Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Under Your Paper Moon

I.

On the third full moon night, Blitzø studied all the different colors he could find in Stolas’ feathers. He’d just plowed the owl into his first orgasm of the night, and pillow-princess that he was, the bird was laying on the bed curled into a crescent around Blitzø. 

The moonlight from the glass balcony doors bathed the room in a silvery-white sheen, adding more light in the bedroom along with the few candles that still flickered away. 

All four of Stolas’ eyes were closed, and it was a welcome reprieve to not have that blood-red gaze on him. The little whites of his pupils only appeared every so often, and usually when the Goetia was losing control of himself (like when Blitzø made him come or made him desperate to come – or that one time when he said he was pretty), but his eyes were unnerving to say the least. And not because he could easily turn Blitzø into a garden statue. Or not just that.

Blitzø couldn’t tell what Stolas was really looking at. What he was really focused on. Sometimes not even the direction – sometimes, when they talked and Stolas was flipping through his fancy book, his upper eyes would almost appear to be gazing at the glowing pages of the book, all the while his lower, primary set (they were the primary, weren’t they?) stayed fixed in Blitzø’s direction as he chatted away, first about the day, Blitzø’s business, and then predictably into perverted, truly cringe-worthy attempts at seduction. And why bother with it all anyway? They had an arrangement. Shut the fuck up already.

But Blitzø figured the talking was obviously part of the deal for Stolas. He’d spent most of his childhood (at least) cooped up in his little tower with no one to talk to, repressed and depressed. Blitzø bet he was the first one Stolas even tried to flirt with. No wonder he was awful at it. Poor little prince, wings snipped, and all alone.

And gay as all hell. 

He felt the smirk twisting on his face before he recognized what was churning in his gut. Pride – of a sort, anyway. More smug, maybe. Not many imps could say they fucked a prince (and on the regular) and were the only ones to have ever fucked him. Well, Stolas was married with a daughter, so penetrated anyway. I’m his first time, Blitzø thought, and not for the first time. Stolas had mentioned it during their first time together. Well, Blitz had asked him. 

“No,” the prince’s voice had whispered, full of nerves and, at the same time, excitement. “I’ve never…had one – or experienced – had one in me – I mean. Ever. That is, with avian demons, we don’t…have…and with – with her, just twice was – I didn’t like – I haven’t, is what I mean. But I want to. I really do. I –”

“I got it,” Blitzø had interrupted, before the owl talked himself into even more admissions. He trailed his hands down Stolas’ thin waist to his hips, and then to his thighs where the feathers were even more impossibly soft. Then in-between, where he brushed the tips of his claws against the smaller feathers that outlined his birdpuss, already soaked.“Well, if you’re sure about this…”

“I’m sure,” Stolas had whispered back, voice pitching and flushing pink. “So very sure.”

That So very sure had echoed in his ears and into his brain so loud Blitzø could still hear it bouncing back and forth in the back of his skull from time to time.

But yeah – eyes closed and not talking. It was a nice break (Blitzø was thinking of gagging and blindfolding him again tonight, like he did on that first night). It gave Blitzø the chance to just take it all in and just look. I think there’s about seven different colors… There were the black feathers, of course, on his arms and legs, the white feathers on his face, the shades of grey, and then shining silver, along his body, but then the feathers started to deepen into an almost blue color, near his collarbone, right above his – feather-tits? Floof? Fluff? It was a dark blue color, a midnight blue that reminded Blitzø of the night sky on the surface when it was just about to become pitch-black with night, just before you could see the stars.

He traced one such feather, just at the top of where that super soft and supple pile of chest feathers started. Blitzø saw how blue the shaft was, right to the downy bards. He carefully separated this single feather from the rest. The moonlight made the feather’s vane translucent, and it gleamed in the light, turning into an almost mint blue color, pastel, like a different kind of magic. But that made sense, didn’t it? Stolas was practically made from magic, it seeped from every single feather he had on his body.

Blitzø let go of that single feather, and gave into compulsion, sinking his claws into that dainty pile, cupping the feathers carefully, watching more colors begin to shimmer along them in the moonlight. The dark greys at the side glimmered lilac, and then a color even fainter than that which Blitzø didn’t even have a name for. The palest purple, whatever that was. His eyes raked down Stolas’ body, to the dip between his legs where he could see more of that pale purple color along where the V of his birdpuss began. His tail snaked in-between those long legs and squirmed up to those thighs to part them slightly, so Blitzø could see the pink feathers surrounding his most intimate place. Nine. That’s nine different colors I can see in his feathers.

Satan, did Blitzø’s brain itch. Were there more? Were his imp-eyes just too limited to see it all? He’d heard of that before on TV or something, that higher ranks of demons could see a whole prism of colors imps couldn’t even comprehend. Stolas was already so fucking beautiful it was almost staggering – how did the Goetia ever leave him alone? Or maybe they hadn’t, and Stolas was just too dense (and married?) to see it. Hadn’t he also gotten married super young? Like teenager young?

The spade of his tail could no longer be stopped as it lightly pressed against Stolas’ birdpuss – not with the intent to press inside (though he hadn’t done that yet and holy shit what an idea) but just to press, to cover, to shield almost. Not from him, from what or who Blitzø didn’t know. He didn’t want to think about it.

Stolas let out a whimper that went right to his dick. He’d already been sporting a semi from all the ogling and now it was rock hard and standing at attention. Fuck.

“What did you say?” Stolas murmured, and then he opened his eyes again. His white cheeks were flushed pink again, and his breathing increased along with the accompanying increase of pressure Blitzø’s tail gave to his birdpuss.

Wait, what did he say? What did I say?

“Huh?” Now that Stolas was alert, he indulged in fully groping his chest. It was fucking glorious the way those longer feathers nearly, just nearly filled his hands, and so silky soft he could bury himself in there until the end of fucking time.

If possible, Stolas got even pinker. Nearly the same color pink as his feathers down there…and just the sight made Blitzø’s tail twitch, and the tip begin to sink between those velvet folds, where he was warm and wet and fuckfuckfuck.

“I thought that you,” Stolas’ breath hitched when Blitzø began groping him more roughly, slightly yanking on that chest fluff now, before digging his claws into the skin beneath, not piercing the skin but only just. “I thought you said I was beautiful.”

Blitzø froze. Even his tail, where the tip of his spade was probably half a measly inch inside Stolas right now, froze.

Say something, Blitzø screamed at himself, even as no words left his mouth.

“Or I heard wrong!” Stolas beat him to it. “I must have, ha, I think I was half asleep, anyway…”

And now Stolas was looking away, towards where the balcony doors were, and he seemed to shrink into the sheets. One of his hands trailed down to his waist and then between his legs, where Blitzø’s tail was. He brushed his talons against where they were just barely connected, and Blitzø’s whole body shuddered.

How could someone with no real sexual experience outside Blitzø be this unbearably, excruciatingly –

“You are,” Blitzø rasped out, like it was pulled out of his voice box by force. “Beautiful, that is. Obviously.” His defense mechanisms kicked in. “I mean, you have a hundred fancy mirrors hanging around this palace and imp-scrubbed and polished floors you can see your reflection in. Don’t play dumb, birdbrain.”

Stolas met his eyes again. At least, Blitzø thought he did. “I’m not,” Stolas insisted. “I really don’t think I…am that good looking. Stella always said I was thin and scrawny and –”

“She’s jealous,” Blitzø cut in, because for Satan’s sake, that must have been obvious to everyone. “Anyone with eyes and a heartbeat would be lying if they said you weren’t…you know. Pretty, or whatever. You’re a damn prince, it’s practically a pre-request – no, a prerequisite. Is that the word? Not that other royals are the same, I mean…” Now that Blitzø had started talking it seemed he couldn’t stop. “…you look like a picture in one of those storybooks. The good kind, with the castles and unicorns and the fancy golden lined pages…”

Blitzø shut his mouth so hard his teeth ached. What the actual FUCK is wrong with me?! Did Stolas cast a spell on him or something to make him unfiltered and braindead? Was that it? Stolas had to be taking the piss with this. Was Stolas just trying to get him to compliment him more? Was that the deal? Did Blitzø really have to state the obvious every time they hooked up now? Did Stolas expect it? As part of their transactional passionate fornication?!

Only, from the way his eyes – all four of them – filled with a shy delight at Blitzø’s response made Blitzø think maybe this wasn’t an act. Stolas’ lower eyes darted away and then back, blushing more, and even goddamn fluttered. “Oh, Blitzø. I can’t say I believe you, but you are the most handsome, dashing –”

Now Blitzø knew this was complete and utter bullshit. He knew for some reason he got Stolas’ passionate gears going, whether it was his scarred face (highly doubt it), the intrigue from fucking an imp, a combination of both – or maybe that for an imp, he was on the taller side? Were the horns a novelty? His dick was a big part of the deal, in more than one way, thank you very much. It could even be sentimentality from their brief, one-day, first ever friend past (rented out by their fathers like a friend hooker, turned into now real hooker. Book hooker – whatever). Blitzø knew he was good looking in a way, more so before the fire, but he had his own kind of charm that he used and abused. But he wasn’t straight up handsome, his looks took way more convincing than that even when flirting with his own imp kind – more like, hey, I’ll make it so you have to find me irresistible…He had to preform for every scrap of attention he’d ever got.

“You know what,” Blitzø cut in, determined to get this bird to stop talking for the rest of the night. “All this your oh so pretty” – in as high and as obnoxious a falsetto he could muster – “stupid bullshit aside, I can’t help feeling like I’m like I’m neglecting something important.” And here, Blitzø slipped his tail in another inch into that sinful birdpuss and how the fuck did Stolas still feel this tight.

Stolas’ eyes widened in – was that hurt? – no, because in a blink Stolas was giving him that impervious smile that made him look more royal and arrogant than anything.

His talons touched against his tail again, traveling up, up, and up the length and leaving a trail of fire until he reached Blitzø’s dick, fully hard and raring to go once again. He wrapped his hands around it in a too-light hold, and Blitzø sank his head into that chest fluff with a groan. “I think you’re the one feeling neglected.”

Ha. Ha. Fucking ha. Blitzø lifted himself with a smirk. “That so?” His tail moved a little, a slight curl that Stolas followed with his hips, and then a little thrust into that tightness. Blitzø tilted his head in question – Can I?

Stolas’ eyes burned red-hot into his and nodded.

Blitzø sank his tail in steadily, watching Stolas closely for any signs of discomfort, that smirk deepening on his face and twisting it into something feral, he was sure. Stolas gasped once the spade was completely sheathed inside, and then Blitzø went to town. He kneeled over Stolas and fucked him with his tail as fast as he could, curling it on every second stroke and making Stolas’ eyes roll in the back of his head. One of his hands stayed buried in those feather-tits, and the other braced himself against the bed. He was close, crowding against the tall demon as much as he could, thrusting into that light hold that gripped him tighter and tighter.

His dick could not handle playing second fiddle to his tail any longer, so he quickly took it out where it instead curled around Stolas’ left leg. His used his tail to push Stolas legs wide apart, and took his place between them, lining himself up. “Yes, yes, yes, oh Blitzø,” Stolas moaned as Blitzø slid in at a faster pace then maybe he should have, since Stolas wrapped his legs around his waist like a vice.

But shit, it was everything inside Stolas. His claws found the sheets and tore them into shreds in his need to fucking move, but he waited until Stolas gave him that second tell-tale squeeze and eased the grip of his legs, just a bit. Then Blitzø was thrusting inside that birdpuss, and fuck, how could it not be made for him? It was so hot, and tight, and Satan the feeling invaded his very veins like a magical lava with every smooth slide of his cock, an addiction, a hold over him, like a fucking promise only in physical form, to do what he didn’t know, but every time he was inside Stolas he wanted to keep that promise, he did, he did, oh, I promise, I promise…

He was going to come. Blitzø could feel it building. His tail tightened against Stolas’ leg before it unwrapped and joined his cock at Stolas’ entrance, the tip sliding in alongside his next thrust, rubbing over and inside Stolas’ entrance where he had something that was mostly like a clit – and just like that, Stolas came.

Stolas got wetter, and his walls tightened around him even more, feeling like they were forming and shaping themselves around Blitzø’s cock, and Blitzø came so hard he couldn’t believe it was his second time coming tonight. He felt everything in his balls empty into the body beneath him. He lowered himself on top of Stolas, short of just collapsing onto him in a heap.

He could feel Stolas trembling slightly and rubbed his hands up and down the owl’s sides, feeling the indents of ribs against his claws, smoothing the feathers that had puffed up down into their natural alignment. There was a pleasant buzzing in his head, like a sleeping beehive. Every bone felt like it was melting against Stolas’ feather-down body. Blitzø shifted a little and his cock, which was softening but still nestled inside Stolas, slipped out a little.

Blitzø shivered at the tingling feeling it gave him, and thrusted a little back inside, where his come was starting to dribble out. It made a squelch sound that vibrated right into his dick, and he was getting hard again. He glanced up at Stolas to gage his reaction, but the prince had his eyes closed, and his legs that were still wrapped around his waist were lax, woven around him more like an afterthought than anything needy and urgent. His breathing was becoming steadier as the trembles still shook his body, and that really was not helping Blitzø get any less hard.

Wrapping his tail around owl’s skinny waist once, twice, minus the now sticky spade end soaked with their joined fluids (because he was feeling gentlemanly), Blitzø squeezed him hard enough to make Stolas choke back on his next inhale. “Stolas. You good?”

Stolas hummed in assent and moved to blindly reach for and cup Blitzø’s face. “What promise?”

Blitzø was now looking down at where they were still joined. “What?”

“You were saying I promise, I promise,” Stolas said with a sigh, trying to guide Blitzø’s head down into a kiss. “What promise?”

Blitzø was about to go along with this whole needing a kiss thing until he registered what Stolas was saying. Then he froze. Again.

Fucking – you can’t tell me I did it AGAIN? he thought incredulously. He was going to fucking stitch his mouth shut, get a long needle and sewing kit and everything.

“I – I was going to say,” Blitzø said quickly, “I promise to fuck you into oblivion.”

Stolas opened his eyes at that and laughed. “You’ve done that since the first time, Blitzy. I’m a frequent flyer to oblivion with you.”

“Yeah, well,” Blitzø said lamely. “That’s my job. I’m gonna take a leak.”

He pulled out carefully, no longer tempted to take it further and was scampering off faster than his tail could unwind, making him stumble off the bed and land on the floor with an ungraceful THUMP. “Aw, fuck…”

“Are you okay?” Stolas asked, sitting up.

Blitzø hurried to his feet. “I’m fine, calm your feathers.” Shutting the door as soon as he went to the bathroom, he hopped on a stool that Stolas probably used as a seat and turned on the sink to the highest setting, letting that rich upper crust don’t have to wait a second for hot water stream out full blast.

He put a hand over his mouth, letting his claws dig sharply into either side of his face, scarred white and red. “Shut the fuck up, asshole,” he whispered, meeting his red eyes in the mirror with utter vengeance. “Just shut the fuck up.”

And he did, and never made that mistake again.

II.

On the seventh full moon night, he made Stolas cry.

“What the fuck,” Blitzø said at the sight of Stolas in his red robe, tears pouring down his face. The broken lamp was in pieces on the floor. Had it been sentimental? A birthday gift? “I didn’t mean to,” he said honestly, scurrying down to pick up the pieces. He set them in chunks on the nightstand. “Really. I just didn’t think…”

The night had just started, and they had just started messing around. Stolas had been in his lap, wrapping around him like a seahorse on a piece of coral. Then Blitzø’s phone had gone off on the nightstand – a message from Loona. So, he automatically reached for it – God, why hadn’t he just excused himself and looked at it in the bathroom or something? But no, he had to tap it open, and then Stolas lifted his hand up to see, because there’s no such thing as fucking privacy to a Goetian demon prince, and Blitzø had…reacted.

By pushing Stolas off his lap and jerking his hand away hard – with enough force to knock over the lamp on the nightstand, sending it crashing to the floor. With enough force to send weigh-nothing-Stolas sprawling onto the bed…where he then slowly sat up. And started fucking crying.

“It’s just Loona saying she’s using my card to order food,” Blitzø said anxiously, and really, he did not think Stolas was crying because he wanted to know what the text message was. “I just – you need to warn a guy, you know? Don’t just – I shouldn’t have shoved you –”

I am ruining everything, Blitzø realized with dread. There goes the magic book to portal my company to the human world. There goes IMP. There’s goes everything. Princes didn’t keep a deal with an imp who shoved them away on the one night a month your supposed to get all that guy’s attention. “I’m sorry,” Blitzø said, starting to panic, wondering if he should just break his phone? Would that be symbolic enough of an apology?

“No,” Stolas said. “Please – don’t,” and this made Blitzø even more confused. “I’m just embarrassed. I wasn’t thinking when I heard your phone ding and I was curious and – it’s not you. Please don’t think that. I deserved it. I mean, the lamp breaking and being in this room just reminded me of something and – I can’t…I’m so embarrassed,” he said, smothering his face into his hands. “I can’t stop crying. I can’t understand why, it just won’t stop. Do I need a higher dose…?”

“A higher what?”

“Nothing,” Stolas suddenly said, tearing his hands away and wiping furiously under his eyes. He closed his eyes and shook his head sternly, and when he opened them this time, the gleaming red pools were only a little watery. “I apologize, Blitzø. I won’t do that again. Do you need to make a phone call?”

“No,” Blitzø said, feeling nervous as all shit. Okay, so you threw him into a crying fit, and he’s forgiven you – or wants to move past it? Reminded him of what? Blitzø racked his brain over what it could be and summoned a memory of a child Stolas getting hit by his father, King Paimon. His father? I mean, if anyone could intimidate someone in Stolas’ ranks it would be his own father.

Fix this, Blitzø ordered himself. I need to fix this – but how? The atmosphere and the mood were all ruined to the darkest depths of Hell. Thinking fast, Blitzø scrambled back onto the bed and placed a hand at the back of Stolas’ neck. “Not like it’s the first time I’ve seen you cry, princess,” he joked, determined to be smooth.

He leaned over and pressed his mouth against that beak. There was a long moment filled with anxiety where alarm bells were ringing in his head so loud, he was sure he’d get an aneurysm. But then Stolas made a small noise and pressed back. The kiss shifted in angle, and when Stolas parted his mouth, and Blitzø got his tongue in there, he could have done a victory dance. The anxiety lessened and the heady chemical atmosphere increased.

In the next moment, Blitzø was biting down hard on his neck, yanking the now moaning owl back onto his lap. Locking his teeth in, Blitzø bit down hard enough that black aristocratic magic-infused blood pooled into his mouth. It tasted…sweet. Sort of like a ripe pomegranate mixed with something indescribable. It made his mouth tingle, which then migrated to his throat as he swallowed, and then down to his stomach. The tingling feeling turned into warmth and burned in rippling waves that lapped over his insides, like a tiny star burning away in the waters of a matching tiny pond.

Blitzø licked over the bite where a little more of that inky black blood spilled out before it quickly healed with a sizzle of magic.

Stolas tugged on his horns, squirming away in his lap. “You probably shouldn’t swallow too much of my blood. It has magical properties, and I haven’t studied the side effects on – oh,” he said, grinding down where Blitzø was hard.

Groping his bottom under that damn robe, Blitzø shifted the owl up a bit higher so his birdpuss sat directly over his cock. Only his boxers separated them now, and the cloth quickly went damp with their mutual excitement. “Why?” he chuckled. “Am I going to turn into a vampire?”

Stolas laughed again, and the sound just sparked that star in Blitzø’s stomach anew. When had his crowd ever been so easy to entertain? And after all those waterworks?

“No, of course not,” Stolas said. “Only it has the slight potential to be a little addicting, I think, as a source of magical nutrition, and for those without magic, it can cause little mishaps when they encounter other such magic – like a reaction. You do use my book a lot to portal, dear…”

Blitzø nipped under his beak. “It's still your magic.”

“It’s different,” Stolas protested, and really, Blitzø was now more concerned with getting his boxers off than anything about the dangers of lapping up magical blood.

III.

This Harvest Moon Festival bullshit was getting to be a bit much. Sure, Blitzø had been excited to participate in the Pain Games, and tying in first place with Striker hadn’t diminished it too much (he had even offered a job to the cowboy with the fantastic horse).

The Pain Games was over now, and he left the bleachers where Millie continued to comfort Moxxie. Just watching the happiest couple in Hell interact was probably what was getting to be too much. The sky was still torn apart, the cut sparkling with Stolas’ pastel-purple-colored magic, the full moon so close and imposing, more like a second planet than a moon. He was wondering where the book-wielding magical spell-on-the-moon casting prince was and followed what looked like a faint pinkish stream in the night sky, over into the fields and on and on until it must have been at least over thirty minutes of walking.

But then his patience was rewarded when he found Stolas standing there under that pinkish stream, in front of an old windmill.

“Hello, Blitzø,” Stolas said, not even turning around.

And that grated on Blitzø’s nerves. How did the bird even know it was him? He got to Stolas’ side and looked with him at the dingy windmill that was taking up so much of his attention. It felt odd. He wasn’t sure he remembered when, if ever, he had to share Stolas’ attention when in his presence. “What’s with the windmill?”

“It’s charming, isn’t it?” Stolas asked eagerly. “I’d never seen one in person before.”

“Never?” Blitzø asked, surprised.

“Never,” Stolas echoed. “Besides, I didn’t feel like staying and listening to that other imp sing his victory song.”

“Victory?” Blitzø snapped. “I tied with him, remember? You’re the one who announced it.”

“You weren’t taking it very seriously.”

Blitzø paused and looked over at Stolas again, who smiled at him briefly and went on looking at that stupid windmill. He hadn’t given the Pain Games his all. Mostly because he’d initially wanted to give Moxxie a little bit of a chance to impress his in-laws, and then when the smaller imp failed right out of the gate again and again, Blitzø just couldn’t bother with summoning that extra bit of will needed to beat Striker’s ass. He’d tied with him instead. Maybe I should have. I mean, Stolas was watching… But what did that matter?

Blitzø growled to himself and shook it off, sliding up closer to Stolas and pulling him down by his arm, snatching his chin to press his mouth against the side of his white face. “So, pretty bird, you like this windmill, huh? Want me to fuck you in it?”

Stolas flushed and he swiped his head around so fast he nearly lost his crown-top hat. “Really? But what if someone comes by?”

Blitzø rolled his eyes. “You’ve literally opened the sky, dumbass. You really think other imps are going to go poking around in windmills?”

“Perhaps not?”

Blitzø arched a brow at him and stalked into the windmill, satisfaction wrapping around him like a cloak when he heard Stolas quickly following him.

Of course, after a quickie in the windmill – fine, two quickies in the windmill, whatever – he’d gone back to Millie’s ranch and all the bullshit with Striker exploded.

See if he ever offers a cowboy another job again, and wow, Blitzø did not think he would ever think that.

That motherfucker nearly killed Stolas, he thought, and the angelic rifle was solid in his hands. Heavy. And that stupid owl had been right there on stage, out in the open, not a single defense. His rage was only combated by his sheer bewilderment at Stolas’ complete lack of awareness. Did he really think he was invincible? Was he? Not against an angelic weapon, surely? Even princes succumbed to angel-powered bullets – but didn’t angels only kill Sinners? Was Stolas, as a higher-ranking prince of hellish royalty, truly unbothered by such things?

Or was he just naïve?

Rage came back and washed away the rest of his lingering bewilderment over Stolas. He was going to find that cowboy-fucker and kill him. That would be fucking that.

“What are you going to do with it, sir?” Moxxie asked, not being able to hold back a wince at even looking at the glinting angelic rifle.

Keep it, Blitzø thought, but he didn’t answer and regardless, Moxxie didn’t press for one.

Only, Striker had proved hard to find. As the days went by, Blitzø reasoned that someone must be helping the asshole – how else would he gets his hands on such a weapon? It was probably the same person that was hiding him, Millie pointed out one late night coming back from a standard kill my husband, he killed me case on the surface. But that someone remained a mystery, and the days turned into weeks…

IV.

Stolas was alllll about the eye contact – constantly trying to kiss Blitzø while he was going to town on that bird-puss or press them forehead-to-forehead which wasn’t easy given their height difference (though damn was the bird bendy). And really, all the eye-to-eye contact was starting to really put Blitzø off this whole kissing thing. It was like Stolas read a harlequin novel and decided that prolonged eye contact and kissing were must haves during fucking. 

After a long round of fucking where Blitzø was sure even his ancestors stood up from their graves and applauded, he flopped onto his back next to Stolas. The bird had come three times, and was still snaking his arm around Blitzø, pecking little kisses against the side of his face and shoulder. “Okay, okay,” Blitzø grunted, poking him in the side with his tail to get him to leave off. “Just give me a minute.”

“Take your time,” Stolas preened, snuggling into him more and making Blitzø grind his teeth. Sometimes he really played the insufferable prince to heart.

“Hand me my hoodie,” Blitzø said as a lifeline for just a fucking modicum of peace, as Blitzø’s hoodie had been thrown over the end of the bed in haste to strip.

Eager to please as ever, Stolas moved to collect it, not using magic for once (thank Satan) and allowing Blitzø to fully stretch out his limbs. His back was starting to really fucking ache. Bad idea or not, he was inclined to stay the night again, if only to be able to enjoy Stolas’ perfect mattress and hundred-thousand count bedsheets and heavy plush comforter and pillows.

“What’s this?” Stolas asked, and Blitzø craned his head up to see Stolas looking at his hoodie, and the condoms that were sticking out of his pocket.

Blitzø snatched up the hoodie lightning fast, in a way he hoped didn’t look guilty. He wasn’t even guilty! He hadn’t worn the damn hoodie in forever, and it was the day before laundry day, and Blitzø hadn’t even thought of checking the pockets before throwing it on and racing over to the palace for Full Moon Fuck Night. The condoms were months old, at least.

But Stolas looked curious and picked up one from the bed that had been separated from the pack and managed to slip through Blitzø’s hasty maneuver. “Did you bring these to use?”

Blitzø was about to answer honestly and say, well, no – but he stopped himself. Should he be offering to use them? It had never come up in conversation (not that they actually did much talking). Stolas had never requested that he use condoms – but then again, Stolas was practically a complete virgin before Blitzø. Which then made it Blitzø’s responsibility to offer, right? To tell him about how you should use condoms when having sex? Didn’t it look selfish on Blitzø’s part, that he didn’t wrap? He was basically making Stolas a mess for no reason and even though some liked it unwrapped and dirty, shouldn’t Stolas be the one deciding? These were his nights.

“I didn’t think about it,” Blitzø said. “I mean, I’m clean if that’s what your worried about. Really. And I haven’t been…” Fuck, Blitzø really hadn’t been fucking anyone else. For weeks. Months? Shit. “…with anyone else. Some guys like it raw, I guess you could say? Some guys prefer that it’s…not. I can use them. Yeah – I brought them to offer to, uh, use it, so you don’t get your clo – clo –”

“Cloaca,” Stolas supplied.

“Your cloaca messy,” Blitzø finished. “Unless you like it messy. And hey, I like it if you like it, you know? So, I’m good either way –”

“Can I open it?” Stolas asked.

Blitzø blinked. “Uh, sure.”

Stolas looked delighted and tore open the packet, inspecting the condom like a scientist would with close attention. He stretched the latex with a frown. Then Stolas made a “hnn” sound and magicked it into the trash. “I don’t see that we need anything like that. I like feeling you come inside me.”

Blitzø’s stomach flipped over. “Oh,” he choked out. “Yeah. That’s…good?”

Stolas nodded earnestly. “I had been wondering what they were like. My butler keeps offering to ‘fill my medicine cabinet with everything necessary’ before you come over every full moon. Not exactly subtle with his hints.”

With his brain still overloading from Stolas’ last statement, Blitzø did a double take. “What did your butler say? Wait, your fucking staff know we fuck every full moon?”

Stolas rolled his eyes and scooted back up beside him. “It’s not like you climbing to the balcony is very subtle, dear. And no, not my entire staff. Only the butler knows for sure. He’s one of the few that has his own quarters in the palace.”

“What the fuck,” Blitzø muttered. “Still none of his fucking business. And what does he even care if I use condoms with you or not? It’s not like you can get pregnant.” As soon as Blitzø said it though, he was suddenly not totally sure. The Ars Goetia were arcane and strange and who-the-hell-knew what they could or couldn’t do. Sometimes he couldn’t even easily discern which sex was which with all those fancy feathers and beaks. “Can you?”

Stolas made a noncommittal sound.

Blitzø gripped his feathery thigh. “Yeah, I’m going to need more than that, princess.”

Stolas rolled his eyes again, and what was with this sudden bratty behavior? Was this Stolas getting comfortable or something? Fucking hell. “It would take more than just your…deposit, Blitzø. It would also take a considerable amount of magic from me, not to mention clear and willful intent. And even then, it’s difficult. The Ars Goetia get arranged marriages and get contracted to make precautionary heirs just because making more of us is so complicated. There must be a designated space for the one being born, if that makes any sense. On our royal tier. Or else, we could get in a dispute with power imbalances.”

“With…?” Blitzø pointed upwards.

“Indeed. And it’s forbidden for us to conceive without the reigning authority’s permission and forbidden to conceive outside our race.”

“Then how do you know it’s possible?” Blitzø asked.

“Because it’s been done before,” Stolas said. “He was killed – ripped apart, actually, and buried in pieces in the lowest ring of Hell. He was a powerful demon that humankind called Loki, and lived a long, long time ago. He had several illegal children with many different demons. He was of a rank similar to that of my father. I don’t think Loki’s fully dead, either just…kept apart. Alive, but also not. All his children are dead, though.”

Blitzø winced and scratched the back of his neck. He tried not to think of his Loona, and nearly managed it. “Right. Well, that’s a bit fucked up.”

“It is,” Stolas agreed. He placed his head on Blitzø’s shoulder and shrugged. “But that’s just the way things are, isn’t it? Either way, believe me when I say I don’t need such things. But if you want to use them, then by all means.”

And that made Blitzø bristle a little. Believe Stolas that he didn’t need condoms because there was no way he’d be willing and intending to have Blitzø’s child? No shit, but saying it plainly like that was a bit of a gut-punch. Though it shouldn’t be. Fuck was Blitzø being more and more ridiculous lately.

“Like you said – no need.”

V.

“If you don’t mind me saying, sir –”

“I fucking mind you saying it, Moxxie.” He threw the smaller imp a withering glare from where they were ducked down behind a boulder on this stupid fucking hiking bullshit campsite. “I mind you breathing too, in fact.”

“Charming,” Moxxie said. “But I’m going to say it anyway. Why don’t you message the prince that you’re not going to make it tonight? We’ve been out here for nearly six hours already, and our target still hasn’t shown himself. Our client was very specific in asking him to be dead before dawn, sir. Her daughter owns this campsite, and she doesn’t want any further financial impacts because of some jerkface seriel killer.”

“This jerkface serial killer killed her by chopping her up into pieces and chucking her over that cliff,” Blitzø said. “You think she’d be more concerned about revenge than the financial impact it’d have on her fucking daughter.”

“Not our place to judge, sir.”

“Millie should be back from her scouting soon,” Blitzø said. “Maybe she’ll have seen him.”

“She would have messaged us,” Moxxie rebutted. “It’s better to tell the prince than keep him waiting all night. Wouldn’t that be worse? Your already late.” He pointed to the starry night sky, where the full moon beamed down in all its glory.

“I’ll have a surprise for you next time,” Stolas had whispered against his back about a week and a half ago (not a full moon night but they’d still ended up in bed that night when Stolas had called IMP to rant and rave more fanatical fantasies at Blitzø). It was the early morning already, and Blitzø had to rush home before going into work to get showered and changed.

Interest peaked, Blitzø had looked over his shoulder, where Stolas was doing his best seductive pout. It honestly wasn’t bad. If anything, he was getting better and better at it. “I don’t know if I like your surprises, birdbrain. It better not be anything at the office.”

“Oh no, of course not,” Stolas had assured. He fussed with his phone and sent something to Blitzø who gave him a weird look – why text him instead of just saying whatever it was – but Blitzø played along and opened the message.

It wasn’t text at all. It was a picture – or a link, to buy a set of lingerie. There was a lace corset top with ribbons that laced down the back, ending in a pretty bow, and matching underwear that tied with smaller matching ribbons on either side of the waist. It came in a multitude of colors.

“Guess which color I’ll be wearing,” Stolas said into his neck.

Heat seared through Blitzø like a sword, and that heat hadn’t fucking let up in the slightest since that fucking morning. He reluctantly took out his phone, where Stolas had already sent him a message an hour ago. Is everything alright at work?

Stolas-speech for where the fuck are you? Blitzø groaned and hastily typed out a – Case stil goin. Not killed fucker yet. Tomarrow nite k?

“Poetry,” Moxxie muttered over his shoulder, receiving a hard elbow jab to the stomach for his trouble. “Ooof,” he moaned, bending over in pain.

Stolas answered back at once, like he’d been by his phone waiting. Of course. But if not feasible, we can skip this full moon. Please be careful.

Skip the full moon? Was Stolas kidding? Was he just pissed? What should Blitzø do? Brush it off? Reply and say no fucking way, he would be there tomorrow night?

Blitzø didn’t answer and sighed, tapping his pistol mindlessly against the boulder in front of him. Urgh, the things he could be doing right now! He could be buried to the hilt inside Stolas and feel those soft feathers on every inch of his skin, he could he listening to those little overwhelmed whimpers when Blitzø got a little rough, he could be nose deep in that chest fluff and inhaling that fancy lavender preening oil and that unmistakable Stolas-scent that was like a mix of ozone and what he imagined stardust smelled like.

Stupid fucking case, stupid fucking serial killer –

The moon was so bright in the sky, it was like it was mocking him. I only come once a month, it taunted down at Blitzø. Only one measly time a month where you don’t have to invent a reason or wait on tenterhooks to see if Stolas will snap his fingers and summon you. You won’t see me for another thirty days!

The fucking moonlight was downright obnoxious.

His phone lit up with a message and it was from Stolas again. Blitzø clicked it open and all it said was one word.

Pink.

Blitzø stared at that word, and all his fantasies and imaginings of the last few days were colored in pink. Pink corset, pink ribbons, pink lacey underwear…he could see the moon reflected on his phone screen. Lifting his pistol and taking aim, Blitzø fired.

Moxxie let out a shrill scream. “What the fuck was that, sir?! DID YOU SERIOUSLY JUST TRY TO SHOOT THE MOON?”

“It’s fucking mocking me, Moxxie!” Blitzø snapped. “Mind your damn business!”

“You just gave away our position!”

“I did not!”

He did, and Blitzø didn’t get to see that damn pink lingerie for another two nights.

VI.

Despite trying his best to put what happened on the surface with the truth gas, and that fucking hallucination from nightmares past and present, and then Stolas swooping in to save them far, far from his mind, it kept cropping up. It was an infected splinter in his brain. Your gonna die alone, Blitzo! The visions of Fizz and Verosika would scream, and then Stolas would appear on his throne, with raining golden feathers and a proud, calculating smile that would deduce just how unworthy Blitzø truly was: Are you afraid to love people, Blitzy?

And Stolas had been so powerful. All he’d needed to do was arrive, and the humans had shrunk back in fear, shitting themselves before that raven-like, towering eldritch-monster form with pitch black wings and red eyes and teeth and damn. In that form, Stolas looked like he was made of shadows and night and dark matter. Maybe he had a right to be clueless about itty bitty imps like Striker trying to kill him, angelic weapon or not. To Blitzø, he seemed all-powerful. Stolas commanded legions. He had powers over the stars, moon, planets – he had magic woven into his bones, blood, and book. Having Blitzø and his team bodyguard him and his daughter at Loo Loo Land really had just been the prince trying to have some fun with Blitzø, hadn’t it? To see what he could make his impish little plaything do?

There’s nothing he couldn’t make you do, a snide voice whispered in his mind. He would just have to ask, and you’d do it. Because you are afraid. But what are you afraid of more? Stolas keeping you as his plaything forever…

Shut it, shut it, Blitzø told his mind, desperate to stop thinking.

…Stolas ending this whole transaction with you and cutting you off to him (and his book) for good, or…everything changing to something you know you can’t have –

Blitzø thumped his head hard on the rim of Stolas’ bathtub, making the owl beside him jump. Warm water splashed onto the floor, and Stolas took a break from fussing with the faucets.

“Are you unwell, Blitzy?”

Blitzø groaned at the nickname and thumped his head again on the porcelain. It made his teeth rattle in a way that was sharp enough to let that out-of-control train of thought finally derail.

“If you don’t feel well, why didn’t you say so?” Stolas asked. “We can always try it out in the bath another time. Or oh, we could put on a movie? I think I can ask the staff for a projector. We could watch it here in the bath – oh!”

Blitzø was gripping his leg and yanking on it to bring Stolas closer, so he could properly press him against the porcelain of the tub. The water was fucking deep for his height, so he was on his knees for this – no doubt they’d be killing him later. Stolas’ proximity washed over him, allowing instinct to take over as the sheer chemical reaction of his body being close to Stolas made every nerve fire and all the blood in his body take a hike down south. Compatibility was not a problem – not at all.

“I’m fine,” Blitzø insisted, shifting Stolas’ leg around his waist and then sliding his hand down over his hip and lower stomach, claws raking through the wet feathers. The different texture of wet and silky was making his head spin. He felt Stolas petting the spines along his back, before smoothing down to his back to touch his tail. Unbidden, his tail wrapped itself around Stolas’ hand like a coiling snake.

Blitzø threw the wayward limb an offended glare before Stolas took that time to pull on his tail – hard. His whole body seized up and he groaned loudly, feeling pleasure rocket up his spine in a sudden assault. His other hand shot out and clawed at the rim of the tub, leaving deep scratches as the pleasure bubbled in his groin. “You fucking little piece of –”

Stolas giggled. “I thought this little rumor about imps might be true. Does it feel nice? I hope I pulled hard enough – but not too hard. The book said the pressure had to be just right, and I didn’t want to accidentally hurt –”

A fucking book? He was reading literature on imps now. What was Blitzø even, a fucking hobby that this nerd studied for fun, like his fucking plants?

“Do you ever shut up?” Blitzø snapped, pushing a claw inside him and making Stolas squeak. He thrust it in as deep as he could into that tight, hot tunnel – feeling Stolas’ walls tight around him, and letting the tip of his claw dig into the soft, gripping flesh. The prince jumped in his arms and then whimpered – Blitzø had scratched him inside with the sudden movement, he could feel it – and he hurriedly looked down to see a little bit of black blood trickle into the water from his cloaca, floating like ink between the bubbles. It made his dick twitch. “Shit, are you okay?”

“Oh darling,” Stolas breathed, and that pet name combined with the way he said it, so full of emotion that it made Blitzø’s shriveled heart shudder in his chest, an emaciated monster withering away in a cage. “Do it again.”

The combination of darling and the request had Blitzø reeling. He felt off center. Brittle. He slid his claw back over the little cut that was already healing inside it, giving it a tentative scratch and feeling the owl shudder in his arms. “Stop with the mind games,” Blitzø muttered, looking down at Stolas’ pussy to watch himself slide another claw into that tight, unrelenting heat.

“What do you mean mind games? I’m not –” Blitzø pushed both of his claws in deep and started thrusting them in and out at a brutal pace. Water was lapping against the sides of the tub, spilling over in little waves.

“I’m going to fuck you so hard,” Blitzø swore, pulling out his claws to line up his cock. “You’ll be feeling me for days. I don’t care how good you heal. I’ll make fucking sure.”

“Yes, yes, please do,” Stolas begged, wrapping his long legs around him as Blitzø thrusted in right to the hilt. “Oh, oh Blitzø. That’s…”

Blitzø fucked him as hard as he could in that position, one hand on the tub to keep himself from slipping and the other cupping Stolas’ bottom to slam them together. He used his body to leverage Stolas’ up higher, to fuck into him at a better angle, to hit that little nub deep inside that made Stolas braindead with pleasure. Water was practically being flung out of the tub now, and with a growl, Blitzø slid his hand from the owl’s small bottom to the bend of his leg, forcing it up and up, spreading him even further apart only to slam into him harder – deeper.

Stolas squeaked again and came, making Blitzø’s eyes roll in the back of his head as he squeezed the life out of his cock and fuck, fuck, fuck triggered his own release. Slumping into his feathery chest, all wet and warm and damn, it was so apparent now just how skinny Stolas was, he really needed to eat more. His pressed his face into those wet, flattened feathers, feeling the pounding of Stolas’ heart beating against his skin. He felt that smooth beak nuzzling his horns and nipping before Stolas sighed and starting peppering kisses all over them instead. He could feel it on his horns, Stolas’ mouth running up and down them, but it was a distant feeling, less nerve-endings to radiate any real reaction and more distant, faded pressure.

Blitzø wished everything could feel distant like that.

VII.

Sparring with Moxxie was a little ridiculous.

“You’ve got to hit harder than that,” Blitzø said, easily knocking away another wild punch and swiping Moxxie’s legs out from under him with his tail. “And why do you keep forgetting to use your tail? You got to use everything you have.”

Moxxie took Blitzø’s offered hand and allowed himself to be yanked back up on his hooves. “But sir, there is a marked difference between you and me! I am not ashamed to say that your physically stronger and taller and just bigger than me in general –”

“Do you think every opponent you have is going to be a shrimp like you?” Blitzø demanded. “Think of the assholes you’ve already scrapped with. I’m not talking about other asshole imps who don’t even know how to fight. I mean the fuckers like Striker and shit – or other demons, or even the odd human with a black belt in karate or some other shit.”

“Listen to the boss, Mox,” Millie cut in. “He’s right.”

Blitzø scoffed. “I’m always right.”

Blitzø and his team were stationed on the rooftop of some corporate building in somewhere, blah, blah, blah New York City, on one of the tallest skyscrapers and it was the dead of night. Their client had said someone had pushed him off the roof during his smoking break while he was working overtime, all night, yada, yada, and they were to lie in wait for the fucker and “Burn him with a hundred cigarettes for daring to rudely interrupt my smoking break – I didn’t even get to finish my cigarette – and then beat him to a pulp and toss him off the building too!”

Supposedly they’d know the guy by the jingle of his keys or whatever. That’s all their client had heard anyway because he hadn’t seen shit besides the oncoming concrete. But this was the third night out here on the rooftop with a carton of a hundred cigarettes and Blitzø’s rapidly dwindling patience. It fucking sucked when the client didn’t know for sure who they wanted them to kill. Sure, it made for a little detective mystery that got Moxxie all hot and bothered and they could charge more money, but sometimes these cases just fucking dragged on and on.

So Blitzø figured he might as well kill two birds with one stone and start training Moxxie on how to be at least a little decent in hand-to-hand combat.

“If someone is taller than you, don’t aim upwards,” Blitzø said. “You always want to leverage your weight into every blow. Otherwise, it won’t land hard enough. Don’t go for my throat or face or whatever – go for my stomach, kick at my legs – even try to get me in the dick, that’ll drop a guy – and for chicks try to knock them off balance and then swoop in for the kill.”

“Can’t I just shoot them?” Moxxie muttered in frustration, failing to kick out at Blitzø’s legs and rounding back to try and land a blow on his stomach – that didn’t work, either. Blitzø caught his wrist and twisted, making Moxxie yelp as Blitzø forced him to the ground with one boot on his chest. “Ow, sir.”

“You won’t always have a gun,” Blitzø remarked. “That’s the whole point of this, idiot.”

“Tag me in, Mox!” Millie shouted from where she sat against the ledge.

Blitzø sighed. “And you won’t always have your wife to tag in for you either!”

Moxxie struggled to pry his boot off his chest. It was laughable at best. “Okay, okay, I get it,” he wheezed. “Really, sir. I do. Give me one more try.”

Blitzø lifted his boot and reached down to lift the smaller imp clear off the ground to set him back down on his hooves once more. “Good boy.”

Moxxie flushed bright red and Blitzø chuckled, flicking his forehead with a claw. “Getting a little flustered on me, Mox? Now, now, Millie’s watching you dirty little –”

“Stooop,” Moxxie whined, rubbing his forehead furiously. Ha. Classic Blitzø charm, he thought, tried and true and still hard to resist – even for little twerps like Moxxie.

Then there was a jingle, and the roof door opened.

By the thirty-third cigarette, the fucker had passed out, so it was getting really, really boring. “Urgh, can’t we light them any faster?” Blitzø complained.

Millie had his lighter doing five cigarettes at once, only to plunge all five into the human’s cheek. “I’m trying, Blitzø. This shit is gettin’ tedious.”

“Don’t we have to beat him up after?” Moxxie asked in dismay.

“We’ll just kick him a bunch, take a picture, toss him over, and take another picture,” Blitzø said, eager to get this over and done with. “Fuck it, I’m finishing this cigarette first.”

He wondered off to the edge of the roof and inhaled the smoke nice and deep, breathing it out to the lit city below. The streets down there were mostly empty, but he could see little dots of humans stumbling around on the sidewalks, probably drunk at this hour, and little cabs zooming down the streets, slowing down a tad to offer those drunks a chance to flag them down.

Blitzø heard Moxxie approach and glanced over to find the imp just standing there, staring at him. “What?”

“I just wanted…to see how you were,” Moxxie said hesitantly. “Loona mentioned yesterday that you and the prince might have had a…fight. And I know Ozzie’s got a bit rough for you – you know, during your whole invasive stalking –”

“I told you I was there for a totally separate and secret reason!” Blitzø snapped.

“Fine, sir. Only a lot was said by that jester and that Sin, and it seemed…awkward? To say the least? And your ex-girlfriend also had a lot to say –”

“Shut up, Moxxie.”

“I will,” Moxxie promised. “Only, I know it was a full moon the other night, and Loona mentioned that she didn’t think you went over to the palace, and if you didn’t, that puts the business at risk, sir. And more than that,” he leaned up as much as he could and dropped his voice to a whisper, “I have an idea of what his highness really means to you.”

Blitzø narrowed his eyes on Moxxie, heartbeat spiking to a near danger zone in his chest. “What the fuck does that mean?” he whispered back.

Moxxie glanced over to make sure Millie wasn’t trying to listen in and continued. “When we were captured by the humans and gassed with that truth serum, I heard you saying the prince’s name. Over and over.”

Blitzø felt like he was about to have a fucking heart attack. His mind raced back to those green fumes, to that nightmare hallucination all those months ago. Of Stolas up a grand staircase, sitting on a throne with that infuriating know-it-all smile, drawing Blitzø in oh so easily by the chain around his neck.

Are you afraid to love people, Blitzy?

Moxxie twiddled with his claws and went on, like the moron he was. He kept his voice hushed and even fainter. “You were saying ‘Stolas, I’m afraid, I’m afraid.’ Again, and again.”

Filled with an overwhelming homicidal urge to throw Moxxie off the building, Blitzø snatched the smaller imp by the collar of his prissy coat and dragged him up to meet him eye-to-eye. “What the FUCK is wrong with you, you little bitch? I was tripping – we both were! Do you see me talking shit about you crying in there the whole time? You are violating the drugs-bro-code!”

Moxxie choked. “I haven’t told anyone else!”

“You’re telling me, bitch!”

“Boys!” Millie called out from where she was still stamping out cigarettes on unresponsive flesh. “Play nice before you make me come over there!”

“Please, Blitzø,” Moxxie gasped as he dangled there, grabbing at his arms for some balance. “I just wanted to say that I understood! I’m trying to be a better friend!”

Blitzø scoffed in disgust. “Who asked you to be a better –”

“AHHHH!”

Both jumped and looked to where the human was screaming, apparently now wide awake, as Millie cackled and burned him with glee. Ever the one to point out the obvious, Millie said: “Boys! Come back over here – he’s awake again!”

“PLEASE!” the human screamed. “I have bad impulse control! I come up here for a breath of fresh air and that asshole was smoking like a chimney – AHHH” Millie stabbed a cigarette out on his nose.

Blitzø gave Moxxie a look that said shut it upon pain of death and dropped him unceremoniously – back on the roof and not off the side of it, like he wanted to. They finished with the cigarettes, kicked the shit of the push-happy human, and tossed him off the building with a nice, juicy, semi-burnt SPLAT. It was a little satisfying, at least. With all pictures taken as requested.

As soon as they were back in the office, Blitzø dropped off Millie and Moxxie (ignoring all pleading looks from the latter) and then Loona back home: “Going out? This late?” Loona asked.

Blitzø shrugged. “I’ve still got energy to burn, so I might hit up a bar or something. Make sure you lock the door, okay my Little Looney?”

“Urgh,” Loona said as she climbed out of the van. “Just don’t make it worse.”

“I have no idea what you mean,” Blitzø said as she closed the door. He ignored the responding eye roll with fatherly dedication and headed straight to the palace.

The Palace was just as intimidating as ever on the outside, but Blitzø steadfastly pushed through and climbed up to the balcony, trying not to look up at the clear night sky where a crescent moon grinned down at him sideways. Coming here and it’s not even a full moon, and after skipping the last one. The fuck is wrong with me? Blitzø raged at himself. Why couldn’t I just fuck him that night? Why did I have to go and make it weird?!

Heaving himself over the balcony and seeing the light on, but the curtains drawn, made him decide to be sneaky-quiet. Just in case Stolas was working or something. As he got closer and opened the left door (when would Stolas ever actually lock the fucking doors?), the first thing Blitzø saw was a naked imp.

A naked male imp, just a few inches shorter than Blitzø. He was packing muscle and everything else, and he spun around to face Blitzø in surprise. The guy opened his mouth, obviously about to say something, and without thinking, Blitzø pulled out his gun and shot him right in the head. Blood sprayed over the walls and the imp fell back dead as a doornail, a new gaping hole in his forehead.

The door flew open and Stolas emerged, still fully dressed in his princely clothes. “What was that – Blitzø?! Did you just – did you just kill Helmly?”

Fucking Helmly? Stolas knew the fucker’s name, even?

“Is that how it is?” Blitzø asked furiously. “I skip out on one – FUCKING ONE – full moon and you go and fuck another imp? Huh? AM I THAT REPLACEABLE?”

Stolas’ eyes glowered and he could feel the magic emanating off them, and at the same time, couldn’t care less if the bird even tried to petrify him right now. “Helmly is an underbutler!”

“Excuse me?” Blitzø shouted. “DO YOU THINK I CARE WHAT HIS JOB WAS? OH, FOR SATAN’S SAKE, STOLAS! I COULD FUCKING –” he stowed his gun back in his holster and kicked the bed, the canopy pole cracking in half. He watched Stolas flinch, and – Did. Not. Fucking. Care. “If you were that desperate for dick I would have come over!”

“I am not desperate!” Stolas hissed and wasn’t that the biggest fucking lie. “And I refuse to engage in conversation with you if it’s going to be a screaming match!”

Oh, so I’m not worthy of a good screaming match, is that it?

Stolas then looked down at the dead imp again and reached out a tentative hand, as if about to touch him. “Oh dear, he’s very dead, isn’t he?”

Blitzø lost it. He launched himself across the room and yanked on that hand, jerking Stolas down to his level and kicking out his legs so he tumbled to the floor in a tall heap of tangled limbs. He used his weight to push Stolas’ back against the floor, knocking off his stupid hat. He sat on his stomach and caught the owl’s wrists before he could push him off, pinning them to the carpet on either side of his head.

“What are you doing?” Stolas demanded. “And why do you reek of cigarettes?”

Blitzø pressed his mouth against his, using teeth to bite and making Stolas open his mouth in a gasp. He deepened it right away, licking into Stolas’ mouth and squeezing his hands around his small, bony wrists. He started grinding down on his stomach, rage fueling lust and making his head spin like a carousel on steroids, only all the animals on it were hungry, snapping wolves.

Stolas whimpered underneath him. “Blitzø,” he said when they broke apart. “You aren’t listening to me.”

“And why the fuck should I?” Blitzø snapped back. “When do you ever listen to me?”

There was footsteps and a knocking on the door. “Your majesty? Is everything all right?”

Another one of his goddamn imp staff. Blitzø growled and took his gun out again to aim it at the closed door. “Fuck. Off!”

“Don’t you dare,” Stolas said, and Blitzø took that dare to heart because he flicked off the safety and pulled the trigger just as Stolas broke out of his hold – the bullet missed the door where he was aiming above where a standard imp’s height would be – and fired into the ceiling above them instead. “I’M FINE – YOU MAY LEAVE THANK YOU!”

There was a pitchy “yes sir!” and quick retreating footsteps.

Stolas grabbed his gun and threw it away into the corner of the room, making Blitzø even more pissed off because he didn’t even put the safety back on and it could have gone off. He grabbed Stolas by his head-feathers to tell him just that when – SLAP.

Stolas slapped him across the face. Hard enough that it forced his head to the side, and the white of his face burned with a forming bruise. He could even taste a little blood in his mouth were his teeth nicked against the inside of his cheek.

Blitzø was stunned for a moment, and Stolas in turn looked equally shocked. Then Blitzø leapt to action once more, knocking Stolas back down again and twisting the hand holding his feathers on his head, feeling a few break free in his claws. “Really? A fucking slap? You could turn me to stone or rip me into a million pieces and you go for a slap across the face?”

“I didn’t mean to,” Stolas said hurriedly. “I’m so sorry –”

“Fucking stop and just tell the truth,” Blitzø growled. “You did mean it, you did want me to come in that night, and you screwed that guy to – to…” Something lodged in his throat and his eyes were starting to burn along with his cheek and he was suddenly terrified he would start crying. The terror made him crueler. “Can you fuck just anyone now? I thought I was your one and only? Your first friend, first kiss, first fuck?” His free hand went between Stolas’ legs and down the front of his pants, brushing where the feathers were smaller, pinker, pressing against velvety folds and into that little hole that he’d been inside of so many times he’d lost count. “Didn’t we have a fucking deal? Huh? Or will any imp with a dick do?”

“Of course not,” Stolas breathed. “Blitzø, stop – we need to talk.”

“We’re going to talk now?” Blitzø asked harshly. “Why? Don’t you want passionate fornication, your highness?” He sunk his teeth into Stolas’ neck as hard as he could, feeling his feathers puff out, feeling his pussy tremble under his claws and suddenly get drenched. Blood was oozing into his mouth and Blitzø sucked and mauled his neck as much as he could before Stolas inevitably healed.

The taste was the same, sweet and rich, and it poured down into his belly once more, making everything brighter. Sharper. Even more electric, burning all the way down to his core and making his cock ache.

“You came,” he murmured darkly against Stolas’ neck. He pulled out his hand and yanked down Stolas’ pants, making quick work of his own zipper and yanking both his boxers and his trousers down just enough. He lined up his cock and shuddered as it brushed the against the wetness, against those little pink feathers. “Yes? Stolas? Is it yes?”

“Yes,” Stolas breathed, and he slid in home at once.

Only it wasn’t home, was it? Stolas’ pussy or cloaca – gripped him tight as he slammed in and out, rougher than even the time with the bear traps, reeling in the feel of Stolas contracting and flexing around him, in his searing heat that could make him combust. Stolas parted his legs as much as he could with his pants still half on, his hands coming up to grasp Blitzø’s shoulders, breath hitching on every thrust in, where Blitzø could swear he was going so deep, as deep as he could, as hard as he could – so Stolas could never not feel him.

His cock rammed past the little bend that made Stolas wild, all tight, hot flesh that he forced to make way, to hold him close. Battered. The sudden pull of his orgasm took him by surprise – he rammed in once, twice, and could hold it in no longer.

“Fuck,” he said as he felt himself empty into Stolas. He looked down at the bird who was watching him carefully. There was concern there, and something else that made Blitzø shiver because it looked way too soft, way too earnest after the rough fuck they just had. He pulled out and shivered again when his softening cock was exposed to the cold air, inhaling sharply when he saw a little bit of blood in the mess of come flowing out between the opening among those pink feathers. “Are you bleeding? Was I too rough?”

Blitzø immediately scrambled down there and patted those pink feathers. Stolas’ cloaca was still opened a little, and Blitzø used his claws to part him just a little bit more, curling them inside and searching along those sinfully soft inner walls for any tears or cuts, feeling all the come still coated inside, slowly trickling out between his digits. It reminded him of their time in the bathtub. Unable to resist, he leaned over and pressed his mouth against those parted folds, about to lick inside when Stolas caught his shoulder and pushed.

Okay, just a little rejection, Blitzø told himself, rearing back on his knees. He racked his brain for what to say, and inspiration hit. “Babe, listen,” he said, knowing pet names got Stolas all flustered like nothing else. He’d never called him babe before (it was necessary to keep a few aces up the sleeve for eventual fuckups), and just as Blitzø expected, the bird made an airy hooting sound. “I just want to make sure you –”

“I was not fucking him,” Stolas said suddenly.

Blitzø paused. “What?”

Stolas glanced over to the dead body a few feet away and then back to Blitzø. “Helmly was here at the palace training with my butler as an underbutler for this past week,” Stolas explained, keeping his voice soft. “He handled the wrong plant in the hall just outside and got covered in its sap – it’s acidic sap. I sent him in here to strip and change while I went to tell a servant to get him a fresh uniform. Then I heard your gunshot.”

Blitzø stared at Stolas for a moment, and then also looked over to the dead imp. Now that he was really looking, there did appear to be something brown and sticky on his hands – were they sizzling? And there was a black and white uniform beside him in a heap that was covered in the stuff, thick as syrup and smelling like a combination of mint and cattails.

“I am not hurt,” Stolas then whispered, and he was staring at where Blitzø hand was buried between his legs.

“Uh – okay,” Blitzø said, slowly sliding out his claws and wiping them off on his coat. Should he take it off? He wasn’t sure. The implications of what Stolas was saying was settling in his gut now, making him want to go boneless with relief, but dread was setting in just as fast. He might have overacted. Maybe. Possibly.

Trying his best to adopt an air of nonchalance, Blitzø sat up and cleared his throat, smoothing out the snarl that was still rooted in there. “Well,” he started, “it’s after three in the goddamn morning. What am I supposed to think? Why’s he working this late, anyway?”

“Stella called to tell me she is coming back here in the morning and so I wanted to move all my more fragile plants back into the greenhouse,” Stolas said, sitting up as well. “The less hardy ones that can’t survive being flung about in a fit of rage.”

“And why the fuck would he use your private bedroom?” Blitzø demanded. “That’s fucked – I don’t care. He got himself killed.”

“He was covered in acid sap!” Stolas retorted, and why the fuck was he taking the dead imp’s side for? “You killed him for no reason other than your own blind jealousy!”

Blitzø knew he was never beating the jealous allegation, so he gritted his teeth and moved closer, tail moving to wind itself around Stolas’ one, only to be brushed off by those tail feathers. Another rejection. “Babe, come on. It was a bad look either way, alright? I’m sorry I thought…”

“That I was desperate?” Stolas asked. “Willing to fuck just anyone? When you’re the one who carries condoms you obviously don’t use with me!”

Blitzø knew that was going to come back to haunt him. “They were old! I didn’t even know they were in my pocket!”

Stolas stood then and straightened up his pants. “I know very well we are not exclusive – I am perhaps a little naïve in all this, but not delusional. Just as you know very well that the only one I am sleeping with is you.”

Blitzø got up as well, putting himself away and zipping up his trousers. “Okay, I do. I do know, and I’m…” Happy? Grateful? Relieved? “…good with that arrangement? Look, I know this got a little bit toxic, but we fought, we fucked, it’s over with now. So, let’s just move on and –”

“Leave, Blitzø. I will speak with you tomorrow about this.”

“Whaaat? Is that really a good idea? Let me just get rid of the body and then we can –”

“We need to discuss this,” Stolas insisted. “But I need a reprieve from this right now. So, Blitzø – please. Go.”

And so Blitzø was forced to leave.

VIII.

The next day was dragging. Blitzø waited all day for Stolas to call him, his eyes glued to his phone like something cursed.

“By the way,” Millie said, pointing to his cheek. “That’s a nice bruise, B.”

Blitzø smacked a hand over where his cheek still smarted and for the billion-trillionth time, wished his scar didn’t make his skin so white and obvious. “Yeah, well. I deserved it. I did bite back though.” Probably shouldn’t have done that…And that bite on Stolas’ neck hadn’t been retaliation so much as want. And damn, the way that neck flexed under his teeth, the blood infused with magic sparking all the tastebuds in his mouth.

Goosebumps crawled along his skin like a hundred needy spiders. Maybe Stolas had a point about the whole blood-addiction thing. Addiction itself was obviously a fucking monster gene in his family, Blitzø really didn’t need to add more bullshit to his life. No more biting him hard enough to draw blood. You’re going to turn into a Stolas-specific vampire! That was if he ever got the opportunity to see Stolas again, much less chomp on him. He checked his phone again and sure enough, no call, no text messages. Fuck.

“Expecting bad news?” Millie had asked.

“Can’t get any worse,” Blitzø muttered, although that was a bold-faced lie. If Stolas decided they were done, Blitzø was royally fucked for real. No Stolas, no magic book, no IMP, no Millie and Moxxie, and no means to earn money to pay for his apartment, which means he and Loona are out on the street, and wouldn’t that just make him a fucking deadbeat dad –

“There’s something off about this,” Moxxie said as he skittered up to them. “I mean, look at that building, sir. It looks like something out of a horror movie.”

“Bitch, we live in Hell,” Blitzø said. “And it’s an abandoned boarding school. So what?”

The sun was just setting, making the sky swirl in a mix of deep blues and purples, with a steak of pink here and there. It reminded Blitzø of the gradients of colors in Stolas’ feathers and he felt something sink in his chest like a stone.

The boarding school just ahead was called ‘Miss Madison’s School for Educated Young Ladies’ and was shut down for at least a hundred years. But their client – a real estate lady when she was alive and kicking – said she was murdered in the place by a mob of hags. She couldn’t say how many there were, but she did understand that the price went up with every dead body.

“Alright, class is in session,” Blitzø announced. “Got your guns? Ammo? Axe, Mills? Then let’s fucking go and slaughter some old hags!”

They chorused their agreement, and in they went.

As soon as they slinked in the doors Blitzø felt something was off. There was an extra pressure weighing down the air, and he felt it the most in his head, pressing down on his skull. He couldn’t’ smell anything off or taste it in the air. He asked Moxxie and Millie once they had cleared the first floor and were heading up to the second, but they both said they didn’t feel anything like that. Am I getting a headache or something?

On the step onto the second floor, there was a clatter and Blitzø fired his gun at the sound. A wrinkled head popped off some old lady’s shoulders in a spray of blood. “Gotcha!”

Then what looked like a shot of red lightning like an arrow hit him square in the chest, and everything faded to black, the sounds of Moxxie and Millie hitting the floor beside him echoing down the hall.

IX.

When Blitzø woke up, his whole body felt sapped of energy, weak and shaky. He could tell just from Moxxie and Millie’s faces that they were faring no better from whatever that blast had been – probably worse.

The old hags turned out to be a coven of witches, all graduates from this fancy-smancy boarding school from way back in the day, and they somehow got hold of a magic witchy book.

“The fuck book is that, anyway?” Blitzø demanded. He and his team were seated and chained to old desk chairs against a classroom wall, where bloody runes were inscribed all over. Blitzø was sat in-between them. A thick line of blood wrapped in a wide sickle shape around them from one corner to the other, and Blitzø could feel something warping everything beyond that line – as if there was a coat of steam pooling off the blood.

“I think it’s a Bloodbook,” Moxxie said nervously. He tried to twitch his tail free, but like Blitzø and Millie, it too was wrapped with a smaller chain around the back leg of his chair. “Witches get possessed by demons and basically write a book of spells in blood.”

There must have been at least nineteen witches standing beyond the line, and Blitzø was sure they were all old hags, but in between the gusts of steam he could see young faces underneath, smooth skin and smirking eyes and locks of dark, glossy hair under all the knotted greys and wrinkles. It was making Blitzø’s eyes water. “Okay, so usually the royals are the ones with all the books and shit. What rank are we thinking? Lord? Duke? Prince?”

“No idea,” Moxxie said.

“Great,” Blitzø muttered. “Well, we have a magic book of our own. Anybody still got their cell on them? A weapon?”

They both shifted in their chained seats and then shook their heads on either side of him. Fuck. Stripped of all our weapons and our phones. He tried to tip his chair over – there must have been only like twelve inches between their chained chairs – but cursed when he saw the chair’s feet nailed to the floor. Then he noticed one of the witches step up just behind the line of blood and stiffened. She was holding the Bloodbook, so she must have been the Boss Witch. “Don’t say anything,” he muttered to them. “Let me do the talking.”

“Impy see no evil, impy hear no evil, and impy speak no evil,” the Boss Witch said, and the younger face moved under her older face in a weird way, like it was a few seconds behind. It made his stomach twist in repulsion. “We could have all three here if we bled you dry and filled you with stuffing like taxidermy.”

“Listen, witch-bitch,” Blitzø called out. “You might be reading some interesting bedtime stories in there, but there’s always a payback. And trading your old-hag age for some more youthful years? Could you all be any more cliché?”

The rest of the witches broke out into murmurs, and the Boss Witch huffed. “So, imps can see some magic, can they? And here the book said you lot were the lowest creatures in hell. No better than scum, apparently, and no real powers of your own, either.”

“They all look like old hags to me,” Millie whispered.

“Me too,” Moxxie seconded.

Blitzø was gritting his teeth. “Let me go and I’ll show you exactly what an imp can do.”

The Boss Witch laughed. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you imp? We took all your guns and communication devices, and those runes on your chains will keep your strength drained and prevent any chances of escape. I don’t know why you imps have crawled out of Hell to attack our coven – but it’s a good opportunity to practice some magic, anyway. There’s only so much a human mind can stand, and there’s one spell that I’ve been just dying to try.”

“How do you know it wasn’t your dark master who sent us here, huh?” Blitzø shouted, making all the witches in the room face him at once. All the eyes under eyes were prickling at his skin like thorns, but he forced himself to make a smug grin. “Maybe somebody wants to see you all a little sooner than expected.”

“He’s lying,” the Boss Witch said to the other witches, “that’s what they do.”

“Newsflash, bitch!” Blitzø snarled. “That’s what all demons do!”

“Enough!” she shouted back. “We’ll know soon enough when I tear your mind apart piece by piece, you bottom-feeder. You’ll tell me exactly who sent you here.”

Blitzø was about to tell her to fuck off, but she raised the Bloodbook and muttered an incantation and suddenly everything beyond the thick line of blood went pitch-black. They could see nothing beyond the line, only a dark black void that offered no sight, no sound, no smell – nothing. On either side of him, Moxxie and Millie began trying to jerk themselves this way and that, panting with the effort of trying to get out of the chains.

“What the fuck, Blitzø!” Millie said. “What are they doin’ now?”

“You don’t think they’ll really make us taxidermy, do you?” Moxxie whimpered.

“Not planning to stick around to find out,” Blitzø said. “C’mon, guys, we need to find a weakness in these fuckin’ chains. Can either of you get a limb free at all? Even a little?” There was enough space between their chairs to fit a person, and Blitzø lamented that – if the witches had squeezed them in tighter together, they could help each other squirm free.

“This is all my fault,” Moxxie bemoaned. “I’m the one that interviewed the realtor. I should have asked more questions about how she died, what she saw –”

“Now is not the time for a performance review, Moxxie!” Blitzø snapped. He struggled against the chain, spine pressed to the back of the chair – when something on the left side of the wall, a few feet away from Millie, caught his eye. There was one bloody rune on the wall that looked different. Acted different. It looked like a T with an O stuck inside it, and it was glowing a little, radiating a deeper orange than the rest of the rusty reddish-maroon runes. He looked at it and heard something creaking in his head. It sounded like his apartment door opening. “The fuck?”

“I think if I pop my shoulder outta the socket, I might be able to get my hand loose,” Millie said suddenly, making sure to keep her voice down.

“Sounds great, but how will you move that hand if you pop your shoulder out?” Blitzø asked.

Millie growled. “It’s been minutes, already! If they’re gonna torture us, why keep us waiting?”

“Why rush them?!” Moxxie exclaimed.

Then the pitch black rippled behind the blood line, like a stone dropped into water, and then…Stolas walked out.

“Your highness?!” Moxxie and Millie gasped.

At first, Blitzø was sure this had to be a trick. But no. Stolas was dressed in his usual princely attire, looking distantly irritated and poised at the same time. Wafts of ozone from his magical portals and his lavender scented preening oils drifted under Blitzø’s nostrils from where he stood. His crimson eyes almost lazily took in the scene of the three imps seated in chains before him, before they settled pointedly on Blitzø.

“Stolas, holy shit,” Blitzø said. “This is the second time you’re coming in clutch for me. I might have to put you on the payroll! You gotta let me know how you can tell when I’m in…”

The demon prince stalked towards them and stopped right in front out Blitzø, reaching out to hold his face just like he did the last time with that government agency.

“…Trouble,” Blitzø finished. Stolas’ talons pressed against the skin of his temples and under his eyes, making him shift in his seat. They were just as deceptively soft and tender as ever. “Hey, did you kill all those witches?”

“Don’t you think your being a little rude, Blitzy?” Stolas asked, tilting his head to the side. “First you break into my house and kill my staff, throwing all those accusations at me, and now all this. I told you last time not to get caught, didn’t I? And yet, here I am. Saving you and your little employees yet again. I think this is beginning to be too much trouble for all its worth.”

Oh shit, oh shit. “Please, Stolas – I know I’ve been…uh – not so great lately but – but I’ll be better,” Blitzø stammered. “I promise. Really. I will.”

“It’s my fault, your majesty,” Moxxie burst out. “I didn’t investigate our client enough –”

“What we mean is,” Millie cut in. “We are real sorry and we won’t cause ya any more trouble –”

“Silence,” Stolas said, and Moxxie and Millie shut their traps at once. Blitzø was convinced the owl must have used magic. “I don’t want to hear anything from either of you.”

Blitzø swallowed past the lump in his throat. “R – Right. Well, like I said, I’ll be better – do better, I mean. With everything. Ha. In and out of the sheets, am I right? And –”

Blitzø inhaled in surprise when Stolas sat on his lap, trailing his talons down to his shoulders, keeping the same indifferent look on his face.

“I think you can be more convincing than that,” Stolas murmured, leaning closer and brushing their mouths together in a kiss. “What happened to the daring rouge that broke into my bedroom to steal my book, hmm?”

Stolas pressed their mouth together again, and Blitzø shifted in his seat, his eyes shooting to Moxxie and Millie on either side of him – who both were, yep, gawking open-mouthed at him and Stolas. Fucking perfect. Is this punishment for last night? For fucking up then or now with getting caught by humans for the SECOND time. Is Stolas trying to make a point?

His mind was racing with every possibility, half kissing Stolas back and trying to come up with something – anything – to say. “Well, I can’t exactly do a repeat performance of that night all chained up like this, pretty bird,” Blitzø purred, bumping his forehead against Stolas’. “But let’s get back home and I fucking will. Besides, you’re the one that’s supposed to be tied up –”

Stolas inched up higher, sitting directly over his cock and grinding down. “Fuck! Stols – Stolas, okay, okay!” Pleasure curled in Blitzø’s stomach like nectar, and his gritted his teeth against the friction that made his cock harden and sweat break out across his skin. Blitzø was usually shameless but not in a situation like this, not in front of his employees, and not when he couldn’t understand what the fuck Stolas was thinking. The bird never mentioned kinky punishment exhibitionism before. “Oh fuck, I’ll fuck you anywhere you want Stolas but not in front of Moxxie and Millie! And now is not the fucking time!”

Stolas lifted his chin and leaned close. “And you get to decide that?”

Blitzø could feel the outline of that pussy, through probably three layers of clothes, and his tortured dick was doing its best to break through every single seam of clothing to get in there. He took in several deep breaths to try to ground himself. “Please,” he rasped out, determined not to look in either Moxxie or Millie’s direction. “Okay, please. Let us out of here and I’ll be your impish little plaything all night. I fucking swear. Fuck, I would have done it without all of this, Stolas, you should fucking know that –”

“That’s better,” Stolas praised. “But not quite there yet.”

Stolas stopped grinding his hips for a moment, just pressing himself down, letting gravity do the work. Arms wrapped around Blitzø’s neck, and he felt Stolas’ beak nuzzle down his jaw. “Say you love me, and then I will rescue you and your little friends.”

Blitzø froze, shocked to his core. His heartbeat skyrocketed, and he shuddered when Stolas brushed a kiss against his mouth again before leaning back. “Go ahead. Say it.”

Blitzø’s mouth went dry. He couldn’t help glancing at his team, who were resolutely not looking at him now. Moxxie was wincing down at his lap, face flushed beyond measure, and Millie was biting her lip so hard it was bleeding. She had her head angled away as best she could, obviously trying to give Blitzø a small measure of privacy.

“You – you can’t be,” he started, clearing his throat to get rid of the high-pitched sound his voice was making. “You can’t be serious, Stolas. Please don’t –”

“Wrong answer,” was all Stolas said before he stood, making Blitzø’s dick twitch in his pants from the sudden lack of pressure.

Those red eyes narrowed on him for a moment before Stolas swept away, walking back towards the line of blood and all that darkness beyond without a second glance. Panic seized Blitzø, and he choked out: “Wait. Wait. Stolas! Okay – okay, I’ll say it, just wait!”

“Too late,” Stolas said over his shoulder.

“I love you!” Blitzø shouted hoarsely. “Okay? Stolas? I fucking love you! I LOVE YOU! Hey – don’t walk away – stop! Goddammit, Stolas – WAIT!”

But Stolas was at the line of blood now, and only gave a dismissive wave of his hand before stepping back into the pitch-black and vanishing from sight. Blitzø was stunned. He could feel it roll through his body in waves, mixing with the panic, with the aftermath of his now dwindling erection, and it made him feel sick. Like he could vomit. He felt wetness on his cheeks and knew without doubt that he was crying. There was an increasing pressure surrounding him – and, now that he registered it, he thought it might have been there since he woke up in this chair. Gradually increasing in weight like an invisible bucket on his head filling with stones.

“Sir,” Moxxie squeaked out. “Are you okay?”

“Do you see that?” Millie broke out. Her eyes were locked on the darkness. “There’s people inside – I can see ‘em now. Is that – is that…”

“What do you mean, honey?” Moxxie asked, trying to look over Blitzø and failing miserably. “I don’t see anyone inside –”

“Son,” called out a voice that Blitzø didn’t recognize. He could hear water running suddenly, could smell old sewage and chemicals swirling together in a rotten stench that smelled like Greed of all things. There was the sound of heels click-clacking on the floor, and then a lady imp appeared. She was soaking wet, with matted hair that covered her face entirely. Her body looked bloated, sodden – like she’d been drowned and dead for a long while.

“Mother?” Moxxie cried out. “No – you…you can’t be. This can’t be real.”

“Why didn’t you come look for me son?” she demanded, jerking forward on her heels. She tumbled down to the ground in front of Moxxie’s chair, clawing her way up his legs, leaving deep scratches that ripped through his trousers, and then to the front of his jacket, to his neck – scraping up his cheeks. “You know where I am. Where I still am. Why are you just leaving me there?”

A sob tore from Moxxie as the smaller imp launched into a full-blown anxiety attack. “No – no, no, no. I can’t do this. I can’t do this!”

She hooked her long-nailed fingers into his mouth and pulled them apart, like she was trying to tear his skin into his cheeks, to the sides of his face.

“GET THE FUCK OFF HIM, BITCH!” Blitzø shouted.

Moxxie started choking as her nails dug in deeper, blood gushing from his mouth.

It was suddenly obvious. The half-circle of magic, the runes, these fucking nightmare manifestations – How could I let myself be fooled like this?!

“It’s a fucking magic trick Mox,” Blitzø said, gnashing his teeth together in an unholy rage. How – how could he be so stupid? “That wasn’t Stolas and this sure as fuck ain’t your mom!”

Blitzø looked over at Millie, wondering why she wasn’t chiming in, but her gaze was still focused on the darkness where a figure began to emerge. It was an imp, Blitzø could tell from the shape and size, only there was no skin whatsoever on him – her – them. Chunks of meat and tissue and sinew were stuffed behind their bones and pressed in hastily by bloody boned claws. The head was a mess of skull with red tissue and rolling eyes loose in their sockets.

“You did this,” the wretched creature rasped out. “My skin, tell me where my skin is…?”

“I don’t know!” Millie shrieked. “It was just a job! I didn’t know what they wanted, I swear! Please, I don’t know where they put you – it – yer skin – Moxxie – BLITZ! BLITZ, HELP! I CAN’T TELL HER WHERE IT IS! I DON’T KNOW! I DON’T KNOW!”

“Millie, I know,” which he didn’t know, Blitzø didn’t know anything about this skinless imp from Millie’s past and frankly, it wasn’t the time to ask. “I’m here, I’m helping. I’m here.”

Blitzø struggled anew in his chains, thrashing like an eel, feeling the frustration mount inside him, burning away in his gut so much he could taste it. It tasted like Stolas’ blood, like sweet pomegranate and stardust and burning, and then everything went shadowy.

The world stripped itself of all color, only blacks and greys and whites that flickered like flames around him. Then he was the one flickering like a flame, and the chains shattered around him like they were made from plastic. Blitzø stumbled to the floor and caught sight of the glowing, deep orange rune again and slashed through it with his claws.

The skinless imp and Moxxie’s rotting mother broke apart, like an image in a busted mirror.

The darkness beyond the blood line disappeared, and Blitzø shot forward to knock down the Boss Witch right away, teeth tearing out her jugular and splattering blood like a sprinkler. Chaos quickly ensued. He quickly located his guns in the corner of the room, on top of a teacher’s desk and made a beeline for it, slashing through two more witches on the way. He dodged another blast of that red-arrowed lightning and reached his guns, flicking off the safety and firing bullets into every witch he could.

Bodies riddled with holes were all over the place once he was done, and the world tipped back into color again. Blitzø blinked at the sudden brightness, feeling dizzy and lightheaded. Then he realized Moxxie and Millie were still chained up and just staring at him wide-eyed, and he quickly sprang into action.

“Are you guys okay?” he asked. Blitzø shot at the chains and yanked them apart – first Millie, and then Moxxie. They clung to each other right away like magnets.

“Are you, B?” Millie demanded. “You were all static-y and flickery. You were just an outline!”

“A what?”

“It was your silhouette,” Moxxie explained. “Only it was filled in with black smokey stuff. Like a smoke version of you. And you were so fast. What was that?”

Blitzø held his head, and his forehead felt cold. Ice cold – which was strange for an imp. “I don’t know,” he said honestly. “Well, I think I have an idea but I’m not sure. I think I’m fucking freezing though – let’s set this place on fire and head back. Now.”

Of course, they eagerly agreed and retrieved their things. Blitzø checked his phone just as Millie was lighting a match and Moxxie was pouring gasoline everywhere. There was a text from Loona asking for an update, and three missed calls.

All from Stolas.