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The room was quiet, save for the hum of distant traffic and the occasional creak of old floorboards. The balcony door stood open, letting in the chill of the night. Moonlight spilled across the floor in silvery sheets, bathing everything it touched in a soft, ethereal glow.
On the couch, Blitz and Stolas sat side by side, wrapped in Blitz’s old horseshoe-patterned blanket. The silence between them was heavy and tired. Neither of them spoke at first.
Stolas fidgeted with his talons, the knit of the white sweater Blitz had bought for him catching at his talons. It was new, soft, comforting in ways he didn’t feel he deserved. His eyes flicked toward Blitz, hesitated, and then dropped to the floor.
“I suppose it was only a matter of time,” Stolas murmured, voice barely audible. “Vassago exposed everything. Our previous deal. The affair. Even… Stella.” He paused, his throat bobbing with the weight of that name. “I should be horrified that everything's out in the open. But I guess I just expected it would happen eventually. Vassago has always had a penchant for the truth… He’d do anything to get it. It's admirable, really. I should have known such a flimsy lie couldn't have secured your safety for very long.”
Blitz’s expression twitched at the name Stella. His tail lashed behind him, betraying the anger brewing under his skin. “Knowing what a bitch fucking Stella is?” he growled. “Piece of shit witch... Maybe it’ll finally get people on our side.”
Stolas gave a bitter little laugh. “Or… turn them against us.”
Blitz snorted, eyes narrowed. “They already are. Half of Hell thinks I'm a home wrecker and a sex pest. The other half thinks you raped me.” He leaned back against the couch, arms crossed, gaze fixed somewhere far beyond the apartment’s crumbling ceiling. “Let 'em fight it out.”
Stolas turned then — truly turned — and looked at him. Blitz’s heart skipped a beat to see only raw, unshielded remorse.
“Blitz…” Stolas’s voice cracked around the name. “I think I need to say this now — before someone else forces us to say it publicly.”
He placed a hand to his chest, fingers digging into the knit fabric of the sweater like it could hold him together.
“I know now how dangerous that deal was. The power I held over you. My title. My words. My… neglect.” His voice trembled, unsteady like a bird on a broken branch. “You felt like you were just a plaything, no? That’s all on me.”
Blitz blinked, frowning as Stolas's words sank in. “Are you talking about what my weird fanclub was saying?” he asked, his voice pitched somewhere between incredulous and irritated. “You didn’t force me into sex, Stolas.” He checked his nails with a huff. "Besides, I'm the top," he declared proudly.
Stolas didn’t laugh. Didn’t smile. His face twisted into a grimace, and his gaze remained steady, painfully sincere. “But I didn’t give you safety,” he said quietly. “Or clarity. Or dignity.” His shoulders dropped, those pretty eyes dimming with shame. “You deserved more than what I gave.”
Blitz’s tail flicked sharply. Suddenly he couldn't look anywhere near Stolas. He stares hard at the horse plush sitting on the TV. It stares back just as hard.
“You don’t think I regret shit too?” Blitz mutters. “That I don’t lie awake remembering that I used you?”
If that's what you want to play...
If that's what Blitzy wants...
How afraid do you wanna be?
I was teasing... I don't really...
“That first night…” he began, eyes narrowing at the floor. “You were basically a virgin. Not physically, but—” He swallowed. “You didn’t know what it meant to be wanted. And you were nervous, and probably tipsy, and hadn’t experienced anything but that hag's dry cunt. And I just… shoved you on the bed and—”
He can get hurt?
“No.” Stolas leaned forward then, gently reaching out, his talons brushing against Blitz’s hand. The contact was feather-light, reverent. “I wanted it,” Stolas said, softly. “I wanted you.”
Blitz flinched and pulled his hand away like the touch burned.
“But if I’d known,” he whispered, looking anywhere but at Stolas, “how fuckin’ little you’d been given… how little love you knew...” He let out a bitter breath. “I would’ve been gentle. I would’ve asked.”
His voice cracked.
“…Fuck. I just feel like shit.”
Stolas’s voice dropped to a whisper, thick with sorrow. “That’s not what breaks me. What breaks me is that I made you feel worthless.”
Blitz sighed. “And I was wrong to believe that,” he muttered. “’Cuz I noticed, Stols. All the little things — you asking how my day was, inviting me out, laughing at my stupid jokes…” His voice softened, and something like a smile pulled briefly at his lips. “You asked me to cuddle. To watch movies. All that cute, couple-y shit.”
He paused, his eyes cloudy with memory.
“I ignored it all because I thought you were pretending to love me,” he confessed. “I didn’t know what was real, but I just… went with it."
Stolas looked at Blitz, eyes wide.
"...Because I loved you so fucking much I couldn’t risk losing even the act.”
The confession hit like a blow. Stolas’s shoulders shook as he stifled a sob, pressing a shaking fist to his mouth. His shoulders trembled with every breath, the sound of pain barely restrained.
“Oh, Blitz…” he choked. “I’m so sorry. I’m so—”
“I’ve already forgiven you,” Blitz interrupted gently, not needing the rest of the sentence.
“You shouldn’t.”
“That’s not your decision to make,” Blitz said firmly, but not unkindly. “That’s mine. Okay?”
He moved a little closer. Not enough to touch, not enough to pressure — just enough to be there. Stolas flinched at the motion, his gaze darting away. He couldn’t bring himself to look Blitz in the eye.
“I really didn’t mean…” Stolas’s voice broke as he tried to explain. “I just thought… That night, you took my body and my grimoire and I thought… why not continue the game, if that’s what you wanted?”
He exhaled shakily. “I didn’t think. I didn’t think about the implications. I just thought…”
Another breath. Deeper. Calmer. Almost.
“I was so caught up in my own world. So self-assured of my own benevolence. But I just made you feel like sex was the price to keep your business afloat.” His voice cracked. “Isn’t that what it felt like?”
Blitz let out a long, worn-out sigh. His eyes softened. “I told you,” he said quietly. “I didn’t mind the sex.” A grin pulls at his lips. “Not that I would now, but I used to turn you down all the time when I wasn't in the mood. Like did you hit your head and forget that? Besides, you were so inexperienced and I had to—”
“But I didn’t ask what you wanted,” Stolas whispered, voice paper-thin. “I made you feel like I didn’t care.”
Blitz groaned and flung his hands up in the air. “Well! Stolas! I know you care now, okay? So it’s fine.”
“It’s not,” Stolas insisted, barely above a whisper.
“Yeah, it is!” Blitz shot back, voice louder now — flustered. He can't help a laugh. “Stolas, you’re complaining about such a non-issue. I do this shit all the time!”
Stolas blinked. “W-what?”
Blitz blinked.
Oh, no!
“No! Stolas, I haven’t done...I mean... I haven't,” Blitz said quickly, stumbling over his words. “Not since… not with anyone else. You're—you're the only one I—”
He coughed, cheeks flushing a deep red, his fingers twitching as he scratched the side of his face nervously. “I mean, we haven’t u-um f-fucked in a while, but I dunno, what’s between us…” He trailed off, then gave a sheepish grin. “I’m not fucking anyone else, ‘cause I’m… saving myself for… um, heh...”
But Stolas wasn’t listening.
He was trembling, hands wringing together like he didn’t know where else to put them, eyes wide with horror.
“You… you just let people take advantage of you all the time?!” he choked.
Blitz blinked. “What?”
Then his face twisted — offended. “Take advantage of me?! The fuck?! No, I fuck who I want, when I want! I see opportunities and I take ‘em! Hell, I blew a guy for our sick-ass van. That wasn’t tragedy, that was a real steal!”
But Stolas was spiraling. He clutched at his chest like it physically hurt, feathers puffed up with every ragged breath.
“It’s not just the van…” he whimpered, voice cracking. “It’s that you’ve convinced yourself this is normal. That this is all you’re worth.”
Blitz stared at him — stunned.
For a moment, there was only the sound of their breathing. Then something shifted in Blitz’s expression. He leaned forward and cupped Stolas’s face in his hands, thumbs squishing the erstwhile prince’s cheeks together. Stolas looked up at him with wet, shimmering eyes, his face scrunched like a sad, trembling mochi.
“What???” Blitz barked, trying to sound angry — but his voice was shaking. The sound of Stolas crying hurt, hurt, hurt. “Stolas. What are you even crying about???”
Stolas broke.
He pulled away from Blitz’s hands like they stung, curling his arms tightly around himself, feathers bristling in all directions. His sobs came fast and desperate, his voice cracking as he rambled, barely coherent.
“To think you make yourself suffer in such a way,” he cried, shaking his head violently. “And I enabled you to. I took advantage of you! You wanted this business so badly, and you were trying to rise above it all, despite everything you’d gone through — despite what all of Hell wants you to be!”
Blitz flinched as Stolas kept going, his voice rising with panic and self-loathing.
“I was so foolish,” Stolas gasped. “So deep in my own fantasies while you were just trying to survive!"
Blitz's eye twitched. "If you're going to be upset with yourself for something, maybe start with the fact that you used to call me weird shit like—"
"I’m such a brute! Blitz, you poor thing, to hurt yourself in such a—”
"—I was some kind plaything. Like that shit was misleading and demeaning as fuck, no matter what you meant by it, honestly—"
" —way. This world would be better without me, truly, I—"
“STOLAS!”
The word cracked through the room like a whip. Stolas fell silent, blinking at Blitz in shock.
“Stop talking over me, okay?!” Blitz shouted, his voice sharp but shaking.
"I didn't fuck you because I wanted the damn book!" Blitz shouts. "I did it because I wanted to. I wanted to the whole time! It was a fucking excuse, okay? If I didn't want to I would've said no! If you didn't let me, then I would have fucking killed you!"
Stolas's eyes go wide. "You..."
“I’m not struggling to survive,” Blitz spat. “I just wanna thrive. And I gotta work harder to get it — is that so bad?! I stole your damn book and you let me have it for something I’m good at and I like doing! What the fuck are you even saying?!”
His hands flew up in a mocking flourish. “Like oooh, poor me,” he sneered, batting his eyes exaggeratedly. “I have to cum inside the hottest man I’ve ever met and get a new hot business so popular it’s like flies on shit?”
Then he stopped — all the bravado falling away in a single breath.
His face twisted, chest heaving. He thought about the rumors. The whispers. The judgment. The people calling Stolas a predator. The ones calling him a whore. His throat clenched.
“I hate that those dumbasses are saying shit about you,” Blitz muttered, his voice quieter but rougher. “And I hate what those fuckwads are saying about me!”
His hands curled into fists at his sides. He trembled with rage. And then, his voice broke completely.
“I’m so. fucking—” his eyes brimmed, his words barely holding together, “—SICK and TIRED of everyone treating me like I’m just some itty-bitty imp with no voice, no way out!”
Blitz’s hands trembled. His cheeks were wet and flushed as the tears broke free, no longer hidden behind sarcasm or bravado. His voice cracked as he tried to steady it, but the weight behind it was unmistakable.
“And you know what else I’m tired of?” he snapped.
Stolas watched him, frozen. His hands had flown to his mouth in quiet shock, as if physically trying to hold back the sorrow. Blitz’s next words landed like a meteor.
“I’m tired of you expecting me to be vulnerable,” Blitz said, heartbroken, “when you didn’t even tell me Stella was trying to kill you.”
Stolas’s breath hitched.
“You gave me hell for not telling you about Striker,” Blitz continued, pain blooming in every syllable, “but how the fuck am I supposed to protect you when you hide everything from me?”
His voice grew desperate. “How come you never tell me what the fuck is going on!?”
Stolas said nothing. For a second, he looked completely gutted. Then his gaze dropped, full of guilt and shame, his shoulders slumped.
“I…” he started, faltering. “I didn’t think… I didn’t mean to…”
He trailed off. His eyes drifted closed, and couldn't deflect. He breathed out, slow and solemn.
“…You’re right.”
Stolas exhaled slowly, his shoulders sagging as if the weight of his past had just caught up to him. His voice, when it finally emerged, was low and tight.
“I know it’s no excuse, but… I’m not used to talking about my past. Or relying on others.” His eyes stayed fixed on a frayed corner of the blanket. “There’s never really been anyone to tell. I try to avoid thinking about her… when I can.”
Blitz thought back to the trial earlier that day:
Stella sat on the stand like a vulture, her smirk predatory as she bore down on Blitz and Stolas.
“I’m surprised the imp cretin even agreed to fuck him in the first place,” she purred. “He’s such a boring thing to bed. Lays there like a corpse! I couldn’t even move without him flinching and shaking like a coward—honestly!”
Gasps rippled through the courtroom.
Vassago looked pale, nauseated.
Stolas looked… tired. Not shocked. Not furious.
Stella’s grin only grew sharper. “And yet I’m the bad guy?”
In the audience, Blitz shook with rage. His hands curled into claws against the wood of the table in front of him. He lunged—eyes wide, teeth bared—but before he could reach her, Stolas caught his arm.
“Blitz!” he hissed, yanking him back with surprising force.
The judge’s gavel slammed. “Order! Order in the court!”
But Stella wasn’t finished. “This is precisely why I’m the more suitable parent,” she drawled. “The girl wouldn’t even exist without my effort. The whore can rot.”…
Back in the apartment, the air felt like lead.
Blitz was trembling. His eyes shimmered with unshed tears, jaw clenched so tightly it looked like it hurt.
“Piece of shit,” he muttered under his breath. “Piece of shit. Piece of shit.”
His voice cracked on the last repetition. He swiped a hand across his face and added hoarsely, “I’m so sorry for yelling.”
Stolas reached out without thinking, his touch soft and instinctive. "Honestly, darling,” he said with a weak, wry smile, “I’m not made of glass.”
Blitz looked up at him then — eyes red-rimmed, wounded, and burning. He squeezed his hand before letting go.
“I don’t care if you’re not made of glass,” he snapped, though his voice was shaking. “I know you’re not. You’re strong. You’re so fucking strong.”
Stolas wasn’t so sure.
There was a pause. Blitz glanced away, his posture folding in, small and ashamed.
“I’m… I’m sorry for yelling,” he repeated. “I shouldn’t fucking yell at you.”
Without a word, Stolas reached into his sweater pocket and pulled out a small pack of tissues, offering one forward.
“Dearest,” he said gently, his voice like silk unraveling. “You don’t have to apologize for telling me how you feel.”
Blitz hesitated, then took the tissue. Rubbed away all those pesky tears.
“You don’t deserve to be screamed at though,” he murmured, voice shaky again. “I’m sorry… I don’t know why I keep… fucking up.”
He looked at Stolas then, eyes wide and glistening. “You make me want to be a better person,” Blitz said, almost whispering. “And I just…”
He swallowed.
“I don’t want to be like her.”
“Like her…?” Stolas repeated softly, his eyes going wide. “Shit, Blitz — you’re nothing like my ex-wife. Why the hell would you say that?”
Blitz looked down, lips pressed into a flat line.
“Because I’ve been horrible to you,” he muttered. “Manipulated you. You were just trying to get to know me, and I…”
Stolas moved instinctively closer, voice firm but kind. “Sweetie. You’ve never put your hands on me.”
Blitz quirked a brow, clearly misinterpreting.
Stolas blinked, then chuckled softly, shaking his head. “I mean… you’ve never hit me.”
Blitz tilted his head, feigning innocent recollection. “No, I think there was that one time we tied you up to the ceiling and I smacked your cute ass with a paddle until you—”
“Out of anger, Blitz.”
The playful spark left Blitz’s eyes in an instant. His expression hardened.
“…Yeah,” he muttered. Then, voice low and dangerous: “I’m still going to fucking kill her, by the way.”
“Don’t,” Stolas said dryly. “It’ll only cause trouble—”
“No.” Blitz’s voice was like gravel, rough and unrelenting. His jaw is clenched, and his eyes glint with murderous intent. “If she puts her fucking hands on you again, I can’t be held accountable for what happens next.”
He met Stolas’s gaze dead-on, voice fierce with conviction.
“You’re mine, and no one fucks with you.”
Stolas flushed deep crimson, his feathers fluffing out involuntarily. His eyes widened as Blitz’s words echoed in his head, and something primal stirred low in his belly.
Blitz noticed.
His grin softened, warm and full of mischief, but also something gentler — something fond. Stolas shyly shook his head, trying to clear the heat building inside him, but it was too late. There was a familiar ache between his thighs now, his cloaca clenching with need, and he bit back a soft whine before it could escape. His feathers bristled, flared out in betrayal of just how hard that one line — mine — had hit him.
Blitz remembers, too, how perfect Stolas felt around him. He chuckled, low and fond and leans closer. He knew exactly what Stolas was trying to fight off, and it made him so dizzy and content…
Still, Stolas managed to speak through the haze.
“B-but… it was wrong to make you feel like…” He swallowed, eyes flicking down. “Like taking care of me was your job.”
Blitz gently tapped Stolas's arm. “Aw. But I want to, Stolas."
“But I don’t deserve—”
Blitz reached out and gently grabbed his hand, cutting him off with a touch.
“You wanna know what I want?” he asked, voice low and full of a quiet fierceness. “I want to take care of you. M’kay? I want to be your someone.”
He searched Stolas’s face, steady and sure. “Do you want that?”
Stolas’s breath caught when he looked in his eyes. His posture stiffened, a shiver running up his spine. His voice trembled when he spoke.
“…I want that too.”
A pause. Blitz smiled, so warm and soft.
“So, we’re good?”
“Mhm,” Stolas murmured.
There was a beat of quiet, and then Stolas’s voice returned — soft, full of something so tender it made Blitz’s chest ache.
“I believe you. That you chose to be with me.”
Blitz blinked, lips parting slightly, unsure if he was supposed to respond. But Stolas kept going.
“You’re so strong,” the erstwhile prince breathed, eyes full of quiet awe. “Such a bright, free spirit. I really do admire that about you.”
He looked down, sounding remorseful.
“And I’m sorry. If I ever made it sound like I pitied you. Or made you feel lesser than.” He shook his head slowly, eyes glimmering. “I don’t want to look down on you. I never did. But I made you feel that way…”
Before Blitz could speak, Stolas shifted — rising from the couch only to kneel in front of him, somehow, even with his size, looking so delicate, vulnerable and small. Blitz stiffened, his breath caught in his throat as the owl demon looked up at him with such gentle reverence that it made his pulse skip.
“But Blitz…” Stolas’s voice was velvet, low and earnest. “You have to know you have value. Not because of what you can do. Not because of what you can give.”
He looked up, eyes shining.
“You’re such a good father. And a good friend — always looking out for Millie and Moxxie, standing by them, even now, during the pregnancy.”
Blitz’s eyes dart around. He doesn't know how to take this.
“And you take care of me,” Stolas continued, voice faltering slightly with emotion. “You opened your home. You didn’t ask questions. You just let me stay.”
Blitz swallowed hard. “Of course I had to let you stay,” he said hoarsely. “You… you saved my life.”
For a moment, they just stared at each other. Then Stolas lifted his hands, slow and deliberate, and cupped Blitz’s face. The gesture was so gentle, so pure, that Blitz didn’t know what to do.
Mama, I was having the worst dream…
Are you alright? Mm, good…
Blitz's breath hitched, and his lashes fluttered as he blinked down at Stolas with wide, vulnerable eyes. And he glanced at Stolas's beak.
“And I’d do it again, dearest,” Stolas whispered. His thumb brushed against Blitz’s cheek, soft and reverent. “You have a good heart. We all love you for it.”
His voice trembled slightly, not with fear, but with quiet urgency. He leans forward, his breath gentle against Blitz's cheek.
“I just wish… you’d believe that. That… you’d believe me when I tell you that.”
Blitz opened his mouth — tried to respond. But nothing came out.
His face twisted, trembling, and then crumpled entirely. His throat closed up, breath catching. The emotion hit him too hard, too fast, and all he could do was melt into Stolas’s touch. He slumped forward without a word, collapsing into the warmth of Stolas's arms.
Stolas caught him instantly, holding Blitz close to him, longing to hear his voice.
A long stillness passed. The only sound was their breathing.
Then, in a whisper so soft it could’ve been mistaken for the wind, Blitz spoke.
“I’m not used to… this.”
Stolas let out a wet laugh and rested his cheek gently against Blitz’s horn. He closed his eyes and exhaled — a deep, steadying sigh that felt like releasing years of tension all at once.
“I know, sweetheart,” he murmured. “I’m sorry.”
Blitz’s hand reached out, searching for Stolas's hand. They both looked down, watching as their hands threaded together, perfectly interlocking.
"Your hands are so pretty," Blitz muttered. "I love them. Daintly little prince hands." He pressed a kiss to Stolas's knuckle.
Stolas giggled, cheeks flushing a pretty pink at the reverent touch. "Oh, I love yours too." He pulled their intertwined hands close to his heart, and held them there, where they belonged.
Blitz let out a shaky breath and looked toward the balcony. Stolas followed his gaze.
Outside, the full moon hung high in the scarlet sky, glowing with a soft, golden light that spilled across the floor in long ribbons. It was huge — swollen and luminous, framed by slow-drifting clouds that glowed faintly at their edges like they’d been kissed by magic.
“Stolas?” Blitz said quietly. “I’m sorry…”
"I know, my love. I've already forgiven you."