Christ on a stick… I hope I'll make it outside okay…

Blitz was balancing on his foot with great difficulty, while pulling up his boot. Why did he have to have two feet? And why did this question seem idiotic? He didn't want to know.

Of course, Stolas chose this moment to barge right in, and was not impressed at all. He was positively livid, and after asking the imp valet to leave them alone and ask Olivia if she could spend visit a friend for a few hours, he turned to face Blitz.

· We have to talk.

Blitz acted like he hadn't heard a word, and carried on hopping on his bare foot.

· We have to talk!

The imp paused for a moment. Something in Stolas's tone sounded dangerous.

· What is there to talk about? You wanted an excuse, you got it. Me and my sick ass are leaving you in peace. Adios.

Stolas became as black as the sky illusion he had produced barely a few seconds earlier. His eyes turned ruby red, and his humungous shape trapped Blitz in an ocean of shadow, making the imp gasp in surprise. A screech of furry resonated across the small room, but it didn't stop Stolas from hearing a smaller, pounding heart.

He came back to his regular self and swiftly caught Blitz by the back of his head. The assassin's eyes were slowly closing, showing the two thin vertical lines tattoed upon his face. Stolas kneeled and held him nearer his chest, instantly regretting his previous transformation. Blitz swallowed hard, and whispered a few words.

· Why do you always have to do that…

· Do what?

· Make me feel… So small…

Stolas froze. This was the last answer he would've guessed. He pressed a hand on Blitz's chest, checking the uneven rhythm of his breathing, before squeezing him tighter against him.

· Darling, if only you know how small I feel compared to you…

Stolas lifted Blitz in his arms and rested him upon the comforter of the guest-room bed. He double-checked the door.

Closed. Good.

He leaned on his folded leg, stretching the other one behind him, hoovering over Blitz's face, and approaching his lips little by little, before stopping over the imp's open mouth. He felt the imp's breathing getting steadier, and captured his mouth in a passionate kiss. Blitz moaned gently in Stolas's mouth, and the owl prince tilted his lover's head backwards, sliding his arms slowly on the bed. Blitz let out a muffled cry.

"Oh, Stolas…"

Stolas rarely chose to top, but when he did… He lowered his beak to nip at the shirt Blitz had just buttoned back. Before something struck him.

The IV needle was dangling from the side of the bed.

Stolas hid his face behind his open hand. How could he have forgotten so easily? After retrieving his phone from his pants pocket, he called Plague, who asked him to expect him within a few hours. Meanwhile, Blitz was stretched on the bed, his torso heaving up and down, letting out gentle whining sounds. Stolas blew down his sweaty neck, before murmuring in the imp's ear, "I'll be right back."

Stolas came back with a large peanut butter and jelly sandwich, only to find a drained Blitz lying on his side. The prince sat behind the imp's head, gently raising it towards the sandwich while caressing his cheek. Blitz opened his eyes, took a tiny bite, and chewed the first piece of food he'd eaten for a day or two. He winced at the effort required by this simple act, before taking another bite.

Stolas smiled at the sight of the smaller demon, not obeying him, as he had given no order, but at least not arguing either. Blitz ate half the sandwich in silence, before resting his head upon Stolas's lap, sighing deeply. Stolas placed the plate upon the bed table, and gently raised Blitz's head towards his, tilting it backwards, before unbuttoning the imp's shirt. Each undone button earned Stolas a small "Ah!" from his lover, until the Goetic prince couldn't hold himself back, and suckled Blitz's nipples, smothering them with attention, his tongue twisting and turning around the peeking skin over and over again.

Blitz inclined his head further back, pushing his body towards Stolas's expert mouth. Nonsensical words escaped his mouth as he tried in vain to plea Stolas for more… He grinded his teeth when the bird lowered his beak, and slid his long, pointy tongue inside Blitz's belly button, before delicately grasping the area around his groin. Blitz felt his hips bucking up, nearly hitting Stolas in the face. The owl prince grinned widely.

· You know, I could carry on further if you agreed to speak with me…

Blitz head was already spinning from the owl's palpation. That feathery bastard…

· I wish I could say I hated you, you son of a rich, but I can't…

Stolas's grin widened even more.

· Speak to me, my impish little plaything.

Blitz winced. The three last words had left a sour taste in his mouth.

· That.

· What?

· What you… Just said.

Blitz gasped. His length was still inside Stolas's grasp, and at this point, his brain was handling this perplex conversation with great difficulty. His knuckles were turning white from gripping the sides of the bed, and he was gradually losing his breath from the prince's unceasing manipulation of his sweet spot.

· Stols… We can either have this fucking conversation… Or fuck… But I can't do both!

· Oh!

Stolas blushed. Most of the time, he was under, and thus didn't quite master the art of minding his partner's needs. He eased his grip on Blitz, who groaned in disappointment.

· Satan, no…

· I don't think you're quite up to…

· Oh Christ… Christ on a stick… Will you… Will you…

· Blitz?

Blitz took a vicious bite at Stolas's shoulder, making him cry out in fear and joy. He had ached for this moment for so long… He heard the imp murmuring, his teeth sinking under the owl's skin…

· Not. Now.

Stolas's mind was racing… He had craved this moment for so long, but couldn't let his raw desire turn him away from Blitz, what he sorely needed.

What would save him.

Blitz's released Stolas, along with a low, tired blow, full of yearning. He brought Stolas nearer to him, in a tight embrace that crushed the demon owl's hand against his crotch, and barely whispered, "I need you."

So much for talking. Stolas slipped his talons down to the imp's pants and ripped them apart. He dearly hoped Blitz wouldn't talk about him ripping apart his favourite underwear. Oh, well, talons crossed!

Stolas carefully seized his lover's length, sliding his palm up, and back down, as gently as he could. He could feel Blitz's pulse, and hear his breath, both intensifying as he carried on. The imp was holding himself upon his elbows, his head facing upwards, a drop of drool running down the corner of his lip. His chest was on the verge of bursting open. Stolas advanced towards him and kissed his neck, and, leaning towards his ears, shared in a susurrus: "Satan, have I missed you."

Blitz nearly choked on a chortle. He coughed on his drool, and slid back on his side.

· I… I don't think I feel so well, Stols.

Indeed, the imp looked exhausted after only a few minutes of tomfoolery. Stolas swiftly released him and slid him back under the bedsheets, before grasping the rest of the sandwich. Blitz took it from him, looking either angry at himself for showing signs of weakness or at Stolas for mothering him, before downing the rest of his meal greedily, and slumping back on the bed. Stolas sat on the bed, facing him and sliding a lone finger down one of Blitz's horns.

· I think you need some rest, darling.

· I think you're right.

Blitz eyelids drooped down, his tongue protruding from his slightly open mouth. Stolas yanked the sheets over the imp's shoulders, and let his beak fall upon the black skull-shaped tattoo on his forehead, before tiptoeing out of the room. He still had at least an hour or two before Plague came back.

Asmodeus and Fizz were in the kitchen when they heard the sound of a blow horn playing "La Cucaracha". Ozzie had offered this novelty doorbell to Fizzy for last Valentine Day, and though he had regretted it ever since, couldn't help enjoying how happy it had made the jester.

Fizzy went to open the door, while Asmodeus was busy setting out the fire blazing the French toast his lover had massacred.

Expecting the TV repairman, Fizzarolli let out an annoyed "Well, it's about time!"

Before letting go of the half-smouldered wooden spoon he was holding, his eyes widening dramatically.