities?”

Blitzø leaned across the counter perhaps a little further than needed as he placed two bar napkins down between them. “Your prettiest smile,” he said with an exaggerated wink. “But if your date’s cute enough I’m guessing I’ll get to see that at some point tonight anyway. Two ice waters comin’ at ya, reds.” 

Blitzø worked his way back towards the drink prep station leaving a furiously blushing Stolas behind him. Blitzø’s heart did something a little funny at that look; was Stolas not used to a casual flirt? With a face that cute, but a fluster that easy, he really must not get out much. 

He found himself hoping that Stolas' date went well– it seemed like he could use it.

He poured the ice waters, but got caught up taking another order at the front of the bar, so he handed the glasses off to Fizz. He could feel Stolas' gaze lingering on him. Not an unpleasant feeling, but he shook it off to focus on the small line of people that had gathered before him. 

The DJ's sound check rattled the bottles behind the bar, bass thumping through the floorboards as the early crowd started trickling in. Blitzø lost track of time in the rush of drink orders and reaching for bottles, the familiar dance of Friday night service. When he finally caught his breath, the cracked clock above the door showed almost half an hour had passed, the initial surge of patrons finally thinning out.

What finally pulled Blitzø's attention to the time was Stolas' nearly empty glass, three quarters drained and sitting forgotten next to him. The second glass was still next to him, untouched and now slick with condensation.

Stolas himself seemed completely lost in thought as he folded, unfolded, and then refolded again a wrinkled napkin. His phone was out on the counter but he wasn’t looking at it. Something tugged at Blitzø, some mixture of curiosity and concern. He wiped up a small spill where Fizz had thrown a particularly daring and showy drink pour, then decided to wander toward the end of the bar. Not for any particular reason, of course, but just because customer service was his passion.

No harm in being available in case he needed anything.

Fizz materialized beside him like he always did when Blitzø was about to do something stupid. His paring knife flashed as he carved out a few perfectly formed floral garnishes, each petal flawless despite how he barely seemed to watch his hands. Show-off. 

The music was loud enough that Blitzø had to work to make out his words when he spoke, but not so loud that it was difficult.

“This DJ is ass,” Fizz said, leaning on the opposite counter, wiping the knife on his half-apron.

“Yeah,” Blitzø snorted, “definitely more volume than skill.” 

“Think he’d be better without the weird mask?”

“No clue, but I’ve still got ten on him passing out up there. No way that much hot silicone under those lights doesn’t gas him up under that thing.”

“Fifteen says he falls off the stage and the DJ board picks better music completely unmanned.”

“Eh, the music’s not so bad, he just can’t mix for shit.” 

Fizz’s expression was decidedly skeptical. “What, you know this band or something?” 

“Fuck You Dad.” With a shock Blitzø realized his answer had been in unison with another voice.

Fizz and Blitzø looked to Stolas, whose eyes were a bit wide, as though his own words had surprised even himself. 

“Oh, I just–” he waved a hand dismissively, clearly a bit embarrassed, “I’m familiar with them as well. My daughter is a fan, you see.”

Blitzø turned to face him fully, one elbow on the back counter, and threw him an amused grin. “Yours too, huh? Sounds like she’d get along with mine.” 

Stolas' face practically lit up. “Is yours going through her prickly years?”

Blitzø snorted. “In a way,” he said with a chuckle. Fizz rolled his eyes. 

“She’s 23, so if by ‘prickly years’ you mean ‘teens’ then no. That’s her over by the door, on her phone and totally checking ID’s.” 

“Nothing gets past our Loony!”

“Yeah right, Ozz would have fired her way before now if she wasn’t such a damn good bouncer. That girl can throw a punch.”

Blitzø felt three inches taller from pride alone. “Fuck yeah, she can,” he gushed. 

Fizz started to add something, but a group of glitter-laden succubi chose that moment to loudly approach the main register. Fizz locked eyes with Blitzø and they hit a quick rock-paper-scissor-shoot at hip level. He groaned when Blitzø slapped his open palm against Fizz’s closed fist, and then yelped as Blitzø whipped his bar rag against his ass while he walked away. Out of the corner of his eye, Blitzø caught the expression on Stolas' face soften a bit as they both watched Fizz flip a bird over his shoulder. At first he thought it was just humor, but after a second he found he couldn't help but sense a certain… loneliness to it. 

“You two seem close,” Stolas remarked gently. Blitzø felt the softening of his own expression at that. 

“Yeah,” he said warmly. He moved a bit closer to Stolas and leaned on the same counter he was sitting at. Their eyes met and Blitzø suddenly realized he’d settled a bit closer than he had quite meant to; but somehow, though the proximity and the eye contact really should have felt uncomfortably intimate, it just… didn’t. For some reason he couldn’t follow, he found himself elaborating without any prompting at all.

“We’ve known each other since we were kids. Hell, since we were born, really. There was an accident at the circus where we grew up and he just–” Blitzø skimmed the next bit, no need to bog things down with all of that , “he had every right not to speak to me again after everything that went down that day. I won’t get into it. But over a decade later we run into each other, and he just… forgives me. For a lot of shit, just like that. He has a great thing going with Ozzie– oh damn, you probably know Asmodeus don’t you, being a Goetia and all? Anyway, he got me this job. Practically saved my ass from homelessness. Recommended Loona work with us too after I adopted her. They give each other more shit than you can imagine, but he’s family. We’re a family. I have that now, because of him.” 

Blitzø looked up to see Stolas' chin in his hand and his eyes warmly fixed on him. 

“That’s beautiful,” he said, “and you enjoy what you do here? The work?”

“Oh, hell yeah,” Blitzø said immediately. “It has its moments, sure, but I’m damn good at it and you would not believe the juicy ass tea some people will spill right in front of you just because you’re wearing a barback apron. It’s like they think we’re NPC’s or something.” Stolas lifted an eyebrow.

“Like you’re… what?” 

Blitzø snorted. “Not a gaming guy, huh? That’s okay. Like we can’t hear them, I mean. I’ve got a buddy that works a hotel bar up in Pride and that man deserves double pay for playing therapist all shift from what he tells me, but that ain’t me. I’m happy to judge silently and pour the best damn drinks you’ve ever had.”

“Well! I’m certainly excited to be the judge of that,” Stolas said, and call Blitzø crazy but was that flirtatious tone? He tapped a playful finger to the menu on the counter. 

“Alright, hotshot, if you ever order! Where’s this guy you’re waiting for? He damn well better not be keeping a pretty thing like you waiting much longer.” 

Stolas' expression fell and Blitzø immediately regretted saying anything that put that look on his face.

“Oh I… I’m not certain we should expect him anytime soon.” 

“Why not?” 

Stolas shifted uncomfortably on the bar stool, flicking a glance towards his darkened phone screen. “Well, I haven’t really heard anything beyond our confirmation of plans this morning. He’s listed as active on the app where we first matched and I’ve messaged twice since getting here, but… it seems to me that no response is something of a response in this situation. I don’t want to reach out again if I should be reading between the lines, as it were.”

Blitzø folded his arms. “You think you’re getting, what, stood up? Ghosted?”

“I believe that’s the term, yes.” 

“Aw. hell no,” Blitzø spat, “lemme see this asshole. Where’s his profile?” 

Stolas gave Blitzø a quizzical look, but unlocked his phone and after a few taps handed it to Blitzø. A stubbled, pink face smirked out from the first profile picture, a shirtless mirror selfie of a muscled incubus with his sweatpants slung low over his hips. 

“Okay, first and foremost, you can do better,” Blitzø said, letting some cattiness seep into his voice. He scrolled through the bio. “Oh, Stolas,” he groaned. “‘I’m a Leo, so don’t expect to impress me’? Stolas, no. You swiped right on this guy?” 

“So he has a penchant for astrology, what’s the harm in that! The stars and their prophecies are a large part of my work, I’d hoped it might be a shared interest. Undoubtedly he comes off as a tad arrogant, but I’ve heard I can be rather arrogant myself, so who am I to judge?” 

“Stolas, there's only two pictures and the second is just a car. This asshole ain’t worth your time.”

“He’d indicated that he was heavily interested! I was notified through the app that he’d chosen to ‘Super Like’ my profile. I was flattered. What could it hurt to have given him a chance? Oh, and he was quite approachable in our messages leading up to our plans. He said that he’d like to discuss gardening, which is another interest of mine.” 

Blitzø began to respond but a voice from behind him cut him off. “Dude, you got catfished hard,” Loona said, nonchalant and slightly judgemental. She passed behind Blitzø to grab a bottled beer and pop the top off with her teeth. 

“What?” Blitzø and Stolas' eyes flicked to meet after hearing themselves speak in unison again. 

“This is the dude you’re talking about right?” she asked, pointing a finger down at Stolas' phone. “That profile pic is definitely AI generated. Ugh, why does everyone over the age of thirty fall for that shit?” 

“AI?” Blitzø asked incredulously. “The hell? Look, he’s holding his phone in the selfie. Normal amount of fingers. Why would it be AI?”

Loona took a pull from the foaming bottle. “They’re smarter than that now, man. You gotta lock in on the details. His hair blends into the background on the right and those washboard abs? Definitely not a normal muscle structure. You were probably distracted by his biceps. You’re a biceps guy, fine, but don’t let it make you dumb. Well, dumber.” 

Blitzø spluttered a bit as she sauntered away. “Yeah, well– well, you’re not supposed to be drinking on the clock!” he yelled after her. “You get one… yeah, one beer! Maybe two but then I’m putting my foot down, missy!” She flipped him off over her shoulder as she headed back to the entrance, a perfect mirror of Fizz’s earlier display. 

“No wonder those two get along,” Blitzø muttered. Stolas didn’t respond and Blitzø glanced over at him. 

His gaze was fixed on the bar top and oh– Satan in fuckin’ hell, those pretty eyes looked sad.  

Blitzø struggled with the urge to comfort him somehow. After only half a beat too long, he said, “Hey, she can come across a little blunt. It’s not a big deal, catfishing happens to the best of us! I didn’t realize it either when I was looking at his bio.” 

Stolas sighed and looked towards the ceiling with its weird stains and shitty fluorescent dimmers. There was a dangerous sheen to his eyes, but his voice was steady when he spoke.

“It’s not that,” he said softly. Blitzø waited for an elaboration. “It's just that I…  not to sound ungrateful or– or shallow, but he didn’t exactly seem like long term relationship material anyway, you know? I just wanted to get my foot in the door in this ‘casual dating’ thing. Try something new, meet someone I normally wouldn’t… I suppose I just feel silly for assuming I’d have immediate success just because the profile I had matched with seemed to be someone so, I don’t know, one dimensional, though that feels an ironic description at this point. I hadn’t expected to forge any sort of deep connection, though it might have been a nice surprise, and yet I can’t even seem to engage in hook-up culture correctly. This has been the most interest I’ve received so far and it wasn’t even real.”

Blitzø winced. That would feel shitty. “You know, maybe this was ‘the stars and their prophecies’ or whatever giving you a sign. You need to raise your standards. AI or not, you definitely didn’t need to settle for whatever that guy would have had going on if he were real. Are you just getting back in the game after a break up or something?” 

Stolas waved a hand dismissively. “No, no, it’s– well…? Actually, sort of. In a way. I have wanted a divorce for some time now and my daughter just recently turned 18, so I chose to officially bring up the idea with my wife. She is so far seriously opposed due to certain… inner family politics, so she has suggested amicably opening our marriage. She knows I’ve been trying out online connections, though this is the first time so far I’ve been invited out. I haven’t told her about it, and now I certainly won’t. This is exactly the type of thing she would never let me live down.” 

Stolas gave a fragile, humorless chuckle. Blitzø suddenly felt a very acute amount of hatred for some bitch he’d literally never even met. For her sake, probably best they never do. Stolas continued after a brief moment. “I don’t mean to speak ill of her when you and I have only just met, but this would be… I mean, believe me. Were she to know, she would relish bringing this up for months. Just to twist the knife should the desire ever strike her.” 

“Weeeell, fuck her. She definitely sounds six tits short of the full fuckin’ Hell hog,” Blitzø said with finality, “and you can do better than her ass too. Let me tell you what’s gonna happen here. I’m making you a drink. In fact, I’m making us both a drink, just don’t tell Ozzie. I give it half an hour or so until this crowd starts to clear out, so we’re probably on the down swing of orders anyway. And fuck that menu you’ve been staring at all night, I’m gonna take care of you. What’s your favorite liquor?” 

Stolas hesitated. “Well,” he said, “I generally drink absinthe when I’m looking to forget something–”

“No, not like that, damn!” Blitzø eyed Stolas in somewhat of a reproached concern. “I just meant– no. We’re not forgetting tonight because I’m gonna make it worth it that you came all the way down here to this shitty ass bar. I want to know which liquor you like .” 

Stolas only looked at him blankly. Blitzø shook his head. 

“Alright,” he said, “tell you what. I’m a good read. I’ll make you a cocktail and you can let me know how I did, how does that sound? It’ll be like a game.” 

Stolas raised an eyebrow but a hesitant grin was spreading across his face. “A game? And what would the stakes be? Could be… enticing.” 

Blitzø smacked a hand on the counter in triumph. “There we go! That’s the attitude we’re lookin’ for. Okay, how’s this sound,” he grabbed a fresh glass and a shaker top from under the bar and perused the flavored liqueurs in front of him, “I’ll mix you a drink with three different main flavors and you see if you can guess them. If you get it right, I have to explain why I chose it. If you get it wrong, you have to tell me something about you.”

A glint entered Stolas' eyes. Well color him unsurprised, it seemed Stolas had a competitive streak. Blitzø stared as Stolas extended a hand in his direction. 

“Deal,” Stolas said. He went to say more but choked on his words when Blitzø took his hand and, rather than shaking it, pulled it towards him and brushed a light kiss over the knuckles. Flirting was one of his favorite games and Blitzø had a damn competitive streak himself. He smirked at Stolas as he relinquished his hand back to him. Eventually, voice as rosy as his cheeks, he stuttered,

“Blitzø! You are so… forward!” 

Blitzø only let his grin widen. “Too forward?” A challenge, but a genuine question as well. Stolas flit his gaze from his own hand to Blitzø’s mouth, and then finally back to his eyes. 

“Uh huh,” Blitzø said with a wink, “that’s what I thought. Told you– I’m a good read. Be right back with your drink, reds.”

A few pours and a cocktail stir later, Blitzø slid the drink he’d crafted across the counter, hoping he’d done an adequate job of hiding the bottles he’d chosen behind his torso as he’d prepared it. It was a light amber that sparkled with light carbonation around the ice cubes and fizzed along the edge of a twisted lemon curl. A sparkled grain crusted the rim. Stolas assessed it before taking it in hand. 

“Do I get any hints?” he asked, a teasing note in his voice. 

Blitzø rolled his eyes. “Absolutely not. Go on, take a sip. And remember, it’s okay if you don’t like it! I’ll just never forgive you and the offense will fester forever.”

“Oh, well in that case, no pressure,” Stolas snorted. He lifted the glass to his mouth and took an exploratory sip. Blitzø raked his eyes down Stolas' lithe form and delicate features in earnest while he was distracted and took great pleasure in wondering briefly what else that mouth could explore. Then, with reluctance, he scooped his mind out of the gutter. This was still technically a work night.

A delighted surprise was rolling across Stolas' face. A few grains of sugar clung to the thumb of one of his hands as he set his drink back down and he licked them off absentmindedly, clearly considering the flavor of the drink. Blitzø felt his stomach pitch a little at the sight of that deft, pink tongue sliding across the pad of his finger and then disappearing back into his mouth far too soon. 

Back in the gutter went his mind. 

Oblivious, Stolas hummed appreciatively of the flavors he was considering. “Well, this is exquisite,” he said excitedly, “you weren’t kidding, you are damn good at what you do. This almost doesn’t taste as though there’s alcohol in it, there’s a lovely sweetness offsetting the sour.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere,” Blitzø lied, letting his voice lilt teasingly. “Oh and, just to emphasize how good I am– there is an excessive amount of alcohol in that. Around four shots altogether, should be.”

“Hmm, interesting,” Stolas mused. He picked the drink up, took another sip, and then once it was set back down he settled his elbows on the counter and rested his chin on his interlocked fingers. He looked up at Blitzø through those long-ass lashes with a wry smile. 

“Well,” he said lightly, “the first flavor is the most obvious– this is a lemon drink, though if it hadn’t been the foundation, the garnish would have given it away I’m afraid. So regale me, why choose that one? Do I seem the sour type?” 

Blitzø felt his tail flick a little in anticipation; this joke better hit the way he’d imagined. “No no, not sour. Most obvious flavor for the most obvious read. Had to make you something goddamn fruity .” 

Stolas had lifted his drink to his lips again and choked on it violently at Blitzø’s words. Blitzø felt a moment of panic that quickly melted into triumph as Stolas finally cleared his airway to laugh, bright and genuine. The sound took even Stolas off guard and was that– oh hell , that was cute, the sound of surprised hoots were interspersed with his amusement. 

“Well, accurate and obvious, right on both accounts it seems,” Stolas said through the last little bit of his laughter. “I’ve never exactly been subtle, even before I myself knew. I think most people in my life found out before I even thought to articulate such a thing about myself.”

Blitzø shrugged, still smiling at the scrunched up light in Stolas’ eyes. “That’s how it goes sometimes,” he said. “I had kinda the opposite experience. I knew real young, did my time pining over my best friend, worrying what my family would think, all that shit. Now I mostly get clocked because I don’t know how to keep my mouth shut when I see someone hot.” 

“Or someone with, what did your dear Loona say, biceps was it?” Stolas was smirking playfully. Blitzø rolled his eyes a bit. 

“Biceps are great,” he said, then winked, “drive me almost as crazy as gorgeous red eyes. Now stop stalling. What other flavors you got, reds?” 

The red eyes in question went wide and Blitzø reveled in Stolas’ flustered shock. 

Stolas cleared his throat, composing himself after Blitzø's direct flirtation. He took another contemplative sip, letting the flavors roll across his tongue while the neon signs behind the bar cast a soft purple glow across his features.

"Well... there's something floral in here. Lavender, perhaps?" His eyes sparkled with renewed confidence. "Though I must say, if you're trying to seduce me with flower-infused cocktails, you're rather on the nose."

Blitzø leaned forward, intrigued. "Oh? You've got a thing for flowers then?"

"I have quite an extensive garden, actually. My greenhouse is something of a passion project." Stolas traced the rim of his glass with one elegant finger, the delicate movement drawing Blitzø's attention. "But the third flavor is… softer? I’m sure I recognize it, but I’m not quite certain. Its a darker flavor…” 

“We use a premixed infused syrup for this one instead of making it fresh to save time, so it might be hiding a bit under the extra splash of lavender I put in there. Do you give up?”

Stolas took a longer pull of the drink, brow furrowed, then nodded. Blitzø smiled and lifted a bottle from under the counter, then set it on the bar label facing himself.

“We don’t use this one all that often – doesn’t really go in any of our regular items but we keep a few specialized flavors around for more… high society types if they ever stumble in. The owner is a deadly sin, after all.”

Stolas pulled this glass to his beak and gave it a hesitant sniff. “I suppose I– wait, is it black tea?”

"Nope!" Blitzø popped the 'p' with satisfaction. "Well, you’re very, very close. In fact even technically correct, but I feel like being a little mean, so no dice.” Blitzø turned the bottle around so that Stolas could see the hand written label. “What you’re holding there is a lavender earl grey old fashioned, lemon bitters instead of the angostura since it fit the flavor profile better.” 

Stolas made a shocked noise. “Earl gray? Well, now I’m simply embarrassed. That’s my favorite tea! And you’re right, I am ‘technically correct’, earl gray is a black tea! Only the bergamot sets it apart, you menace.” 

Blitzø shrugged with a smirk. “Them’s the breaks, birdie. Time to spill something about yourself. And the garden thing doesn't count – you already mentioned that earlier." 

“Earl gray is my favorite t–”

“ That doesn’t count either.”

Stolas narrowed his eyes. “Fine, but in the interest of fairness, I suggest a tie. I so nearly had it, so you have to tell me why you’ve picked it.”

“British.”

“Ah.”

There was a beat and they both burst out laughing. There was a little glowing light warm in Blitzø’s chest as Stolas rolled his eyes good-naturedly. 

"Very well. Let's see, something about me..." He twirled the lemon garnish thoughtfully. "I used to perform in the royal theater when I was younger. Had quite the penchant for Shakespeare."

"No shit?" Blitzø's eyes lit up as he wiped down a section of the counter, his movements automatic after years of practice. "I used to do circus performances! Guess we both got that performer's blood, huh?" After a long pull, Stolas’ drink was nearly depleted, so he started mixing another, this one a deep purple that seemed to shimmer under the bar lights. "Here's your next challenge – think of it as an encore performance."

Stolas knocked back the rest of the first glass and accepted the new one eagerly, their fingers brushing in the exchange.

"This one's a little more... mysterious. Like a certain someone who shows up to bars in more lace than a wedding shop."

"Says the bartender who kisses strangers' hands," Stolas retorted, but his cheeks were flushed again. "Though I suppose I should clarify – I do have taste, you know. That AI-generated disaster wasn't exactly representative of my usual... interests." He pulled out his phone, unlocking it with a flourish. "Would you like to see what I usually swipe right on?"

Blitzø's grin widened as he moved closer, leaning his elbows on the bar. "Oh, this I gotta see. Go on, show me what yanks your horn, then."

Stolas shifted his barstool closer, angling the screen so they could both see. The warm press of his shoulder against Blitzø's arm sent a pleasant shiver down his spine. "Well, for instance, this one caught my eye earlier..." He swiped to a profile showing a lean, tattooed demon with striking features.

"Not bad," Blitzø commented, trying to ignore how good Stolas smelled up close – something expensive and slightly spicy. "But come on, you can do better than some guy whose main personality trait is his gym selfies."

"Oh?" Stolas tilted his head, voice teasing. "And what would you suggest? What's your type?"

Blitzø met his gaze, the air between them suddenly charged. "Well," he said slowly, "lately I'm finding myself pretty interested in tall, elegant types. Especially ones who can rock Victorian fashion and have the most incredible red eyes I've ever seen."

The blush that spread across Stolas' cheeks was absolutely worth the moment of vulnerability. "Is that so?" he murmured, not looking away. "Funny coincidence – I've recently discovered quite an attraction to charming bartenders with quick wit and..." his eyes dragged deliberately down Blitzø's form, "very nice arms."

The bass from the DJ's setup thrummed through the floorboards as they held each other's gaze, neither willing to break the moment. Finally, Blitzø cleared his throat. "Your drink's getting warm," he said, voice slightly rough.

"As am I," Stolas replied, but took another sip. The ice clinked against his glass as he considered the flavors. "There's definitely some blackberry in this. And... something carbonated? Champagne?"

"One out of two so far. Keep going."

“Not Champagne… oh! A rosé, then?”

Blitzø only nodded, waving his hand in a motion for Stolas to continue. Stolas took another sip, closing his eyes in concentration. The movement drew Blitzø's attention to his long eyelashes, the graceful curve of his throat as he swallowed. The purple drink had left a slight stain on his mouth that made him look even more kissable. Fuck , he was gorgeous.

"I give up," Stolas finally declared. "What's the other flavor?"

"Star anise," Blitzø revealed with a flourish, pulling the seasonal bottle from behind the bar. "This one’s a chilled variation on a drink called a long winter’s nap, since it seems like you could really use a goddamn break. The star anise specifically is for the guy who’s into astrology but clearly deserves better than some fake-ass Leo that doesn’t even exist. Plus, I figured you'd appreciate the celestial connection."

A pair of baphomets pushed their way to the bar, giggling and wrapped around each other. Blitzø started to hold up a finger to them in a 'one moment' gesture, but before he could, Fizz waved them down to his end of the bar. Blitzø suddenly realized he must have been watching over in this direction. Damn. He was definitely getting teased about this later. For now, he turned back to Stolas. "Alright, I think I need to make you something special for your final challenge of the evening."

Blitzø moved with practiced grace as he prepared the drink, aware of Stolas watching his every movement. He made sure to flex just a little more than necessary as he shook the cocktail – hey, if Stolas was into his arms, who was he to deny him a show? The way his eyes darkened as they tracked his movements suggested the display wasn't going unappreciated.

He grabbed a bottle from the top shelf, purposefully stretching to reach it. When he glanced back, Stolas was definitely staring at the strip of skin exposed where his shirt had ridden up. Caught, Stolas didn't even try to pretend he hadn't been looking – just met Blitzø's eyes with a heated gaze that made Blitzø's mouth go dry.

The final product was amber-colored with threads of gold, garnished with a spring of fresh mint and a twist of orange peel. Blitzø slid it across the bar with perhaps more ceremony than necessary, but the way Stolas' eyes lit up made it worth it.

"Showing off now, are we?" Stolas' voice was low and amused.

"Maybe I just want to impress you," Blitzø winked. "Is it working?"

"Perhaps," Stolas smiled, taking a sip. His eyes widened in genuine delight. "Oh! There's honey in this one. And... bourbon?"

"Two for two! But there's one more."

"Mint's too obvious since I can see it... cardamom?"

"And a strike on three! You know the rules – one more secret."

Stolas set down his glass, and something in his expression shifted. The playful atmosphere remained, but there was an undercurrent of vulnerability as his fingers traced idle patterns in the condensation. The DJ had switched to something slower now, the crowd thinning as the night crept toward closing time. Most of the remaining patrons had coupled off into darker corners, leaving their section of the bar feeling almost private.

"I haven't felt this... light, this comfortable , with someone in years," he admitted softly, the golden light from the drink catching in his eyes. "I came here expecting disappointment, and instead..." He gestured between them. "This has been wonderful."

“Stolas, I–” A short whistle caught his attention. Fizz jerked his head in a get over here motion and Blitzø sighed, then smiled apologetically over at Stolas. 

“Enjoy your drink, reds. I’ll check back in on ya,” he said, reluctantly pulling himself away from their conversation. He moved down the bar to help prep for closing, but his eyes kept drifting back to Stolas, who was now typing something on his phone with an adorably concentrated expression.

As the night wound down further, Blitzø found himself watching Stolas more and more, the low lighting of the bar glowing across the angles of his face just right, making him look otherworldly and yet somehow more real than anything else in the room.

"You've got it bad," Fizz commented quietly as they restocked glasses together. "Haven't seen you this… attentive in ages. Since when do you go for patrons?"

Blitzø didn't even try to deny it. "Fuck, I know," he muttered, watching as Stolas absently tucked an errant crest feather back into place. His eyes darted toward the back hallway. "Hey, uh... what if I–"

"Oh my god," Fizz snorted, already knowing that look. "The bathroom? Really?"

"Come on," Blitzø pleaded, "you owe me for covering your shift last week. And it’s been a long ass time since I’ve been interested enough in anyone to even ask."

Fizz rolled his eyes but there was fondness in his expression. "You're impossible. But..." he glanced at Stolas, then back at Blitzø with a conspiratorial grin. "Fine. I'll run interference if anyone heads that way. Just be quick about it and don't break anything this time."

"You're the best."

"Yeah, yeah. And Blitz?" Fizz caught his arm as he started to move away. "He seems… nice. He’s been making you laugh all night and that– hey, no, look at me– it’s been good to see that from you.” 

Blitzø felt his skin prickle under the sincerity in Fizz’s voice, and his face must have shown his unfamiliarity with scenes like this but Fizz continued. “Just… don’t get too wrapped up in a pretty face unless you have a really good feeling about this guy, okay? He seems nice. Not every royal is as open-minded as Ozz. Or as trustworthy.”  

Blitzø snorted. “And who trusts Ozz as far as they can throw him?”

Fizz only deadpanned a glare. 

Blitzø sighed. “I just…” He thought of the way Stolas’ entire countenance softened when he’d mentioned his daughter flashed in his memory. The way his shoulders moved when he laughed, how his fingers never stopped their nervous dancing across the bar top. Blitzø met Fizz’s eyes. 

“I think I want to find out. That’s all.” 

Fizz raised an eyebrow, a half grin pulling at his beak, though the protective edge didn’t completely leave his eyes. “Then maybe he could be good for you. Don't let this just be a bathroom thing, okay?"

"I… kinda hope it won't be," Blitzø said softly, surprising himself with how much he meant it. He turned back toward Stolas, who chose that moment to look up and catch his eye. The smile that spread across Stolas' face made Blitzø's heart do something complicated in his chest.

Blitzø slapped Fizz on the arm and allowed the pull of Stolas’ company to find him across from him once more.

"Ready for another?" Blitzø asked, already reaching for the tequila. His fingers lingered on the bottle neck as he watched Stolas slide back onto his seat, closer now than before, close enough that their breath mingled in the space between them. The bar had quieted, most patrons either coupled off in dark corners or headed home for the night. Fizz had wandered to the other end, leaving them in their own private bubble of anticipation. 

Their eyes met across the bar for what had to be the hundredth time that night, but this one felt different. Heavy. Like all the electricity in the air had found a direct path between them. Stolas looked up through those impossibly long lashes and something in Blitzø's chest cracked open, spilling want through his veins like whiskey. His finger traced the rim of Stolas' fresh drink, and he didn't miss the way those red eyes tracked the movement.

“How you feelin’?” he asked. “These drinks hitting you just yet?”

Stolas grinned. “I feel lovely,” he sighed coyly. “Why do you ask?”

Blitzø grinned and then picked the glass up, licking along the rim before he took a long pull into his mouth. Tart. Fresh. The icy slide of tequila and grapefruit. 

“Hey!” Stolas squawked, half-indignant and fully adorable. “That’s mine, I believe. I haven’t even gotten to taste it yet.” 

Their faces were so close. So close… 

Stolas flicked his eyes to Blitzø’s lips. He took another swig, nearly draining the rest of the glass in one pull. “Then taste it,” He growled.

Stolas closed the distance between them. Blitzø lurched forward, crushing their lips even closer– fuck, he was halfway on top of the counter now and he really didn’t give a shit. Stolas’ mouth was hot and ready, and for someone Blitzø had suspected to be more enthusiasm than experience, he knew what to do with that tongue. 

Blitzø readjusted their position, bringing one hand up to snag that ridiculous ruffled collar. Stolas made a soft sound, something delicate and pleading– completely at odds with the way he then nipped at Blitzø’s lip, the move sending a pulse of heat straight to Blitzø’s lower abdomen. When they pulled apart Blitzø found himself chasing the sweetness of that stinging heat. Stolas huffed a shaky breath. Blitzø swallowed hard. 

“I’m cutting you off,” he said finally. Stolas scrunched his face a little in confusion. 

“What? I– you kiss me like that and now you’re kicking me out? I don’t–”

Blitzø rolled his eyes. “M’ not kicking you out, reds. Just grabbing you a water. You drunk? You’ve got three drinks in you now.”

Stolas still looked confused. “Not drunk, I believe I hold my liquor a fair bit better than that. A little warm under the collar, I suppose, but I can think of at least one other thing that may be the cause there.” 

Blitzø winked at him as he pulled a glass from underneath the counter, dumped some ice in it, and filled it with water from the nearest nozzle. “Good,” he said, sliding it towards Stolas. “Tipsy’s fine, but no more.” Blitzø snagged the near empty glass of the previous cocktail and threw the rest of it back, crunching the bits of ice that fell into his mouth loudly. Stolas chirped.

“Excuse me? I was planning to drink at least some of that!”

Blitzø leaned in close, letting the drained glass dangle from his fingertips languidly. He held Stolas’ gaze hungrily as he replied in a low voice. “Not anymore. Not if I’m gonna do to you later what I want to do to you now.” Stolas’ mouth fell open slightly as Blitzø leaned in even further, speaking so close that he could feel the sweetness of Stolas’ breath against his lips. Fuck , this was hot. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t already have something embarrassingly close to a halfie just from one kiss and this bit of teasing. “See,” he continued, softly enough that only Stolas had even a chance of hearing him, “I’m planning on seeing if the rest of you tastes as pretty as that tongue of yours, and I’m gonna need you sober enough that it means somethin’ when you beg me for more.”

From the tips of the feathers that disappeared underneath his high collar to the ones that swept into his perfectly styled crest, Stolas fluffed in heated, shocked pleasure. He gravitated closer to Blitzø’s lips, drawn in as if to orbit. Blitzø smirked and pulled back, the heated space between them still practically electric. 

“Drink your water, gorgeous. I got a tab to close out.” He half-turned towards the front of the bar and the registers, but suddenly his fingers were clasped in a hesitant, heated grip. Blitzø turned back. 

“Stay,” Stolas whispered. His voice was rough. Blitzø’s heart lurched into his throat. “Please stay. I…” 

There was a desperate pause. Stolas’ fingers loosened ever so marginally on his. He gave his head a small, embarrassed shake. 

“I… wait. I’m being silly. You have things to do, of course. I’m sorry, I just—” 

Stolas’ grip loosened a bit further and Blitzø teetered on the edge of practicality and a need so intense it sent a thrill of fear through him. Then those eyes flicked to the counter and Blitzø felt something in him decide. That gaze belonged to him now. It belonged to him .

Before Stolas could pull away, Blitzø caught his fingers. Their eyes met over the sweating water glass between them. Without breaking that heated gaze, Blitzø's free hand knocked against the glass - not quite an accident, not quite on purpose. Ice-cold water cascaded across the counter, soaking into Stolas' expensive shirt. When he gasped it sent electricity down Blitzø's spine.

“Well, shit,” Blitzø said. “I guess we’ll need to clean you up.” Stolas rolled his eyes.

“It’s quite alright, it’s just water. Seven rings, that’s cold– could I trouble you perhaps for some… napk…” 

Stolas trailed off when he met Blitzø’s eyes.

Blitzø leaned in close. "No, I think we'd better get you out of those wet clothes.”

Stolas' eyes widened, a deep blush glowing underneath the feathers across his cheeks. "Oh my," he breathed. "That does sound... prudent."

With a quick glance around the now mostly empty bar, Blitzø vaulted over the counter in one smooth motion. He grabbed Stolas' hand and pulled him to his feet.

"Come on," Blitzø said with a devilish grin. "I know just the place."

He led Stolas towards a door marked "Bathroom – Employees Only," fumbling with his keys. As soon as they were through, Blitzø pressed Stolas up against the wall, yanking him down by that ridiculous ruffled collar… thing to capture his lips in a searing kiss.

Stolas melted into it, his legs nearly sliding out from under him as he slid down the wall enough for Blitzø to grab a handful of his ass. He used it as leverage to hold Stolas up against the wall as he crowded in even closer, pressing tight between the long legs extending behind him. Blitzø's other hand roamed over Stolas' slim waist, fingers deftly working at the clasps of his ornate cape. It fell to the floor with a soft swish of fabric.

"My, you're eager," Stolas purred against Blitzø's lips.

"You have no idea, reds," Blitzø growled back. He nipped at the corner of Stolas’ mouth, eliciting a breathy gasp. "Been wanting to get my hands on you all night."

Blitzø's mouth trailed hot kisses along Stolas' jaw and down his neck. 

"I’m going to make you feel so good," he whispered against the heated feathers, feeling Stolas’ ragged breaths against his lips. “Even though you’ve been teasing me for hours, looking so damn pretty.” Blitzø trailed his hand down Stolas’ chest, taking time to enjoy the intoxicating downy softness of the feathers there. 

When he came to Stolas’ brocade collar, he dipped his fingers underneath, playing with the hemline. Stolas didn’t need it asked aloud– he pushed Blitzø away for only a fraction of a second, and then the coat-tailed shirt was on the bathroom floor, and Blitzø was being pulled back into the heated space between them until their bodies pressed together once more. 

Blitzø's fingers luxuriated down Stolas’ lithe torso until they eventually found their way lower, brushing against Stolas’ hips before continuing downward. He drew out the anticipation for only one heated moment, and then his hand slipped underneath Stolas’ waistband and between Stolas’ thighs, finding the warm, slick heat there. He cupped him gently, his thumb circling the sensitive nub he found at the apex. Stolas gasped sharply. "Blitzø, please," Stolas murmured, his voice heavy with need.

Blitzø smirked, loving the way Stolas responded to his touch. He slid his fingers lower, pressing them against Stolas’ entrance. Stolas shuddered, his hips rocking forward, seeking more. "So impatient," Blitzø teased, but he didn’t keep Stolas waiting. He gently pressed a finger inside, feeling the tight heat surround him.

Stolas let out a soft cry, his hands gripping Blitzø’s shoulders for support. His nails dug through Blitzø’s shirt and he felt the fabric tear under the desperate, clawing grip. The red fluorescent light above the mirror dimmed and stuttered momentarily as Stolas let out a particularly wanton moan. The static of something ancient and powerful ran like an undercurrent in the heated, sex-scented air and a thrill of lust-flavored fear ran through him. He took it as a good sign though, and held his rhythm, working his finger in and out of the silky heat, slow and deliberate, watching the way Stolas’ body responded to each movement. He added a second finger, scissoring them to stretch Stolas, his other hand stroking Stolas in time with his thrusts. “How’s this?”

Stolas swallowed heavily, “It’s exquisite, I–”

“No,” Blitzø growled, hooking his fingers further inside that warm, molten heat. “Forget your scrabble words with all those damn syllables. How’s this feel?”

Stolas choked out a moan that nearly sounded like a sob. “Good,” he gasped against Blitzø’s neck, the words scraped against his skin, “It feels–” another curl of his fingers, “fuck–! It feels good, Blitzø, please, please–” 

“That’s right, just like that, sweetheart, beg me just like that.”

Stolas’ breathing grew heavier, his body trembling with pleasure. "Blitzø," he gasped, his voice breaking on the name. "More, please, I need more."

Blitzø’s cock throbbed painfully at Stolas’ desperate plea, the tightness of his pants growing unbearable. He leaned in, pressing kisses along Stolas’ neck, sucking at the sensitive skin. "You want more, sweetheart?" he murmured against Stolas’ ear, his voice a low purr. "I’ll give you more."

With his other hand, he fumbled open Stolas’ pants and shoved them down around his thighs. He added a third finger, thrusting them deep, hitting that sweet spot inside Stolas that made him cry out and flavor the small room with static, that unholy power thrumming dangerously around them. Stolas’ body tightened around Blitzø’s fingers, his back arching off the wall as waves of ecstasy coursed through him. Blitzø’s thumb continued to circle and press against Stolas’ nub, sending jolts of pleasure through his entire body.

"Blitzø," Stolas whimpered, his voice raw with need. "I’m so close, please don’t stop."

Blitzø grinned, his fingers moving faster, thrusting and curling inside Stolas, coaxing him closer to the edge. "So good for me," he whispered, his breath hot against Stolas’ ear. “So good for daddy.” Stolas’ body tensed, his breath coming in short, desperate gasps. Blitzø withdrew his fingers. “But not yet.”

Stolas’ eyes flew open, his gaze filled with a mixture of disbelief and wild desperation.

“Don’t worry,” Blitzø murmured, bringing his fingers to his lips and licking them clean. He kept Stolas’ gaze the entire time, then brushed a kiss against his mouth. He hoped Stolas could taste himself, that heady tang of sweat and arousal so addicting.

Blitzø guided Stolas to the small counter in the bathroom, lifting him onto it with ease. He stood between Stolas' legs, their bodies fitting together perfectly. “Don’t worry, sweetheart,” he said, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. “We’re not finished yet. I want to make you feel even better.”

Without another word, Blitzø began to kiss his way down Stolas' body, lingering where Stolas' jaw met his neck. He sucked lightly on the sensitive skin there before moving lower, his tongue flicking out to taste the salt of Stolas' sweat. The small, downy feathers there were likely getting sucked into his mouth but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

Stolas' breath hitched. When Blitzø’s mouth reached the apex of Stolas' thighs, he paused, looking up to meet Stolas' gaze. “Tell me what you want, Stolas,” he urged softly. “Tell me how bad you need my tongue on that slutty little cunt.”

A shiver ran through Stolas, his voice barely more than a whisper. “I want your mouth on me,” he confessed, his words trembling with desire. “I… I’ve dreamed of passion like this for so long and I– I want to feel your tongue, your lips... please—”

Even if he had wanted to tease further, Blitzø wasn’t sure he would be able to resist. He licked a dripping line up Stolas' swollen lips, his tongue pushing past the folds to swirl around what he assumed was Stolas’ clit. Blitzø didn’t know fuckin’ much about bird anatomy, but he must have figured that one out well enough; Stolas’ reaction was immediate, a choked moan escaping his lips as his head fell back, eyes fluttering shut.

Blitzø took his time, savoring the slick tang of Stolas' arousal. He worked his tongue in slow, deliberate strokes, teasing and tormenting, drawing out every gasp and whimper that fell from Stolas’ half-open mouth. His hands roamed Stolas' thighs, his fingertips digging in, grounding Stolas in the overwhelming pleasure.

Stolas' hips bucked involuntarily, one hand scrabbling behind him to find some sort of grip on the bathroom sink, the other clutching desperately to one of Blitzø’s horns. “Blitzø—oh, gods, Blitzø—” he cried out, his voice low and raw. “Please, more, don’t stop—”

Blitzø hummed in response, the vibrations sending shivers through Stolas' body. He could feel Stolas' thighs trembling, the tension coiling tighter and tighter. This was too damn hot– Blitzø pulled back only long enough to gasp a few breaths and shove his pants down and kick them off, then he sealed his mouth onto Stolas again, working his hand along his cock in desperate pulls.

“Blitzø, I’m—I’m so close—” Stolas' voice was a broken plea, his body taut with anticipation.

Blitzø redoubled his efforts, his movements growing more intense, more focused. He sucked harder, his tongue swirling and flicking, driving Stolas to the edge. He could feel Stolas' climax building, the telltale signs in the way his breath hitched, his muscles tensed.

And then, with a final, desperate cry, Stolas came undone. Blitzø watched in awe as Stolas fell apart above him, his own arousal throbbing in response. Stolas' nails dug into Blitzø's shoulders, his head thrown back, entire body clenched tight and his hips stuttering in ecstasy. Blitzø didn’t stop, milking every last drop of pleasure from Stolas' throbbing, swollen cunt.

When Stolas finally collapsed back against the counter, spent and panting, Blitzø pulled back and stood, a satisfied smile on his lips. He kissed his way back up Stolas' body, taking his time, savoring the afterglow.

“You okay?” he asked softly, cupping Stolas' face in his hands.

Stolas nodded, his eyes half-lidded and dazed with satisfaction. “More than okay,” he murmured, his voice a breathless whisper. “That was... incredible.” 

With an unhurriedness that still ran with a lazy heat, he trailed his fingers down Blitzø’s arm until he caught his hand. He pulled it up to his lips and even through the haze of need still clouding Blitzø’s mind his heart lurched as Stolas pressed a kiss to the center of his palm. 

“I’d love for you to feel the same.” He said coyly.

Blitzø didn't need any further encouragement. He was still achingly hard and a fucked out Stolas looked twice as good as he’d even dared imagine back in the lights and music of the bar. 

“C’mere, sweetheart,” he grunted, pulling Stolas down from the sink. Stolas allowed himself to be manhandled, then damn near licked his lips when he caught sight of Blitzø’s cock, bobbing in pulsing anticipation. “Turn around,” Blitzø growled. 

Stolas braced himself against the mirror, dropping those mile-long legs to his knees and then… fuck , and then he arched his back like he was getting goddamn paid for it. 

Blitzø bit back a wine as he positioned himself against Stolas’ hot, soaking entrance, desperation making his movements clumsy. From there he took a blissful moment to drag the head of his cock through those molten, silk-like folds. Every time he slid up and over the over-sensitive entrance, Stolas breathed a little higher, huffing out whines of half formed pleas. 

“Mmm please… Blitzø, Blitzø—! Please—!” 

Another catch and drag over the hole, and then a push over the bundle of nerves nestled against the top. Blitzø groaned, pulsing hot as Stolas’ next breath sounded dangerously close to a sob. Then he thrust into Stolas with a single, powerful stroke. 

They both gasped, the sensation overwhelming. Blitzø worked the pleasure through his muscles as he slowly and carefully adjusted to that fucking mind-blowing heat and pressure. One wrong move here and he’d blow a load into Stolas before he even had a chance to fuck him. It was almost over for both of them when Stolas ground another exhale past the words,

“Oh my– fuck , Blitzø… so big –” 

Blitzø ground even deeper than he already was, his fingers bruising into Stolas’ hips to grind him further onto his shaft. Then, with a roll of his hips Blitzø edged halfway out and then set a steady rhythm, each movement eliciting cries of pleasure from Stolas.

Their bodies moved in perfect sync. Blitzø gripping Stolas’ hips, his thighs, his back, feeling every inch of him.

"Blitzø," Stolas moaned, his voice trembling. "I—I'm close."

Blitzø could feel his own release building, the tension coiling tighter and tighter. "Me too," he panted, his thrusts growing more frantic. "Just hold on a little longer."

Stolas nodded, his breath coming in short gasps. Blitzø's pace quickened, their movements becoming more erratic as they both teetered on the edge. With a final, powerful thrust, Blitzø pushed them both over the brink, their cries of pleasure mingling in the small space.

They collapsed against each other, hearts racing. Blitzø pressed a kiss to Stolas' shoulder, his fingers gently stroking his crest. "How ya feelin’, reds?" he asked softly.

Stolas leaned into Blitzø's touch, a contented sigh escaping his lips. "Mmm... divine," he murmured, his eyes fluttering open to meet Blitzø's gaze. A soft smile played across his features. He turned in Blitzø’s arms. 

"I never imagined it could be like this," Stolas confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. His fingers traced lazy patterns on Blitzø's chest, then came to rest on his hip. "You've exceeded every fantasy, every daydream I've ever had."

Blitzø felt a warmth bloom in his chest at Stolas' words. He'd never been one for the mushy shit, but something about the way Stolas looked at him, all soft and vulnerable, made him want to wrap the owl demon up and never let go.

"Yeah, well," Blitzø cleared his throat, feeling a bit stripped raw by Stolas' earnest words. "I aim to please." He tried for a cocky grin, but it came out softer than intended.

Stolas chuckled, the sound low and intimate in the small bathroom. "And please you did," he purred, leaning in to place a gentle kiss on Blitzø's lips.

As they parted, reality began to seep back in. The muffled sounds of the bar beyond the bathroom door reminded them of where they were. Blitzø glanced around, suddenly aware of their surroundings.

"We should probably, uh, clean up and get outta here," he said, reluctantly pulling away from Stolas' warmth.

Stolas nodded, a hint of disappointment flashing across his face before he composed himself. "Yes, I suppose we should," he agreed, his voice tinged with reluctance.

They cleaned up as best they could in the cramped bathroom, stealing glances and fleeting touches as they made themselves presentable. Blitzø couldn't help but admire the way Stolas' feathers were still slightly disheveled, some pointing in different directions while others were clumped together, adding a bright wildness to his appearance. He was just so…

Fuck. Blitzø had been inside him less than ten minutes ago. How did he look so… cute?

As Stolas smoothed down his clothes, he caught Blitzø's eye in the mirror. "This... this doesn't have to be a one-time thing, does it?" he asked, his voice hesitant, vulnerable.

Blitzø felt his heart skip a beat. He'd been wondering the same thing, but hadn't dared to hope. "Maybe it… doesn’t have to be," he admitted, then shot Stolas a sly grin. “I definitely think I could live with that.” Stolas’ face lit like a sunrise. The moment was distracted somewhat when Stolas seemed to notice Blitzø’s destroyed shirt. He pulled his hands to his chest, his fingers tangled a little nervously. 

“I… seem to have done a number on your clothing,”

Blitzø followed his gaze. "Shit," he muttered, plucking at a particularly destroyed section near his collar. "Fizz is never gonna let me live this down."

"I'm afraid I got rather... carried away." His eyes traced over Blitzø's ruined clothing, then lit up with sudden inspiration. "You know, I could help with that. My chambers have an excellent bath, and I'm certain I could find you something suitable to wear."

Blitzø raised an eyebrow. "Your ‘chambers’, huh? Fancy-ass way of saying bedroom, feathers."

"Well, yes." A hint of uncertainty crept into Stolas' voice. "Unless you'd rather not—"

"Hey." Blitzø caught his hand, surprising himself with the gentleness of the gesture. "I'm just teasing. But how exactly are we getting there? Because I don't think I can walk through Lust looking like I just lost a fight with a horny tornado."

Stolas' answering smile was downright wicked. The glow of his eyes seemed to intensify. "Who said anything about walking?"

The last thing Blitzø saw before reality warped around them was Stolas pulling him close, those long fingers splaying possessively across his back. Then the world twisted, stars wheeled overhead, and they were somewhere else entirely.

When they stepped through the crackling portal, the palace was silent. 

Blitzø could only assume this was Stolas' ‘private chambers’. The room itself was a testament to Stolas' eclectic tastes—rich, dark drapes cascaded down to the floor, the bed adorned with luxurious, plush bedding, and the faint scent of incense lingering in the air.

Blitzø thumbed through his phone until he found his texts with Fizz. 

You 

hey dnt wait fr me hadda run

wif stolas ill gve u deets tmrrwr dn wrory i kno i ow u big

fizzy jizzy

uou are SO goddamn lucky loona is here to help me close up. I’d watch ur back for a while tho she is nawt happy she’s still here. whatever that guys got between his legs better be worth it u fuckin horndog 

Blitzø shoved his phone in his pocket. Oh it was.  

“Blitzø, I’m not entirely sure any of my clothing will actually fit you now that we’re here. I may have gotten a bit caught up in the moment, I really should have offered to take you back to yours I’m afraid.” 

Blitzø looked up to find Stolas rifling through the drawers of a dresser buried in his honest-to-satan walk-in closet. Wait, wasn’t there some fancy ass word for that thing, with the elegantly framed mirror extending from the back? Brood ware or some shit? Something french, he thinks with a light roll of his eyes.

“Stolas, you don’t have to lend me anything. This would not be the first time I’ve had to find an outfit on the fly, or even go without a shirt for a few hours. Anyone that gets to see this is lucky.”

He was going for lighthearted and cocky, but Stolas turned his whole head towards him, just a few degrees too far around to be considered natural for anyone with a normally functioning spine. He gave Blitzø a very deliberate once over and hummed. 

“As right about that as you may be, Blitzø, I am the one that ruined your shirt. I’d hoped to help somehow, especially after how… accommodating you were to me .” Stolas pulled out a crisply folded, tan lump of fabric. “Well, I suppose this might… Blitzø, how do you feel about horses?” 

Oh, fuck one-time, bathroom bar casual encounters. He may actually fall in love. 

“Horses!?”  

Twenty minutes later, Blitzø had on the coolest fuckin’ horse hoodie he’d ever seen, he was comfortable, he was warm, and he was being offered a cigarette before he left. With a grin that he hoped came across more lusty than adoring, he held the filter in his mouth and let Stolas light the tip, trying not to let their unbroken eye contact twist his heart any harder than it already was. 

“Would you like me to take you back to the bar when we’re finished here, darling? I could always drop you right off at yours.” 

“Loona probably took the van home, so I guess that’s where I’ll need to head.” Blitzø exhaled with a curling cloud of smoke.” He leaned back, elbow braced on the softest blanket he’d ever sat his ass on. “Don’t be offended if I don’t invite you in, though. My one bedroom apartment ain’t exactly… this.” 

Stolas cocked his head, only a hair over-rotated. “Why on earth should that matter?” 

“Shouldn’t,” Blitzø said. “Doesn’t– least, not to me. Not sure I can imagine inviting you over to watch Drag Race on my shitty, torn up couch that also happens to be my bed though. Your TV is probably the size of one of my walls.” 

“–happens to be your– oh, I…” Stolas trailed off, his eyebrows furrowing. Not in pity, though. Thank fuck for that. No, he looked… smitten. “Your one bedroom, it’s your daughter’s, isn’t it. You’d…” Stolas gravitated closer and Blitzø handed the cigarette to him. Stolas took a drag. “You’d give her anything, wouldn’t you?” he asked softly. 

“She deserves everything,” Blitzø said fervently. 

“I know what you mean,” Stolas said, passing the cigarette back to him. “I’m sure she does. She’s lucky to have you.” 

Usually something like that would make Blitzø’s skin crawl, itching with vulnerability. But the way Stolas was looking at him was just so… genuine. So matter-of-fact, as though it wasn’t praise at all, just a mundane and typical thing that anyone might see and nod in agreement to, like the acid rain in Pride fucking sucks, or Wally Wackford is a no good grifter. 

She’s lucky to have you.  

Blitzø slid his hand across the bedspread just enough that a few of his fingers overlapped with Stolas’. “Yours is too,” he said, “to have you, I mean.” Stolas didn’t meet his gaze, but he didn’t move his hand either. 

“Your cigarette,” he murmured. “It’s gone out.” 

Blitzø knew a dismissal when he heard one. 

“You’re right,” he said, trying not to let his voice grow thin. Damn. He’d overstepped, hadn’t he? “It’s late anyway and I–” 

“Have another one?” Before he could even shift his weight towards standing, Stolas’ pleading voice yanked his attention back to him. When he looked up their faces were so very close. “Please?”

“I–” 

“And I think we should enjoy mine. Before you go. My bed, that is,” Stolas winced, as if he wasn’t sure how to say what he meant and was already mentally berating himself, but he continued anyway. “If you’d like. The bathroom was… fuck, Blitzø,” Stolas’ eyes fluttered closed at the memory, “the bathroom was wonderful, but here we could– I mean, only if you’re in the mood for–” 

Oh, Blitzø also knew a goddamn invitation when he heard one. 

Before Stolas could curl in on himself any further in embarrassment, Blitzø lurched forward and crushed their mouths together, pulling Stolas’ face towards him with one hand and eagerly burying the other behind his head in those unbelievably soft crest feathers. Stolas only swelled towards him, sighing into the kiss with a raw, wanting noise. Blitzø yanked his head backwards, reveling in the moan that punched out of Stolas at the flash of pain that must have caused. He kissed down the column of Stolas’ throat, whispering as he went. 

“You want more, sweetheart?” he growled. “Not ready for me to leave just yet?” 

Stolas whined. “No, I… fu– fuck!” That last bit was ground out as Blitzø sank his teeth directly into Stolas’ feathered shoulder. 

“That’s right,” Blitzø said against the spit-slick feathers, “make your pretty noises.” 

Stolas only huffed a shaky breath. 

“You know what I think is gonna happen here? Because I can tell you if you want.” 

Stolas had a hand on Blitzø’s jaw, holding on as though it were a sort of lifeline. He nodded. 

“Good,” Blitzø said, raking a clawed hand down Stolas’ back. “I think I want your mouth on my cock. I bet you sound so perfect all gagged up and choking. Fuck.” Blitzø had to work a breath through his lungs as his dick throbbed, the image in his head alone the sweetest form of tortured need. “And while you’re at it, light me that next cigarette, bitch.”

Stolas did and then knelt before the edge of the bed as though it was a place of privilege that not a single one of his fancy ass titles or positions of power could afford him. As though everything that had ever happened to them had led directly to this salt-and-sex scented moment. 

Blitzø inhaled, the sweet, pungent smoke hitting his lungs sharp and clinging. The scent of it was heady around him and he worked it through his breath. From his lap, Stolas gave a muffled gag as he sank further down around his cock until it was bottomed out inside that molten, struggling, little mouth. 

Blitzø sighed around the exhale. Stolas gripped the inside of Blitzø’s thighs and he let the weight of his hands spread him open wider. 

Closing his eyes, he lost himself for a weightless moment in the gag, slide, gag, slide that constricted him, hot and perfect. Stolas took it like a fuckin’ champ too. 

When he finally sank down on him so deep that Blitzø felt a gorgeous, pleading moan warm his entire shaft he took one more drag of his cigarette and slapped the side of Stolas’ cheek, gentle but firm.

“That’s enough,” he said. Stolas pulled off slowly, those crimson eyes glowing up at him and never breaking his gaze for a second. 

He added some suction as he let Blitzø’s heavy, hard length fall from his mouth. Precome and saliva slicked between the tip and his tongue in an obscene, glistening string. 

When it broke, Stolas kept his eyes hungrily fixed on him as he dragged his thumb up Blitzø’s cock to gather the wetness there and lick from his fingers. Blitzø felt himself pulse hot. 

A silent understanding passed between them, a mutual need so intense Blitzø could tell they could each feel it practically rolling off the other. Stolas rose, guiding Blitzø further up the bed, shedding his own clothing as he went. Positioning himself above Blitzø, Stolas paused, taking a moment to press a soft kiss to Blitzø's forehead. "It’s my turn," he murmured, his voice thick with need. Blitzø's eyes fluttered open, locking onto Stolas', his chest tightening.

Not in a million years would Blitzø ever admit how nearly a sob his next moan was as Stolas lowered himself, just taking the head of him into that tight, velvet, magmatic vice. Slowly, he adjusted to the stretch, and then sunk down another inch. 

Christ on a fucking stick, it took everything Blitzø had not to grab Stolas by his trembling, feathered hips and fuck up into him hard and fast until he’d slammed him full and dripping with cum. But he didn’t– no, couldn’t . He needed this to last. Needed Stolas to take his time and take him apart. 

Another inch. He was nearly fully seated now. When he bottomed out, he sighed so beautiful and broken that Blitzø had to groan along with him. 

Carefully, Stolas rolled his hips, the change in position making him drop his mouth open in some silent plea. 

“I’ve never…” Stolas’ hands were light on Blitzø’s chest, grounding and distancing himself all at once. “I’ve never done this before,” he admitted. “I don’t know if I’m–” 

“Shh,” Blitzø said, “you’re perfect. Keep… fuck, keep doing what you’re doing, gorgeous.”

Stolas obeyed, rhythm unhurried and experimental. Blitzø's breaths came in sharp gasps, his body arching into Stolas', meeting each thrust with desperate need. Stolas' hand slipped between them, stroking himself just above where Blitzø entered him in time with their movements. 

After a moment, seeming emboldened by Blitzø’s grip on his hips and the punched out noises he was making, he picked up the pace. “That’s right,” Blitzø breathed, “c’mon, fuck yourself on my cock, baby. Let me make you feel good. Let me make you feel so good–” 

Stolas whined when Blitzø ran his hands up that long, lithe torso, shoving the feathers against their natural shape. As he fell back into Blitzø’s lap for an especially hard thrust, Stolas brought a hand up to his mouth and bit into the palm, stifling a moan. Oh, Blitzø thought, absolutely fucking not.

“Hell no,” he grit past clenched teeth. He hooked one leg over Stolas’ and rolled them over so that he was on top. His dick slipped out of Stolas for only the briefest of moments before he lined it back up and slammed again inside of him. 

Stolas screamed. Blitzø snagged one of Stolas’ hands, then he other, and tangled them above his head. His wrists were so delicate that he gripped them easily in one hand and used the other to brush an errant few feathers out of Stolas’ eyes. 

“You don’t get to cover your mouth,” Blitzø grunted, pulling halfway out and rolling his hips to slam back inside. Stolas gasped out a sob. “You tell me how much you need this, you sweet, perfect little slut. And I’m nice, I’m so nice, Stols… you don’t even have to use your words. Tell me.”

“Blitzø… ah–!”

“More, Stols, you can give me more.” Another slam to put him fully sheathed inside that soaked and white-hot cunt. It convulsed around him, gripping him tighter with every thrust. 

“Blitzø, please–”  

He didn’t need to be asked twice. Blitzø let himself piston his hips into Stolas so hard it began to move his body up the bed. Tears leaked from those unfocused, glowing red eyes as he could only let out little ah – ahh – ahh’s with every brutal movement. As their pace increased, the room was filled with only the wet, filthy sounds of their bodies slamming together until Blitzø buried himself deeply one final time, rocking in and grinding so fully within Stolas it felt insane to think they would ever separate. 

Their climax was a shared, shattering moment, Blitzø crying out Stolas' name, his body convulsing with the intensity of his release. Stolas followed, a deep, guttural groan escaping him as he came, their bodies trembling together in the aftermath. Stolas jerked his hips a few times, the aftershocks of his orgasm riding through him. 

Blitzø kissed his cheek first through their gasping breaths, then the corner of one of his eyes. Then finally, the haze of fucked-out bliss warm around them both, he sealed their lips together. It was a slow, lazy kiss that saw them licking into each other’s mouths and nipping bottom lips. It tasted like sweat and midnight. 

When the heat of their cooling bodies became too much, Blitzø collapsed to Stolas’ side and gathered him into his arms. Stolas readily nuzzled into his chest. Contented little trills were just audible underneath his breathing and Blitzø couldn’t help it– he pressed another tired kiss to his forehead, just to the side of one his upper eyes.

“Stay,” Stolas murmured for the second time that night, and Blitzø was no better prepared to deny him now than he was the first. “Just for a little while. Please.” 

Blitzø tucked his head underneath his chin. “Alright, reds.” There was a beat, then, “I’ll stay, Stolas. If you want me here.”

“I do,” Stolas murmured, sounding already half-asleep. And fuck, if that pricked Blitzø’s eyes with heat, well. Nobody needed to know that shit but him. 

Blitzø readjusted the blankets around them, wrestling Stolas’ tired frame underneath his ridiculously oversized duvet. He was about to roll underneath with him when, from the nightstand, he noticed Stolas’ phone light up. 

There was the cord to a phone charger sitting right next to it. Damn, Blitzø hated it when he forgot to plug in his own phone and woke up to a dead brick. With a grunt, he rolled over and jammed the charger into the port. He made to set it back on the side table when a second text lit the phone again, both notifications stacked on the screen. 

He didn’t mean to read them. He really didn’t. It’s just that they were right in front of his face. 

Stella

Enjoy your evening? You really should have thought twice before believing anyone would ever be interested in your pathetic twink ass. Maybe to help mend your broken little heart, I’ll give you the prompt I used to generate that profile picture. 

Stella

I hope you stumbled home as drunk, and graceless, and alone as you fucking deserve, you disgusting excuse for a Goetia.  

Blitzø had never felt his blood run so cold in his life. This must be that bitch wife Stolas had mentioned earlier and by the look of it, hell and unholy fuck he had downplayed what a massive cunt she was. Blitzø stared at Stolas’ phone screen until it went dark. Then, before he could think better of it, he swiped it back open and bit back a noise of triumph when it unlocked at his touch. No passcode.

With his tail, he snapped a quick picture, then dropped the phone back into his hands, typed a response, and laid it back on the table with the ringer switched off. They could deal with Stolas’ worse half in the morning. 

He pulled Stolas’ sleeping form even closer to him. After only a second though, he grabbed Stolas’ phone one last time and sent the picture he’d taken to his own number as well. It was a damn good photo and Blitzø wanted a copy. 

From within the screen, Stolas lay in one of his arms, sleeping so soundly with a soft smile on his contented, clearly blissed-out face. Blitzø held him possessively while with the other hand he licked his tongue between two smugly spread fingers. The only thing he didn’t include in his text to himself was the follow up he had sent to Stella. 

sry i fukd ur huzbend