Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Years of incidents with fanatics had left Fizz a light sleeper. The elevator chime cut through what had been a pleasant dream about kissing Ozzie's ram head while the bull had nibbled on his neck. It had been three months since the trial and Fizz was not allowing that degree of affection while awake. They had only just started fucking again, and it while it was consensual, it bordered on the edge of safe and sane.

Rapidly extending limbs flung him away from his sleeping partner. Though they were working through their issues, sleeping in separate spaces couldn’t work because Fizz had nightmares. The cowboy assassin with a kink for lassos had been awarded a starring role almost nightly for months. His portion of the trial wasn’t broadcast, but knowing he had immunity for Stolas’ kidnapping and attempted murder left Fizz sleeping even lighter.

“What the fuck, Fizz?” The voice was muffled by the closed door, but it was crystal clear who had been approved by security so early in the day. An extra long loose shirt, followed by a pastel jester hat had Fizz dressed enough to face the interloper. He only wore underwear when leaving the tower.

Blitzø had made it only a few feet into the penthouse before the newest artwork had stopped him stupid, a coffee in each hand and a slack jaw. They had hired the painter from the portrait hanging in Ozzie’s office; the asexual incubus was a master of professionalism even when working with the most famous jester in hell. The painting featured Fizz hanging upside down with a set of juggling pins midair, artfully covering only his horns, genitals and nipples. Fizz planned to hang it in his own office three doors down from Ozzie’s, once the space was ready.

"I hope it's still hot."

Fizz smirked as Blitzø startled and gripped the coffees tighter. His claws were recently painted black, but his horns were clearly in need of a good buffing. His normal work suit had new patches where there had not been holes the last time they had hung out. A few on the upper arm looked like the sets Mammon used to leave on his costumes. If Fizz ever convinced Blitzø to remove his shirt, he would have to check for scratches and bruises.

The visual checkup was mutual; Blitzø's face darkened with a gray blush as his gaze clung to the open shoulder of his shirt. It was an old Ozzie’s shirt from the first time a patron had spilled food on him as host. The fabric was so worn the pattern of his scars was visible in areas. 

His gaze flicked to the key hanging from the black choker that Fizz had been wearing since Sinsmas. Fizz caught him leering at it at least once every time they hung out. It wasn't a bad thing, but they hadn't had a conversation about it yet.

"Yeah. Hot and big, just like you always take it." Blitzø handed over the drink with 'Jizz' scrawled on the side. "Don't blame me if it tastes like piss without the good junk." While trying to maintain eye contact in spite of the painting and Fizz's attire, he missed the straw on his own iced drink, 'Buttz'. The straw stabbed his cheek and he glared at it like it bit him.

"I might be better about my calorie counting now, but your three-bean soup is not how I want to blow my waistline." At Blitzø's bewildered look, he elaborated, "A vanilla soy latte is just a three bean soup."

Blitzø was not amused. "It's pumpkin spice, you ass." He transferred another cup from his tail to his empty hand. "Real pumpkin puree from Wrath if you believe the marketing. Why they’re on special in March beats me. I got one for your big chicken too."

Your. Fizz neither acknowledged nor denied the word choice. He and Oz had agreed to share details of their relationship with only those that needed to know. Asmodeus had publicly announced his love for the jester, then was willing let his oldest friend die just as publicly.

"He’s sleeping off last night and the night before." Fizz downed the black coffee in his hand in one go, then stole the other hot coffee from Blitzø. "And the night before that. Now I have something to drink while you unload why you're here on a Monday morning." Fizz had kept Blitzø and Oz apart thus far, just as Blitzø seemed to be keeping Fizz and Stolas apart.

The jester sped through the penthouse, shooting the empty cup into the trash on their way through the kitchen. Blitzø trailed behind slightly, adjusting himself when he thought Fizz couldn’t see. Fizz suspected that either Blitzø couldn’t see the red aura that chased Blitzø's movements, or he was good at ignoring it. It was less opaque than when he first saw him at Ozzie’s, but it trailed longer.

Fizz chose a covered balcony sporting only an imp-sized couch to minimize the space Blitzø could flee. He sat down and pulled a blanket already there over his lap. He had crocheted it after he got his first set of limbs from Asmodeus. Blitzø's mom had tried to teach all three of them and an identical blanket had burned in the circus fire. Blitzø stood awkwardly between the couch and the railing with his tail wrapped around one ankle.

The only sound for a long moment was the constant rain of Lust. When it became clear that Blitzø was not going to be the one to break the silence, Fizz started to think out loud. Animatedly. With hardly a breath between thoughts.

"You have your crystal, so either you closed the office or Moxxie is prioritizing paperwork over clients again. Has Millie finally admitted what's got her thong in a knot? Hmm, if it's not M&M, maybe closer to home? Loona is spending the week with Bee doing whatever they normally do. Russ was keeping kind of close to her during that last party. I could get them tickets to Ozzie’s Massacre Day event if she’s into that. A box of condoms and dental dams if she’s not. Or is it the bird nesting in your roost? Stolas is doing that library volunteer thing on weekends. If you’re not at the office, where is he-"

Blitzø covered his mouth with the spade of his tail. The warmth of the skin touching his lips stopped him more than the pressure. Tails are intensely sensitive and Fizz had to fight the urge to lick or kiss it. 

"Enough fishing for buried treasure." The mixed up expression prompted Fizz to roll his eyes. "I wasn't expecting this conversation to be one-on-one. I’d been hoping to ask King Cock, but if he’s getting his beauty sleep..." Blitzø rubbed between the spikes on the back of his head and sighed heavily. "I need advice on Goetia bullshit. Stolas said he needed to run an errand alone before work, so now was my best chance to ask."

Fizz gently wrapped his hand around the pair of stripes above the spade of Blitzø's tail and lowered it to his lap. He transferred the coffee to his own tail so he could have a hand free to talk and keep a hold on the twitching appendage. He gestured for Blitzø to continue, but he refused.

"And we thought getting your braces on was hard. Sit your ass down and drink your basic bitch drink. Are we talking politics or people?" He took a swig of 'Ass' and found real pumpkin spice to be more tolerable than the trendy Hellbucks blend.

"People. I'd rather sword-fight another hydra than ever go near Goetia politics again." He mimed swinging a sword and sloshed a few drops of coffee out of the straw hole. His initial telling of his battle against Andrealphus had been suitably dramatic and had broken a curtain rod, a pillow, and three phallic vases.

"I have been with Oz long enough to know a lot more than anyone thinks I do about those magical fuckwits." Fizz sat up straighter and donned a pair of glasses he had pulled from nowhere. "Am I reading Stolas or the whole zoo?"

Blitzø cracked a smile and perched on the couch arm away from Fizz. His tail tugged at Fizz's grip but was not released. "I know you don't know Stolas better than I do, and that your opinion of him isn’t very high. The whole royal bunch are all stuck way up their own and each other's asses. Birds with feathers fuck together, or whatever, but all I see is the shit they leave behind.”

“You fucked that one up, but I feel like I get what you’re trying to ask. You want to know who caused the shit you’re cleaning up?”

“No, I know who to blame for Stolas’ shit.” Blitzø didn’t need to say his ex-wife and father. “We have a better handle on that now. It’s just that before Stolas, I had never met a Goetia that didn’t think I was the dirt on their shoes. Now I’m famous and any read I get on them is off. I don’t know if they’re going to insult me to my face and then hire me through a proxy, be all fucking polite but poison my drink, or actually say what the fuck they mean.”

“You want to know if a specific Goetia is full of shit." Fizz took a drink and turned to the view. The sky was getting brighter, but the source of the light was never visible from this ring, even this high up. "Who and why?" The silence in response was longer than normal for them, but Fizz was going to make Blitzø break it this time.

Sighing dramatically, Blitzø opened with his best, breathiest Stolas impersonation, "Vassago. Red parrot prick showed up at the library yesterday. I remember him from the trial being a dick to the Ice Queen, but he's so fucking easy to hate. Stols won't say anything about the visit, but we’re going to his Lucifer-damned castle tomorrow. Why? Fuck if I know. Stolas won't volunteer any information, and any questions I ask are either ignored or answered in a way I can't fucking understand. 'We feltched and molded together' or some shit."

Fizz sprayed coffee at how wrong Blitzø could get things. "Fletched and molted. They knew each other as kids. Learned to fly and lost their baby feathers together."

Blitzø took a moment to digest. "So it's like me coming over here to hang out?" He took another moment and sneered. "I really hope it's not like me coming over here to hang out." His tail tugged again, firmer but still caught in Fizz's grasp.

"What's that mean, asshole?" Fizz was quick to jump up, the blanket falling to the floor, but did not release Blitzø's tail. He’d use it like a leash to keep Blitzø from running if he had to.

"It's not a bad thing that it should be different!” He raised his hands like Fizz was mugging him. “Watching movies and catching up is great, I just hope Stolas doesn't have a boner for the crimson cunt."

They both backed down as they realized what Blitzø had implied. Blitzø turned against the railing while Fizz sat down on the cushion closest to him.

"So that boner’s for me?"

Blitzø was frozen silent, but Fizz couldn’t help but push. "I've seen you looking."

Fizz knew that the height difference would be giving Blitzø a great view, if he only would turn to look.

"Leering."

Breaking at last, their sudden eye contact sent shocks of electricity down Fizz's spine. Blitzø's gaze flicked down to the key hanging at the base of his throat.

"Look but don't touch the art, right?" Blitzø's cheesy grin didn’t reach his eyes and couldn't cover the way his voice cracked.

Fizz wanted to ask if Blitzø would be willing to indulge in the same kinks Oz did, but he knew that would be too much, too soon. Instead Fizz turned his face down and focused his gaze at the tail in his lap. The black tip had always looked like it had been dipped in hellborn blood. Fizz still thought blood was gross, while Blitzø seemed to have a kink for it.

"This isn’t a museum. You know I've always preferred my art to be tactile. With consent, of course." Blitzø let out a choked noise as Fizz traced the line between black and red on his spade with one metal finger.

“Fizz,” Blitzø whined.

"While neither Ozzie nor I are monogamous, no one has earned an invite before." Fizz brought his gaze back to Blitzø's. “Not like you have.”

Blitzø yanked his tail away as the red aura flared. "Stolas is fucking monogamous." He looked pained by the fact. "He lost too much for me to throw him away. I'm all he has left." Blitzø started pacing, the energy trailing behind him.

"Except you're not throwing him away. He’s living with you but giving nothing back. You kissed once! You danced together once!  Every date opportunity he either hates or cancels last minute. He seems incapable of commitment.” Fizz stood and placed himself between Blitzø and the door.

“He can commit to things. Maybe not me, but things. He’s taken his medication every day this week. Oh, and he’s been working for me for two months now. Moxxie nearly creamed himself when he saw our new filing system.”

“So you can’t even escape him at work?”

“We get plenty of time apart when I’m out on hits. He works the front desk. I’m not bringing that walking liability up top. The insurance isn’t worth it.”

“The insurance isn’t the only thing not worth it. You don’t live in the circus any more. Three adult demons sharing the same too-tiny space all working at the same place is a recipe for disaster. I understand giving up your bed for Loona, but you don’t even have your couch anymore!” Fizz’s volume control had never been good, and the angrier he was, the louder he got.

“It’s not like I can kick him out. He wouldn’t survive on his own, he doesn’t have the resources. He’s basically the most hated demon in hell right now, so finding a new job would be a fucking nightmare. I had to bribe a librarian to get him that volunteer position. Starting from nothing sucks ass and I’m not going to do that to someone I owe like that.”

“You taught him how to survive outside castle walls, so now he has more than nothing. I have yet to see him treat you right other than saving your life from shit he caused. You doesn’t owe him any favors!”

“Favors?” The aura wasn’t just trailing him now; it was clinging to him like a second skin. It wasn’t often that he looked like his father, but when Blitzø was spitting angry it was uncanny. Fizz could not see any logic remaining behind his eyes.

“Banana hammock.” Fizz called their safe-word and the fight left both of them as Blitzø sighed heavily. 

“Butt floss of the highest quality.” Blitzø followed the rule that they had to respond to the safe-word with a potential marketing slogan for the underwear they were mocking.

They had agreed shortly after reconnecting that they needed a safe-word when talking. Each had used it a few times, always on the same topics: his contract with Mammon and the Full Moon Deal. Blitzø had not come to be lectured about Stolas.

They traded a small smile before returning to the couch. There was space between them, but at least Blitzø was sitting on a cushion this time. Fizz pulled the blanket from the floor and back over himself. He gripped his nearly-empty cup in both hands.

Fizz was tired of the silences, but knew that Blitzø needed them. He’d been talked over and ignored a lot as a kid. His mom and Fizz had been the only ones he didn’t have to be louder than to get their attention. His mouth often ran faster than his brain if he wasn’t given time to pause.

Fizz watched as the aura dimmed again, not evenly, more like a flashlight with dying batteries. When it had returned to near-invisibility, Blitzø finally spoke.

“Does Vassago mean harm?" Blitzø had always been full of care and worry, even if it was towards demons that didn’t deserve it.

"I've never heard of him hurting hellborn or going out of his way to be an ass. He’s known for finding lost things, so maybe it's about Octavia?"

Blitzø flinched at the name, used to avoiding it or having to comfort Stolas after she was mentioned. "Maybe."

"Stolas needs some allies, and you've got to trust that if they can get in his pants, you don't want to be. Either in his pants or his ally." Fizz ran his mouth more as the caffeine started to reach his brain. “Meanwhile, the only pants you are in are your own."

The balcony door opening startled the imps. "I thought I heard Fizz calling someone an asshole." Ozzie rubbed one eye and yawned widely, his neon tongue flicking out like a hellcat. Ozzie was only about twice the imps’ height, smaller even than Blitzø had seen him on the red carpet.

"I was not being an asshole. He was just a loud, thirsty bitch," Blitzø attempted to defend himself, but got a raised eyebrow from Oz that he wasn’t buying it.

Fizz stuck his tongue out at Blitzø, then blew him a kiss and a wink.

Blitzø flipped him off and stuck out his tongue in return.

The wind shifted suddenly and Fizz grabbed at his hat to keep it from flying off.

He wasn’t the only one suffering a wardrobe malfunction. Ozzie’s red robe was hanging open to show the sin was wearing only a pair of boxers with Fizz’s face printed across the fly. He leaned forward to straighten out Fizz’s hat for him.

Blitzø stared openly at cyan feathers peaking over the waistband and the green bruises across his blue skin.

Fizz watched the aura flare again, and Blitzø was suddenly standing.

He shoved his untouched drink into Oz’s hand. "Your boyfriend drank the one I brought for you. I need to get to work." He vaulted over the couch, rubbed his crystal, and was gone before either of them could respond.

Oz drew one finger along Fizz's jawline, turning his head to look up at him. "Everything okay, Daddy?"  

"Depends on what goes on behind castle walls.” Fizz shrugged and curled deeper into the couch. “I need a couple minutes before I’m Daddy again. Give the girls breakfast and I’ll be in when I’m ready.” 

Ozzie nodded. He traded the full coffee in his hand for Fizz’s empty. They had agreed on Oz having a lust-only diet for the weekend while a third cup of coffee was a sliver of the jester’s typical daily caffeine intake.

When Fizz was alone, he closed his eyes and focused only on his breathing until the panic Blitzø's departure left behind had faded to a buzz. Magic was clearly involved, but the imp knew he was out of his depth. He needed to loop Asmodeus in on Blitzø's aura problem, but now was not the time. 

Pumpkin spice was not nearly as tolerable iced as it was hot.

Chapter Text

Fizz wasn't sure how much time he spent thinking and staring into nothing, but when he went inside, his pack of quieves were done devouring Thursday night's special from Ozzie's in the room between the balcony and the master bedroom. The girls had a special fridge in their room just for the discarded food to rot.

Their bedroom had not been cleaned up fully between sessions for the duration of the vacation, and it showed. Various dildos that Fizz had used on himself littered the floor around the bed. Crusty blankets had formed a ring around the edge, giving it the appearance of a nest. Ozzie himself looked asleep, face down in the center. He had removed the robe but left the boxers on. Upon hearing the whir of Fizz’s prosthetics, the sin stirred and groaned softly.

Blitzø had interrupted a long weekend of just Fizz and Oz. The factory was in a lull between major projects and they had hired Verosika to host Ozzie's all weekend as a special event. 

Oz had pitched it to Fizz like a cruise: four days and three nights, with a full, albeit temporary, dynamic swap. Froggie became Daddy while he became either his good boy or naughty boy. The score was tied, but it was clear to Fizz that his best was getting better.

“I know the boxers were for Blitzø's benefit, but they need to come off.” Fizz grabbed the offending article by the waistband. Oz lifted his hips and gasped as he was left nearly bare.

Nearly bare because the boxers had been hiding the lock to Fizz’s key. Not being allowed to fuck Fizz was torture, but it was not enough, so Asmodeus had been wearing a cage since Sinsmas. Ozzie had not asked for anything in exchange for his submission, and Fizz had not offered anything in return. They both knew that Fizz would only give what he wanted, when he wanted, and not a moment sooner.

The agreement with Fizz had tested his patience for weeks, sustaining himself only on Fizz’s lust without the relief of orgasm. Oz had surprised them both when he commissioned a new cage out of angelic steel. Fizz was dying to know who had made it, but Oz was staying tight-lipped.

The angelic steel robbed Ozzie of his magic. They had not noticed how casually he had used it before. Caged like this, he couldn’t lube anything up with a snap of his fingers. He was stuck at a fixed size. He couldn’t shift his sex to free himself from the cage. Fluids were not banished and had to be cleaned up the old-fashioned way.

Asmodeus had submitted during longer sessions in centuries past, but had never submitted like this. Under normal circumstances, Asmodeus didn't bruise. Bones didn't break. Skin could be cut for a few seconds, but he didn't bleed so much as leak a luminous fog. These were not normal circumstances.

"This is the last day of our vacation. I know you can be my good boy and endure it without earning another punishment. This is how you earn your happy ending." Fizz sat on Ozzie’s tail feathers, grinding his slick into the down. “Time to prep the canvas for my final work of art. If you are good, I won’t have to rub you down like this again. Let’s review yesterday’s work.”

On the bedside table were two pump bottles. The lube was an obvious permanent resident, but less used than one would expect in the Den of Lust. The other was a lotion for bruises to heal faster, a yearly Sinsmas gift from Belphegor. It erased trapeze burn and the impression of fingertips on hipbones well enough, but today's target were the bruises like shadow puppets down Ozzie’s body. They had expected the bruises to be black or violet like most demons, only to be surprised by emeralds and olives.

Fizz pulled over the lotion bottle and pumped cold lotion directly onto the small of Oz’s back. He gasped, but his mane remained fully cyan. The more strongly Ozzie felt things, the more of him would turn magenta. It was a tell that had hurt him a lot in the past, so they had been working on keeping it under control.

“Good boy.” Oz let out a chirp of pleasure. Fizz had learned to speak intimacy fluently with the author of the language. Touch and his more animal-like sounds were easier to understand than words. Oz had spent the weekend screaming, begging, and moaning but this last scene was certain to say the most.

"It's like finger painting without the mess. Here's a horse. Blitzø would like that.” Fizz rubbed circles over the darkest spots, the color shifting under his hands. The touch-starved demon arched into his lover’s affection.

“There's a dog. And a. Silly. Little. Rabbit." Ozzie's sigh turned into a groan as Fizz pushed down on the 'rabbit' with his fingers lined up. The knuckle on his last finger dug in the center of his shoulder blade.

Fizz pressed his weight into the bruise.

“You were a naughty boy. I know you were concerned when you heard me yelling, but you weren’t supposed to let anyone see you like this. Bite-size Ozzie is for Daddy only, remember?”

Blitzø didn’t need to know how much his near death had changed their dynamic, even if it was temporary. They were healing, one scene at a time.

“I’m sorry, Daddy. If it had been anyone else but Blitzø, I would have listened, but you two have come to blows before. Loona told me when I met her at Bee’s.” It had been before they had agreed to the safe-word. “She warned me that she ‘didn’t care who I was, keep my clown off her Dad.’ It was sweet, really.”

“In that case I won’t punish you, but if you do it again, you will regret it. Roll over for me, baby.” The majority of Oz’s back was closer to his natural skin tone. Fizz shifted off his tail feathers just long enough for him to follow directions before settling just above the caged cock.

While Fizz massaged his front, he had Oz share what he thought he had learned from his Daddy.

“Defender of some, protector of one is not worthy of you.” Ozzie's gaze was unfocused towards the ceiling.

“Good boy. Who is worthy?”

Oz stopped breathing as he fought to find an answer. Fizz rubbed his chest in circles to ease him.

“Easy, big guy. I don’t want you to rush an answer. Breathe and reflect.”

Growing up with Blitzø and Barbie, Fizz had learned the difference between defending and protecting. Barbie would run her mouth, defending Blitzø against his father, but it only antagonized the old imp. The knockout punch Blitzø had delivered to his first stalker when he had snuck backstage could be in the dictionary beside ‘protect.’

Oz leaned up, supporting himself on his elbows and looking directly at Fizz. “I want to be worthy. I want to protect you, fuck the consequences. Saving Blitzø should have been obvious, but I feared that you would be dragged into it and I would lose you. I stood up to Mammon for you to quit a fucking job, but I was Satan’s bitch when a piece of your heart was on the line. I need to stand up to any demon, even Lucifer himself for any piece of you, family or friend. I want to be worthy of raising a child with you.”

“Good boy, Ozzie. You got the idea.” Fizz planted a chaste kiss between Ozzie’s eyebrows. “What else have you learned?”

“Being a Deadly Sin does not mean I can not be virtuous. I have shown temperance in only drinking your lust. As a King, humility is seen as weakness, but as a lover I need it. Chastity is the antithesis of Lust, but I can do it for you. Kindness and charity come naturally to me. You’ve seen how I am with all my staff. I built your limbs for no cost without ever meeting you. I need to be diligent in all areas if I am to be the father of your child.”

Their ultimate goal was to be back where they had been before Fizz was kidnapped: Asmodeus fucking his best to plant an heir in his jester. They had tried for ages with no success, but they both wanted to try again. Since quitting Mammon, Fizz thought he was showing signs of a hormonal cycle in his periodically tender chest and corresponding libido.

“But my fucking patience,” Oz stretched out as far as he could, talons sinking into the mattress. He arched beneath Fizz, as if were trying to buck up into him, “is what got me called the weakest of the sins.”

The timeline of Fizz meeting Oz, fucking, then living together was short. It had drawn the attention of gossip magazines and talk shows. The crowd of paparazzi was the ideal camouflage for his stalkers and Fizz had been injured a few times. Like on the night Blitzø was at Ozzie’s, Oz would ensure Fizz’s safety before turning on the attacker, who was usually gone by then, unlike Blitzø’s employees. Asmodeus was quick to anger, but was not known to smite like other Sins. It was why the mafia had ransomed Fizz to Asmodeus not Mammon.

“Good boy. You got all seven virtues this time without any reminders,” Fizz praised. The flush across Oz’s main face was closer to gold than green. “I don’t have any new lessons today, but I do want to test your patience and chastity again. Do you feel ready to start?”

“Five minutes to enjoy the lotion buzz, please.” Belphegor’s lotion not only erased bruises, it worked as a narcotic to relieve pain. Some of the bruising was deep enough that the lotion had not erased it and was likely to ache until he either healed or was unlocked.

Fizz laughed at how relaxed he looked, but allowed the delay as it gave him a chance to prepare.

He removed his shirt and hat, zipping over to his closet to change into what they had dubbed his ‘Danger Daddy’ look. A cropped vest, crotchless shorts, and cap all in navy leather. Blue and red were Ozzie’s colors after all. More skin was showing than was covered, an achievement considering how little skin he had.

When his five minutes were up, Fizz directed him into position: kneeling on rug by the fire with his wrists crossed behind him. For Fizz to be comfortable trying to conceive again, he needed to trust Asmodeus. Verbal restraints were a better test than physical.

"You have said a lot, but it's not the words I want now, it's the feeling behind them. I'm going to catch you up on everything I’ve been dying to tell you about, but have been too upset to. Some of these things that will be difficult to hear. You are not to react beyond 'That's fucked up, Daddy’ or ‘That’s great, Daddy.’ You can pack a lot of feeling into a few words. Am I clear?"

"That’s great, Daddy."

"Good boy." Fizz extended his limbs slightly so their faces were level. “After we are done I need you to not act until we have talked about your planned reactions and probable consequences. I won’t talk about any of it until at least tomorrow.”

Oz grimaced, but choked out, “That’s fucked up, Daddy.”

“I know, baby. But nothing I’m going to tell you is going to change in the next day. I know virtue is the opposite of what you are, but maybe with a bit of patience and temperance you can escape chastity.” Fizz tapped against the metal cage, the vibrations clearly affecting Oz.

Oz breathed deeply, trying to taste the lust in the air. He seemed confused that it was near stagnant. His “That’s great, Daddy?” was lilted like a question.

“This is not going to get sexy until we’re through the hard part. I mean it’s going to be a little sexy just by default. I mean, it’s us. We’re using blindfolds, obviously.” Fizz held up the three pieces of fabric. “I’m not planning on bruising you this time unless you earn it, but expect a lot of touch.”

The blindfolds had hearts embroidered over the eyes. They matched Oz’s smaller faces as he tied them in place. The floggers, paddles, and handcuffs had been fun, but this time he intended to verbally break down the sin’s control. A blindfold was the only ‘toy’ he wanted to use this time.

Oz had habitually leaned forward while Fizz was prepping him. A quick tug on the back of his mane corrected his posture.

“Good boy.” Fizz made sure he was just barely taller than Ozzie. “I’m going to start light with a bit of gossip, and get more serious from there, okay?”

“That’s great, Daddy.” Fizz cradled the cheek of the ram head briefly. Every time Oz answered him, he gave a short pet or caress in a new place.

“I hired on the newest dancer as more than a temp. She was filling in for a maternity leave. Everything was good for her to be back in a couple months, but a week after she left, she sent in her resignation. I thought it was weird as she loved working at Ozzie’s, but then I saw that her baphomet bouncer boyfriend had filed not for paternity leave, but broken heart leave. I checked her sinsta; baby had gills, and it all made sense.”

“That’s fucked up, Daddy,” Ozzie chuckled.

“I follow ‘Imps Dead In Obscurity Today’ and saw one of my long time stalkers on there.”

“That’s great, Daddy." Fizz traced an x over Ozzie's heart where the stalker had been shot.

“I showed Blitzø and he basically admitted he had done it. Guy had a thing for Verosika, too, apparently. Caused them trouble when he was her bodyguard.”

“That’s fucked up, Daddy.” His tone was still light.

Fizz began petting his mane. “You remember those anti-Blitzø parties Verosika kept inviting me to? She announced that she’s done with them.”

“That’s great, Daddy.”

Fizz paused for a moment. Ozzie looked calm and comfortable in the warm light of the fireplace. He knew the tone was about to shift, hard, and he didn’t know how the sin would take it.

“She’s done with them because Blitzø was at the last one. They talked out their issues and then she saw the trial broadcast.”

“That’s fucked up, Daddy."

“Tip of the fucked up iceberg. The performance from the last party is going viral now. Stolas was there singing about Blitzø being a motherfucker a day after giving him your crystal.”

“That’s fucked up, Daddy.” A single magenta spark flicked off the end of a crest feather.

Fizz ran his hands from Oz's mane down his chest. Ozzie shuddered under his touch.

“Stolas is having trouble going out in public again, only IMP and the library two blocks from there are safe for him unguarded. Blitzø is having to take on even more responsibility for him.”

“That’s fucked up, Daddy.” Fizz could see how hard Oz was thinking, trying to figure out what he was building to.

“Stolas is only volunteering at the library because Blitzø bribed someone, and that’s even with it being one of the Princess’ pet projects. She opened one in Imp City on my suggestion while waiting on the grand re-opening of her Hotel to be approved. Morningstar-built, but still required a bribe for Stolas to fucking volunteer. Christ on a stick.”

Ozzie chuckled, clearly amused by Fizz using his political power like that. “That’s fucked up, Daddy.”

"When Stolas came to you for the crystal he mentioned having feelings, but not the fucked up scenario they came from. As a child, his father bought Blitzo as a birthday gift for him." His decision to use the 'O' was jarring.

The tips of his mane flickered pink but Oz’s voice remained steady, enunciating every syllable, "That is fucked up, Daddy."

"Years later Blitzø fulfilled Stolas’ dreams of bad romantic tropes. Motives suspect on both sides, but it was consentual.”

Fizz waited for Ozzie’s response. Neither option given to him was ideal. “That’s… great? Daddy.”

“Good boy. Stolas was not content with a one night stand. He was aggressively horny for Blitzø. Blitzø did steal Stolas’ grimoire and used it to start his business. Then Stolas calls him while he's got a crazy bitch with a shotgun chasing him through the woods and offers him 'favors for favors.'"

"That's fucked up, Daddy."

"'Favors for favors' was a pretty way of saying 'sex or lose your business.'"

“What?” Oz broke, his mane growing wild.

Fizz bopped him on the beak and startled him.

“Strike one.” Fizz brought one of Oz’s hands to his chest and over-exaggerated his breathing, guiding the other. “It gets worse, but you can get through it.”

Ozzie mouthed the word ‘worse’ but did not break the rules again. It took over a minute before Oz was fully blue again and said, “That’s fucked up, Daddy.”

“Blitzø had to fuck him every full moon, for over a year. If it was just sex and the book it would be a hell-normal kind of fucked up. But with what I’ve seen, I think their deal didn’t end with the crystal.”

“That’s fucked up, Daddy.” Oz was clearly upset, but trying desperately to keep it contained.

“While Stolas was not guilty of everything he was claiming at the trial, he is not as innocent as I initially thought. He’s bad for Blitzø, but until he sees it himself I can’t do anything.”

“That’s fucked up, Daddy.”

“I haven’t seen definitive proof, but my pattern recognition is going off like crazy. Blitzø has been coming over more, even if he hasn’t noticed it. He’s been making extra trips to the tailors to make repairs. He startles easily. He reminds me of, well, me when I was under him. I think Stolas is abusing Blitzø.”

“That’s fucked up, Daddy.” He was staying blue, his breathing measured.

“Enough about Stolas. You’ve been a good boy, for the most part. Let me think if there’s anything else I’ve been dying to tell you.” Fizz thought it over, petting each of Ozzie’s faces in turn. “Oh, I showed the footage of the destruction in Lust to Blitzø, and while he was stunned he didn’t see it happening right behind him, he was able to identify the ‘terrorists’ as out to kill him specifically, not to destroy the Lust ring.”

Ozzie was barely audible, shocked. “That’s fucked up, Daddy.”

“We’ll get more into the who and why before your big meeting, but we have IMP to thank for getting rid of the pest problem.”

“That’s great, Daddy.”

“That’s all the serious non-sexy shit, and you only had one strike, so I’m gonna tell you some sexy thoughts I’ve been having.”

“That’s great, Daddy.” Oz dropped his mouth open, visibly drinking the sudden wave of lust pouring off Fizz.

In a musical, when the character’s feelings are too big, they sing. For Fizz, when his feelings got too big, he fucked. Ozzie had spent weeks watching Fizz fuck himself, but on Sunday afternoon Fizz’s feelings had been so big he couldn’t not fuck the demon he loved.

Fizz would never call himself a top like Blitzø had on multiple occasions. He enjoyed getting his holes stretched and being a gagging mess more. With Ozzie in a cage however, Fizz was more than happy to fuck his feelings out by plowing his boyfriend instead.

“I really liked fucking you yesterday. First time I topped every round in about three years. I want to do it more often.” He petted down Oz’s abs, savoring the hitch in his breath.

“That’s great, Daddy.”

“I’ve missed feeling your heat. You’re so tight when you’re bite-sized like this. Feeling you around my cock was amazing, but nothing compares to when you leave me oozing your seed. I want it to take root in me.”

Ozzie choked on air, a very chicken-like cluck following. “That’s great, Daddy.” He was blushing again and the ram and bull appeared to be drooling.

“What do you think about me trying to put an egg in you instead?”

The pink was only a spark before it died back down. Oz took several deep breaths. Even with the blindfolds, Fizz could see their eyebrows crease.

A concerned “Daddy?” was the response he settled on.

Fizz petted down the side of his main face. “You’re right, Ozzie, that wasn’t very nice of me was it? We both like you better as the Daddy.”

If anything was going to break the sin, it was his next question. Fizz leaned closer to whisper, “What if I gave Blitzø a ride and let him try?”

His mane did not turn magenta, but was sparking every few seconds. Ozzie was clearly mulling over the idea. Fizz knew the image was triggering both his cuck kink and his possessiveness over Fizz.

“Daddy?” There was a clear whine to his voice now, strange to hear from the Sin.

“Okay, we’ll talk about it. You’ve been such a good boy. You’ve been such a virtuous sinner.” Fizz knew the praise and humiliation would distract him long enough to get the key in the lock unnoticed.

Oz gasped as the cage was removed and Fizz trailed one hand up his torso to his face.

“That’s great, Daddy.” Ozzie was sucking in big lungfuls of breath. Except when they were swapping cages at the start of the weekend, he had been caged since Sinsmas morning.

“I’m going to remove your blindfolds now.”

“That’s great, Daddy.”

Fizz untied the knots and gave both his smaller heads a scratch behind an ear. Ozzie was eating up all the little touches.

“Your control is getting better, but you don’t have to keep it up now. You can speak freely again too, my good boy. I’m not planning on locking you back up, but you are not to touch yourself or me without instruction. I want you fun-sized, kneeling at the edge of the bed.”

Fun-sized Ozzie was twice the height of bite-sized. It was comfortable for the Sin and was the ideal in Fizz’s opinion. While Fizz’s cock was below average size for an imp, the pussy below belonged to a size queen. At this size, the belly bulge peaked at his navel and the girth of his fingers were comparable to the dick of most demons. He had missed seeing his partner this big, but the angelic cage was bite-sized.

They both moved toward the bed, not touching, but clearly eye-fucking each other. Fizz kept the leather on and adjusted the pillows on the bed to support himself while Oz watched. He allowed himself to get comfortable on a blanket he had not yet soaked through.

Fizz gripped the base of his red cock and watched as Ozzie's cyan cock jumped in response. He had been fully hard within seconds of being freed from his cage. A fat drop of precum pushed open the glowing green slit. The tip of Fizz’s tongue poked out the corner of his mouth as he imagined licking it instead of keeping his distance.

“Actually, I changed my mind. I want you closer.”

Ozzie crawled up the bed slowly on all fours. When he was nearly close enough to touch, Fizz raised one hand.

“Sit.” Ozzie sat back, but was still leaning towards Fizz. “Like a good boy.” He sat back heavily and sighed, doing as instructed.

Asmodeus had the reputation of being a big, bad domme Daddy, but Fizz had learned over the years that it was just that: a reputation. He could be, if the situation demanded it, but Fizz liked him better like this. The tiny powerless clown boy inside him cheered every time he told the Deadly Sin what to do and he listened.

Fizz had masturbated more in the last three months than he had since puberty. Since moving in with Ozzie, he had only done so when he was out of the ring for multiple nights. He had been letting himself form new opinions on various methods, exploring in a way he never had while under Ozzie’s unblinking gazes. He tried dildos, flesh-lights, vibrators, and a variety of other toys, but he found that while they scratched an itch, it didn’t scratch the itch he was trying to.

Brought his tail up to tease his lips with the tip of the spade.

He’d been learning to integrate his tail more, craving the skin-on-skin that his prosthesis could not give him, no matter how realistic the texture. The leather lingerie strangely helped.

“Fuck, you look good, Daddy,” Ozzie rumbled.

“Of course I do.” Fizz caressed his completely flat chest. “Not everyone is gifted with assets like these.”

The ram’s head watched as he tugged on his nipples, the sensation shooting straight to the tip of his cock.

Ozzie’s green gaze was fixed on where his spade was disappearing inside of him, a groan leaving him as the first red stripe met his lips and the first half was stretching his cunt as much as his fingers would.

The bull’s head was enraptured by his leaking cock. Fizz wiped the precum off his stomach with one finger, then held it up.

“You want to suck me off so bad, don’t you, Ozzie?”

Ozzie’s mouths fell open, smaller heads nodding rapidly. Fizz popped the finger into his own mouth. The bitter taste was worth the look of hunger on his boyfriend’s faces.

"Too bad."

Ozzie’s indignant cluck in return was answered by Fizz’s laugh.

“Do you think you’ve been good enough to earn more of a reward? Is your freedom not enough?” Fizz lubed one hand with his own slick to jerk off while he sunk his spade deeper, the dual stimulation making it harder to think.

“I want to bring you pleasure and taste your lust from the source. My freedom means nothing without you.” The rumble of Ozzie’s voice sent a shock of pleasure up Fizz’s spine. “Let me make you feel good, Daddy.”

Fizz had one hand stroking his cock and the other holding his lips apart to show Oz how his spade had completely vanished, chasing his orgasm and putting on a show for one. He brought his hand not furiously stroking his cock back up to tug at his nipples .

“You want to be my good boy? Give me a little of your smoke, baby.” Fizz rarely asked Oz to use one of his more powerful abilities.

Ozzie smiled wickedly as he leaned forward, bringing their faces closer together. He breathed out a small puff of blue smoke that Fizz pulled into his lungs, the heat bursting in his lower belly immediate.

A few frantic thrusts later, his face blushing gray, Fizz came, gasping and squirt spraying across Ozzie's knees. He had to pull out his tail as he became painfully tight.

Oz had been good and followed Fizz's rule of not touching, but being unlocked and watching Fizz writhe in pleasure triggered him to cum untouched. His cock jumped as it sprayed his load across Fizz's body. He shut his eyes before his face was hit with the second rope. The feeling of sticky cum pooling in his navel and cooling on both sets of lips set off a secondary orgasm. As his vision turned white, he felt his own cum mix with Oz's on his chest.

Cumming internally and externally in quick succession could turn Fizz’s brain off completely, but he knew that he still needed to be Daddy.

"Clean it up."

Oz's green gaze snapped up to where Fizz had wiped his eyes clear with his spade, still glistening with his own slick. Oz dropped his tongue from his mouth and raised an eyebrow. Fizz's nod was all the confirmation he needed to get to work.

He cleaned him from the top down, eyes half closed and humming slightly as he savored the taste of cum and skin. A gentle tug on his mane stopped him just below the navel. Fizz grabbed one of Ozzie’s hands and brought it to the remaining mess, scooping the remaining semen from beneath his cock with one giant finger.

Asmodeus was not the only one who’s patience had been tested. Fizz’s instincts were screaming at him to be bred.

"I think you've been a good boy. Enough for this reward, at least.” He tugged on Oz’s wrist, pressing the tip of the finger into his hole. “Please.”

Oz sunk the finger inside and Fizz moaned lewdly. Sinking deep, he smeared the potent fluid along Fizz’s walls, where it belonged. Ozzie's mane turned a dazzling magenta as his control broke completely.

“Fuck, you’re tight.” Oz was immediate in finding the best spot to press inside him to make him moan. “Let me hear how good I’m making you feel, Daddy.”

“You feel so good inside of me. No toy can compare how it feels to be wrapped around you. I’ve been missing having your cum in me, a piece of you filling this void.”

They both moaned as Oz licked a stripe up Fizz’s cock, already hard again and leaking. His refractory period was practically nonexistent after years bedding the embodiment of Lust.

“Naughty boy,” Fizz chastised, “If you pull something like that again, you’re getting caged again.”

Ozzie’s smile in response held no guilt. Instead, he curled his finger and fucked Fizz harder, pulling a scream from the imp.

“If I’m going to be limited to finger-fucking you, then I’m going to fuck you right.” Fizz’s limbs scrambled to pull away from the onslaught, but Oz’s other hand came up to pin him to the bed across the hips. He pressed down firmly, the finger inside Fizz pushing back up into Oz’s palm.

“I-I’m gonna-” Fizz choked out, and the finger inside him suddenly vanished. He let out a squawk of complaint at the unwanted edging.

Oz scooped the pearl of precum from the tip of his cock and held it up to show Fizz. The chittering cluck Fizz associated with Oz’s breeding kink almost had him tipping over the edge.

“Please.” Fizz asked, the eye contact electric. "Make me cum."

“Yes, Daddy.” Oz hilted his finger inside Fizz in one thrust and fucked him through the orgasm that had him writhing and screaming Ozzie’s name. It was easily the best orgasm he'd had in years.

“Such a good boy.” Fizz petted through Ozzie’s mane. For the first time in a while, it felt like Fizz’s instincts were settled.

"Can I have you?"

"Not yet." Fizz grinned and squirmed. He opened one eye and looked up at the sin. Oz was still kneeling over him, his cock hard and dripping. His mane was cyan again, but his gaze was hungry. “I'll let you fuck me all the way to subspace soon. Don't think I can say no much longer. Miss the fuzzy feeling. Can’t promise you’ll be the next cock inside me, though.” 

Oz's cock twitched with his heartbeat for several moments where all he could do was breathe heavily.

“That’s fucked up, Daddy.” He pulled his finger out and all three of his heads got to work cleaning.

Once the fluids were replaced with Ozzie’s saliva, Fizz stood on the bed and kissed ram and bull chastely. He knew he was standing in his own wet spot, but he didn't care.

“We’re done with the cage, but I'm not going to help you get off again either. I have plans this afternoon and you have lunch with your assistant." At Fizz's dismissal, Oz looked ready to cry. With another look at his weeping cock, Fizz added, "You’re allowed to jerk off if it'll help you be patient."

Oz was quick to wrap a hand around his straining erection.

"In the shower, please. I need to do a quick tidy before the cleaners arrive. Don't need them knowing the king of Lust likes wearing a cage."

Oz blushed and stilled his hand. "Thank you, Daddy." He looked around and snapped his empty hand, the worst of the residue from the weekend removed from the bedding. He leaned forward to brush a kiss against a circle on Fizz’s cheek, then he was gone, the door to the en suite closing behind him.

Chapter Text

Fizz and Ozzie dressed together before parting for the day, Oz in his typical navy pinstripe suit and Fizz in a pastel version. He left Asmodeus in the safe hands of his assistant, a bubbly pink succubus that had walked in on them fucking often, but never talked about it to the press. They had quietly given her a raise for her discretion. After they went public, her only comment was, "Love is stupid, huh?"

Dressed more dandy than the queer jester normally would, he called for a driver and made his way up to Pride. He used a more discreet vehicle than JIZZLORD, as much as he loved it. Some of his plans were not written on any calendar or saved on his phone for good reason. If stalkers caught wind of his habits, he could be in real danger.

Years of tightly scheduled shows and rehearsals had left Fizz restless to find a new routine. Most of Hell worked on a weekly cycle, where knowing the day of the week was more important than which season it was on Earth. Monday afternoons were a dead time in most of hell. The parties in Gluttony had died down. The afterglow had faded in Lust. Pride, however, functioned differently. Sinners had brought their calendar to hell. They used the date to plan, regardless of what weekday it fell on. It was what Fizz had grown up with, the circus moving between cities within Pride to avoid inter-ring fees.

During a jazz music festival that Mammon had booked him for, he had learned from an empty-eyed Sinner that on the first of the month, the butchers in Cannibal Town threw out all their spoiled meat. Susan had said the smell drove away most sinners, even the cannibals themselves, but attracted what Fizz was looking for. Quieves were puppy-sized carrion eaters with a population problem not just in hell, but in his penthouse. Three of his perfect babies had passed from age in the last month, and shelters for the little pests were only real in Fizz's imagination. All his quieves were girls, so he had to go to the source for more.

The hound guard accompanying him opened his door. Ozzie had insisted on more security after his last ‘visit’ to Greed, but Fizz was known to run through them like quieves through garbage. The busty Dalmatian woman was holding one hand over her nose and looked about ready to quit already. His driver had stopped few blocks from the main entrance to cannibal town, directly onto the alley where Ozzie had found Precious the previous year.

Fizz did not pause between the car and the entrance to the alley. He was an imp on a mission. The rear of shops and homes sped by as he counted two blocks deep, one block right to the butcher shop.

His bodyguard, struggling to keep up, shouted for him, breaking his attention as he turned the corner. The cobblestones in Cannibal Town had tripped him a few times, but he had never done so with an audience. Sleeping in doorways was common enough that the figure had been just a part of the scenery until they moved. He hadn’t even seen them until he was on his knees, faces inches apart.

The stranger’s bleat of surprise was followed by a small cry. Fizz found himself ignored as they righted themselves and started to shush a squirming bundle in their arms. The stranger was cloaked but the bundle was poorly swaddled and the fabric slipped, revealing a sheep-faced baby. The baby could have been passed off as a demon native to sloth, except instead of a candle flame shining above their head, it was a golden halo about 2 inches in diameter.

"Sir, are you all right?" His bodyguard called out, still halfway between Fizz and the car.

Fizz stood up and dusted himself off. He'd have to have Ozzie check his palms and legs for dents later. He stared down at the cloaked figure until they began stammering.

"I-I-I didn't m-m-mean to be seen. D-d-d-don't tell, p-p-p-please." They were clearly terrified and holding the child like it was their only tether to life.  Their hands there glowing softly and were unlike any demon that Fizz had seen before.

“Let me see your face.” Fizz demanded.

When they hesitated, he pulled the hood back enough to see the top half of their face but not expose it to his bodyguard, still catching up. They had black skin, white woolly hair and blue eyes, all glowing like their hands.

Fizz knew the face of the angel in front of him from the footage in Lust. Blitzø had told him about the cherubs kicked from heaven for killing a human. The quaking lamb in front of him was no more dangerous to hell than the average imp.

"Change of plans. No puppy hunting today. I need to introduce our new friend here to my niece." Fizz started to pull him to his feet.

“Where are you taking me? Let m-m-me go!” Fizz knew of only one place in hell that an angel barred from heaven would be safe.

Fizz got close enough his guard would not be able to understand as they finally caught up. Partial deafness was common among party hounds, especially in Dalmatians.

“I’m taking you to the only person in hell that might help you find your happy ending, okay? I know who you are and how much danger you’re actually in right now. I mean it. If you run away now, you’re going to have all of hell’s assassins on your ass by nightfall, including the one you were trying to kill. You’ve pissed off some pretty powerful demons and they want your ass. That kiddo doesn’t deserve to be in the middle of it.”

He pulled back to speak to his bodyguard, “Be gentle. I don’t know if they’re injured, but we can’t leave them here. I need to make a call, but we are leaving. Now.”

He sent a text to his driver with the address so he wouldn’t have to pause as they loaded into the car.

They had never met in person, but Ozzie had spoken of her fondly and insisted he have her number, just in case. He had only called her once before, to suggest a community improvement project. It didn’t make calling her again any easier.

He had not expected just in case to be like this.

She picked up on the first ring.

“Fizzarolli! Now is not a great time.” Her voice was sing-songy and happy, but tight with clear stress.

“I am en route to you right now, like ‘pulling up any minute’ right now.  I’m bringing someone to you. I can’t tell you why over the phone, but only you can help them.”

“Today isn’t the best. We have a very special guest arriving right now.”

“Have us wait with your girlfriend while you handle them, in that case. This isn’t something I planned, more tripped into, okay? Trust me, you are their only chance.”

“If you’re sure, pull up to the side entrance and I’ll have someone meet you there. Of all the days for-” The start of her tirade was cut off as she hung up without giving Fizz a chance to respond.

Fizz pressed a button and relayed the side entrance instructions to the driver. All of the other occupants of the car looked uncomfortable. The baby wasn’t crying, but would not stay still and was making small grunting noises under the fabric.

“This is one of the places I’m permitted to go without a guard inside,” Fizz informed spotted hellhound. “You’re still on duty until I’m back home, but it looks like it might be a while until she has time to see us.”

“Who is she?” the angel asked. His voice warbled and he sounded like he was always on the brink of tears.

Fizz didn’t answer as the car stopped and the guard opened the door for them, already pulling out her phone to chill. The side entrance was tucked between a pair of dumpsters that were as pristine as the rebuilt hotel they served.

“Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel,” a familiar four-armed demon greeted them. “When Charlie said I was meeting a clown, I didn’t know she meant to Jester of Jizz himself.” The pink and white sinner had been a big name in erotica longer than Fizz had been alive. One of the naughty magazines he and Blitzø had stolen from a sword-swallower had featured him as a centerfold. It was strange to see him in this context.

 “Angel Dust. Great to meet ya. We need to get inside. Now.” Fizz was not fucking around. He knew enough about sinner politics to know it was unwise to loiter outdoors within the pentagram.

“Got it. Not the time for an autograph.” Angel held the door open for Fizz and the still cloaked angel. The door led directly to an industrial kitchen. “We don’t have much space that is not on the tour today, so we’re going to stick ya in staff dining until she’s done.” Like most sinners, he had an aura, though his looked more like it was made of smoke than light.

“Wasn’t the re-opening last week? Who’s the tour for?” Fizz asked as they walked.

“Honestly? I wasn’t paying that much attention. Whoever it is has Dollface in a knot and I’m more than happy to stay out of the way. It reminds me of the first time her dad visited,” Angel rambles. “She’s got a new resident baking cookies,” he waves to an angler fish sinner working at a counter, “and Razzle is shadowing them. Poor thing just isn’t the same without Dazzle.”

The dining area isn’t a separate room from the kitchen, but rather a table and booth seating built into the side. It was only a few feet from the door to the main lobby of the hotel, visible through small windows at sinner-eye level. Fizz let the sheep and Angel sit, staying standing. He didn’t want to box the angel in, but also didn’t want to leave him an easy escape.

“I wanted something that reminded me of the restaurants I grew up in,” Angel explained, launching into an architectural explanation of the room. He spoke for several minutes without any input from either of them before they were interrupted by someone entering. “Oh, hey, Vaggie. Whatcha need?”

“Charlie was hella vague when she said I needed to come down here. I think she was just trying to get me away from her royal sleepiness.” The gray-faced woman yawned and stretched. “Who’re your friends?”

“I’m still really bad about celebrities in hell, toots, and even I know who this is. This is the one and only Fizzarolli, most famous clown in hell and longtime lover of the Sin of Lust.” Fizz took a small bow at Angel’s introduction. “As for the glowing, creepy, mystery? No idea. That’s why I’m sitting here and not figuring out where Fat Nuggets ran of to.”

“He’s probably upstairs by the conversation pit. He loves that little house you bought him.” Her gaze turned to the angel, who started to tremble. She took a long moment to really look, then sighed heavily. “Puta madre. Why is there a fallen angel in our kitchen?”

“Fallen?” He asked, the cloth over his face falling away. “I never fell to hell! I was banished from heaven! Th-there’s a difference!”

“Yeah, well, you’re in hell now, so if you haven’t fallen yet, it’s only a matter of time,” she stated bluntly. She reached forward and pulled the hood back fully, exposing his tarnished halo. “How’d you get to hell, if you didn’t fall?”

The baby, which had been asleep in the angel’s arms, cried out, startling them all.

“Fuck this, I’m out!” Angel announced, raising his hands and backing out of the kitchen. “Babies are above my pay grade.”

Before Fizz could react, a winged red goat flew in with a bottle. It offered it to the sheep, who looked unsure of the pink liquid.

“It’s safe,” Vaggie assured him. “With the rebuild we have to have supplies for just about everything, so we keep stuff like this on hand now.”

“I’ve never-” he started.

Fizz reached out, taking the bottle and preparing his other arm in a cradle. He gestured for him for hand over the baby. The crying grew louder as the sheep hesitated. The cries were reaching frequencies that made his horns ache.

“You brought me to an e-exorcist, why should I trust you?” He stood, clutching the baby to his chest, their cries unchanged.

“I brought you here to protect them. That is a very hungry cry and if you don’t know how to feed them, how long has it been since they have eaten? I’m not going to steal them from you, but I have experience feeding babies. You don’t have to trust me, but either take the bottle or give them over.”  Fizz sighed as he didn’t move. “I didn’t bring you to an exorcist. I brought you to the princess of Hell, she’s just busy right now. This is her girlfriend.” Fizz sat down in the seat that Angel Dust had vacated.

The blue angel still looked wary, but gently transferred the crying infant. “How is the princess of Hell supposed to get me back into Heaven?” he asked.

Vaggie laughed, “Back into Heaven? No one is getting in or out right now. Things have changed a lot recently and a cherub like you is the last of Heaven’s concerns. The baby angel might get their attention, but aren’t baby cherubs a bad omen?”

 As Fizz looked down at the baby, he couldn’t imagine them being something bad. They were adorable, eyes closed and little lamb ears twitching as they happily sucked down the formula. Their head was unusually large, even for a baby.

“J-just because they are associated with adultery, doesn’t m-mean he’s a bad omen.”

“Are you saying that you are, without a doubt, this baby’s father?”

“She was pure and I only touched her the once before she disappeared!” the angel defended. “The only other angel we’ve been around is Cletus and he’s not a sheep like us. She wouldn’t do that!”

They all looked down at the baby in Fizz’s arms, a carbon copy of the sheep in front of them.

“We’re gonna need a shepherd for all the sheep in here,” Fizz joked. “Where’s Jesus when you need him?”

Both angels looked at him in shock and disgust. Fizz returned it with a shit-eating grin. Blasphemy was only really fun with the truly devout, a rare treat in Hell.

Vaggie looked ready to turn her interrogation on him, but Charlie burst into the kitchen with a winged cat sinner in tow. They both had a green aura, though much stronger on the sinner than the princess.

“So sorry you had to wait, Fizzarolli! She’s down for a power nap in the lobby so I’ve got a few-” Charlie stopped talking as she took in the scene in front of her. “Did Emily send you?” She directed the question to the cherub.

Fizz jumped in to answer, “This cherub was kicked out of Heaven a while ago, then caused some trouble in Lust with a couple friends more recently. I found him in an alley in Cannibal Town with a baby, and I couldn’t think of anyone else that wouldn’t smite him on sight.” He grinned and grabbed a fancy cloth napkin off the table to keep his outfit clean as he burped the infant.

“Cookies, anyone?” The sinner that had been baking walked up with a tray. The light hanging in front of his face swayed as he offered them to each in turn.

Fizz ate one to be polite, but he was starting to feel nauseated. Fizz zoned out for a moment as Charlie gushed about the cookies and someone who had done something similar when her dad had first visited. The fishy sinner was clearly not happy with the comparison.

“He was an inventor, not a mad scientist. What was he doing near an oven?” broke through the fog as the the fish and cat sinners left the room.

Charlie had moved on to explaining her hotel to the angel, who appeared sceptical.

“I don’t need redemption. I didn’t do anything wrong. Cletus was the one that f-fired the shot, not me. I’ve been arguing against sin the whole time.”

“If you were without sin, your halo wouldn’t tarnish like that in hell,” Vaggie countered. “The exterminations are timed short enough that it doesn’t impact the army. It’s why they can never attempt an occupation of hell. You didn’t answer me earlier, how did you get to hell, if you did not fall?”

“Keenie and Cletus are the ones that told the humans that we were exorcists. I just wanted to go home,” he cried. His blubbering continued, but Fizz could no longer understand his words.

Charlie was immediately consoling him, though Fizz was now lost. Blitzø had not told him that humans were involved. He zoned out again, focusing on the infant. Their tiny halo had no tarnish, too young to sin. He pulled back the swaddle, curious. Their tiny hands had three fingers and a thumb, much like a demon.

“What’s his name?” Fizz asked, interrupting the conversation he was ignoring entirely at this point. He’d brought them to Charlie, his responsibility was done. He pulled back the swaddle the rest of the way, expecting hooves.

“Lyle. Keenie named him after the human we were trying to save. When Cletus saw him, he exploded. Cherubs are forbidden from original s-sin, and he’s so focused on getting b-b-back into Heaven. They were both yelling and I saw b-blood, so I grabbed Lyle and ran through the portal. I didn't know where in Hell I'd end up, but I had to p-protect him.”

“So this little lamb is Lyle?” Fizz lilted, tickling his very human-like toes.

The toothless smile under the split lip could not stop the panic rising in Fizz. He could no longer ignore the nausea that had been building and was starting to break out in a cold sweat.

“Wonder if his namesake would come stay at the hotel?” Fizz joked as his heart began to race. “Saw him on a billboard in Imp City once.”

“He’s in hell?” the sheep asked. He pulled at his fluff. “I was banished for a sinner?” Fizz thought his glow was dimming for a moment before he realized it was his vision, not the angel.

“Take him.” Fizz hardly had time to pass him off before his limbs stopped responding. He was distantly aware he was falling over before he lost consciousness.

Chapter Text

Fainting in front of a crowd had been a recurring nightmare for Fizz from a young age. Dreaming he was waking up, staring at stage lights and an angry Sin or ringleader, only to actually wake up in his bed out of breath and sweaty. Actually fainting had never happened before.

The Deadly Sin he was looking up at was not angry, and there was a chandelier above them rather than stage lights.

“Aside from the fainting are you experiencing any symptoms?” Belphegor may have been the sin of Sloth, but she was always to the point so she could get back to what she liked best: resting. She had been his doctor only once before, right after the fire. While he could thank Oz for the majority of his recovery, she had kept him alive through those first crucial days.

Fizz attempted to sit up, only to find a bucket shoved in his hands as he threw up mostly coffee. Between heaves it fully registered that he was on a bed in one of the rooms in the hotel. The room was furnished in red and gold, typical of Pride.

He took a moment to check in with his body when his stomach was empty. “My chest is really tender, but in a totally different way than my nipples have been tender.” His normal aches and pains were definitely worse than normal, but within expectations for the day.

Belphegor placed on hand on his sternum and closed all her eyes.  She was still long enough Fizz thought she might have fallen asleep standing. The pink flame above her candle flared briefly before she pulled away and opened some of her eyes.

“Holding the angelic child has poisoned you. Eat hot brimstone with every meal, sin at least five times daily, and you should be right as acid rain in a few weeks.” She was already walking over to the couch, not remaining standing now that she was done examining him.

“Angel poisoning? That’s really a thing? I only held him long enough to feed him!”

“Much in the same way angelic steel kills demons, an angel’s halo emits a radiation that is dangerous in large quantities or with prolonged exposure. Minor exposure explains your fainting, vomiting, and tenderness in the exposed area. You’ll likely have intense urges to sin as well. All normal symptoms. If you have any severe effects like crying blood or auditory hallucinations of angelic choirs, let me know immediately. It looks your case isn’t that severe, but I have been wrong before.” The Sin sprawled across the couch, her eyes trading off being open.

Fizz knew from Ozzie that the one way to keep her awake once she reached this point was to keep the questions and answers short. He hadn’t done a verbal volley like this while feeling this shitty in years.

“I see auras sometimes, but it’s been intense today.”

“Are you getting migraines again?”

“It’s not like the migraine auras that I used to get. It’s looks colors following certain people. I see it sometimes on hellborn, but most sinners are lit up like a Sinsmas party.”

“Not related to child, then. Some kinds of magic are invisible unless a demon has had a near death experience.”

Fizz leveled a look at her. "We both know I had one of those."

"So you've been seeing auras like this since then?"

"I guess? I noticed after my first pageant win, when I was doing meet-and-greets for the first time. I hadn’t been around sinners much before that. I see hounds with auras more than anyone else." Loona didn’t have one, but Bee’s parties were always a kaleidoscope.

"They are known to pack bond and possess more innate magic than other races of hellborn. Otherwise, magically binding deals like that are uncommon. Being able to see deal auras can be useful, though exhausting." She yawned wider than her mouth looked like it should be able to.

“Deals? I thought you had to have a soul?”

“Not if the hellborn initiating the deal has sufficient magical power. I have seen Goetia do it with their staff before, always with disastrous consequences for all involved.”

“What kind of consequences?”

“When the Goetia break the deal, they drown in each other’s blood. Once the lower demon has died, it takes several days for the Goetia to fully recover,” she said flatly, like she was sharing the weather instead of brutal torture and death.

The thought of Blitzø drowning in Stolas’ blood had Fizz gagging into the bucket again.

“What if an imp were to break a deal like that?”

“Impossible, I’m afraid. The compulsion of the magic is too strong.” Belphegor’s eyes were blinking slower, clearly losing interest in the topic.

“Is there a peaceful way that doesn’t end with them dead?”

“Ask Lucifer. That’s more his area than mine. Did you have any other health questions?” She was oblivious to the emotional damage she was causing.

Fizz had been planning on talking to his regular doctor, but he wasn’t going to deny the opportunity to ask the expert.

“I want to get pregnant, and I’m hoping you’d be able to tell me if I can.” He had already had his heart torn out, might as well do the job properly.

“Have you been tracking your cycle?” Her flame perked up.

“With my ‘best of both worlds’ I don’t have a period, but I’ve heard of other intersex imps that got pregnant without ever having one.”

“Are you taking any medication?”

 “Only some painkillers for my really bad days, but Mammon used to give me vitamins to keep me going during tours. I stopped taking them a couple years ago when I found a tab of Xanax in the handful.” The week of shows before that had been really rough both for him and the audience, and he had taken the blame for it.

“Any of the 'vitamins' given to you could have been a cycle suppressant or a permanent chemical sterilization. He has been caught doing both to other performers before without their consent or knowledge.” She was again very detached giving the heart-breaking news. “Just the one sexual partner?”

“Yeah, though it's not for a lack of trying,” Fizz muttered, then continued louder, “Asmodeus is the only one trying for fatherhood. I just need to know if it's because he's a Deadly Sin, or if it’s me.”

“Aside from Lucifer, none of the Deadly Sins have tried to have an heir before, so I do not know. As for you, considering everything, I’d say your chances of conception are low or none, even with a confirmed fertile partner. Perhaps an opportunity like Lyle is a better path to parenthood for you. A less angelic child obviously.”

A spike of panic shot through him at the thought of Lyle. “I was holding him when I fainted, is he okay?”

“You handed him off to Vaggie and Charlie caught you. He is perfectly healthy for what and where he is. He will be immune to the corrosive nature of Hell until he is a little older. We’re not sure when that will be, but knowing God, it will be before he is old enough to understand the concept of Sin.” She scoffed.

Fizz suddenly felt very small, acutely aware now of how close to being a deity the Deadly Sins were. Being around Ozzie constantly, it was easy for him to forget.

“Wait, why are you here? Did Charlie call you when I fainted?”

Belphegor’s laugh was almost a bleat. “I was already here inspecting the hotel. I needed a bit of a nap while I was thinking over my decision.” She clapped once and the door flew open, revealing Charlie pacing outside.

“Fizz! You’re awake! I am so sorry if Baxter put something in the cookies,” Charlie was immediately apologizing for the innocent sinner.

“It wasn’t his baking,” Belphegor corrected. “You need to keep the little angel,” she gestured to the swaddle in Vaggie’s arms, standing just outside the door, “away from all demons, for their protection, not his. You’ve got a radioactive bundle of pure good on your hands. Sinners can handle about five times what a hellborn can, but you saw how quickly it knocked Fizz out. Where is the cherub? I need to talk with him.”

Charlie looked sheepish and Vaggie looked angry.

Fizz easily filled in the gap. “He ran away when I fainted, didn’t he?” They both nodded.

That many eyes rolling at once was dramatic. “Then I need to speak with Lucifer, urgently.”

“My father has left me in charge during his absence.” Charlie straightened her posture, failing to look more commanding than she was.

“You are the proprietor of a hotel, not His Majesty Lucifer, the King of Hell and the First of the Fallen. You are out of your depth, your Highness.” Belphegor was upset and reacted the same way Fizz had seen the other Sins react to being upset: bigger, darker, and with even more eyes.

Vaggie jumped to Charlie’s defense and suddenly all Fizz could hear was his own heartbeat. He was back in Mammon’s office frozen in fear the first time one of his shows did not sell well. His boss’s humid breath smelled like a sweaty palm of coins.

Just as suddenly he was back in the hotel room, a pink smoke settling around him.

“I apologize, Fizzarolli,” the Sin spoke softly, “You were unresponsive and this is the easiest way to calm you.”

“Smoking twice in one day can’t be good for me,” he joked, preferring to think of the pleasure of Ozzie’s smoke that morning than to sit in the the detached calmness soaking into his bones. It just made him feel heavy without removing any of the ache. “Fuck, I need a drink and about a dozen rolls of sushi.”

“Then you should do so. Give in to the Gluttony, it will make you feel better.”

“Ooo,” Charlie broke in, “You should have a drink at the bar downstairs. I’m sure Husk would love to make you something.”

Fizz stood on unsteady legs and started towards the door, but stopped as the nausea broke through. “Can I get a clear path?” he asked Vaggie, who was standing a couple feet inside the room.

He felt like he was already drunk as he navigated out. He had been in unfamiliar places while intoxicated often enough in his life to be able to navigate to the bar. There were a few sinners loitering in the lobby, but the whiskey the cat sinner placed in front of him was more important.

He thought about chatting up the gruff bartender, but he found watching Angel Dust flirt with said bartender to be much more entertaining.

It was strange. The more shots he downed, the clearer he could think. He pulled out his phone and set up a BeeEats sushi order  to deliver to the penthouse about 2 hours later, giving him enough time to get home and get settled into a marathon of Hell’s Worst Chef.

The bartender cut him off after 4 shots, claiming it was the Princess’ limit, but Fizz wasn’t sure he believed him.

“If I can’t have another shot, let him do one off me,” Fizz offered, gesturing to Angel.

“And why should he do that?” Husk asked.

“I’m under doctor’s orders to sin, and I think your Envy would be sweet,” Fizz teased.

Angel looked the more reluctant of the two. “Not that I don’t love a good party, but it’s too early for me. It’s 3:30 on a Monday.”

“I’m retired. Don’t judge me,” Fizz defended, but he knew it sounded petulant.

“Yeah, retired and over the hill in your thirties.” Angel clearly meant it in good fun. “If you’re going to try to pull a sin out of me, try lust, but I’m not scheduled in the studio until tomorrow.”

If they were going to be catty, Fizz could be catty. “I take it by the poker-themed bar, your sin would be greed then?”

The bartender grinned slyly as he started mixing a drink. “You’ve got an eye for the obvious at least. Which sinner in this room would be wrath?”

Fizz turned to look at the half dozen sinners chatting or reading in the lobby. In turn he took each of them apart the way Cash had taught him. Too many hands was a good indicator of lust. The gluttonous cannibals had empty black eyes. Only one sinner had tell-tale blood splatter.

“Her.” Fizz pointed to the one-eyed girl playing patty-cake with the angler fish demon from the kitchen.

Angel Dust’s “Holy shit,” was underlined by the bartender’s whistle.

“You are good.” The bartender filled a glass. Fuck Fizz’s praise kink with a bendy straw, he wanted to be in the middle of a fuzzy sandwich with these two. “Or you watch the news and saw that she killed the leader of the angel army.” He slid the drink to Fizz. “If you want Envy, this is Angel’s favorite drink, which I refuse to make him. Fucking Mai Tai.”

The look on Angel’s face was one of betrayal, pointed at both of them.

Belphegor had warned him that he would feel the urge to sin. Sinning was a natural part of being hellborn. Greed and Lust had gotten him far in life, but he didn’t like how Envy felt. If he was going to sin, he was going to do it on his terms.

Fizz shoved the drink toward Angel and apologized, backing away towards the door.

“Tell Charlie bye for me!” He was already running.

His car was waiting right where he left it by the side door; his only direction, “Home.”

His hands were shaking as he nearly cracked his phone from the strength of his grip.

The five rings before the answer were shrill and he felt a spark of Wrath.

“Hey Fizzy, baby. Everything okay?” The tiny speaker did not do his voice justice, but it still sent a shiver down his spine. This. This was his sin.

“Today has been so fucking long, I don’t want to talk or even think about it. You are going to be prepped and ready for me when I get home. Daddy needs to sin.”

Chapter Text

Fizz vocally blamed the sudden resurrection of his sex life on how well Ozzie did on their vacation. The rest of his week was full of lazy mornings, under-desk afternoon blowjobs, and remote vibrators while Fizz hosted at Ozzie’s. Indulging in Sloth and Lust kept his other sinful urges mostly in check.

While eating dinner before work each night they covered a topic that Fizz had brought up during their last scene. Fizz hadn’t told Ozzie anything about the rest of his Monday other than that he had not caught any quieves. Angels and fertility issues felt too big to bring up casually, so Fizz let Oz pick the topics.

On Tuesday Oz asked to see the video from the anti-Blitzø party. There were at least six different angles to choose from.

“You sure we have to stay hands off?” Oz asked. “Between this and the trial footage, people are going to start asking questions.”

“I think it’s unlikely that anyone with the power to call a retrial will care. Social media is a young demon’s game and it will be decades before any of them will be able to do a thing. We don’t know all the details ourselves.”

“Then we learn more. Maybe ask someone that was at the party what we know?”

“Way ahead of you. Verosika’s bodyguard, Vortex, is already on my schedule for next week. I can bring it up to him to see what he’s willing to share.” Fizz was proud of himself.

“Why are you meeting with her bodyguard?” Ozzie lifted one neon eyebrow.

“He’s backup singing there for Stolas.” He flipped off his phone, still playing the video. “We were talking at Bee’s party and he mentioned issues with holiday pay. I’m trying to help other hellborn not be exploited the way I was, so I offered to look it over for him. I’ve got a few clients booked just for next week, just to feel it out.”

“That’s a great idea, baby. Who’ve you got lined up?”

Fizz ate a third plate of the creamy pasta dish Ozzie had made as they talked over his clients. The next night, over his seventh slice of pizza, he explained how Blitzø had assassinated a small-town mayor for the Imp City librarian as a bribe for allowing Stolas to volunteer. They had been embezzling funds meant for the library the sinner had worked at when alive.

Thursday night Ozzie made them breakfast for dinner, serving eggs as an awkward way to introduce the topic of demons and the eggs they sometimes came from. He explained that typical Goetic development could be predicted with magical levels of accuracy, but when they mixed with other species in Hell, outcomes varied widely.

“There is risk involved no matter which of us carries. My size and power may be too much for your body to support, but every case I’ve seen of that was self-terminating, and fatal to the carrier. To change tactics and have me lay an egg would require more than just a parts swap.” Ozzie summoned an image of himself, or rather herself. “I would have to rewrite my default form to female, permanently changing who I am. I could change back after, but I wouldn’t be quite the same.”

Fizz chewed his pancake slowly, taking in the hourglass figure. He looked back at the real version of Asmodeus, with his waspish waist and broad shoulders, and felt the stirring of lust he’d been looking for.

“Yeah, I’m too gay for that. I’m sure Blitzø would call you Mommy, but I love you as my Big Daddy.”

“So I’m Daddy again?” Oz asked hopefully.

“Neither of us is Daddy right now,” Fizz corrected. “You’ve been fantastically patient for me this week. We’re going to sit down and have a long talk as equals this weekend. I want to talk about Blitzø. We haven’t really talked about him since I hated him.”

“How serious were you about fucking Blitzø before me?” Ozzie watched as Fizz’s tail shot up from where it had been draped across his lap.

“Well, we’re hanging out all day tomorrow. I’m going to pay him back for Monday by waking him up with coffee on his day off.” Their back and forth of showing up unannounced happened at least once a week.

“He’s off on a Friday?”

“I looked at his calender and it’s emptier than Wrath. I’m not sure how the rest of the day will go, but I plan to bring him back here for you to make us burgers for dinner.” Fizz busted out the puppy eyes.

“Is that so?” Ozzie laughed. “Well, if you can get him inside you between coffee and burgers, we will all have a long talk as equals.”

~~~

The sixth floor apartment was in a nicer part of the city. Fizz used a cardboard carrier instead of relying on dexterity like Blitzø, with four coffees labeled as Butts, Jizz, Tall Ass, and Loser. While he thought Loona was still at Bee’s, he was going to cover his bases anyway. Wanting to coordinate with Blitzø's style, he had dressed in darker colors, with a short skirt and long jacket. He had not worn underwear, just in case.

He’d hardly cleared the landing when he heard a portal close nearby. Before Fizz could even entertain being upset at missing Blitzø, he heard him let out a lungful of ‘Fuck’ from within apartment 666.

“What the fuck, Blitzo?” Fizz asked the door loudly, knowing a knock would be the wrong move.

Multiple chains and a deadbolt later, Fizz was in his oldest friend’s arms, the taller imp breathing heavily.

Fizz just let them hug in the doorway until Blitzø loosened his grasp, but didn’t let go. Fizz could see a little of the apartment, his gallery wall the primary display. The black marker marring the images was a bold underline of the changes in Blitzø since childhood.

“I’m so fucking glad you’re here, Fizz.” Blitzø finally released him, taking a deep, grounding breath. “Leaving today on the calender empty was not enough of a clue for Stolas and even after I told him why a dozen times, he just left to spend the day with the cunty bird in sunglasses! Third fucking time this week.”

Blitzø shut off the light and shooed Fizz back into the hall. He was holding a bouquet of flowers with his tail.

“I want to lock up before we portal over. Loona’s still got the van. She’s going to be home today, very late. I… I would have invited her, but today was supposed to be about introducing Stolas to her. Loona’s met her a bunch of times.” Blitzø was wearing the same outfit he had been when he’d been pursued by the cherubs in Lust.

The date hit Fizz as Blitzø rubbed his crystal and led them through the portal to a grassy hillside on the other side of Pride.

“I only come visit on her birthday,” Blitzø explained, leading them through the graves. “The risk of running into the old drunk is worth it, not that he ever remembered it before.”

Fizz stood back as Blitzø approached his mother’s grave with the bouquet in hand. Blitzø would let him know when he was ready for Fizz to join him.

Tilla’s grave was shaded by one of the few trees in the cemetery. Her headstone was obsidian, the original replaced by Ozzie as a second anniversary present. Cash had fought him on it, the matching, but undated, headstone for him already installed next to hers. Fizz had reminded him that he had failed to keep up with the payments on the plots, so Fizz had paid for them, and if he still wanted to be buried there, he had to accept it.

Blitzø eventually invited him over, Fizz politely wishing her a happy birthday. They split the coffees as they recalled stories from the circus, sticking to stories from when they were small and Tilla was healthy. Blitzø was so handsome when he laughed, and Tilla’s home had always been full of laughter.

Cash Buckzo’s headstone was made of a pale, rough granite. Only three things were carved into the stone: his name; the year he was born; and the solid black silhouette of his tail spade. Though Fizz had been abandoned at the circus when both he and Blitzø were old enough to have developed their own spade patterns, he knew the large-horned imp could not deny his paternity. Imps inherited their father’s spades at birth, and the Buckzo family album had featured a picture of Barbie and Blitzø as babies with solid black spades next to Cash’s. Daydreams of a baby with Fizz’s cheeks and Blitzø's spade had faded after the circus fire, but were becoming a distraction.

The granite headstone had a new addition, in permanent marker: a death year. It was the year prior, but he didn’t know if it had been a few weeks or a whole year that he’d been there, only a few feet from Tilla.

“Ding dong, the son of a bitch is dead,” Fizz said under his breath. Blitzø moved closer to Fizz to get a better look at the graffiti.

“Let me AskVox. Barbie did that twice already as a prank.” He pulled out his phone, the current case emblazoned with ‘Bird Watcher.’ The volume and intensity of Blitzø's laughter was a balm to Fizz’s spirit. “He died of Sinner’s cough! Anti-vaxxer asshole got what was coming to him!”

Fizz joined his laughter, both imps genuinely happy that Cash Buckzo was dead. The warmth of their laughter filled Fizz’s chest, then suddenly shifted lower. He groaned at the sudden erection.

“You okay there, Fizzy?” Blitzø was still in his personal space, smelling of leather and gunpowder.

“I held something I shouldn’t have, and one of the side effects is the urge to sin. I’m normally a couple orgasms deep by this time of day. A couple of fags railing each other on a homophobe’s grave is sounding really appealing right now.” Fizz was trying to remain logical, but exhibitionism was a soft limit of Ozzie’s and a kink of Fizz’s.

“Fucking on my old man’s grave sounds like a pretty big sin,” Blitzø joked, his laugh tight.

“I’m on doctor’s orders to sin. Don’t you want to help me out?” Fizz bent forward, crossing his arms on the top of the ringleader’s headstone. He waved his tail, Blitzø's eyes following the movement.

Blitzø was breathing heavy now, but did not respond.

“You could just watch me jerk off instead. Your choice. I’m jizzing on this headstone either way.” Fizz lifted his tail high, his skirt falling up and exposing him completely.

“I think I’ve got a condom?” Blitzø pulled one out of his wallet, only to swear when it was expired. His tail cracked like a whip and he looked hungry. Fizz’s eyes had to be tricking him in the low light; the red aura was flaring.

“The only ones I carry are props and would likely pop.” Fizz reached back and spread one lip to the side, exposing his dripping hole. “If you’re going to be in me, I want you in me.”

“Fuuuuuck me.” Blitzø unfastened his pants and pulled them down just enough to free his erection.

“That’s the idea,” Fizz quipped as Blitzø stroked his cock. He watched as precum beaded and was spread along his length. He teased Fizz’s hole for only two passes before pressing in.

Blitzø’s hands wrapped around Fizz’s hips as he slowly sank deeper. “Fizzy,” Blitzø groaned as his balls met skin.

Fizz could feel the head of his cock kiss his cervix. “Wish you were mine,” the admission slipped out as he savored the feeling of finally being filled.

Fizz, gasping, found himself suddenly empty. He’d fucked up, but he couldn’t pull the words back. Blitzø pushed Fizz’s skirt back into place and backed away. Fizz didn’t hear a zipper, but couldn’t bear to turn around to look at him.

They stood in silence long enough that the slick on the inside Fizz’s thighs was cooling uncomfortably in the late winter air.

“I wish I was yours too, but we really can’t do this.” Blitzø finally muttered.

“If we both wish for it, why can’t we?” Fizz turned around, waiting for the answer was the same as always: Stolas.

“If wishes came true I wouldn’t have chickened out at your birthday party.” This time the aura flared as he expected, but Blitzø had thrown out his script and now Fizz was struggling to catch up.

“Wait, what?” This was a Stolas thing, not a him thing, right?

“I wrote you a letter. Real simp stuff. I was going to give it to you at your party, but then I saw you smiling at the card my dad gave you. ‘Wish you were my son,’” he spat. “Didn’t have the guts to go through with it after that.” Blitzø turned partially away, the white half of his face hidden. It reminded Fizz of how he had looked before.

“Fuck that card! ‘Wish you were my son?’ He was always mocking that I wasn’t a ‘real man’ and that I should be more like you!” The admission felt good to get off his chest, but it clearly wasn’t what Blitzø had been expecting to hear.

“He was always saying how much better you were than me; that he’d rather you were his son than me; that you were sure to go far; that if I wasn’t careful, you would inherit the circus, not me.”

“He bought me when I barely walking. If he had really wanted to claim me, he would have. The first thing I learned from that bastard is that I am, before anything else, an investment. We all were. I knew that he would sell me to the highest bidder when my time came. I was his prize hog. When I saw him sell you, it broke my heart.”

“You knew he sold me? It was only for a day.”

“He knew how much I care about you. ‘Fiver and a rubber’ was shorthand threat that he could sell you off again, and not to a kid who wanted a friend for a day. That’s what he meant when he said I was ‘sure to go F.A.R.’ I did a lot of shit I didn’t want to do. He never outright said he’d pimp you out-”

“Did my dad pimp you out?” Blitzø growled.

“No, I think he knew Tilla or the other circus mothers would have killed him if he ever did more than threaten. He sold me the day she died so he wouldn’t be responsible for my medical debt. His spirit bled green with greed.”

“Like yours bleeds blue with Lust. You told me it was on doctor’s orders, so I’m not mad at you, but chill with the seduction, alright?” They were both still standing with their cocks to the breeze.

“Yeah, I’ll chill, but you’ve got to come over and have burgers with Ozzie and me tonight.” While they hadn’t actually fucked, Fizz had still won Ozzie’s bet.

“I gotta piss.” Fizz expected Blitzø to walk off, but as he aimed, Fizz busted out laughing. “Rest in Piss, you bastard. I outlived your ass.”

“Well, if I’m not gonna jizz on it today, this is next best thing.” Fizz aimed as well, wishing it felt more cathartic than it did.