When Stolas awoke, before he even rolled over, he assumed that Blitzo would be long gone. He always left, whether it be right after a night of passion or after the prince fell asleep. It hurt somewhat, but he understood that Blitzo liked his space. To his surprise, Stolas found that when he did indeed turn over, his beloved imp was still there.

The only thing Stolas could think was, he stayed. Were they perhaps . . . making ground?

There was no use denying his feelings any longer. Stolas liked Blitzo. A lot. They way the imp carried himself with confidence, his obsession with horses, the way he wasn't afraid to talk to Stolas like he wasn't royalty. Ever since that first meeting, Stolas had been intrigued. That intrigue slowly grew. Was it love? An infatuation? He didn't know exactly. And he had no idea how to love someone. His marriage, being arranged, was not representative of love and never had been. But he did know that he wanted to keep Blitzo in his life.

"Mm, Stol'?"

Stolas realized he'd been staring at the sleeping imp for the past few minutes. Now, Blitzo was groggily waking up and seemed somewhat puzzled that eyes were on him.

"Good morning, Blitzy," Stolas said warmly. He propped himself up on an elbow. "Sleep well?"

"Yeah, actually. It . . . was the first night without a bad dream," Blitzo admitted quietly.

"About what happened?"

Blitzo nodded.

"I'm glad being here helped you," Stolas said genuinely. "You know, you're always welcome to stay."

"R-right."

Stolas cocked his head. "Is there something wrong?"

Blitzo sighed, glancing down. He drew circles in the sheets with a claw, avoiding Stolas' eyes.

"It's just . . . I dunno. You and me," Blitzo murmured.

Stolas' heart fluttered. "What about us?"

"I-I don't know. You act like you want me to, like, do that: stay. I don't get why." Blitzo flopped onto his back. "No one else ever wants me to stay."

"Well, lucky for you, I'm not just anyone else." Stolas smiled and shifted closer to the imp, setting a hand on his chest.

"But why? Why aren't you? The sex is good, don't get me wrong, but . . . I'm just a little fucking asshole. A charming one, maybe. But not good enough for anyone. Haven't been my whole fucking life. And now I'm just supposed to believe you give a shit?" Blitzo's tone took on a touch of anger and despair. He kept his eyes on the ceiling, ignoring the hand now digging into his chest. "And why . . . why am I starting to believe you do?" Blitzo finally let his head roll to the side and captured Stolas' eyes in his own. The two stared at each other for a long moment.

When Stolas finally found his voice, he said, "Because I do care, Blitzy. I care about you. Even if you don't believe it, not truly; it's not just about the sex. And it can't be for you either because you came to me last night of your own volition, right?"

Blitzo's mouth opened and closed twice as he fought to say something. He was evidently struggling to respond.

"I . . . I don't fucking know," Blitzo whispered. "I've gotten so used to being unwanted. D-doesn't mean anything." He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply, raggedly, as if he were on the verge of tears.

"You're not unwanted," Stolas said matter-of-factly. He leaned over and kissed Blitzo on the mouth. There was a brief moment where it was one-sided, but eventually Blitzo gave in and reciprocated, pushing just slightly back into Stolas' beak. When they broke apart, they found their eyes locked together, wide and unblinking.

"I . . . I should probably get up," Blitzo said, breaking the silence first. He tore his eyes away from Stolas and pushed himself up on his hands. "Those humans aren't gonna off themselves."

Stolas recoiled at the shift, but not in a bad way. His heart was racing; there were butterflies in his stomach. He watched Blitzo clamber out of the bed and to his feet.

"Why, yes, your workers probably expect you back, don't they?" Stolas asked, mostly to himself.

"Yeah, probs. I mean, I've probably missed today's meeting, though. But we have a job tomorrow I need to get ready for."

"Would you like me to open a portal for you?"

"I-It's fine. I can walk." Blitzo perched on the end of the bed and tugged his boots on.

"Blitzy—"

"I said it's fine! Just . . . just let me go, okay?"

Stolas gazed after Blitzo with confused eyes. The imp threw his coat on as he whisked toward the balcony.

"You'll . . . be available for our call tomorrow, yes?" the prince asked hesitantly. Blitzo didn't turn around; he merely shrugged before jumping over the railing into the garden below.

Stolas fell backwards into bed, his head spinning. Did I do something wrong? Was I too forward?

The prince shoved a pillow over his face and groaned loudly and pathetically into it. Love was so hard.

Blitzo mentally berated himself all the way back to I.M.P. Fuck, why had he even gone to Stolas in the first place? Because of nightmares? What a fucking baby! He'd let his guard down and let himself believe he was wanted for just one second—

There was no way Stolas was serious. There was no way Stolas wanted him for anything besides the sex.

Right?

Fuck! Stop, you're just gonna let yourself get hurt. Don't let anyone in. Life is easier without romance, love, relationships—

Blitzo was half a second away from throwing himself off a bridge with the way his mind was racing. He dug his claws into the palms of his hands until they pricked his skin. The needles of pain became his focus instead of his racing thoughts about last night.

Blitzo stormed into his work building and was about to stomp up the stairs when he forcefully stopped himself. No, it wouldn't do to barge in like a psycho and make everyone wonder what the fuck was wrong with him this time. He didn't want anymore attention right now. So, taking a deep breath, Blitzo calmed himself down. His heart was pounding obnoxiously loud, knocking against his ribcage.

You're the boss. You're fucking fine, dude, Blitzo told himself. He took one more practiced breath before returning to work.

Blitzo felt his phone buzz again. He ignored it just like every other time. He didn't want to talk to Stolas. Talking to Stolas meant addressing the elephant in the room, and he just couldn't do that right now.

Blitzo sighed when the buzzing stopped, indicating he'd missed a call. It didn't feel right, ignoring Stolas' calls and texts, but he didn't want to face the music. He'd been making himself scarce for the past month, rarely taking calls and avoiding Stolas anywhere besides their Voxtagrams. Yeah, he'd replied and commented snarkily on a few of the owl's posts (like the accidental nude Stolas had uploaded there instead of sending it privately to Blitzo), but their other interactions had been limited lately.

Blitzo knew he was being difficult. He knew Stolas wanted to talk to him. But Stolas made him feel things that weren't just straight anger or lust.

Stalking and hounding Millie and Moxxie? Sure, why not. They tolerated him (sometimes), but they worked for him, so he could do what he pleased. Were they friends? . . . Blitzo wished he could say for sure. He'd gone on trips with them, had movie nights where they were all snuggled up on the couple's couch, and Moxxie had been the one to send Spindle to save him. Were these signs of friendship or were they merely keeping him happy to not get fired?

Stolas . . . Stolas was a different matter entirely. While Blitzo lusted casually over Millie and Moxxie's relationship—wishing he had a bond like that with someone—the imp couldn't deny what he felt with Stolas was beyond what one would consider friendship. After all, friends didn't typically kiss, fuck, or turn their partner's vibrator on in public. Friends with benefits, perhaps?

But did mere fuck buddies say things so intimate to each other?

Stay for a few hours?

I'd like to get to know you better.

I care about you.

You're safe here, with me.

You're not unwanted.

Blitzo grabbed his head viciously with his hands, claws sticking into his skin. He resisted the urge to rip them down his face and instead forced his arms down. He struggled to breathe as he bent at the waist and hugged his stomach, nose to his thighs.

Fuck, fuck, stop! Fucking stop! Stolas doesn't fucking love—

Blitzo yanked his head out of his legs when there was a knock at his office door. Moxxie's voice sounded from the other side.

"Sir? The client is here!"

Blitzo dragged in a ragged breath, teeth bared in a soundless snarl.

Cool and composed.

"Send 'em in!"

Stolas sighed as he descended into his bathtub. His tense muscles relaxed at the warmth of the water, the additives he'd chosen soaking deep into his feathers with the subtle scent of lilac. Bubbles floated around him and concealed his lithe body below the surface. The bathroom glowed with hues of blue and purple, star signs shimmering on the floor and in the air. Lit candles perched along the rim of the tub.

He'd been . . . stressed lately, and a nice bubble bath was the perfect way to remedy that. It was also the best way to get himself loose enough for his plans.

Blitzo had been ignoring him lately. Since that night, which they'd never spoken about, he had been incredibly difficult to get ahold of. And what conversations they did have were filled with Blitzo's hardheadedness from before they'd gotten more intimate. It was driving Stolas mad. So, despite the stubbornness of the tenacious little imp, Stolas had concocted a plan to enable them to spend more time together once again.

Stolas would take the Grimoire for one night a month in exchange for Blitzo's time (dick), and he would allow the imp to keep the book the rest of the time. It wasn't a lie that Stolas needed the Grimoire to do his personal duties, but such a transactional exchange was less personal. However, with Blitzo being difficult, the prince figured this was the next best way in order to get time with his little lover. Then, once he had Blitzo in his bed, they'd kiss and make up.

So, without further ado, Stolas summoned his rotary phone and called Blitzo.

Blitzo staggered into his apartment. Loona followed behind him, carrying their dinner for the night.

"Where are you going? I'm not waiting for you to eat," Loona said as Blitzo dragged his feet along the hallway's dingy carpet.

"Save me a plate, Loonie," the imp muttered tiredly, "going to bed."

Loona raised an eyebrow, her tail flicking behind her. "Uh, okay?"

Blitzo stumbled into his room. His arm still throbbed with pain from the night's partly botched mission. The sling wrapped over his shoulder was uncomfortable. But those were nothing compared to the ache in his heart.

What if we worked out some kind of exchange? Favors for favors?

Stolas was a liar; he had been using him for sex. He'd let the prince in, nearly had Blitzo convinced he actually cared, and BAM! he could keep the Grimoire only in exchange for a fuck.

Why did I ever let myself believe he cared about anything besides my fucking dick? Idiot, the imp thought bitterly.

Blitzo flopped onto his bed and stared up at the ceiling. A pressure built behind his eyes as he gazed into the darkness.

It's your own fault, you stupid bastard. You're unwanted and you know it. Why can't you just accept it?

Blitzo's breathing stuttered as tears ran down his temples and into the fabric of his bedsheets. He refused to acknowledge that he was crying, however, even as a soft hiccup worked its way out of his throat.

Useless piece of shit. Only thing you've ever been good for is others' entertainment.

Blitzo closed his eyes and saw Stolas hovering over him, poised to plant a kiss on his head.

You are unlovable.

Blitzo cried silently into the dark room.