Only, the Beginning

Striker, the original Cowboy Casanova, woke up with a sudden start. A loud crack of thunder resonates through the small wooden farmhouse. His bare chest heaving as he looked around. His bright yellow eyes glowing in the dark dart across the room.

While Blitzo slept on peacefully using Striker's tail as a makeshift pillow.

A long crooked talon scrapes across the window as a bright flash of lighting reveals Stolas. His red eyes burning with hatred as he watches his Blitzy curl up against the snake imp seeking warmth while a fire snaps crackling in the hearth.

Swirling pale yellow eyes lock onto Stolas as he pulls his carmine rifle from the other side; resting it in his lap, he drags a claw leisurely down Blitzo's back, causing the imp to shudder and nuzzle his face deeper into Striker's pale tail, which starts rattling.

Later after Striker runs Stolas off from his mate. They lay together, Blitzo draped across Striker's legs only to fall between them a second later. The crimson imp blushes, arching his back as Striker touches the small of his back, kissing his tail.

Stolas stalks through the dingy alley petrifying a homeless imp while tearing apart another with his talons imagining ripping Striker's head from his body: that it was the snake imps blood underneath his nails. His claws are at the window again. Scratching to be let in seething upon seeing his impish plaything twist and mewl under such prestige prowess.

But Striker doesn't let Blitzo see him, hear him.

He keeps him away from the windows.

He keeps him entertained with his body.

Stolas can't get in unless someone lets him in.

At least not here anyway.

Striker wants to show Blitzo off. But now is not the time.

He yearns for these moments, these quiet little moments like these when it's just the two of them. No annoying vermin, no pesky contracts. No transnational fuckings. Just the two of them entangled together hearts, racing, synced to the other's heartbeat. A clawed hand rests on Blitzo's waist. The sound of him breathing. Their tails looped together. The soft purr of his voice as he murmurs his name is half asleep. He'll take his time, Blitzo had many unhinged problems to sift through, and his mate would remain by his side. Through thick and thin.

The Cowboy now knows about the truth-seekers.

He doesn't want Blitzo to leave.

To go back to the human world.

If he could keep the prince and the Harlequin apart.

If he could make Blitzo happy without his vermin.

He would do so in a heartbeat.

Nothing could compare to the thrum of Blitzo's pulse under the palm of his hand. The touch of his hands as they run through his hair. The thrust of his prowess when they made love. The Outlaw would gladly take on a thousand Goetic owls, if that meant one night- to a lifetime with this impish devil.

Stolas is back at the window, long talons running across the window. His feathers bristle there is blood on his beak. And Striker smooches Blitzo's tail. A Victorious smile stretches across his face as he gently nips, causing Blitzo to shudder in pleasure.

"Goodnight, Blitzo Striker whispers, his husky voice tickling his ear.

"Night Striker, I love you." Blitzo murmurs. His hand curls around Striker's tail as the snake imp turns towards the window flipping Stolas off.

"This isn't over he thinks as he flies away, leaving three owl feathers.

No, this is only the beginning.