Chapter Text
Keeping Stolas company while he took care of the plants was one of the things they did most often when they had some time together. There wasn’t a garden anymore, but Stolas had converted one of the remaining rooms of the palace -one of the larger ones, in fact- into something like a greenhouse.
Three. Only three of his plants had survived that distant disastrous day.
Stolas had been so broken. It hurt just thinking about it. And Blitzø could’ve comforted him back then, he could’ve hugged him... but he hadn’t been able to do it. Something in him had faltered, and then not long after came the offer, followed by the talk in which they both agreed to be just friends, along with the rule.
It had been the last time he could’ve held him, and he didn’t.
Over the past few months, they had gradually started to repopulate the greenhouse-room. Stolas had gotten a few new ones, while others were sneakily brought by Blitzø. He had never actually given them to him as gifts, he’d just left them in the room without saying anything, and whenever Stolas tried to thank him or ask about them, Blitzø would always shrug it off, pretending he had no idea what Stolas was talking about. The way Stolas' happiness would skyrocket every time he found a new addition was more than enough.
They had named every one of the plants, and Blitzø had also invented complicated intrigues between each of them, just like he did with his horses; he told Stolas about these made-up dramas like a podcast soap opera when the owl was feeding them.
Today, with a little more time on his hands, Stolas was also gardening a bit, immersed in both the story and his activity, while Blitzø was seated on the edge of the raised platform on the half-side of the room, kicking his feet and struggling to keep track of his own plotline about the affair between the thorny Zaphyr and the drooling Elmer.
“Oh! And how did Janina react to all of this?” Stolas asked innocently, studying Martyn, a carnivorous succulent placed on one of the two tables, without looking up.
“So, uhm- Janina i-is... jealous... because- uhm,” Blitzø’s mumbling trailed off as his attention got completely drawn to Stolas’ fingers sliding through the slimy roots of Martyn, gliding hypnotically between them to untangle the knots, before pushing repeatedly into the soft surface of the soil. The way his hand worked, firm but gentle, while he massaged circles at the cushioned base of the plant, making it squirm by stroking and prodding the lush slick leaves, made Blitzø’s stomach tighten. Not only his stomach.
He gulped down as his mind stuttered, again feeling a little too heated and tense southward.
“Uhm, yeah, little break in the story,” he tried to sound casual, popping off from his seat, “Gotta hit the bathroom.”
He just needed a moment to clear his mind and hide the pathetic, growing problem in his shorts. Damn, just watching Stolas handle that fucking plant was doing it for him now? How the fuck in hell had he ended up like this?
His thighs shifted slightly to try to surreptitiously adjust his disgraceful boner.
He wanted to just yank it off and throw it out the fucking window. As if it wasn’t already hard enough battling himself to fight the overwhelming urge to grab him, to hold him, to touch him- he also had to constantly deal with the embarrassing physical reminder of his desire.
But before he could make his escape, Stolas glanced up at him, “I think we can save the rest for next week,” he naively stated, “I’m almost done here. Just, could you help me only for a second?”
Blitzø tried to shake off his nerves, while Stolas took his hesitation to exit the room as a positive answer, “Just hold the pot steady, please,” he explained, hoisting the vase in the air.
Not that Blitzø had been able to say no to him lately, anyway. He heaved a sigh, walking over to him and eventually stepping up the raised platform to make it more practical for the task.
His hands were almost trembling when he grabbed the two outer edges of the pot. He was almost at the same height of Stolas while he leaned further over it. He was too close. Blitzø kept his head turned away to the side with a frowning grimace, but he could feel that dragging energy spreading from Stolas’ body directly on his own skin. His heart was exploding in his chest, the effort not to simply sink his teeth into that captivating exposed space between Stolas' neck and shoulder -as his need screamed at him to do so- gathering in tiny beads of sweat on his forehead.
He clutched the vase with all his might, as if it were his last grip on his willpower.
“I-is there something you’d like to... to do, after we’re... done here?” Stolas suddenly broke the strained silence, his tone hesitant but his hands working steadily on what seemed to be the lower part of the vase. Blitzø’s heart skipped a beat.
He was not watching, but he felt the plant twitching beneath Stolas touch, and his dick mirroring it below the pot. His knuckles clenched, and for a moment, it felt like he might snap the damn thing in half if he held on any tighter.
“Nah,” the response came much harsher than he intended, but Stolas didn’t seem to mind as he continued, with an anxious uncertainty creeping in his voice, “I was thinking, it’s been... a- a while since we- you know,” he cleared his throat, pausing his motion, and suddenly the plant, the room, the palace and the whole hell were still in a suspended moment; “Maybe we- if you’d like-”
And of course, of course Blitzø wanted that. He wanted that, and yet he didn’t at all, he wanted more, it was something else he craved, the illusion of being able to give him a good time, dreaming of fondling him, imagining fucking him, craving to feel him cry out his name straight against his skin, yearning to lose themselves in a touch that would make them one- his head snapped reflexively against his will directly facing Stolas, right into the two red gravitational pools he had for eyes and-
Too much.
Unbearable.
The pot slipped from his hands as he jerked backward with his arms raised, shattering into pieces on the floor, the soil smearing all around.
“I can’t- I fucking can’t do this anymore!” he erupted loudly, disorientation blurring his sight, as the room warped and seemed to stretch away.
He was out of breath, as if suddenly there was no oxygen left in the room, a ringing buzzing in his ears that was tearing apart his brain. He barely could hear the desperate fretting in Stolas voice as he yelped back immediately “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I didn’t meant to-”
“Fuck Stolas, I can’t stand it anymore!” Blitzø yelled over Stolas’ litany of sorries, pacing around, yet the owl didn’t stop, and the stream of their frantic rants mingled together;
“I’m sorry, I got carried away, I promised myself I wouldn't ask you for it again, because I know-”
“You don’t know shit, it’s me, it’s not your-”
“-I know you don’t want to touch me and I shouldn’t-”
“-not your fault, I just-” the buzz in his ears stopped, the room snapped back into focus, the heartbeat stuck in his chest. “Wait- What?”
“...I know you don’t want to touch me anymore,” Stolas apologetically whimpered out with a crack in his voice, “And yet lately, all I’ve done is-”
“Stolas. The fuck are you talking about?!”
“...I should’ve picked up on all your reactions lately, the way you've been distancing yourself, I should’ve caught on-”
“Hold on-” it seemed impossible to take a grip on Stolas’ concerned vent;
“...but I couldn’t help but acting completely against what I should have-”
And in the meantime Blitzø’s gaze darted to him, and he saw it. The way his face was dismayed, as if, along with the pot, Blitzø had also shattered something inside him, again.
He had already seen that expression on his face. Everything was slipping out of his control and it seemed like just the same fucking nightmare.
He had fucked everything up just to avoid fucking everything up.
It was something he did often.
No.
For Satan’s sake, it wasn’t going to happen this time. Not again.
“...and unsuccessfully trying to get closer to you-” Stolas was continuing, distressed;
“Stolas, what’s the reason we agreed on the rule?” All of a sudden his voice was calm as he cut Stolas off. He just wanted to understand what the fuck was going on.
Stolas was struck by a startling silence, like that question was a slap in the face, furrowing his brows as if he didn’t understand it, or perhaps more like he couldn’t quite grasp the real reason behind it.
He waited for a moment like that, but Blitzø didn’t add anything more, keeping instead a genuine probing look on him.
So he stammered nervously, “Because... it seemed like the right thing to do,” he started tentatively, as if more than being sure of what he was saying, he was trying to figure out if it was the right answer. “... With everything that had happened, and was still happening at the time, we couldn’t think about us but I-” he lowered his eyes, gathering his hands and fidgeting, “... I didn’t want to lose you.”
Actually, the last sentence seemed the only thing he was truly convinced of, and after breathing it out, he spoke with more determination, his gaze once again finding its way to Blitzø.
“I didn’t want it to go back to what it was before, to force you, so I thought it would make things simpler, as you don’t want me in that way, but I did- ...I do, desire you, and...”
Suddenly nothing made sense.
Blitzø felt his face twitch into a confused expression he couldn’t hide. And it was like pouring gasoline on the fire of agitation already burning in Stolas.
“... I thought it was the only way to make you understand just-”
“But I don’t get it, Stolas! I don’t. After all that shitstorm, you hit me with all that friendship bullshit, about how maybe it was better if we kept distance, and then you act around all damn sexy like a fucking walking horny-trigger throwing all your stupid fucking hotness in my face and expecting me to-”
“I'm sorry, I know I shouldn't have- wait, I… I make you horny?”
He seemed... disconcerted? Surprised?
“I mean, I've literally been jerking off in front of you for months just from looking at you like a fucking pathetic starved teenager,” Blitzø flung his hands up.
Sometimes he could see Stolas' pupils even when they weren’t really visible. He had just brought them to the lower corner of his eyes, while his cheeks had subtly flushed, in a mix of confused and flattered, as if he was contemplating it, as if he were wrapping that concept into a little package with a bow, carefully placing it somewhere deep inside himself.
“Well, but that wasn’t the fucking point!” Blitzø attempted to get back on track, “You pulled out that idea like it was the only way for me to stick around, what the fuck was the point of all that friendship bullshit if-”
“I don’t know!” Stolas threw his arms out, “I’ve never had a friend in my life except for you, what the hell do you expect me to know!” He burst out with sassy frustration, before turning back from Blitzø and kneeling on the floor in front of the shattered vase, distractedly trying to separate the broken pieces from the soil.
“And you seemed so on board when I suggested it...” he added resignedly.
“Yeah, because I thought you didn’t want to- Ah!” Blitzø smacked his forehead with exasperation.
“Well, we had to focus on our lives then, but now...” Stolas mumbled, staring down and fiddling with the mess on the floor.
For a moment, Blitzø wanted to smash everything around him, just hurl every single vase in the room, flip over every damn thing and make such a racket that maybe it could unleash the turmoil boiling inside him. And maybe Stolas would turn around, look at him, and realize just how much he was struggling. But instead, he tried to not sound as irritated as he was.
He hopped down from the raised platform, taking a step toward the owl, “Listen Stolas, can you for once, for fucking once, just be fucking clear and say straightforward what you want?”
“I don’t want things to be about what I want again!” He shot back, shifting his head to the side but without really looking back, “All of this was because I didn’t want to fall into that again-” he put aside his tinkering with a sharp huff; “I... I wanted you to know, and understand, how special you are to me; and I don’t want you to think it’s all about that , even though I miss your touches so much, even though I miss everything so much, so much that sometimes I feel like I could implode, but I promise, I will deal with it if you don’t- I’ll stop behaving like I'm trying to seduce you, because the most important thing to me is… simply you. Here. With me.”
He paused for a moment, bringing his hands to his lap, his head raising, but still facing away.
“... And actually, for once, why don’t you tell me what you want? What you truly want.”
What did he want? What a strange question.
He wasn’t used to actually considering what he wanted. And it hit him square in the forehead, like the corner of a brick shot by a catapult from another planet.
I want to hold you. I want to be with you, Stol. I want to be with you in every way possible with someone. I want to be your friend, your partner, your jester, your fuckbuddy, your confidant, your lover, the person you know you can always count on, and you, the one I wish could always be there for me. I want to be the one who makes you laugh, the one you turn to when you want to cry, the one who can hug you at any time, for any reason, but most of all, without any reason. I want to be the one who makes you feel good, always. I want to be your support, your smile, and the shoulder you'll cry on.
I want to be your someone.
He didn’t say any of that. Those thoughts couldn’t be turned into words, they couldn’t be made real, he couldn’t, he didn’t deserve it, he wasn’t worth. Yet, a shaking arm had inexorably risen toward Stolas’ shoulder, suspended by its own will as if on a string, like the only defiant part of a compelled puppet daring to do what it wanted.
It was at that moment. Stolas turned his head back in his owlish manner in the silence, his expression, priorly awaiting an answer, suddenly flickered, drowned in the brightening of his eyes as they widened in surprise, his pupils emerging in a frenzied euphoric darting between Blitzø's hand and his face.
The world ceased to spin.
A pressing void vacuumed his gut as if he got stuck never-endingly in the split second before the impending plummet down the peak of a rollercoaster.
And there was no way off.
“Stol, if I touch you now, I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to stop, and-”
The answer that cut him off was slow, and sudden, and full of words, but silent. Stolas pivoted the rest of his body toward Blitzø staying on his knees, seeming to hold his breath as he leaned forward just enough to bring his shoulder into contact with the trembling red-and-white hand suspended before him.
A touch.
Blitzø felt himself explode, freeze, burn, petrify, and melt, all at once.
It was like putting ice on a wound, like scratching an itch that had lasted a lifetime, like taking off an uncomfortable garment, like breathing after holding your breath underwater, eating after three days of fasting - it was a relief, gratifying, pleasurable, and at the same time, it was none of those things, as if it were something so new and special that it couldn't fully be grasped.
With a hesitant caress Blitzø trailed his hand from Stolas' shoulder to the base of his neck, ranking through the feathers, the claws getting lost in the softness as eager shudders vigorously made their way down his spine, causing his body to stutter, his breath to hitch.
Stolas lifted his talons uncertainly, bringing them to the back of Blitzø’s hand, gently grazing all the way from his wrist to his shoulder along his arm, and every inch was an exponential increase in the restless rhythm of his heartbeat, spreading shivering waves of heat through all his fibers.
That knot that had been wound around Blitzø’s stomach for so long crawled up into his throat, tightening something behind his eyes. He tried not to blink, to not break the spell, to not end up fucking crying.
And then Stolas raised his shoulder, tilting his head to the side to meet Blitzø’s touch with his cheek, closing his eyes in a delighted expression as he pressed to clasp Blitzø’s hand inbetween, while his mouth curved into the cutest smile Blitzø had ever seen him make, and in that moment, he realized he was fucked.
He hooked Stolas' back with his tail, pulling him closer, grabbing his side with his free hand, drawing him tight against him. His arm slid smoothly over the silk of Stolas’ robe, trailing to his back, while the hand on Stolas’ neck worked its way up, combing through his feathery hair; he wrapped his tail, held him harder, sank his snout into the fluff of his exposed chest, snuggling, rubbing his cheeks against it and breathing in deeply, filling his lungs with his essence in a roaring purr.
It was as if it were the first time he had ever touched anything in his life, as if he had never known the sense of touch before, as if it had just awakened now, and with it, all his other senses too.
Sight, the world that once seemed black and white was now brimming with colors, vivid and intense, and Stolas' plumage was the most beautiful shade his eyes had ever beheld; hearing, it was as if a dull ringing that had always filled his ears had finally ceased, allowing him to catch every harmonious rustle of feathers and fabric as they brushed against his caresses; smell, it was like he could inhale deeper than ever before, the powdery scent of Stolas flooding his nostrils, intoxicating his mind; and taste, he could savor the flavor of this wholesomeness, as if his tastebuds were spread across every inch of his skin, allowing him to relish even the taste of the intangible on his tongue.
And he had been in his arms many times before, in a life he used to live, but he had never felt so alive before, and it was all because Stolas made him feel;
like the inside and the outside of him was being made again by him, like he woke up from a bad dream, to a bright new world;
like the whole world had been made again.
And Stolas' hands were on him, brushing his arm, stroking his neck, treading across his back over the fabric of his shirt, and his touch raised and stiffened everything in Blitzø, the pores of his skin in shivering goosebumps, his spines lifting rigid like quills, and his hard desire bulging tightly in his pants.
And besides holding him, Stolas was enfolding Blitzø with his tail, pecking and nuzzling against his horns, and Blitzø couldn’t tell what felt better, the sensation of the soft heat of Stolas' feathers under his claws, or the gentle warmth of his talons over his skin.
“Let me touch you,” Blitzø mumbled, “Let me,” like a prayer, as if he weren't already doing it, but it would never be enough.
Stolas withdrew and lowered one hand to unfasten his robe, which opened to the sides and slid down both his shoulders halting on his elbows, and immediately Blitzø's hands and muzzle sneaked beneath it, on his sides, on his hips, on his back, on his neck, on his chest, on his collarbone, snuggling, purring, fondling, touching, touching, touching, feathers, soft, skin, warm, contact, touch .
Maybe he was overdoing it, maybe it was too much, maybe he should’ve stopped, but he simply couldn’t, not anymore, fight against that force he had been so strenuously battling for all that time.
He rested his forehead on Stolas' neck, trying to catch his breath. “I warned you,” he whispered.
“And I don't want you to stop,” Stolas murmured in reply, breathing warmly on his head, keeping his hands on him without pulling away.
The rule could go fuck itself. It was not what Stolas wanted. It was not what Blitz thought. Stolas didn’t want him to not touch him. He wasn’t acting that way because the distance was easy for him. He was just a fucking idiot. His beautiful, sweet, attractive, stupid, favorite idiot.
Blitzø raised his eyes to Stolas’, tilting his head back with his mouth slightly parted as one hand cupped the soft blush of the owl’s face.
He breathed his lips, and his heart slammed so wildly against his ribs it felt like it would crack open a breach in his chest.
And then he closed his eyes, and his lips found Stolas’.
Their tongues met as in a sweet extension of their embrace, deepening the closeness, as if the contact was stretching to fill every bit of void, wrapping them together more tightly.
Kissing Stolas would always remain one of the strangest mysteries of the universe. Because how was it possible that such a sharp beak could turn into something that bestowed such soft and sweet kisses, how was it possible that a shape seemingly crafted specifically not to kiss could actually be so unblemished for it, how was it possible that two mouths so different could fit together so perfectly?
Yet the way their faces melted into each other was wrapped in an undeniable harmony, lips loosening only to find themselves again with embracing passion, while their tongues glided against one another in rolling languid waves.
Blitzø slid his claws behind Stolas' head, drawing him closer with growing hunger, riding the sweeping tide of shivers of that kiss, relishing every fiber of it, the moisture in Stolas’ mouth an oasis in the desert of devastation he had wandered through aimlessly for all those months.
The lush softness of the kiss escalated fervently into a frenetic pursuit of touches from both of them, hands, arms, tails, desperately reaching and seeking more contact, their body clasped and rubbed impossibly closer. A pressing heat gripped Blitzø’s gut while the rush of his heartbeat roared furiously in his ears, every lap in Stolas’ mouth a pulsing twitch of his dick, pushed unavoidably against the owl’s body, and he couldn’t help but humming greedly at every Stolas’ soft gasp, like an untamed animal, as if Stolas were the last breathable air remaining in hell.
And the second that followed there was no more the floor beneath his hooves, just Stolas’ strong grip around his body, lifted off the ground by the owl’s fervor as he rose to his feet, moaning in Blitzø’s mouth before gently lowering him back to kiss-height on the raised ledge of the room, and ravenously sneaking his talons under his shirt, scratching his lower back, stroking his stomach.
“Touch me,” Blitzø mumbled in the kiss, “Touch me,” he repeated with more urgency, “Touch me,” he pleaded breathy one last time, his mind flooded with the overwhelming need to feel Stolas.
Stolas slid off his shirt, tossing it on the ground, the only moment he had to break the hug, and the instant Blitzø was free from the fabric barrier, he leapt up onto him, crossing his legs behind his back to anchor himself, clinging to him with a new desperate kiss.
In the throes of Blitzø’s fierce push that Stolas welcomed with a firm embrace, the owl’s body spun and tilted backward, and Blitzø felt Stolas’ weight dragging him into the void, as if he was letting himself fall, the vertigo of the descent blended with a fizzing swoosh, and they plummeted hitting with a soft bounce a plushy surface. As gravity settled, he registered they landed on Stolas’ bed through the portal that was closing above their tangled bodies.
They were still mouth to mouth, lying embraced and locked into their chaotic craving energy, with Blitzø on top of Stolas, his hooves pressed on the mattress crossed beneath the owl’s back.
Blitzø spread his legs, shifting them to either side of Stolas to straddle him, ducking down to his collarbone and kissing him hungrily open-mouthed all the way to his neck, while he pulled the robe down his arms, undressing him gently.
“You know,” he brought his eyes on Stolas’, “We can still do it like we used to, if you don’t-”
“I want you to touch me, Blitz. I need to feel you on me, in me,” the whiny begging in his voice shivered down straight on Blitzø’s impossibly hard cock; “Please, I need you.”
A storm fluttered in his stomach, anticipation blanking his mind.
It was his moment. He wouldn’t disappoint him. He would take care of him, make him feel good, show him a good time, give him a pleasure he would never be able to live without again, making up for all the time they had lost together.
Stolas hooked gently a warm slender talon on the waistband of Blitzø’s shorts, helping him slide them off, while his dick bobbed out with a droplet of precum leaking from the tip.
His eyes raced over Stolas' naked form, a gorgeous expanse of silky gray he wanted to lose himself in forever, still incredulous that he could finally touch it, still in disbelief that, finally, finally, he would be inside him, part of him, soon he would feel that sublime bliss again, and it wasn’t just one of his wet dreams, he was there, beneath him, real and breathtaking, with that expectant look in his eyes that made his dick bounce with a needy throb.
Blitzø dove back into Stolas’ chest with his face, and his dick rubbed against the feathers of the owl’s stomach, the sensation electrifying his nerves, making him stiffen as his hips rolled slightly but uncontrollably against Stolas’ body, his cock grinding in the softness, enveloping his body in a trembling stutter, his buttocks tensed, and-
A groan got stuck in his throat as he blew his dignity in white stripes shooting across the feathers.
He froze.
He couldn’t believe it.
For a moment, he hoped it was just one of his miserable dreams, that once he opened his eyes, everything would vanish.
But it wasn’t. He had just cum untouched on Stolas, ruining their most important moment of reconnection forever.
He wanted to hide, disappear, die, be buried alive in his patheticness, suffocated in his embarrassment, anything but face that moment. Anything but meet Stolas' eyes, which had been shining with anticipation just a moment ago, and were now probably dark with disappointment.
He had fucked it all up.
He had shattered his chance, he was going to lose Stolas forever, all because he had wanted him too much.
It was too miserable to be real even to him. He didn’t have the strength to lift his gaze. What was he supposed to say, what was he supposed to do? Running out the window and hiding in a pit for the rest of his ridiculous existence seemed like the only answer-
A hand cupped gently his face.
“Shit Stolas,” he flinched back, batting his hand away, “Fuck, fuck! I don’t know what- shit!”
Something twisted tightly in his throat. He begged Satan not to start crying, or that would truly be the icing on that disastrous cake of patheticness.
The hand he had swatted away returned, this time more firmly, beneath his chin, forcing his head up, but his stare stayed glued to the mess below.
“Blitz,” his voice was warm, reassuring, but also somehow euphoric, “You really wanted me that much?”
Blitzø’s eyes were inescapably dampening, and his gaze shot up reflexively to prevent that moisture from dropping down in thick tears. He had never seen Stolas' pupils so wide. They trembled with an intense bright inside those two seas of red light. His cheeks were flushed, and his poufed chest heaved. He was fucking beautiful. It was probably the last time he'd ever see him.
But before he could say anything or escape, Stolas grabbed him vigorously, pulling him up into a fierce kiss, squeezing him greedily in his arms.
Blitzø remained almost still. What the hell was he doing? What kind of reaction was that?
As he fought the urge to pull away, Stolas broke the kiss, “It's the most romantic thing you could express,” he gasped, ecstatic.
The fucking what?!
Blitzø was confused and stiff as Stolas peppered kisses and little pecking along his neck. “You do want me,” he was whispering breathlessly, “You really want me.”
What a fucking surprise. “Of course I want you, dumbird,” Blitzø dodged, gazing baffedly at him. Stolas gave him a sweet foolish smile in return. Disarming.
What the fuck did that mean?
“So- you’re not... mad, or disappointed?” Blitzø asked uncertainty, still puzzled. He couldn’t figure out where this was heading. He didn’t understand.
“What? How!” Stolas frowned with concern, “How could I not appreciate your body expressing how much you desire me? It’s the most sincere praise that-”
“Y’know, it isn’t exactly supposed to be a good thing...”
“I don’t care. To me, it was the sexiest, most romantic thing you could have done.”
There was no doubt. He was sincere.
And weird.
Cutely weird. Unbelievably genuinely excited. Gentle, too gentle with him.
So the worst release of his life didn’t fuck everything up? How was it possibl-
“But I’ll be disappointed if you leave me waiting much longer,” Stolas pouted.
And Blitzø couldn’t help but giggle, and think that he was adorable, and then captur him with a long lush kiss, all his tension melting under the growing heat of it.
Blitzø didn’t deserve him, he would never have deserved him, not even if he had lived a hundred lives devoted solely to acts of virtue. But Stolas somehow desired him almost as much as Blitzø craved him. Craved him, and to make him feel good.
The atmosphere turned once again thick with desire, as if nothing had happened, and rather, Stolas was trembling beneath him in that way he did in their past rendezvous, when Blitzø teased him keeping him on edge for a cruel eternity before finally granting him a relief. It made him feel all giddy, had the power to make him feel utterly thrilled, and instantly forget everything else.
“Thirsty-birdy,” he muttered sultry on his lips, “I got you.”
He brought both his hooves to Stolas’ side, shifting beside him, and hooking one leg around his long thigh, while running a hand down his abdomen, over his mound, slowing right above his slit. He held his breath in the final inch, as if the spell could break, as if Stolas could suddenly crumble to dust in his hands.
And then after that hanging moment, his digits were on it, and it was so wet, so fucking wet that Blitzø had to restrain the ridiculous whine that was escaping his mouth at the sensation.
He rubbed it gently, as if it were his most precious treasure in hell, while burning chills consumed his body, igniting his veins and rushing to the swell of his renewed erection. His groin pressed involuntarily against Stolas’ hip while he stroked little circles around the slick edges with growing pressure, making Stolas’ choke back a keen, biting his lower lip as his talons dug desperately into the sheets.
“Here we go birdie,” he murmured, pushing a little more and sliding inside, stuttering at the way the rim stretched welcoming his claw, while a loud moan burst forth from Stolas’ beak.
It was better than anything his memory could ever remember, the mesmerizing way Stolas' long frame twitched under his touch, the rapture of his soft whimpers, and Satan, the enthralling feeling of having his claws buried into the softness and tightness of his birdpuss. They often say that something is too good to be true, but well, this was too good to be a dream. A dream is nothing but an illusion of the mind, and his mind could never have recreated a sensation like that.
After a few glides he plunged deeper, and as soon as he curled his finger, Stolas’ back arched, his feathers poufed, and his slit clenched around it. “Blitz, Blitz, I’m already-” he cried out before another gasp cut him off; “Yeah, I feel it, give it to me,” Blitzø groaned, rutting faintly against Stolas at the same pace he was fingering him, before biting his neck and sending him over the edge. The bow Stolas’ body was forming writhed, before hitchy shaking as he came with a long whine, flooding Blitzø’s hand and wrist with his arousal.
He needed to taste it, he needed to savor it, he needed to lick every drop of it like it was the last meal in hell.
But before he could bring his hand to his mouth, Stolas had risen up on one elbow, gripping him and pulling him into a sloppy kiss.
“I missed your touches so much,” he blew out, blushed and ruffled, tracing a tantalizing hungry stroke from Blitzø’s hip up to his chest, before running his talons to his back, teasing with his spines, and it was immediately clear that more of a release, the orgasm had been a turning on. For both.
“C’mere, I’m not done,” Blitzø grabbed him by the hip, dragging him to swing his leg over his torso with a lifting rotation, and guiding him to straddle his face, while his previous release dripped down Blitzø’s neck and cheeks. But not yet. He wanted to savor it straight from the source.
After shoving a square pillow under Blitzø’s head, Stolas settled with his knees beside Blitzø's shoulders, and the bent part of his legs resting along Blitzø's sides, his wide tail draping over Blitzø's stomach. Blitzø wrapped his own tail around the owl’s waist, then trailed his hands down Stolas’ calves, reaching his talons and interlocking his fingers with his grippers, squeezing them as a hint.
The owl lowered gently his body so that his cloaca met Blitzø's watering mouth, and started ground slowly against his snout, throwing his head back with a hand on his chest, creating a mesmerizing vision for Blitzø's eyes.
He was starving for this, Stolas’ scent was intoxicating, the pressure of his thighs exhilarating, and if Blitzø had ever been able to choose his own grave, that surely would have been the one.
The gracious and steady Stolas’ rolling was harmonized by soft sighs that hitched when Blitzø’s tongue flipped out, lapping at his entrance, relishing greedily the slick around his slit, while the grasp of Stolas’ grippers interlaced with his fingers tightened at each lick. He was delicious, and somehow his taste became sweeter with every moan, and Blitzø couldn’t help the way his own hips thrusted involuntarily into the void, guided by the aching need of his cock for a friction.
He pulled from Stolas' talons, running his hands up the length of his legs before grabbing his ass, sinking his claws into the flesh, sneaking his forked tongue into his birdpuss, and pushing him to fuck his face harder.
“Fuck-” Stolas startled, trembling, succumbing to little jerks and pants as Blitzø swirled his tongue inside him with crescent hunger with his eyes closed in delight.
Then, a strange swoosh went completely ignored by Blitzø, who had no intention of losing even an instant of the heaven he was drowning in.
But the next moment, he felt a sudden warmth on his dick followed by a wet touch that made him jolt with a throaty gasp and he believed that the craving had finally driven him totally insane.
He snapped his eyes open, seeing above him a portal inside which Stolas was cupping his cock with his hand, drawing it closer on his beak as he licked passionately a strip along the shaft. He had teleported his upper body between Blitzø’s legs, and he was about to suck his dick while riding his face.
He was the demon of his life.
It took a bit of effort for Blitzø to not faint when Stolas glided his tongue around the tip of his hardness, the little teasing shivering up in a race of his heartbeat, erupting in waves of heat that surged through his entire body. He hadn’t gone insane a second ago, but he would be soon. And, -he never in his life would’ve imagined thinking something like this- thank Satan he had shot his load before they even started, he wouldn’t have lasted more than four seconds with any of this otherwise.
Stolas gave his cock another harder lick and a few leisure pumps, before wrapping his tongue around its length and bringing it in the wet warmth of his mouth, while Blitzø continued to hummingly eat him out. He then trailed his long slender hands to encircle Blitzø’s waist, holding him firmly, and started bobbing his head, vacuuming his cock with languid sucks. Blitzø clung wildly at the owl’s hips, tugging him down and burying his own moans in his cloaca, sending a shaking shudder through his long feathered body that ended inevitably straight on his own dick.
Fuck, Stolas hadn't lost his touch at all. He was a fucking master, always seeming to know what drove him crazy, even when he got carried away and pricked him with his beak. He always sucked him off so passionately, like it was his favorite candy, like it was the last cock in hell, like his life depended on it. Blitzø couldn’t see his face entirely from that angle, but it hardly mattered since he couldn’t keep his eyes open without feeling them roll back in bliss.
And in the throes of pleasure with one hand Blitzø seized Stolas by his feathered hair, pushing harder into his mouth, bottoming out in his throat, while with his other hand he clutched Stolas' ass perched on his face, driving his tongue impossibly deeper into his cloaca, rubbing it against the textured spots that drove him wild, his lapping matching the pace of his thrusts into Stolas’ throat.
And it was fucking mind-blowing.
The first sparks of vibrant pressure were starting to gather in his gut, but Blitzø had no intention to climb towards it. He let out a long growling groan that made Stolas quiver; the owl’s movements grew more ragged, the inner sides of his slit tightened as frantic muffled moans poured from him, inflaming Blitzø’s drive. He felt like on the verge of a fervent treasure hunt, the precious prize waiting for him tantalizingly close. Within the sloppy licks he interspersed a few languorous sucks, until he felt Stolas tensing and trembling, his talons dig feverishly into Blitzø’s waist with a chest-deep lingering cry, as his cloaca throbbed around his tongue, bathing his face with Stolas’ scrumptious liquid pleasure.
He swallowed as much of it as he could while feeling Stolas slackening above him, then pulled his still marble-hard cock from his mouth, leaving space for Stolas' labored breathing.
“Oh wow Blitz,” he exclaimed once his beak was free, his panting already settling. The portal closed at the opposite side it had sparked, and suddenly all of Stolas was seated between Blitzø's legs. After Blitzø gathered a bit more of Stolas' release to taste swiping his claws over his jawline, he flipped onto his knees to reach the owl with a squelching kiss, cupping his face in his hands.
“You did fantastic,” he praised, gently rubbing his thumb over Stolas' cheek.
He was all disheveled, a little sweaty, his face looked like it was going to burst, and he stared at Blitzø with a dazed shimmering gaze before throwing himself at him in yet another kiss.
“You are fantastic,” Stolas hummed in his mouth, just before deepening the kiss. He ran a finger along Blitzø's tail, twirling to loop it teasingly around his talon, while the other hand grazed in an unequivocally provocative way one of his thighs, the combination sending a squirm rippling through Blitzø’s skin.
Satan, Stolas had caught his breath quickly. His stamina was incredible as always, almost as unshakable as the evidence of his endless desire. It drove Blitzø crazy with ecstasy. And elation. Because he absolutely wanted more as well.
“You still want me?” Blitzø asked with a smirk.
“I will always want you,” Stolas replied earnestly.
Their bodies instinctively shifted together in one effortless fluid motion, flowing to find their place with the ease of well-practiced lovers, as naturally as breathing, as if not a day had gone by, as if their bodies remembered better than their minds. Blitzø found himself standing behind Stolas, his legs snug against the velvety underside of the owl’s thighs as he bowed forward on all fours, while Blitzø’s hand grazed gently his wide tail, guiding it to move aside and eventually coiling it with his own, tethering them together.
Blitzø placed his claws softly on Stolas’ thighs, brushing the fluffiness, and leaned forward, looming over him as he could, a thrumming stutter coursing through his body as the length of his erection brushed smoothly under Stolas’ entrance. His mind was overwhelmed by longing, his breath heated and eager, he wanted it, needed it, to feel him his, his and only his, his like he had never been before, his like he had never perceived before, his without obligations, agreements, restrictions, rules, or boundaries, just his, just the two of them, and nothing else.
“You ready, birdie?” Words came out a bit hoarse, choked by the frantic pounding of his heart lodged in his throat.
A tender tremble rippled through Stolas' body, exuding a tingling energy of anticipation.
“Wait.”
Blitzø suddenly felt a dizzying sensation prickling at his waist, as the blue haze of Stolas' magic sparkled across him; he saw a second portal swishing at Stolas' waist, and in an instant it was as if the world shifted around him, and his chest was pressed over Stolas’ in a new, strange gravity, their faces just a breath away while he still felt his legs against Stolas’ as before. He cast a glance at that strange situation. Their torsos were emerging facing each other from the only other side of the two meshing portals at their waist. Stolas’ upper back and head were laying on the mattress with the top of Blitzø’ body hovering above it, aligned at the same height so that their eyes were at the same level, while their lower halves were still in contact in the more primal, familiar position they had been in seconds before.
He still had an arm lowered on Stolas’ hip, and the other raised resting on the mattress beside Stolas’ cheek.
“How the fuck did you do this?”
“I wanted you here,” Stolas replied shyly, “I wanted us to be in as much contact as we could.”
Blitzø smiled at him before capturing his face in a sweet, passionate kiss. It was unusual, yet beautiful, to kiss him comfortably towering over him, while feeling his ass press against his groin at the same time.
And it was working. They were as much in contact as possible, his legs were against Stolas' -at least, half of damned long Stolas'- , their tails entwined around one another, torsos clasped together, arms holding each other, eyes in eyes. All that was left was the ultimate touch, the one that would make them one.
“It’s fucking perfect,” he whispered, grasping slowly his straining hardness with a trembling hand and aligning it with Stolas’ entrance, gliding along the edges while brushing Stolas’ hair with the other.
You are fucking perfect.
He locked his eyes on Stolas’ and every calamity known to nature rampaged turbulently in his chest in an unrelenting tumult.
And then he held his breath and pushed gently, the tip sliding inside and breaching softly Stolas as an electric thunder of pleasure branched up his spine, blossoming in thrilling shivers in every single one of his nerves.
He brought both his hands to cup Stolas’ cheeks and thrust slowly, relishing the tight warm wrap gliding smoothly on his length, and every millimeter was a new slight twitch on Stolas' breathless face, a new bursting gasp, a new spark added in his eyes that widened as Blitzø slid deeper, and deeper, until the hilt.
And not the van, not the office, not the apartment, and not the palace.
Stolas.
Stolas was his place.
And when all of him was inside Stolas, he fused their breaths in a kiss, dragging and plunging himself back, again, and again.
The rocking was initially unsteady, almost unsure, that unusual wondrous position infused a nuance of intricacy in his movements, but the willing of his body lent him swiftly to find his fluid flow, making Stolas melt beneath him in sweet sighed moans. His talons ran up Blitzø’s spine to the back of his head, pulling him to drown further into the kiss, as Blitzø lapped ardently into Stolas’ mouth at the same increasing pace he was sliding back and forth into his slit.
Then Stolas cradled his face, parting just enough to whisper, “All this time, I never stopped wanting you.”
Blitzø paused for a moment, a strange warmth gripping his heart as he grazed Stolas’ flushed cheek.
“Not for a single instant, Stol.”
And maybe Stolas would never have understood how much he meant those words, maybe he would never have known, but from now on, Blitzø would never make him doubt it for a single second.
He plunged back with even more passion, squeezing the coil of his tail around Stolas’, clutching his chest and gasping little groans every time his groin met his thighs, as the rhythm began to build.
Never let you go.
Stolas was sowing soft little pecks and suckles on Blitzø’s neck, his breath sultry and heated against his skin sending waves of shivers flooding through him that intensified with the tightness of his core gliding slick along his length.
Blitzø’s gaze glanced down, finding through the portal his lower form standing and pounding into that gorgeous glorious ass, then darted back, and Stolas was there beneath him, staring at him with a mesmerized look and his mouth agape, a wisp of feathery hair bouncing with every thrust.
He slipped an arm beneath Stolas' hips, curling it around his mound, sneaked the other under his neck, encircling his shoulders, and rested his forehead on Stolas’, losing himself in his half-lidded delighted eyes, frowning and panting as he ground deep inside him.
Mine mine mine.
Stolas brought their entwined tails to enfold the back part of Blitzø’s leg, broadening his embrace, as Blitzø dove to his collarbone, licking and nibbling fervently all the way to his lips, and when his tongue slid wetly between them his dick twitched in his cloaca, raising a thrilling shudder that enveloped them both, intensifying the raggedness of their mingled breaths.
He held him tighter, pounding further, as if he could somehow reach his heart from the inside, while a pressing tension mounted in his gut.
And if Blitzø had a soul like the mortals on Earth, he would have undoubtedly sold it for that moment to last forever, to remain forever embraced with Stolas in a tangled whole.
He thrusted relentlessly, pushing repeatedly against Stolas’ favorite spots, in the feral need to draw him at the edge with him, craving his pleasure. Stolas clung feverishly to his shoulder, digging his face into his neck, slithering his hips to chase his plunging.
“Oh Blitz, Oh Blitz- Blitz, Blitz!” he cried into his skin with rushing urgency, the tightening of his core gripping Blitzø in an irreversible escalation of pulsing thrill climbing towards his undoing.
“Stol, f-fuck- I’m, I’m-” he bubbled, on the cusp of his peak, pleasure starring his sight and stealing his breath, suspending him like on the verge of a deflagration.
Maybe I am fucking in love with you.
The orgasm crashed into him with the fury of an asteroid, shaking every fiber of his being with a raw surge of ecstasy. He blew out an unleashed groan, unloading into Stolas with few last frantic thrusts, stuttering breathlessly against the lingering jolts of pleasure, as Stolas writhed under him with a lewd squawk, riding his own climax in a jerking quiver, his release spilling and dripping warm along both their thighs.
Their heated faces met in a panting kiss before Blitzø collapsed onto Stolas, as the portals faded, reuniting their bodies with their halves to lay one atop the other in an embrace. Blitzø felt like his body was melting, but it was fine, not that he would ever want to get up from there anyway. Stolas’s talon skimmed on Blitzø’s back, caressing him tenderly, his chest rising and falling gently cradling Blitzø like a soft, warm tide.
Heaven was in hell.
It was a long gray scape covered in soft feathers, with a single small pointed hill shaped like a beak and four seas of deep, glistening red.
After the aftershock settled, after the world had slowly started spinning again, Stolas broke the relaxed silence.
“Smoke?” he asked endearingly, lifting up a bit.
“Absolutely.”
Blitzø slid slightly to the side, remaining glued to Stolas but allowing him to shift and rest his head against the pillows, keeping an arm around Blitzø’s back, holding him close.
With his free hand Stolas summoned the pack as usual from a tiny portal, letting it float while taking out two cigarettes, but this time, this time he handed one directly to Blitzø , holding it between his fingers, offering his hand.
Blitzø's eyes grew damp, his heart climbing into his throat. He gently grasped Stolas' hand, leaning in close, pressing his lips to it before taking the cigarette from Stolas' talons.
It still didn't seem real. He was still scared to blink, terrified that when he opened his eyes again, everything would be gone. But the snap of Stolas' fingers, lighting the cigarette, pulled him back into the moment. And he was still there. Blitzø was still in his arms, with his hand in his.
They took long synchronized puffs, snuggling in between.
“Are you hungry?” Stolas asked after the last exhale of smoke, “Should I prepare-”
“No, please, no,” Blitzø clung to him, preventing him from rising up.
“Oh, so those pancakes were really that bad, huh?” he pouted, arching one eyebrow.
He was a ruffled mess of cuteness.
“No you dumbirdie! It’s just... Don’t wanna you to leave,” he buried his face on his chest, “Let’s just order something and eat here. Don’t wanna let go.”
Stolas squeezed him warmly, nuzzling on his horns.
“Agreed for the food, but I’m afraid I should still get up. I have to go rescue Martyn, he’s still flattened on the greenhouse floor. He’s a sturdy plant, but if we leave he there for too long-”
“Alright fine, but I’m coming with you.”
Blitzø slid his shorts back on without pulling away from Stolas, even when he put on again his robe, and as soon as his long arms were through the sleeves, Blitzø clung to him like a front-facing backpack, not allowing him to fasten it. He stood up and crossed the room with Blitzø wrapped around him, holding and carrying him toward the hallway.
“You know,” Stolas said while walking to the greenhouse, “I’d like to change the rule.”
“Change?!” Blitzø tensed backward, tightening the clasp of his legs, “Wasn’t that enough for y-”
“How about we make the rule to always be clear and say straightforwardly what we want?” Stolas continued with quiet assurance, unbothered.
Blitzø lowered his eyes in contemplation, “That sounds kinda hard...” he muttered.
“Harder than not touching each other for months?” Stolas remarked.
Blitzø shrugged defeatedly, “Toupee.”
A giggle burst from Stolas’ chest.
“It’s ‘touché’, dearest,” he corrected, still chuckling.
He then halted, bringing a hand on Blitzø’s cheek and leaning in for a kiss after stating,
“And in a way, it means ‘touched’. Which is what I will always want to be by you.”