He can't stop his feathers from ruffling at the sight of the knife glinting, and something stirs in his loins that he can't quite decipher. Scared-horny, is the best he can think of in the moment, staring down at the knife.
But, it's in Blitzø's hands, so. He's never felt anything less than safe with him, more than anyone else in Hell.
So, it's fine. Right? He can push past the twisting confusion in his stomachs and step away from the door as he closes it, sliding his shirt off his shoulders in a move that's maybe trying too hard to be seductive, puffing out his chest and holding the silken shirt in one hand for a moment before he drops it on the floor.
"Oh, Blitzy," he coos, bending down to tilt his amour's chin up. "You are so creative~"
There is a loud, visible swallow along Stolas's lanky neck and a husky little exhale as the knife skirts through his feathers.
He lets himself be shoved with a surprised little coo, and his ankles hit the bed first, making him topple onto his back, and he's quick to prop himself up on his elbows to keep watching Blitzy.
"Oh, do your worst, darling. You always did have the sharpest tools, the best-" with a luxurious, sensual roll of his hips. "Penetration."
He leaps up onto the bed after Stolas, not unlike their first time together not that long ago, although this time it's less about him distracting Stolas from noticing the book and more about seeing how much he can distract Stolas from this place and how complicated shit has been.
Blitzø flips the knife through the air with the skill of years of practice, then straddles Stolas and slides it up his chest, just barely snagging on the fabric of his shirt.
"Might have to cut you out of this, how about that?"
His breathing is a little fast as the knife travels higher - normally the weight on his chest is familiar and comfortable but right now his brain is only pinging it as off, as constricting, and he drops flat onto his back to try and free up space between Blitz's thighs and his ribs.
"Are you waiting for an invitation, Blitzy? You've already got me right where you want me~" He grips Blitz's thighs with both hands, digging his thumbs into his inseams.
He can feel Stolas fall back a little and Blitzø follows him, one hand digging into the bedding by Stolas' head as he drags the knife up from the prince's waist, expertly flicking the blade to slice away the fastenings and following them up Stolas' chest, teasingly close to his throat and shoulders.
As the last of it parts, Blitzø trails the knife further, watching it slide through Stolas' feathers. "Colour?"
He feels like he could have gotten through it if Blitz hasn't asked. But the brush against the base of his throat, the sensation of the knife under his feathers makes them fluff and his pupils flick into visibility despite himself as he tenses sharply.
"Red, red-! I'm- I'm sorry--" He's skinny enough that he can yank himself out from beneath Blitzø's thighs and scrabbles back against the headboard.
Blitzø immediately pulls back as well and while there's some instinct to move quickly, he forces himself to go slowly instead. The knife he carefully sets aside, where Stolas can clearly see it, and he creeps closer to where the goetian prince is... well the only word he can think of is cowering against the headboard.
"It's ok, Stolas. It's over there, I won't touch it again," he soothes. The response is weird, given how much other arguably worse shit they've done before, but Blitzø focuses on trying to help Stolas calm down and get back to feeling safe again before asking anything further.
He's coiled up tight, gripping his left bicep without thinking, right leg tucked defensively closer, but when Blitzø moves slowly and carefully for him, puts the knife down where he can see it...
His feathers settle a little, but an embarrassed heat creeps up his face instead.
"Yes. Please." He realises how tightly he's gripping himself, and now that the worst of the panic has settled, he just... really wants the reassurance.
He reaches out carefully for the other demon, still moving slowly enough that it hopefully won't startle Stolas, sliding up next to him and tugging the taller man down into his arms. It's weird, different from the times he's usually held Stolas, and oddly reminds Blitzø of times he'd soothed Fizz when they were kids or Loona during the rare moments when she let him.
He's never seen Stolas like this, not beyond the brief moment of genuine concern when they'd been looking for Octavia, and Blitzø doesn't entirely know what Stolas needs from him.
So he settles for just holding him for a while, his claws gently stroking against Stolas' feathers until it seems like he's calming down more.
A part of it felt like it ought to be embarrassing - a demon of his station, a Goetian prince, curled up in the arms of an imp.
But Stolas has never felt safer than when he's with Blitz, and even curled up and half naked on his bed, he can feel his heart and feathers settling.
But- still. When Blitzø asks him, he sighs gently, and moves to sit upright next to him. One leg curls up to rest in his lap, still, maintaining that connection.
"When Striker kidnapped me, he..." He hates how it makes a lump rise in his throat, and he swallows it down. "The blessed rope wasn't the only item he used. That simply bound my powers, preventing me from escaping myself."
His arm brushes over his left shoulder, and with a soft grimace of determination he brushes the thick feathers back. Hidden beneath them, deep in his skin, there's a thin, almost golden line of scar tissue. "He also had a blessed knife."
Blitzø, normally all bravado and energy, stills at the explanation. There's a moment when he's not sure what to think, torn between guilt at triggering memories of that in Stolas again, anger that he hadn't known the full extent of what Striker had done... guilt and anger with himself for never finding out, not visiting, not wanting to face his fuck up.
He eventually reaches out carefully, trailing the pad of his thumb over the scar as though he could erase it that way.
"Fuck, Stolas... I'm sorry. I didn't fucking take you seriously and then you got hurt and I..." Blitzø heaves a sigh, his hand falling away. "...I didn't even come visit."
"Your daughter is important, Blitzy," he coos quietly, taking his imp's face in one hand to look at him again. "I would never begrudge you that. And your little employees did their best - Striker didn't kill me."
He just broke one leg and nearly severed the tendons on it, which would have been disastrous with a holy weapon, but it was fine. And he doesn't begrudge Blitz, quite genuinely; he'd just been prepared to die hoping that he'd be rescued, unable to assume or even believe that Blitz would find him - if he was even coming at all.
(He isn't quite sure what Blitz means by visit him, but it doesn't matter either.)
He clears his throat gently. "I'll... admit it was a- a more thrilling amount of damage than I've usually taken," he says, trying to force a bit of blithe levity into it. "But I think for the time being I'll be... somewhat reluctant to do knifeplay for a while."
"Yeah, I guess M&M do pretty ok on their own." There was probably something there about giving them more credit or freedom or something, but that led down a whole pathway he wasn't really wanting to get into tonight, not to mention he wasn't sure how Stolas would feel about some of it.
"So we'll stay away from the blades for a while," he continues, doing his best to get back on track for something good coming out of tonight. "Probably good, since I doubt the Admiral was gonna fucking give me bear traps here, as fucking hilarious as it would be to get my warden to ask for them."
It's difficult to drag his attention away from the scar, and in the end Blitzø presses a kiss to it before working his way up Stolas' neck and to kissing him properly. "But it's your night and I can make it up to you however you like, Stol's. So what'll it be?"
He'll be fine with bondage again later; that's never been anything less than appealing, and that's not the part that bothered him to begin with. The knives might take a little longer, but bear traps were hot regardless. And right now, he just wants to feel like he can move.
His arms wrap lightly around Blitz, flicking the spines up the back of his head with a delicate, teasing touch. He knows how to turn Blitz on just as much as the reverse.
So his long fingers find a length of Blitz's horn he can wrap them fully around. "How about I grab your horns and ride your face like a fucking bronco?"
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
arsegoetia) wrote2024-04-29 04:01 pm
Re: [Spam]
But, it's in Blitzø's hands, so. He's never felt anything less than safe with him, more than anyone else in Hell.
So, it's fine. Right? He can push past the twisting confusion in his stomachs and step away from the door as he closes it, sliding his shirt off his shoulders in a move that's maybe trying too hard to be seductive, puffing out his chest and holding the silken shirt in one hand for a moment before he drops it on the floor.
"Oh, Blitzy," he coos, bending down to tilt his amour's chin up. "You are so creative~"
Re: [Spam]
"You fucking know it, bitch. You loooove when I'm creative with sharp objects."
He pulls he knife away and gives Stolas a shove towards the bed. "Now lets see what else I remember that you love so much."
Re: [Spam]
He lets himself be shoved with a surprised little coo, and his ankles hit the bed first, making him topple onto his back, and he's quick to prop himself up on his elbows to keep watching Blitzy.
"Oh, do your worst, darling. You always did have the sharpest tools, the best-" with a luxurious, sensual roll of his hips. "Penetration."
Re: [Spam]
Blitzø flips the knife through the air with the skill of years of practice, then straddles Stolas and slides it up his chest, just barely snagging on the fabric of his shirt.
"Might have to cut you out of this, how about that?"
Re: [Spam]
"Are you waiting for an invitation, Blitzy? You've already got me right where you want me~" He grips Blitz's thighs with both hands, digging his thumbs into his inseams.
Re: [Spam]
He can feel Stolas fall back a little and Blitzø follows him, one hand digging into the bedding by Stolas' head as he drags the knife up from the prince's waist, expertly flicking the blade to slice away the fastenings and following them up Stolas' chest, teasingly close to his throat and shoulders.
As the last of it parts, Blitzø trails the knife further, watching it slide through Stolas' feathers. "Colour?"
Re: [Spam]
"Red, red-! I'm- I'm sorry--" He's skinny enough that he can yank himself out from beneath Blitzø's thighs and scrabbles back against the headboard.
Re: [Spam]
"It's ok, Stolas. It's over there, I won't touch it again," he soothes. The response is weird, given how much other arguably worse shit they've done before, but Blitzø focuses on trying to help Stolas calm down and get back to feeling safe again before asking anything further.
"Can I touch you?"
Re: [Spam]
His feathers settle a little, but an embarrassed heat creeps up his face instead.
"Yes. Please." He realises how tightly he's gripping himself, and now that the worst of the panic has settled, he just... really wants the reassurance.
Re: [Spam]
He's never seen Stolas like this, not beyond the brief moment of genuine concern when they'd been looking for Octavia, and Blitzø doesn't entirely know what Stolas needs from him.
So he settles for just holding him for a while, his claws gently stroking against Stolas' feathers until it seems like he's calming down more.
"So... wanna talk about that?"
Re: [Spam]
But Stolas has never felt safer than when he's with Blitz, and even curled up and half naked on his bed, he can feel his heart and feathers settling.
But- still. When Blitzø asks him, he sighs gently, and moves to sit upright next to him. One leg curls up to rest in his lap, still, maintaining that connection.
"When Striker kidnapped me, he..." He hates how it makes a lump rise in his throat, and he swallows it down. "The blessed rope wasn't the only item he used. That simply bound my powers, preventing me from escaping myself."
His arm brushes over his left shoulder, and with a soft grimace of determination he brushes the thick feathers back. Hidden beneath them, deep in his skin, there's a thin, almost golden line of scar tissue. "He also had a blessed knife."
Re: [Spam]
He eventually reaches out carefully, trailing the pad of his thumb over the scar as though he could erase it that way.
"Fuck, Stolas... I'm sorry. I didn't fucking take you seriously and then you got hurt and I..." Blitzø heaves a sigh, his hand falling away. "...I didn't even come visit."
Re: [Spam]
He just broke one leg and nearly severed the tendons on it, which would have been disastrous with a holy weapon, but it was fine. And he doesn't begrudge Blitz, quite genuinely; he'd just been prepared to die hoping that he'd be rescued, unable to assume or even believe that Blitz would find him - if he was even coming at all.
(He isn't quite sure what Blitz means by visit him, but it doesn't matter either.)
He clears his throat gently. "I'll... admit it was a- a more thrilling amount of damage than I've usually taken," he says, trying to force a bit of blithe levity into it. "But I think for the time being I'll be... somewhat reluctant to do knifeplay for a while."
Re: [Spam]
"So we'll stay away from the blades for a while," he continues, doing his best to get back on track for something good coming out of tonight. "Probably good, since I doubt the Admiral was gonna fucking give me bear traps here, as fucking hilarious as it would be to get my warden to ask for them."
It's difficult to drag his attention away from the scar, and in the end Blitzø presses a kiss to it before working his way up Stolas' neck and to kissing him properly. "But it's your night and I can make it up to you however you like, Stol's. So what'll it be?"
Re: [Spam]
His arms wrap lightly around Blitz, flicking the spines up the back of his head with a delicate, teasing touch. He knows how to turn Blitz on just as much as the reverse.
So his long fingers find a length of Blitz's horn he can wrap them fully around. "How about I grab your horns and ride your face like a fucking bronco?"