* Reviews and constructive criticism are always welcomed.

The Circus Tent – Part 2

Fizz stalled at the entrance of the club, eyes wide and utterly intrigued. Though the majority of the walls were clearly made of some sort of granite, the rest of the building, especially the upper story, looked like extravagant canvas and tarps. There were also florescent lights strung up. And the entrance itself comprised of huge tent flaps.

It was a circus tent. A giant, awesome, tastefully pink circus tent.

A smile lit up Fizz's face. It was simply stunning. Whoever this Ozzie was, Fizz absolutely needed to compliment him on his cultured tastes.

At the very top of the tent, above the center pole, there was some sort of name or title, a bit longer than the one posted above the entrance. He couldn't see it well. All the lights were out, having just closed for the night. The tent flaps were sealed shut. There was a protective door directly behind them, and Fizz gave a loud echoing knock. He wanted it to be loud because he wasn't sure if anyone would even be able to hear him. They could be anywhere inside with how gigantic this place was.

Still, he waited patiently, making idle clacking noises through his teeth and tapping a finger against the side of his thigh.

It was still weird, being able to control his metal parts simply with his mind and muscle memory, even though he couldn't really feel them. Well, he wasn't sure if that was entirely how it worked. No one ever explained it in depth to him. But it felt like some crazy telekinesis magic, and he wouldn't let anyone tell him otherwise. Why take the fun out of the mystery?

He raised his fist to knock again when one of the tent flaps swished open.

He gulped, and his shoulders hunched. Fizz wasn't exactly the smallest imp in Hell, but he sure as hell wasn't the tallest. Especially in the presence of a wolf-like hellhound security guard. The guard was at least a foot and a half taller than him, wore leather pants, a vest, and fingerless gloves. The gloves had metal rivets on each knuckle. And his muscles were fit for this kind of job.

The hellhound raised a brow. "It's afterhours," he said calmly. "Come back tomorrow evening."

"Uh," Fizz started anxiously. "I came to talk to Ozzie himself. He should be expecting me, I think."

The eyebrow didn't lower. "Would he recognize your name?"

Fizz didn't exactly have an answer for that. Mammon had texted him a specific hour to be there, and he was even early. But he didn't know if his boss ever told the club's owner he was even coming. Mammon was never that thorough with this kind of thing, especially because there was probably no money in it for him.

"I…don't think so," Fizz answered. "But I'm here to pick up a folder of blueprints, for the King of Greed."

The brow instantly lowered, and the guard's eyes widened a little. "Oh. Well, in that case, let me ask Ozzie if he was waiting on you. Wait here."

The tent flap closed, leaving Fizz alone. He tilted his head contemplatively. The guard spoke rather neutrally, with an occasional tone of casual. Despite his occupation, he didn't aim to frighten or intimidate Fizz. The guard seemed rather comfortable here.

The guard came back. "It's all good," he assured Fizz, and he held the tent flap aside. "Come on in."

The hellhound was so tall that Fizz didn't even have to duck beneath the flap to walk inside. Beyond the foyer and host stand, the guard led Fizz to the center of the club.

Fizz gave a low impressed whistle. It didn't quite look like the inside of a circus tent, which was a little disappointing. And at first glance, it didn't even seem all that lustful. Everything was lavish and not a hair out of place. Tables were dotted around the stage. It seemed just like any other upper-crust club in Hell. But then Fizz saw the shiny poles and dancing cages.

He smirked amusedly at it all. He liked this place. The low lights, expansive stage, and the outside as a wow-factor easily felt welcoming to him.

The guard gestured to a table for Fizz to take a seat. "Ozzie was doing some paperwork, last I checked," he explained. "But he'll be with you shortly. He wasn't expecting you so soon."

"No worries," Fizz said. He placed his hand on the heart-shaped seatback, but didn't sit down. "I can wait."

The guard merely nodded, crossed his arms behind his back in order to flex his muscular shoulders, and quietly walked away.

Fizz still didn't sit down, because something on the floor of the stage caught his eye. His brows came together as he got a closer look. "What the fuck…"

His eyes widened and he took an astonished step back. Etched onto the floor, with a light pink glow, was a large circular sigil. There were lines all throughout its center. A mark of one of the Deadly Sins. Bordering these lines was the owner's name.

Asmodeus.

The King of Lust. And ruler of this ring.

The club that Fizz was currently in was owned by a Deadly Sin. And he didn't have time at all to process this.

"You must be Fizzarolli."

It was such an ordinary sentence, and yet it was said with a voice that was warm and suave, sounding like pure honey. Fizz spun around, and he leaned against the edge of the stage trying to appear casual, but that was hard to do. Fizz had only ever caught a glimpse of this sin in a few sex toy commercials, although his crummy static-y TV obviously didn't do him justice.

The larger demon confidently approached, his head held high. He had plumes of long elegant feathers arcing behind him, and a few atop his head. His mane was equally elegant, deliberately coiffed in a way that looked very classy. Within the mane were two little faces depicting a ram and a bull. At the center was Asmodeus' physical head. His eyes and mouth glowed a pleasing gold-green. Hell, even his sharp suit nearly glowed. To Fizz, he was incredibly regal.

Fizz was fascinated, but he supposed the sin's overall appearance made sense. Being the King of Lust, it probably took little to no effort for his appearance alone to draw others in. Either sexually, or just plain intriguing.

Fascinated by his appearance, yes. But it was Asmodeus' voice that got his attention first. Fizz had never heard another like it. Aside from its cadence, there was also that warmth, almost cozy and – Fizz just mentally described the King of Lust's voice as cozy. And he was willing to bet that he was the only demon who ever had. He could've described him as sexy and alluring, but he had to go for something so damn sappy.

He thanked whatever gods there were that not many demons could read minds. He shook his head rapidly, trying to ignore the way his face suddenly felt hot. "Uh, yes, sir," Fizz greeted. "And you must be Ozzie. Er, Asmodeus?"

Fizz realized he extended his hand, and he stared at his own limb in exasperation. Who the fuck shakes hands with one of the oldest demons in existence? Although, Fizz often never knew how to approach royals to begin with. Not like he'd ever seen anyone in Hell bow to any of them. Clowns bowed to a cheering audience, sure. But for this, it would just feel awkward. He never even bowed to Mammon, his idol.

But before Fizz could drop his hand, Asmodeus took it. Fizz's hand was miniscule in comparison, and while it disappeared into the other's palm, the touch was surprisingly gentle.

"Ozzie's fine, and 'sir' is far too formal. It's nice to finally meet you," Ozzie said as they let go. "Mammon said you'd be coming. If I had known you would be here early, I would've been a lot more prepared."

Fizz chuckled lamely. "I could, uh, always come back. Make it look like I totally knew to come right on time. Or maybe even be fashionably late." He shrugged at Ozzie with a slight smirk. "Totally up to you, though."

Ozzie chuckled a little as well. Fizz's face still felt warm. Damn that insanely attractive voice.

Fizz finally pushed away from the stage, not feeling the need to use it for support anymore.

"No need to leave and come back," Ozzie shook his head. "You're here now. I'm the one who needs to get organized." Ozzie pulled out a chair from another table and looked encouragingly at Fizz. "Make yourself comfortable." He paused, his smile slipping ever so slightly. "You look like you've had a rough night. If you like, I can offer some wine to perk you up."

Reflexively and almost too quickly, Fizz waved a dismissive hand. "Pfft," he uttered as smoothly as possible. "Just another work night. A bit of overtime. And I'm good. Not thirsty." That last part was a bit of a lie. Ozzie seemed alright, but Fizz learned ages ago, even before the circus fire, that taking offered drinks from random demons had the potential to…not end well. Thankfully, due to his – former – best friend stepping in, nothing bad had happened, but Fizz didn't have that luxury anymore.

He looked after himself now.

Ozzie only nodded and stepped away. "Suit yourself," he said, but not unkindly. "But don't be afraid to make yourself at home. Any welcomed guest that comes through my club always deserves a seat. I might be a few minutes while I gather everything for you." Ozzie walked away, the sway of his beautiful tail feathers giving him a natural strut as he disappeared backstage.

Once again, Fizz was left alone. And instantly bored. He should feel more tired than anything, but he was in the middle of the fanciest circus tent he'd ever seen. He was itching to do something.

As he looked around for a distraction, Fizz realized something. Ozzie had called Fizz a welcomed guest, and what drove that point home was where Fizz currently was. Ozzie had sat him at the table closest to the stage. From this angle, he had a wonderfully panoramic view of everything on it. The poles, the platforms, the entire stage.

And what a beautiful stage it was. The lights surrounding it would accentuate any performer perfectly. A welcomed guest in a surprisingly welcoming setting. And in the Lust ring no less. Who would've thought?

Fizz smirked, drumming his fingers impatiently against the top of the table, eyes fixated on the stage that all but beckoned to him. Given that Mammon and Asmodeus had some sort of personal beef, Fizz doubted he would work in Lust all that often.

Even though there was no audience, when would he ever get this opportunity again?

No matter how tired or achy he currently felt, he stood up. In a welcomed burst of energy, he did a handstand on the table, kicked his feet upwards to launch himself into the air, and landed on the stage, right behind the microphone. It was a heavy landing, not as graceful as he would like, but at least it was precise. He gripped the microphone, snickering at how suggestive it looked, and he opened his mouth. The sound system wasn't on, obviously, but that didn't stop his voice from becoming larger than life.

"Welcome one and all to Ozzie's," he exuberantly greeted, blatantly ignoring how overly-gravelly he sounded tonight. "Proudly owned by Asmodeus himself - " He twitched his eyebrows and smirked widely. " – Almost as much as you thirsty folks wanna be owned by him. And hosted by yours truly." He placed his fingers on his chest and bowed dramatically, ignoring a random jolt from his hip. Soon, though, the day's exhaustion temporarily began to melt away.

He straightened up and slicked back the tails of his hat. "Sorry to tease, you know the rules. Can look, can't touch. But we'll make up for it, don't worry, because we got one hell of a night tonight. All of our acts are heart-stopping, heart-breaking, and heart-racing." At some point, as he strutted easily around the stage, his smirk turned absolutely devilish, eyes deliberately half-lidded in order to get the crowd hyped.

"Let's start this evening with something very much needed," he continued. "Our opener is an up-and-coming band, The Thirst Quenchers. But if anything, they'll leave you wanting another taste."

He improv-ed another couple random acts, all of which didn't even exist, but he was having too much fun.

He snickered to himself, and noticed one of the stages main dancing poles. Grinning mischievously, he flicked both of his legs out and latched the back of his knees to the pole. Bending backwards, he nodded at an empty table. "And over there, for our intermission, a couple of sexy sirens wait patiently to serenade."

With a dramatic grunt, he grabbed the pole with both hands, kicked his legs in a controlled arc, and flipped back onto the stage. "Now, as a bonus, if you're lucky enough, the King will grace all of you with his presence. And a strip tease. That's right, ladies and gents. The club's owner, the big cock himself! So hold your bows until the end, don't bend over for him just yet. Because we have plenty more before that." He bowed again, and his voice took on a comically professional tone. "I'm your humble host, Fizzarolli, and I approve this debauchery."

He ended on a carefree cackle, not only to entertain the invisible audience, but also delighted to have blown off some steam and to let go of his filter completely. Every job he'd performed at had its own sets of rules as to how employees conducted themselves. Despite their location, certain reputations had to be maintained. So to get the opportunity to go unbridled and balls to the wall was so damn refreshing.

His breath hitched sharply when he heard papers and other objects shuffle loudly. But what was most audible was loud and rapid clapping. Fizz's eyes widened as Ozzie approached the stage. For reasons Fizz couldn't fathom right then, his green eyes and large smile were absolutely elated.

"Now that," Ozzie exclaimed. "is exactly what I've been looking for!"

Fizz put the mic back on the stand and sat down on the edge of the stage, letting his feet dangle. He scratched the back of his neck sheepishly. "I take it you heard some of that."

"Some of it? I heard every word! And I'm absolutely glad I did. Wonderful improv skills. Fearless and sassy is exactly what this place needs. Do you think you can keep this up?"

Head spinning a little from the sudden compliments, Fizz shook his head slightly. "Um, okay, but…Wait, what exactly do you need from me?"

Ozzie gestured vaguely at the club. "I need another emcee here, a couple nights a week. Full time. One of our previous ones just retired. I've yet to fill their slot, and you just did that effortlessly!"

Fizz's eyes widened. "You're," he breathed. "offering me a job here?"

Ozzie nodded once, firmly. "It's yours if you want it."

Sins didn't go offering jobs left and right, much less to those on the lower rungs. When they were offered, it was often labor. And even when the job wasn't strenuous, a chance to work for them had to be earned. This certainly didn't sound strenuous. In Fizz's opinion, he barely did anything other than goof off on stage and run his mouth a little. And here was the King of Lust, more than eager to give him what many imps would consider to be the rarest of opportunities.

This sounded like a steady job and income, and maybe a more predictable schedule. Fizz took a look around, until he glanced behind him at the empty stage just begging for his appearance again.

Then, he eyed the poles and dancing cages, and envisioned an actual audience.

Fizz's frown was more of a cringe that he tried to hide. He felt free just moments ago, but reality wasn't always kind to him. Who's to say what an actual audience might do, especially in this particular setting, in this particular ring.

The urge to curl his tail protectively around his ankles was a struggle to tamp down.

"So," Fizz started, getting straight to the point. "Just an emcee. I don't have to…strip down or lap dance or anything."

Ozzie's expression was an odd one. It was a professional half-smile, and a tilt of the head. It seemed like he was scrutinizing Fizz a little. To be fair, this was a lust club, so Fizz's concerned statement might seem odd.

However, Ozzie neither questioned him, mocked him, nor brushed him off. Instead, he said, "This isn't that kind of club. The stage is for the performers, and the floor is for the guests. It's all eye candy. A visual feast for the senses. Nothing more. I do encourage anyone on my payroll to show some skin, but I never make it a requirement. I'll never force anyone to cross their own lines."

Fizz only blinked, feeling like it was too good to be true.

The circus, before it burned down, was his domain. It wasn't being the star of that circus that encouraged him. It was simply being in the arena, with the props and wires and trapezes, the endless opportunities to do as he pleased. It was the freedom, and sheer pleasure and fun. And tonight, moments ago, he felt that exhilaration coursing through his being in a rush.

But his jaw was still tense.

He didn't know Ozzie. He didn't know how he ran his domain. On top of it all, Fizz had met too many demons with silver tongues, empty promises, and wandering hands. Past experiences told him to be wary.

But his gut and logic told him that Ozzie was being genuine. The King's smiles had been relaxed and welcoming, his posture always at ease and in no sense of hurry. Not only did Fizz realize that he hadn't been intimidated or cornered once by him tonight, Ozzie also continued to unintentionally reassure him.

"How about this," Ozzie suddenly said calmly, but nevertheless making Fizz snap his gaze to him. The sin's head was tilted as he curiously gazed down at him. "Why don't you think on it? No decision has to be made now."

Fizz pursed his lips, and his voice was cautious. "And if I turn it down?"

Ozzie sighed. His smile nearly disappeared. "Then it will be one hell of a loss for me."

No other comment. No coercion. No manipulation. Ozzie sounded genuinely disappointed if that were to be the case. Fizz blinked again, and he allowed his shoulders to gradually relax. All of this felt…so different to him.

Just as he was wondering what he should do, he spied a table piled high with a folder and two large boxes. Wanting a change of subject to temporarily stop his internal conflict, he pointed at it all. "Are those Mammon's blueprints?"

Ozzie nodded. "In that folder. But before I send you on your way, I need to ask you something."

He sat down on a chair, crossed his legs, and placed his hands on his knees. Given that the dining area was designed for imps and other demons much smaller than Ozzie, the chair was comically small for him. And yet, he sat in it as effortlessly as possible, his tail feathers curling elegantly around the side of the seatback.

Ozzie gestured to Fizz. "How are those prosthetics treating you?"

At the risk of smearing what remained of his makeup, Fizz nearly slapped his hand over his face. He should've brought up the limbs as soon as he met Ozzie, in order to thank him properly.

"Does anything not feel right," Ozzie continued to ask.

Well, the chafing and random jolts were quite the problem. But Fizz didn't want to seem ungrateful at all. Especially now. "No, I mean, only barely," Fizz said quickly. "They've been really great. I don't know where I'd be without them." And he hoped that would be enough and that the matter would be dropped.

But Ozzie had more to say. "Need any upgrades? Tune-ups?"

Fizz was already familiar with tune-ups. He had bought a special toolkit for it all almost two years ago. His limbs had certainly seen better days, but he dealt with glitches, short-circuits, and breaks the best he could. And Fizz didn't know what Ozzie meant by upgrades. What else could these old limbs even be capable of?

So, Fizz shook his head, trying to assure the sin the best he could. "Nope. Everything runs well still. Nothing has to be done."

Ozzie smirked amusedly at him, raised a brow, and leaned forward. They were nearly eye level now. "You're lying."

Fizz instantly frowned. Normally he was a much better actor than this. He couldn't be convinced that the sin's welcoming persona would be the culprit, so he blamed it on minor sleep deprivation and this being the longest evening of his life.

Fizz shook his head in protest. "Okay, look. It's not a big deal-"

"Not a big deal," Ozzie echoed, almost incredulous. "I'll be the judge of that." There was a challenge in his voice, one that had Fizz tilting his head, more curious than uneasy. "You do realize it's been a couple years since Mammon asked me to make another set for you. From the research I've done, that's way too long of a wait."

"You…did research? Why?"

"I'm the one manufacturing your limbs, aren't I? Why wouldn't I?"

Fizz didn't have an answer to that, at all. The sin spoke so plainly, as if everything was a no-brainer in his eyes. It was incredible, and disarming. Incredibly disarming.

"Now," Ozzie continued. "A tune-up isn't necessary for what I have in mind, but I would at least like to see how they've held up after all this time. It gives me an idea on any future improvements." Ozzie moved the chair closer, until he and Fizz were inches apart. Fizz's heart stuttered at the proximity, but not out of anxiety. None at all. "May I see," Ozzie asked, his large, muscular hands hovering over a thin cybernetic arm.

Normally, Fizz would have hugged his own shoulders, a reflex of discomfort that he was expecting. And yet he didn't feel the urge whatsoever. Ozzie had stopped, hands still hovering. His eyes were locked on Fizz's face, patiently waiting.

With an exhale to ease the last of the tension, Fizz understood that Ozzie would either wait hours, or drop the matter entirely. He wasn't moving a muscle, and he was the one who designed this arm.

In response, Fizz nodded and rolled up the sleeve.

Ozzie followed Fizz's movements. Immediately, his jaw dropped a little, the corners of his mouth curving downwards in astonishment. Delicately, contradicting the expanse of rippling muscles in his arms, Ozzie lifted Fizz's arm to get a better look.

Fizz usually loathed the very thought of someone touching his prosthetics, or anywhere in general. He either expected the pain of being grabbed and manhandled, or dreaded the thought of someone breaking them. While he watched Ozzie closely, it wasn't with apprehension.

He had no reason to think for even a second that Ozzie would cause him pain. He would ruminate on that observation later, though.

At Ozzie's solemn scrutiny of the arm, Fizz finally had to really look at his prosthetics through another person's eyes. And what an eye-opener it was for him. Truthfully, his limbs were an absolute mess. Dents, scuffs, and exposed wires patched in layers of electrical tape. Even the four connector plates imbedded in his body had seen better days.

But Fizz had to reason to himself that they still worked. Clunky and stiff at times, and his shoulders and hips could really use a chiropractor, but they worked nonetheless. They got him from Point A to Point B. What else was there to be done?

After many seconds, Ozzie huffed, and his brows were together concernedly. "Well. This won't do at all. Do the others look the same?"

Fizz relented and exhaled harshly. "Yes. But it's nothing I can't handle. It's nothing you need to worry about."

Ozzie looked closely at some undone electrical tape, exposing some torn wires. "…Have these been electrocuting you?" Although, it didn't sound quite like a question, and that was because Fizz knew that Ozzie already knew the answer.

Fizz cringed tiredly, but the expression wasn't directed at Ozzie. It was aggravation, towards himself. The occasional malfunctioning of his limbs was something he struggled to get a handle on. They were his prosthetics, and he should be able to handle them on his own. A Deadly Sin shouldn't have to do anything for him. But Fizz couldn't always stop the zaps and jolts, no matter what he did.

Ozzie looked carefully at Fizz's face, and Fizz glanced away.

Ozzie shook his head slowly, and the concerned expression didn't leave his face. His voice was low and soft. "Why did you not ask for replacements way sooner than this?"

Fizz huffed. "I gotta go through Mammon for that. He's often busy, so I only bother him with important things."

Ozzie let go of his arm and snarled low under his breath. Fizz would have assumed his frustration would be towards him, but Ozzie wasn't even looking at him. Fizz stared questioningly at him.

Ozzie was muttering to himself. "…that selfish fucking…" Then, he looked at Fizz's arm again. "We need to get these off. Now. You've had 'em for too long and they're doing you no good now. Not to mention they're incredibly outdated." The sigh and look he gave Fizz was deeply apologetic, and it baffled Fizz. "Not my best work, and I'm sorry about that, but it was all I came up with at the time." He stood up. "Since then, though, I've had plenty of time to make something better for you." He approached the other table to collect two boxes from it, one rectangular and the other square. "I'm hoping you'll find the newest set to your liking."

Fizz's head was spinning again. Aside from the fact that this Deadly Sin seemed to have some healthy humility and grace, he also seemed to…prioritize the prosthetics. For whatever reason, he deemed them to be important. Obviously they were important to Fizz, but his priorities fluctuated constantly. Tonight was a work night, and getting very late. Certain things needed to be on the backburner.

Asmodeus didn't get that memo. This in turn brought a jarring change of pace to Fizz's current mindset today. He came here to pick something up for Mammon. And now here they were, focusing completely on a necessity that Fizz couldn't live without.

Fizz stared at the floor, exhaling deeply. A bit of static made his shoulder twitch on its own.

He should've gotten his limbs replaced ages ago.

Ozzie set the boxes down on the stage, next to Fizz. Fizz raised a brow, instantly recognizing what was surely in the rectangular leather case. "You actually have another set here," he asked.

Ozzie shrugged. "I planned ahead. Mammon told me you were the one picking up the blueprints, so it was the perfect opportunity." His smirk was a proud one. "I'm also happy to announce that these ones have a special feature, but it'll be a surprise. For now…" He opened up the square box, revealing multiple sets of tools that clearly were used, but not abused. In fact, aside from some normal wear, every file, screwdriver, and chisel looked almost pristine. "…Let's get these old limbs off," Ozzie said.

He reached for Fizz's shoulder, and only touched when Fizz nodded once at him. With a weak click and a whir, the arm was removed. Ozzie hummed, placing his jaw on his fist and scrutinizing the connector plate in his shoulder. He ran his thumb over the roughened surface. Fizz knew all too well how abysmal the plates also looked, equally scuffed and unevenly worn.

Ozzie brought out some sort of sandpaper, its surface almost shining like diamonds. "I'm gonna try to buff this out, smooth it down. Otherwise the new limbs won't connect the way they should. This had to have been painful."

Fizz only shrugged. "I deal with it."

Another growl from Ozzie again, one that still wasn't directed at Fizz.

The rasp of the sandpaper was a little odd. Fizz could feel the vibrations through his shoulder socket, but it wasn't unbearable. Actually, the opposite. It was so unexpectedly soothing, a painless and deep massage that reverberated through his muscles and bones. Fizz let his eyes relax, and a deep sigh escaped him. It was a sudden sound, as he was not used to what he was currently feeling.

Not a moment later, he felt something beneath his chin, tilting his head a little to get his attention. This touch was so gentle and also soothing, it made Fizz's world stop. He stared at Ozzie.

Ozzie held his gaze, his eyes intense and concerned. "If I'm hurting you, we can figure something else out."

Fizz held up a mock-stern finger. "If you stop, I will bite you."

Ozzie let out an unexpected laugh. "Promises, promises," he teased, his thumb just barely moving over the other's jaw line.

Fizz snorted. Normally, he would've been uncomfortable with the suggestiveness. Except, well, it didn't sound too suggestive at all. Ozzie's tone was light and playful, easily catching on to Fizz's own playfulness and overall mood. Now that Fizz thought about it, despite being in the presence of one of Hell's biggest sex icons and the King of this ring, not once so far did Ozzie lord himself over Fizz or come onto him.

Fizz was grateful for this. Infinitely. It was rare that he could take his time. Most people never had the patience for him, and they simply wanted to take. And here was Asmodeus, of all demons, and the sin didn't even bat an eye. Somehow, he sensed and knew where Fizz's lines were. When he was uncomfortable, when to lighten up, and when to tease.

Fizz exhaled, a sound of relief. And he couldn't help it. Smiling shyly, he leaned into the large palm against his face.

Ozzie had yet to take his hand away. Even though he needed both hands to work, his thumb continued to stroke the other's jaw. Slow, soothing, and careful. There was a perturbed smile on his face, as if he'd never touched another this affectionately before. Then, he noticed Fizz's expression, and his smile relaxed.

Somehow, with not a single word and with unexpectedly tender looks, they both eased into this peaceful silence together. And with neither wanting to look away from the other.

However, their brief eternity couldn't last forever. Desperately not wanting the moment to be ruined, whatever this wonderful moment even was, Fizz mustered as much willpower as possible to suppress a yawn.

It didn't work.

Ozzie snorted slightly, his smile turning fond. Unfortunately, knowing that he needed to get back to work, his hand slid away, slowly and almost reluctantly. And Fizz nearly tilted sideways to chase that warm touch.

As Ozzie got back to work buffing out the connector plate, Fizz noticed a gold-like glow across the sin's face. And Fizz couldn't help but wonder…if it was akin to blush. There were many myths surrounding the sins. One of the myths of the sin of Lust was that no one thought him capable of blushing or any such bashfulness. And yet Fizz could've sworn…It also could've been a trick of the low lighting, and the sin's natural glow of his eyes and mouth.

He didn't really get the chance to ponder this further, as the massage against the plate resumed. The bliss returned, his mind and body involuntarily relaxing at the careful attention.

Much to his dismay, after several more minutes, the vibrations ceased, with the metal smoothing under Ozzie's touch.

With the bliss subsiding, this brought some clarity, a question suddenly at the forefront. "Why do you care about all this," Fizz asked.

Ozzie moved on to carefully buff the metal closest to the skin, very mindful to not cause damage there. "I care because this is my craft. My art. Inventing and designing. If I'm told that something I made isn't working right or not up to par, I take that very seriously. I take pride in what I create." He paused briefly to extract a small notepad from the toolkit and handed it to Fizz. "Even all the beautifully obscene ones."

Fizz flipped through the pages with one hand, revealing little rough sketches of plugs, rotating dildos, and notes on lubricant recipes.

Ozzie's smile had faded as he put the finishing touches on the connector plate. "I'm still sorry that the first two sets caused you so many problems."

Carefully, not wanting to damage the fraying pages, Fizz placed the notepad back in the box. Apologizing twice for something out of his control was one too many, Fizz thought. So, he smirked a little.

"Don't beat yourself up," Fizz said casually. "Not like you coulda known about it." His smirk widened mischievously. "But is that what I am? Beautifully obscene?"

Ozzie laughed again, a little louder, and it made Fizz feel ridiculously light. "Babe, please," Ozzie remarked. "You're beautifully shameless."

Fizz's face felt hot again, and there was a fluttering in his belly. But he brutally ignored all of that with his own laughter.

A few moments later, Ozzie opened the leather case. Within it, Fizz could see that the metal was much sleeker than the first had ever been. They also looked a lot more even in length, which should solve some problems with his hips. Curiously, up and down each individual limb were thin circular bands. And there wasn't a single kneecap, elbow, or joint that was really visible.

Ozzie suddenly spoke. "So. How do they look?"

Fizz smiled a little. "The high heels are a classy touch."

Ozzie smiled approvingly, but then he went serious. "It is a big deal, by the way. For me, and for you."

Fizz nodded once, understanding what he meant.

Ozzie carefully picked up one of the arms, and he brought it up to the connector plate. Almost like a magnet, as opposed to a tight clasp system, the limb slid easily into place. At the hospital, the application had stung and burned. Fizz winced, expecting the same thing here. But instead of abrupt and callous, Ozzie was confident and careful. The connection was gentle. There was no burn, at all. It was a zing and a tingle that briefly stimulated his nerve endings, causing an unexpected and delighted shiver. Another sigh, one of relief, escaped him.

Fizz nearly jumped when the bands on the arm each lit up in a soft blue color.

Ozzie chuckled a little at his response. "I debated on making them pink, but I didn't know if that'd be your preference." He stepped back to give him room. "Go on. Give it a try."

Fizz wiggled the fingers and lifted up the arm. This arm was far more responsive than the last, no delay or glitch to speak of. Whatever motors that were inside felt well-oiled and far smoother. What was bizarre was how the limb moved. It didn't necessarily bend at an angle like an average joint. It curved, almost looping as Fizz brought it close to his face. Damn, that was unique.

"Once you get a feel for it, do me a favor," Ozzie said. He pointed to a far-off dining table that had a single wine glass. "Grab that glass for me. But without moving from this stage."

Fizz dropped the arm and stared at him. "Are you crazy? How?" The glass was at the other end of the club.

Ozzie smirked. "You tell me. Won't know until you try. But take your time."

Either way, he needed to get used to the new arm. So that's what Fizz did, flexing it this way and that. It was more light and pliable than he was used to. It didn't feel like he was moving any joints at all, except for the fingers. He stretched the arm outward a little, and his eyes widened at how it felt.

He…He knew there was a limit to the stretch. Logically, there had to be. But the arm felt so flexible and spry, and there was no strain.

Fizz looked at the glass. There was no way. This was insane. But a growing smirk crept onto his face.

He reached forward, leaning in that direction for some momentum.

His hand shot outward, extending all the way to the table, straight through the glass, and causing his fist to collide with the wall. Glass showered everywhere. And a crack formed on the drywall.

Fizz pressed his lips together in a thin and guilty line as he stared unblinking at the sudden carnage. Without having to think about it, he shook the excess shards off his hand, which was an incredibly new sensation given that he was on the other side of the room, by the way.

He twitched his shoulder back, and his arm reeled in like a cartoon fishing pole. He yelped, tried to duck from being smacked across the face, but he didn't need to worry. It slowed to a stop until it was back to looking like a normal arm. "Holy fucking shit," he breathed excitedly.

Ozzie was beaming exuberantly at him, not even remotely concerned about the minor property damage. "I knew they would work well for you," he exclaimed. "How does it feel? Better than the last ones?"

"Well," Fizz stated, still a little dazed. "Yeah. Way better. Thank you!" He beamed back. "This is amazing. I can't imagine how difficult these were to make."

Ozzie chuckled as he smiled proudly to himself. Also, the gold glow around his face seemed to return, but it still could've been a trick of the light. "It was my passion project at the time," he explained. "I'm glad they're finally where they need to be. Some things might need fine-tuned or adjusted. So be sure to let me know. Oh, wait."

Ozzie ripped a page out of the notepad, scribbled something down on it, and handed the page to Fizz. "Here's my number," Ozzie said. "For your limbs, I want you to go directly to me from now on. No more waiting around for Mammon. He doesn't know shit about the things I invent."

Fizz smiled gratefully and pocketed the phone number. "Thanks." He…was just given Asmodeus' number. And he felt his face heating up again, and he still didn't know why! He shyly looked away from Ozzie to try and hide it, only to once again look upon the glass and drywall. "Uh," he drawled nervously. "You can…totally take that out of my first paycheck, by the way. And the prosthetics."

Ozzie shook his head. "Nonsense. It was an accident. And the arms and legs belong to you, always have. Why the hell would I charge you?" He paused, realization lighting up his face. "Are you accepting the job offer?"

"I'd like to," Fizz said. "Hell, I could be like a court jester." He flicked a bell on his hat. "I'm already headed in that direction anyway. But…I doubt Mammon can spare me. My schedule has no rhyme or reason."

Ozzie hummed thoughtfully. "Why don't you leave Mammon to me? I've known him for -" He paused to scoff lightly, and derisively. "- way too fucking long now. And I know how to talk to him."

After Fizz gave his cell number to Ozzie, just like that, it was settled. As Ozzie applied the rest of the limbs, just as carefully and meticulously as the first, Fizz once again found himself in pure bliss. It still felt like the longest night of his life, but now he wouldn't have traded it for anything.

He walked home, all the way back to Greed, more or less pain free for the first time in a long time. And he couldn't wait to make the journey back to Lust for his first work night there. But first, he was ready to crash for a day or two.

A strong draft flitted through the holes in the green tent. It drifted through the air, pushing fruitlessly against a lanky body.

Fizz was up on the tightrope, gripping the wire with both hands, and his feet high above his head. His eyes were closed, and a wide smile took up most of his face. Then, he opened his eyes, ready for some chaos.

With a loud holler, he plunged his feet downward, only to point them back up into the air, then down again. But his legs weren't infinite, and soon his arms had to follow. In midair, he corkscrewed around the tightrope, then dropped away from it, and he allowed the fast speed to send him towards the nearest trapeze.

He grabbed onto the bar and he extended his limbs again, allowing his body to be swung like a pendulum with more momentum than he ever thought possible. He let go, flinging up into the air, until he was all but sure he was flying!

Laughter bubbled from deep within his being and echoed all around.

The bottoms of his high heels touched the ceiling of the tent, and he kicked away from it, and soon he was complying with gravity. Like white noise, the rushing wind drowned out everything, until all he could hear and feel was pure exhilaration.

The toe of a foot caught on a bar, but instead of swinging, he used the slack in his leg to gradually lower himself, until he could fall onto the safety net with a soft bounce. His laughter didn't cease for many seconds, and when it did, he was breathing deeply.

But he wasn't tired yet, not by a long shot. He'd been waiting for the perfect day to really test the limits of these limbs, and he was just getting started. He was well-rested, didn't have any gigs today, and could goof off as much as he wanted to. He'd walked into the tent with the mindset of pacing himself. But that was out the window when his own frenetic instincts told him to do the exact opposite by launching himself up into the air like a sketchy carnival ride.

And if these skinny limbs could withstand all of that, then Fizz was sure they could handle just about anything. He peered at them closely, taking in their pretty blue glow, still in disbelief that they were his.

From a wooden spectator bench, there was a loud vibration.

Fizz tried not to let the noise sour his mood. He had debated turning it off, to block out the rest of the world for the day, but if it was his boss…Well, it wouldn't exactly be a good idea to ignore him. Fizz was about to slip between one of the holes in the net before he remembered.

With a smirk, and a casual arm pillowed behind his head, he extended his other arm all the way to the bench. It still felt wild to be able to do that. The flexible and quick movements felt so intrinsically natural to him. He was still a little klutzy, as he couldn't feel the phone and he had to rapidly grab at it to prevent it from shattering on the ground, but it was still awesome!

He reeled his arm back in, and looked at the screen. It was a text, from Ozzie.

"Haven't heard from you in a few days," the first text read. And this was followed up with, "How's everything feeling? Any pain?"

Fizz couldn't help but smirk. Knowing the Embodiment of Lust would appreciate this joke, he replied, "Nah. Smooth like silks and leathers."

A second later came Ozzie's reply. "Never mind, you're beautifully shameless AND obscene."

Fizz chuckled. "That's why you hired me. Regretting your life choices?"

Another moment later, "Concerning you, I don't regret a damn thing."

Fizz was happy he was alone right now. Otherwise someone was sure to question his widening smile, and the blush blazing all over his face.

Another second later, Ozzie texted Fizz his work schedule, and they made a few tweaks to it here and there. By the end of the next week, Fizz would start his first night working at the club. And he couldn't wait.

Thank you to all who have read this story. If you choose to leave a review, please give a shout-out to my editor. He really helps me with my stories.