Chapter Text
No matter how much the shamelessness of it all might grate up against his personal sensibilities, Stolas could not deny just how very striking he found the nighttime aesthetic of Lust. The violet glow of the neon signage somehow contrived to appear warm and inviting despite the coolness of the colour and the boldly provocative shop fronts made it quite clear that, out of all the things one might find within, judgement would not be one of them. Still, even if most of the other denizens of Hell might find themselves quite content to frequent the myriad sex clubs, peep shows and brothels that were on offer, for him personally the whole thing left him feeling nothing but awkward.
Why, out of all places did Andrealphus insist on hosting his event here? He could have chosen to hire any one of a number of reputable establishments in Pride, restaurants or theatres or even an actual ballroom if he had been so inclined but no, the peacock had instead opted for a strip club. At least it was one of the classier ones that packaged itself as a stage performance come dining experience, instead of one of the more sleazy variety that were utterly brazen about it all. It was only a pity it wasn't actually Ozzies; then he might have at least been able to try and justify his attendance as an appreciation of the arts. Although, even Andrealphus might have struggled to reserve that particular club for their exclusive use for the evening.
Whatever this venue was, that had apparently been his intention as the invitation had stated quite clearly that the peacock had booked out the establishment in its entirety, simply so that he might indulge in those all too common vices often held by young nobles. After all, why not behave like a scoundrel when you had all the influence of your father's position behind you to keep you from suffering any of the consequences you might otherwise bring down upon yourself?
Their destination was only a couple of blocks from where they had portalled in but nevertheless the short walk took them past a startling array of businesses, businesses that Stolas did his best to keep only at the periphery of his vision and not allow to pervade his unwilling mind. It was difficult. One of the shopfronts ahead boasted an impressive array of mannequins of all shapes and species designations, decked out in the most obscene forms of dress that the Goetia could imagine. Succubi and hellhounds and imps, all were represented and he found his eyes drawn downwards to an imp figurine that was clad in nothing but latex. A harness criss-crossed its chest, with one narrow band snaking down the length of its torso to circle the base of its plastic erection and the prince felt himself blush. Oh, why did it all have to be so very blatant?
Although he could never admit it, the whole thing made him all the more uncomfortable for how much effort he had to put into hiding his own deep seated curiosity. He was a royal, a prince no less and yet here he was with his cheeks flushed pink merely from strolling past a provocative window display. It was shameful behaviour to indulge in and he hated how much being dragged along to events like this strained his carefully curated sense of self. He liked to think of himself as composed, an intellectual and most certainly not the kind of person who felt any need to indulge in the tawdry sorts of ‘entertainments’ on offer in the Lust ring. Or so he tried to tell himself. Actually being here was unexpectedly challenging and he hated the unwelcome flush of interest that would have had him craning his head back to stare if he were to let it. Vassago caught his dour expression and gave his shoulder a nudge as they walked, near setting the owl off-balance so that he almost went careering into the meticulous shop front display.
“Ah, Stolas my man, you do not need to look so glum! Andrealphus is a son of a whore no doubt, but that does not mean that our least favorite little icicle doesn't also throw a damn good party!” The parrot flashed him a grin and cocked an eyebrow, his long legs picking out a path through the throng of lesser demons that were too slow to slide out of their way in time. A few imps in particular shot them disrespectful glares but the prince couldn't find it in himself to upbraid them, not when he was feeling so out of countenance.
“I suppose, although I cannot say that these sort of parties are precisely my cup of tea. Why we couldn't have had a formal ball for this I am sure I don't know.” It was difficult to keep the resentment from his tone; he had no desire to be poor company for his cousin but it was challenging when the parrot seemed at ease with things that he himself found so difficult. Vassago shook his head and offered him an all too pronounced roll of his scarlet eyes.
“Stolas, I hope you understand that I mean this in the nicest way possible, but you are kind of a prude! Formal balls are all very well and good but sometimes people want a chance to let their feathers down and allow the party to take on a little more… spice! It is no bad thing to have a fiesta from time to time and my best owl, perhaps you should try relaxing up that stiff neck of yours and letting your head swivel the way that nature intended, eh?” Even though his cousin was smiling at him the prince still felt the plumage at the back of his neck bristle. Before he could find the words to express his disapproval the parrot had flung a companionable arm around his shoulders and dragged him in close so that they could walk in step with one another. “No no, I don't want to hear it. Come on, mi amigo, tonight is for having fun! Set aside your uppityness and take the party for what it is, what's the worst that could happen? You could use a chance to let loose just as much as the rest of us, so let me see no more pouting from you until morning, okay?”
Hell beneath, as much as he enjoyed Vassago's company it was sometimes a little abrasive to always be being bullied into an imitation of good humour. Plus, it was one thing for the parrot to wax lyrical about taking their pleasure where they might find it; he and Andrealphus were both unwed and even though their behaviour might be considered scandalous by the older Goetia at court, they would not be risking the dissolution of their marriage contracts. Not like him and his hateful, sham of an engagement that he was still obliged to play into with all the unwilling masochism of an indentured servant.
Fucking Paimon and his merciless politics, pushing himself and his ill fitting fiancée together despite their obvious lack of compatibility. It was despicable but Stolas long since given up protesting the fate that had been foisted upon him. Once he had reached twenty five, the betrothal that he had known was approaching since age ten had cemented itself into a fully fledged engagement and with it went all hopes of a reprieve. They would wait the customary five years and then after that he would be forced to wed whether he would or no, regardless of how they might disdain one another.
With a shiver Stolas recalled their first ever meeting, when they had been barely sixteen. Stella had swept into the greeting chambers of his father's palace in her immaculate gown, deliberately pushed the plant he had selected for her as a gift onto the floor and then proceeded to spend the entirety of their time together either laying out exactly what she would expect of him as a husband, or else studiously ignoring him all together. Inauspicious was an understatement.
That very evening Stolas had tried approaching his father with his misgivings but he had been met with nothing more than the exact same immovability that was all Paimon had offered him before or since. The king cared not at all for his concerns and the threats that had been levelled his way were he to disoblige were all too tangible. No, it was marriage whether he liked it or not and he was stuck contemplating a future with a woman he cared for not at all, and who cared even less for him in return.
It would have been wonderful to give over any pretense of a happy marriage and at least pursue somewhat separate lives but that too was off limits to him. Stella's family in particular were insistent on their keeping up appearances and so he must carry on as if the affection they mimicked in public reflected how they were behind closed doors, even to those closest to him. Only that morning he had been forced into spending several hours taking tea with her withered and bigoted grandparents, listening politely as they droned on and on about the imp protests that had been headlining the news broadcasts and complaining bitterly about the difficulties of hiring and maintaining good wait staff. Whatever, Stolas could not bring himself to care.
“Fine fine, I shall endeavour not to pout. But I can make no promises regarding all this ‘fun’ you keep banging on about! Trust me Vassago, until you have sat glued to the final pages of a truly thrilling novel you cannot have been said to have known true fun.” Stolas let his mouth curve up into a small smile, already preempting the dramatic hands that were sure to be thrown up into the air at his words.
“Honestly, mi buhito tontísimo, book reading?! How are we even related?” The jab was said with affection and the prince allowed his smile to stretch into a grin. It was difficult to really be annoyed at the parrot, even when he was being deliberately abrasive. His lighthearted manner was somehow refreshing even when it was irritatingly inappropriate and despite himself the prince allowed his step to slump so that he might nudge the other Goetia with his shoulder while they walked.
Still, at the end of the day it mattered little how much he might enjoy Vassago's antics. Aside from his own reservations and even though there was nothing that he could pretend might be real love between them, Stella would undoubtedly skin him alive if she caught wind of him sleazing around the Lust ring in the wake of his cousin or even worse, her own wayward brother. It would humiliate her and no matter how little they enjoyed one another's company, he had no desire to deliberately make her life more difficult. No, no matter what Vassago said, tonight would have to be a carefully calculated dance that kept him involved enough so that he wouldn't risk losing any more social credibility, but also made sure that he stayed well within the bounds of an apparently ‘happily’ engaged man. He hated it.
“Oh, do leave off Vassago. You shan't persuade me to feel any sort of guilt for behaving respectably where the rest of you choose to act the scrub, and I don't care what sort of names you might care to call me for it afterwards.” He did care, really, but there was simply no way around it. It was better to be safe rather than sorry where his volatile fiancée was concerned and besides, all this indulging in transactional sexuality really did make him uncomfortable.
“Okay, okay. Whatever makes you happy.” The parrot flashed him a teasing smile and flared the crest of feathers atop his head in a brief moment of frivolity but did not push him on it further and Stolas was grateful for that. He was feeling a mite too tender for more ribbing at present.
By now they were nearly at the address that had been scrawled onto the bottom of the invitations. It was apparently only one street over from where they were but when they rounded the corner Stolas was shocked to see quite how busy the street was. An unusual number of imps were lining the road, many wearing sloganed shirts or waving placards that boasted angry lettering in red and white. They were not chanting, not quite, although the air of a protest was unmistakable and the prince felt his feathers stand on end as the individuals towards the back of the crowd caught sight of Vassago and himself. Lips curled into sneers and their faces took on hard lines of contempt as they stared up at the pair of Goetia but none of them actually did more than glare. Stolas had heard a little about these demonstrations on the news; imps and some others of the lower class hellborn demons had been taking to the streets to protest… something. Was it to do with wages? He wasn't certain and suddenly he felt a little ashamed that he couldn't quite place their complaints.
Surreptitiously the prince craned his head sideways so that he might catch the slogan painted on a sign clutched in the hands of a round faced imp only a few paces from him. ‘We don't owe you six days.’ Hmm, not particularly illuminating. Could be to do with wages, but then again maybe not. With growing curiosity the owl stepped a little deeper into the fringes of the crowd to see what else he might spot. It was tricky; as a body they were all moving down the street en masse and that unfortunately meant that the majority of t-shirts and signs were turned away from him but he pushed forwards anyway and was eventually rewarded with another glimpse. ‘Imps not chimps’. What a strange slogan… oh and there was another, ‘Immortal =/= Infallible’. Whatever this was, it was certainly curious and Stolas had half made up his mind to simply bend down and ask one of the little creatures when his hand was given a solid yank. Vassago cocked an eyebrow and jerked his head towards the opposite pavement, pulling the owl along behind him so that they might skirt around the restless crowd. Just in time too, as a few of the faces of those he had been standing nearest to had taken on an air of unmistakable hostility at his continued intrusion. Although surely it was well within his rights to walk alongside them and inspect their placards, was it not?
“What are they all out here for?” His question was a little breathless as he tried to keep pace with the more agile Goetia but his cousin only shrugged and gestured the owl ahead of him towards the door to the club.
“No sé, I am not sure. I heard that a lot of imps were stirred up pretty badly recently after some royal demons down in Envy ended up slaughtering their staff over some nonsense. I guess we should be pleased that they aren't all carrying pitchforks!” That made Stolas glance up in surprise. He knew that things had been a little tense; even up in Pride there had been an unusually high number of lesser demons out in the streets but surely it was nothing they need worry about. If there were anything serious going on then no doubt a briefing would have been issued at the last Goetic convocation, or at the very least they would have been sent letters individually. Stolas felt his stomach clench with momentary anxiety before he caught his cousin's expression and relaxed. No, Vassago's smile was teasing so perhaps the comment had merely been made in jest after all. The imps crowding the street certainly looked angry but for the most part they'd given up staring at them to return to their onwards march down the wide avenue. No real threat, merely displeased about whatever it was that was affecting their little lives.
“Vamos, we are almost there,” murmured the parrot, gesturing him forwards to a covered entranceway lit by a truly spectacular neon sign. Exotic Eden. For something designed to look gaudy the thing somehow managed to pull off the red light district aesthetic with no small amount of artistry. Curling vines of lambent tubage looped their way through the stylized lettering to trail out the other side with one round, plump apple dangling from the very end of the neon branch. Not subtle, but then compared to the standard of what was around them perhaps it were very subtle indeed. The guard on duty at the door was a tall, well muscled hellhound-incubus hybrid who dropped into a bow upon seeing them approach.
“Your highnesses, please, right this way.” The man straightened up with a flourish and gestured them inside with a smile that showed off all of his sparklingly white teeth.
Inside the club was, undeniably, incredible. Despite his firm desire to hold onto his disapproval Stolas couldn't help but feel just a little bit impressed. Already there were perhaps two dozen Goetia scattered about the seating but rather than immediately move to greet his peers the owl found his attention drawn instead to the impressive decor. The place was lit with softly burning lanterns stoked with indigo hellfire and the rich carpets underfoot were as luxurious as they were impractical for a club that served, and who's patrons no doubt spilled, alcohol. Front and centre was a stage that featured not only the standard dance poles that one might expect, but also an assortment of other equipment ranging from aerial silks to a series of great metal hoops suspended from the ceiling above. Already there were dancers coiling their way about the stage but Stolas was too busy evaluating the rest of the building to pay them much mind. Two of the walls were lined with a series of well cushioned booths that each boasted their own table complete with a central pole, presumably for more intimate performances and Stolas felt himself shiver. This place was a lot, no doubt about it. Quickly he cast his eyes elsewhere, searching for anything a little more decorous he might focus on. Against the last wall was a bar, stocked with a wide array of bottles that the owl recognised perhaps more closely than was seemly and tended to by an ample bosomed succubus that flashed them an inviting smile as soon as they were inside the door. Ah, no more decorousness to be found that way either. He was saved from his awkwardness by a sudden shout from across the room and Andrealphus pushed himself to his feet so that he could sweep over and greet them.
“Ah Stolas, Vassago! So pleased that you could make it.” His smile was full of that inexplicable self satisfaction that never failed to leave Stolas uneasy and before he could do more than nod the peacock had taken up his hand and kissed it, his beak cool against Stolas’s skin. Only a moment later and he had repeated the gesture for Vassago, although admittedly the parrot matched his game with considerably more skill that Stolas had, twisting past his hold to kiss Andrealphus on both cheeks as was his way. The owl could only watch as the two Goetia exchanged a tight lipped, appraising smile. Constantly battling for presidence, those two.
“Yes well, we weren't about to miss a party like this one. It isn't often someone books out the whole of Exotic Eden, my man. I hope that you have some quality entertainment for us tonight.” Vassago kept his smile jovial, although his eyes were glittering and Stolas couldn't help but notice how overly tight their handshake had become.
“Oh, nothing but the best for you, my dear little parakeet,” drawled the peacock, his own eyes perhaps a shade too bright as he stared down at the other Goetia. Andrealphus's long, iridescent tail feathers had shivered out into a loose fan on the floor behind him and it was obvious that he was only doing it for show but still the parrot cocked his head to look. Ridiculous mind games. The peacock was not their friend, at best they might call him a peer, and yet there was a certain amount of competitive camaraderie between Andrealphus and Vassago that no amount of dislike seemed to be able to overcome. No doubt that was why they had been invited at all, so that the peacock could take the opportunity to show off. Well, that was probably why Vassago had been invited at any rate. Most likely Stolas had only been invited to pad out Andrealphus's numbers and so that he could prove his willingness to keep up polite appearances with his soon to be brother in law.
The pair of them were still squeezing one another's hands, so tightly that it could not be comfortable for either of them and the peacock was making use of his greater height to lean in over the shorter Goetia with a challenging smile. Vassago fluttered out his crest and took just the smallest step closer, still gripping Andrealphus's hand but it was obvious they were neither of them putting much effort into holding back on their charged animosity. Oh for hell’s sake. With a long suffering sigh Stolas stepped in to ease the pair apart with a neat bow directed towards the peacock.
“Yes, of course, thank you for inviting us Andrealphus. And might I wish you a happy birthday? What is it, thirty years of age?” No matter how vapid the conversation starter, at least his interjection cut through some of their excessive posturing. Honestly, at this point it might be a relief if the two of them actually did get into a fight. At least if they both came away bruised and bleeding they might decide between them to leave well enough alone. For some reason the thought left him with a small spark of bitter jealousy. How nice it would be to have someone that found him interesting enough to harbour such an intense feeling for, even if it were in an unhealthy, antagonistic sort of way.
“Yes quite correct, today is my thirtieth. And I do hope that I can count on you to have brought me a decent gift, my dear brother-in-law? You know what they say; for thirty, family fronts five flagons.” With a casual smile the peacock pulled his hand free of Vassago's grip and turned his shoulder to block the parrot out of the conversation so that he might speak to Stolas directly. The owl was under no illusions as to why, it had nothing to do with him finding Stolas the more interesting of the two and everything to do with winding up Vassago. His ploy had worked perfectly too; the prince could practically see the steam issuing from his cousin's ears but to his credit the parrot merely sidestepped Andrealphus's rudeness to lean an arm across Stolas’s shoulder, casually reinserting himself into the conversation. The parrot surreptitiously rolled his eyes and shot the prince a knowing glance. Trust Andrealphus to jump straight to gifts.
“Well, five flagons was just a tad too heavy to carry all this way so you shall have to make do with one, although I can promise you that this one is most excellent.” With a wry shake of his head the owl conjured up the requisite bottle of fine Wrathian moonshine that he had purchased and passed it across to his soon to be brother-in-law with a polite bow. The peacock took it with a smile, his long fingers curling around the bottle so that he might raise it to his face to examine it.
“Why thank you Stolas, I am most grateful. Wrathian moonshine hmm? You always did harbour a penchant for peasant chic.” The owl only offered him an open handed shrug. No matter how Andrealphus might posture, they both knew the bottle was quality. “Anyway, since it is my party it is my job to mingle so I shall leave you both to it. The bar is open, so help yourselves to whatever takes your fancy. Please, make yourselves comfortable and enjoy the show.” With that the peacock turned on his heels and strutted back over to the table of his closer friends, waving the moonshine in their direction so that they might pass whatever snobbish judgement was sure to be forthcoming. Vassago tutted and muttered something vulgar under his breath that Stolas was too slow to translate before gesturing them both over towards the bar. A drink sounded like a fantastic idea.
“Useless son of a whore, how did he manage to hire out this entire place I wonder? It must have cost his father a fortune, no?” The parrot’s eyes were narrowed in Andrealphus's direction and his back was stiff. Smiling to himself Stolas gestured to the barmaid and ordered them both wide tumblers of brandy with a wave of his hand.
“I am sure I don't know. Why do you let him bother you so much?” That set the parrot's eyes to flashing and he shot the prince a reproachful glare before knocking back the entirety of his drink in one smooth motion.
“He doesn't bother me! The little frozen nipple, it is just that I feel that his face would look better with my fist pushed into his beak, no?” Stolas raised a disbelieving eyebrow at his cousin and grinned.
“Oh, and is that all that you would like to push into his beak? It certainly seems to me like you might be interested in seeing a whole lot more of what exactly you might be able to fit into his mouth.” Before he had even finished his sentence the owl was sliding back a little ways down the bar, away from the angry claws and the sudden, mortified blush that crept onto Vassago's face.
“Come mierda Stolas! I have no desire to lay a finger on that bastardo beyond what it takes to wipe that dirty smirk off his face!” With a furious glare the parrot leaned back over the bar to snatch up the unattended bottle before giving the owl a shove towards some of the more distant seating. Stolas grinned back over his shoulder as they walked, unwilling to give up being vexatious just yet.
“No? Could have fooled me, with the way you two were leaning in close and fluttering your eyelashes at one another. I was half expecting the pair of you to fall to the floor there and then and begin tearing off one another's clothes. Honestly I was almost considering calling the manager, just in case it became necessary to have the firehose ready.” The look Vassago sent his way would have been enough to strip flesh from bone had it not been tempered with so much fiery embarrassment. With a barely contained snarl the parrot dragged his gaze away from Stolas’s teasing expression but not before stealing a hasty glance towards where Andrealphus was reclining back in his chair, his mouth split wide with laughter at some jest or another.
“Gilipollas, don't tell me that today is the day you have decided to get down off your high horse to indulge in some vulgarity, and it is only so that you can tease me?! You are a spiteful man, Stolas.” Vassago's eyebrows were drawn up into a reproachful frown but the prince only laughed and let himself down to sit in one of the unclaimed booths, far back from Andrealphus and his little group of friends.
“Quite correct, oh self possessed cousin of mine. I have clambered down only so that I might torment you, once you are quite done failing to convince me that you do not in fact wish to bed down with our least favorite peacock then I shall bid this tawdriness farewell and scramble right back up onto the back of that horse, see if I don't.” Stolas flashed his disgruntled friend a grin and settled himself back to sip at his drink. It was surprisingly pleasant to be the one doing the ribbing for once, and with how hotly Vassago had responded he was starting to wonder if there wasn't even a little truth in his playfully made accusations. The parrot glowered at him and folded his slender arms across his chest, refusing to allow his gaze to venture anywhere near Andrealphus's table.
“Yes well, perhaps we will see about that. Now that you have decided it is worth wallowing around in the soupy vulgarity with the rest of us, maybe you should stay down here a bit longer, eh? Only look at those dancers, Stolas. You cannot mean to tell me that the way that incubus moves does not stir you even a little? It is not a crime to take pleasure in your sexuality you know, and he certainly looks a damn sight better than Andrealphus, the stupid, slippery blue cara de pito…” His words tailed off into aimless muttering and Stolas was left to stare up at the performers while he considered what his cousin had said.
Almost unwillingly he found himself drawn to an appraisal of the dancers, trying to determine the extent to which he was indeed ‘stirred' as opposed to merely uncomfortable. As he watched, the incubus in question leapt from the pole he had been working to catch himself with his knees hooked around the lower edge of the suspended ring. A moment later and the maneuver had been repeated, this time by a slender imp that had launched himself from his own pole with an elegant twist of his lithe body, only to be caught by the outstretched hand of the incubus. Together the two demons pulled themselves up into the ring, their bodies twisting around either side of the metal in perfect symmetry to leave them reclining together as if in a hammock, face to face with the smaller in the lap of the larger and grinding themselves against one another with shameless eroticism. The incubus had pulled the imp in close against his body with a grip on one of his long, arched horns and the imp came willingly, pressing himself against the firm chest of the other demon with a writhing roll of his hips.
Closer and closer they came, already so intimate in their embrace and yet with every passing second there seemed to be even more heat between the two, eyes locked and bodies moving together with carefully choreographed perfection. They would not actually kiss, would they? Surely not, and yet the way the incubus was drawing the smaller demon in against himself, with one hand pressing hard against the small of his back certainly seemed to imply so. Arms went sliding around one another, tails intertwined and it was all Stolas could do to stare with shamefully rapt attention.
Just as it appeared that their lips might actually be on the verge of meeting the pair went tumbling down from the ring in a terrifying plummet, first the incubus still dangling from one, well muscled arm and then the imp, cascading down his body as if the larger demon were actually a part of the equipment to finish up with a somersault that landed him not five feet away from where they sat, right at the edge of the stage. His handsome face was flushed with effort and the sharp toothed grin he directed towards the crowd was full of self satisfaction.
Both men were exceptionally beautiful and Stolas felt himself blush. Hell beneath, he hated coming to places like this. With an inward growl he dragged his eyes away and shot his smug cousin a glare. Yes, the dancers were interesting but that did not mean he was in any way comfortable with appreciating them. Aside from all the dangers associated with possibly upsetting his fiancée, it left him feeling not a little lecherous to be staring at people like that, reducing them down to an appreciation of their physical attributes as if there was nothing more important about them worth knowing.
Scowling he knocked back his drink and pulled the bottle from Vassago's fingers to pour himself another under the parrot's smiling eye.
“That's more like it, eh? Maybe a few drinks is just what you need.”