bazaarbrooke
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But, did he think playing such a dangerous game would lead them here? Blitz’s thick, crimson thighs spread wide underneath the library table, one of Stolas’s talons deep in his slit, pumping into him in just the right way to keep his dick in its sheath, teetering him on the edge of seeing stars?
No, not in a million years.
Because it was Stolas. And Stolas was gentle, sweet, and would fall apart into embarrassed owl chicken nuggets if they did anything where they could get caught.
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Yellow shone into red, a look that could tell a million stories of a million different battles shared between two tired and worn soldiers.
“You will always have me.”
The words left him as easy as breathing. Because it was true. It had been true since the moment they’d met, through all the trials, tribulations, and bullshit along the way, it had always been true.
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If not for this feeling he would have sworn he was made of impenetrable dark starlight. But there really was no starlight in him any more, was there?
Except this time, it felt different.
Authentic.
Alive.
He managed a small smile that trickled a little bit into the void that had become his whole being. A small spark of light. A single, shimmering star.
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Grief, to plainly put it, is an unrelenting bitch.
Blitzø might never have had that comfort. But, fuck, if he couldn’t be that for Stolas. And though this was an entirely different form of grief than he had went through, he’d sure as shit try to at least make Stolas feel like he wasn’t alone.