[ And that was true. Vox was completely dependent on others. He was the one who was shackled and chained to his partners, while Alastor needed neither of the souls that he owns. In fact, they were dependent on him. He lifted his chin upon hearing the claim that it was all Vox's work, his expression growing both more smug and more mocking. That wasn't even close to the truth, not yet.
The question was met with a shrug. He was above making jokes about Vox's head, it was too much of a cliche, but the turn of phrase really was made for Vox. His flat face would fall flat. He had been quite deliberate in saying it that way, and it really was a shame that Vox couldn't appreciate it.
The pat to the shoulder is accepted, and he looked up to Vox. ]
You see, that unearned confidence of yours is what will make it so satisfying to see your plan fall apart. There's nothing more satisfying than that moment when a person with an overinflated sense of confidence realizes they've lost everything. You should know the feeling well.
[ How satisfying it was, that is. The path to becoming an overlord was paved with blood and bodies and endless suffering, and there really was a special kind of satisfaction that came with being able to facilitate and witness it. ]
[Heeey. He wasn’t dependent! He could do just fine without them. It was simply the lot of any CEO to have employees, for any king to have servants, for a god to have worshippers. His role was bigger than a silent, monstrous threat that dwelled in the shadows; he was going to be seen. Control those around him.
That…that was different. Completely different. If he was in command (his rightful place to be, mind you), then no one would be above him. No one could command him, subjugate him, could ridicule him.
Could hurt himagain.
Vox spun him around again so he wouldn’t have to stare at how smug those eyes were, how sure they were that he would fail. If this smiling asshole would just believe him-]
Last time I checked, deer were prey animals. In fact, there’s a whole week dedicated to how useless, weak, and stupid deer are; it gets gooood ratings.
[Almost as good as Shark Week.]
I’ve broken a lot of people to get where I am, and you’re just another number. [The highest number. The most important. Vox leaned down to get on his level.] I can’t wait to prove to you how wrong you are.
[The champagne would flow, something to get him good and drunk so he didn’t have to think about the hole left after.]
You’re tied up and at my mercy, the front seat to all my greatness. The rally is tomorrow, and you’ll see. They will all see.
[ His ears tilted back again at the mention of deer, but they perked back up quickly enough. He hated this form, he hated those ears and antlers that defined him as an animal. He hated that how hard it was to hide his emotions when he had a part of his body that tried to move on instinct even now. One would never know for how expressive he's been since arriving in Vee Tower, but he took great care to keep them straight up. He hated it, but he had never been prey. Alastor was a predatory in life, and he has been in death.
But he didn't entirely mind hearing that there was an entire week dedicated to deer. There's only man that would go through all the effort of setting that up, and it was the one who was completely and totally obsessed with him. Ever desperate for his attention.
But he watched as Vox averted his gaze, then returned it, and as he moved himself down to Alastor's level. That attitude was better. It was what Alastor wanted to see. It was defiant, determined, the look and voice of a person who would do anything to propel himself to the top.
He thought to press that point more. It would have been nothing if not easy to continue to mock him and remind him that all anyone will be seeing in the end is what a failure he is. The thought was there, but he had to break up the monotony of mockery and discouragement here and there. Vox was one more person who would smile and push through any setback in his way, someone who couldn't be completely broken, so there was no real concern, but it would get boring for both of them.
So instead he says, ]
If you keep leaning in so close, I'm going to start to think that you're interested in something else entirely.
[ He would let Vox fill in the blanks on that one, but his eyes did briefly trail down to his hips, right around where the man's waistband was with no intention of implying something whatsoever. ]
[There were a lot of things Vox expected from Alastor, a lot more that he outwardly hoped (pleading for his life? apologies for the past?), and then there was this. The thing that made his screen blank out in full static before changing to bunch of colored bars, then back to his face.
His deeply blushing face and giant eyes.]
Wha-
[He made a raspberry with his lips, blowing the air out quickly before he waved his hand.]
N-No! I’m not- no! Why would you think that?!
[He was protesting too much, too hard, too vehemently, and the cycle made his face darken even more. Fuck, he didn’t want- No. Alastor? Once, maybe. Back then. Not-not now?
Totally not now.
Nooooooo.
Uh uh. ]
You’re clearly projecting.
[There’s that spin that came naturally. Well, normally naturally; this time? Not so much.]
[ Alastor wouldn't think that. In fact, he wouldn't think it. There was a certain level of curiosity now, though, watching that series of reactions, and he did scoot his chair a little closer. Vox is sitting atop the desk now, and that means that Alastor is at the exact perfect height to mess with him. He scooted a little closer, and he tilted his head at just the right angle to work around Vox's shirt and take the hem of Vox's pants in his teeth, pulling it out and snapping it. It's not nearly as sexy with dress pants as it is with jeans, much less boxers, but those eyelids are lowered enough to be suggestive.
He would be polite enough to pull back directly after. He didn't quite push back, but instead leaned back in the chair and tilted his head up with that ever present toothy grin before he finally said - ]
I wouldn't. You alone are immune to my charms.
[ He uncrossed his legs so he could plant his feet firmly on the ground with his legs spread apart in what was a perfectly normal amount for a man, since he crossed them more as a learned habit, for no other reason than that it allowed him more stability as he leaned back, heels lifting just slightly before he pushed back down. ]
And I have no interest in you.
[ And to whether or not that was true, well... Who knew? It was impossible to tell from that toothy grin. ]
It didn’t really matter if he never breathed again; he would come back over and over until his body got in line. But for now, the entirety of breathing, of thinking, left him. Electrical sparks danced over the edges of his head and down into the points of the claws as they curled around the desk edge. He could feel his heartbeat slamming against the prison of his ribs.
What was happening?
This had to be a trick, something Alastor was going to laugh at and tease him over. It wasn’t real. It wasn’t anything other than a reason to keep that stupid smile there. Alastor was mocking him.
Right?]
Damn right I am.
[Which might have been more convincing if his voice hadn’t cracked when he said it. Was it from before or because of the way he was sitting now? It was rare to see him without his legs crossed, and for a second Vox looked between them, where they were open, before back up to Alastor’s eyes.
He had dreams that started suspiciously like this over the years, but this felt too real to be one of those.
Vox started to lean forward, as if he could close the distance and-
And I have no interest in you.
The old hurts tangled up in the bottom of his stomach, another humiliation ritual like so long before. Why? This was crueler than the slaughters over his radiowaves. Fingers tightened on the desk, cracking the wood as his silent wounds seeped inside his chest. That smiling fucking face-]
You say that, but you’re the one that just came onto me!
[What an asshole. What a rude asshole and it wasn’t fair that there was something in Vox aching for his validation, for his acknowledgement, for just one stupid kis-]
What makes you think I have an interest in you? [His shoes scuffed the floor in front of his desk.] Val makes sure that my bed isn’t exactly empty at night.
[ Those last words were a stroke of luck, because Alastor was pushing too far in too certain of a direction. It allowed him to dismiss anything he might have felt, because he was too traditional to share. He was too selfish, he was too insecure, to not want to monopolize a partner's affection.
That was not to say that he resented the other Vees, of course - he had the same respect for them that he did all other Overlords. Rather, while Vox's little show of voyeurism had been nothing but tiring and an exercise in frustration, he did feel a certain amount of resentment for how much more they seemed to be. It was a complicated feeling, one that was on the whole unfamiliar, and one that seemed to be shared between them.
They were jealous of each other.
Alastor blinked lazily as his eyes rose up to meet Vox's once more. He had noted all those little reactions. He had delighted in them. There were certain little things that only he could draw out, and it made his heart race, and there was a chill that ran down his spine when the man leaned forward. It ended too fast, it was humiliating, but it was thrilling too.
He couldn't give, not yet. Not as long as there was that manacle around his neck, choking the life out of him; not because of any limitations pressed upon him, but because he would do nothing and form nothing so long until that chain was gone. He would risk nothing. He would allow for nothing to be gained that might be lost, and he might do the same after breaking it. But while it was there, nothing could be done.
But he did shift a bit. Vox had leaned in faster than expected, and he wasn't quite sure how to salvage it all, save saying what he had, and he settled on trying to shift back to the original subject - ]
You three will rule Heaven as equals. I'm just your little prisoner.
[Homewrecker? That was putting a lot of assumptions into the relationship that he and Val had, when it was a known fact that their situation was open (a thought that could have made him growl over Angel Dust, but that was neither here nor there). Nothing was going to turn Val into monogamous, and besides...there was always a silent antler-bearing shadow on Vox’s side anyway.
But still, he wasn’t about to get into the specifics of his arrangement with Val, and instead just waved his arms around his waist and pants, before turning them and waving that at Alastor. It was a frantic and obvious motion, an explanation without words.]
Um, I don’t know, maybe whatever that was?
[‘Homewrecker’. It was a perfectly antiquated word that he would expect only from Alastor and maybe one of those royal birds mentioned outside of this city. Alastor had indeed wrecked a home, but it was a hypothetical one decades ago.
And here the Radio Demon was trying to act like nothing just happened, gaslighting him into thinking maybe he read too far into whatever that was. Dammit, why was it always a game, a grift, a trap? Why did he always try to embarrass him? No one else ever got away with it except him. He had killed so many people for suck lesser slights.]
Oh, no. No, no, no. You don’t get to brush this off. [It was his turn to move his leg, planting his foot on the chair between Alastor’s uncrossed thighs. He leaned closer, his eyes narrowing as if he could read the ones across from him.]
What the fuck are you playing at? Are you trying to wreck my home or be my prisoner?
does this give him more or less motivation to take over heaven
[ Alastor looked down to Vox's foot, now positioned quite nicely between his legs, and found that he had no one to blame but himself for this precarious position. He had teased the man too much, and now he had no choice but to decide what direction he wanted to take this in, or rather, whether or not he wanted to continue with this. He was the prisoner, but he had complete control over what direction things would go in.
Maybe it was him playing games, and maybe it was him teasing Vox, but that didn't mean that he wasn't curious.
He brought his eyes back up to meet Vox's. He hadn't expected such a strong reaction. But it only took a few seconds of thought before he responded with a shrug.
Fuck it. He's committed now. ]
Well now, that depends, doesn't it? Which one are you asking for?
[ He was Vox's prisoner either way, but he wasn't going to be the one to kill the mood by pointing that out. ]
Too early to tell. Depends on how bad he fucks it up LOL
[The question almost, almost made him back up and rethink all of this. Not the capturing and prisoner and winning thing; that was written in stone and blood and he wouldn’t give that up. But this moment? This moment was precarious, and his mind turned this into a white-board presentation, complete with spider-web chart.
Point number one to remember: Vox was in charge. He commanded this whole thing, he had a prisoner, he was going to take over Heaven, it was fine.
Point number two: Alastor had a history of humiliating him, finding ways to embarrass him, get under his skin. Why wouldn’t this be a set up for just that?
Point number three: He had a good thing going with the others. Messing that up could jeopardize the plan, and while he could repair whatever, it would take resources, bandwidth, and time.
Point number four: Had Alastor ever shown any interest before? He…wasn’t sure.
Seconds were ticking by with nothing to fill them. Dammit. If he answered, it gave Alastor too much power to jerk him in either direction. He needed to treat this like any company acquisition meeting: distant, careful, and sharp.]
There’s nothing saying that it can’t be both.
[Negotiations often started high and worked their way down. And besides, it wasn’t like Hell cared about annoying things like ethics.]
I’m starting to think you’re the one who doesn’t know what you want.
He has a chance, but if he fumbles it, he has to take over heaven to unlock the R18+ scene
[ Did he have any interest before? It was hard to say. Their relationship wasn't one that could be sorted into neat boxes. Their feelings ran too deep for that, they were too conflicted. They antagonized each other, they attacked each other, and the moment that one tried to get away, the other would drag them back down into the pit that they'd both dug over the years. He didn't know exactly when it happened or who had started it, but one had went to tie the other up, and gotten caught and tangled up int he mess of wires and strings that they were wrapping around the other. Or maybe it was the opposite, and it was because they'd each wanted to tether the other that they'd wound up trapped in this cycle. None of that allowed for them to consider much more. That chance had disappeared seventy years ago.
But that doesn't mean he hadn't been thinking about it. You two should just fuck already. Talk about getting straight to the point.
He watched in silent, patient, as he waited for the other to come to a conclusion. The grin stretched out, and there was a moment in which he wondered if he'd miscalculated, because, well - it's not as though he were incapable of feeling emotion. He could handle it much better, but he was nonetheless as prone to being embarrassed by misreading someone's intention as anyone else. And in this situation in particular, they're stuck with each other. ]
That's not an answer. Though I will say, I'm not doing anything while I'm tied to a chair.
[ Even if Vox could have it be both, this was just awkward. Snapping a person's waistband with one's teeth could easily be sexy, but the struggle to find the right angle and tilt for it dampened the effect. There was far more that he could do with free hands and a bit of mobility. ]
[Seven years there had been nothing, not a word, not a sound, just rumors to fill the void. Vox had thought he had been free, but freedom was a void if he let it be. He had scoured everything, every camera, every news line, every – uggh – radio station, and it had been nothing. He should’ve been happy.
He told himself he had been happy.
He was supposed to be happy.
He flourished in work, expanded the networks and focused more on sponsorships and R&D than ever before. Some nights were spent wound up in Val both with work, sex, and weirdly domestic, and others were pouring over monitors. He had won. He had won.
And then Alastor had returned and everything was unmoored again, his footing tilted. The obsession threatened to drag him back down, as if he wasn’t already anchored to the depths this entire time. There was no explanation for where he had been, what he was doing, nothing. Just…suddenly there. Smiling. Always smiling.
Now Vox was here, keeping Alastor as a prisoner, having won again, and he should be happy (was happier than the silence of seven years). But instead there was just this conflict because no, no, you cocky, smug, unholier-than-thou asshole, he didn’t have an answer. Dammit. And worse was that he thought Alastor knew that.
He made a show of rolling his eyes as he pushed off the desk, reached out, and sliced through the rope with his fingers. It wasn’t like Alastor would leave or fight him (probably?); the ropes were mostly for show, demoralizing, propaganda shots, and his own satisfaction.
That done, he reclaimed his seat on the edge of the desk, facing Alastor.]
This doesn’t change anything. We still have a deal.
[The easiest deal in all of Hell. What could go wrong?]
He does, but I get it on this one... If I had this man in front of me, I would fumble too.
The ropes were cut, and that was enough to afford him an answer. It wasn't a decisive one, but Vox could always change his mind halfway through. For the moment, Alastor had no issue with being the one to take the lead.
He stood up, taking his time in stretching out to loosen up his stiff muscles and work the kinks out of his back. He placed his hands on the small of his back as he leaned to pop his back. Much better.
Once he was satisfied, Alastor rubbed his wrist. He was ever aware of the shackles that kept him bound to Vox, ones that could manifest at any moment. He was right. Nothing had changed, and nothing would change. Their deal would remain in place until Vox dissolved it, either willingly or by breaking it. The former was never an option, and so he was counting on the latter.
But that would come later. For now, he offered a resigned nod in return before he took a seat on the next next to the other. He was close enough for their shoulders to brush together, but left just enough space for it to keep from being uncomfortable. ]
I haven't forgotten. I didn't mention leaving as one of the options, now did I?
[ He reached over as he spoke, a clawed finger touching the ball of his antenna and lightly drawing it forward before releasing it to let it spring back into place. This was just a way for them to kill time, to entertain themselves. ]
[There were so many sounds in the office and it was difficult not to get lost in them. The bubbling of the tank. The creak of the chair as Alastor slid out of it. The popping of bones as he stretched, only interrupted by the sound of his shoes a second later.
The little boing of his antenna as it was bounced back and forth after it was toyed with. ]
That doesn’t mean it hasn’t crossed your mind.
[Don’t do that. Don’t touch his antenna. In retaliation (and because sometimes he could act like a spiteful child), he reached up and flicked one of Alastor’s small antlers. It was nowhere near as satisfying, no motions or sounds to speak of, but it made him feel better. Slightly.
He settled his hand down on the desk again, gripping it. Nerves were electrifying inside him, anxiety a low roll under his skin, something seventy years old that he swore he had lost. It felt like a trap. It always felt like a trap now with him but this was charged, moreso. Val and Velvette would never let him hear the end of it if they saw Alastor out, and he was questioning his own judgement at the moment.
Where was the catch? What was he missing?]
If you try to kill me, I’m throwing you in the tank.
[ That flick to the antler earned him a glare, his ears laying back, but the annoyance only lasts a few seconds. They're both petty children.
He watched the reaction with interest. He had never stopped paying attention to Vox, and with the years he had only taken more pleasure in seeing what reactions he could pull from the man - reactions that were offered up to and meant for him alone, because he didn't need to see how the man acted in private to know that they could never have the same. It only became more obvious as he refined his look, as he settled more into that role of a public figure, found ways to spin every story except those about the Radio Demon.
He placed his hand over Vox's angling himself so that his knees were bumping up against the other. He leaned forward and used his free hand to take the corner of the other's head. He was still deciding what he wanted to do here. It had might have been a hundred years since he'd been with anyone. There wase no reason for such performative gestures in Hell. And that was to say nothing of the man's unique anatomy.
He tilted the other's head more toward him, and held it as place as he rubbed his cheek. His fingers curled lightly around the one he had placed it over. There was no effort to disrupt his grip, but just to apply a measure of pressure. ]
Is that all? I think you could come up with a more... fitting punishment.
[ He leaned forward as he spoke, his voice dropping, until his forehead was tapping against the other's, his ears tilted forward. Vox had his full attention now. He gave the other but a couple seconds to process that thought before leaning in to punctuation it with a kiss - soft and short to stop.
It was all just bluster, anyway. The only real threat was that somebody would barge in on them... It would be easy to spin, but Vox was too focused on image to want to be caught like this to begin with, much less being seduced by his "prisoner." That wasn't Alastor's problem, though, so he wasn't thinking about it at all. ]
[Finally, finally, Vox had his undivided attention. It was rich, a top-shelf aged brandy to savor as it burned him from the inside. Was it safe to have the full attention of a serial killer?
When was “safe” a word to be used in Hell?
There was the smallest bit of tension in his body as he tried to pull back a few inches when his cheek was rubbed. It was a sweet gesture, affectionate, and it caught him completely off-guard. It was weirdly more disturbing than the intimate violence they had spewed at each other not that long ago. Funny how the blood and rage felt more comfortable than this.
Fuck, was this what being vulnerable felt like? It had been a long time, and he didn’t miss the fear that came with it.
When their foreheads met, he didn’t pull back, even as his breath hitched a little. When was the last time they had been this close? On the desk, his hand let go of the ledge and turned up, curling in Alastor’s as if he could regain some control. Control. He needed his control back. He was drowning, floundering, when he should have been a shark in these seas.
H-he could sex, dammit! He literally spent his nights with the Sex King!
Okay. He had this. Vox kissed him back, disappointing at how short it was. He followed after him, trying to grab another one, the free hand reaching over to settle on Alastor’s waist and squeezing it.]
I could throw you out the window. [He wouldn’t; it was too fast, too impersonal, he wouldn’t see the moment of impact. That was reserved for network execs. Instead, he let the electricity in body ramp up just enough to make that fur on those ears stand up.]
Or I could let you become part of the ever-buzzing electrical grid of my empire.
[ It wasn't just Vox who found the affair to be uncomfortable. It was new territory, one that carried with it more danger than being strung up and toyed with, or even their routine fights. Those actions were simple. They were violent, but controlled, predictable. This could fall apart at a moment's notice, and all the small promises and implications hidden beneath the surface might shatter with it.
He told himself that there was nothing to worry about. It would stop and end with just this much. It was a thought that did nothing to stop his heart from beating quicker in anticipation.
One kiss, then another, and he found that kissing Vox wasn't bad at all. It was a new, different, and he had a different taste to him than he thinks a human might.
The first suggestion earned a disapproving sound, and the electrical current a shudder. His ears stood straight up, the fur standing up on straight ends, and his fingers twitched. It's familiar, from dozens of encounters, one of those tells that Vox was about to come crashing down on him. It was a warning sign every other day, but here a pleasant one that encouraged agreement. ]
Mm... Better.
[ He let his hand rail down the man's face, fingers sliding down his neck before fiddling with the bowtie that he wore. He unclipped one side, then the other, before pulling it off and tossing it off to the side. ]
Turn your phone off.
[ Or whatever it might be that he needed to do to keep it from ringing. If he wasn't committed before, Alastor is now, and there was nothing sexy about the idea his partner turning into a cellphone in the middle of it. Besides, fair was fair - Vox finally had his undivided attention, so why shouldn't Alastor have his? He was sure that Vox had some way or another of being contacted if it was that important. ]
[Was this real? It couldn’t be real, right? This, heh, this couldn’t be real. A younger him, a him with softer and rounder edges, might have jumped at this chance without any hesitation, but his edges had become sharper and his awareness vast (ha). He knew better.
But to let it go as far as it would, this was almost like chicken. And he wouldn’t falter first, not in front of him.
Vox couldn’t see how big his own eyes were as Alastor took off his bowtie, as that moment of praise pooled warmly in his stomach and went through his cables. It shouldn't have felt this good, but it did, made his face darken and the electrical current dance off his antennae. Better. It was a small thing, and yet it caught him off-guard enough that it made it easier to follow the command. That should have been a tell right there: separate himself from the others completely and wholly. Isolate him.
And still never truly on-his-own as Alastor so goaded, because the deer himself was here with him.
He pulled back a few inches, before putting the phone on Do Not Disturb. And as a point, he let go of Alastor’s waist, raised a hand up and behind him, letting a thin line of blue electricity strike a camera in the corner. The tiny green light positioned on it went dim and the tip hung, silent and dead. No more eyes.
They were truly alone, as long as one ignored the giant shark in the tank.
His fingers started to pluck at the front of that red coat, to open it slowly. After all, it wasn’t fair that he was the only one losing pieces of clothing, turning things off, giving in again and again. Alastor was still the prisoner, right?
…Right?]
This doesn’t change the fact that I still hate you.
[No, he didn’t, no matter how convincing he tried to make it sound.]
Edited (Gotta add a bit of a reaction to the smallest scraps of praise. LOL) 2026-02-11 15:19 (UTC)
[ There was no longer any potential for others to watch, and there was no longer any chance of interruption, and that was just how Alastor wanted it. Everything up until now had been part of a game, but this was something personal. It was selfish, because he wasn't thinking on what important messages Vox might miss, what meeting she might have planned, or any other trouble he might cause. He wanted to monopolize Vox's time and attention now, but he was offering up the same in return.
He looked down as the other began to undo the buttons of his jacket and pull it open, revealing a red dress shirt with black trim. It was hard for him not to squirm, but he managed, instead taking advantage of it to shrug it off his shoulders and allowing it to slide down. He felt oddly vulnerable without the additional weight - Vox had seen him without it before, and so had others, but it left him with just a single thin layer covering that gaping wound on his chest. He was suddenly aware of how close Vox was.
It was all give and take with them. ]
The feeling is mutual. That's the fun part.
[ Alastor didn't hate Vox any more than Vox hated him. The feelings shared between them ran deeper than love and hate. They shared something else that was far stronger than either, and something that no one else could offer. They needed each other, and all those barbs and scars that should have pulled them apart just pushed them together. There was no one else who could understand.
Once his jacket had slid down, he pulled his hands out of the sleeves. He placed one hand on the desk to support himself as he lifted his knees up. One was bent as he rested it on the table, and threw the other over Vox so he could bracket him on both sides. He wanted to hold control for just a bit longer. ]
Unless... [ He wrapped his arms around Vox's neck next, leaning in close as he did so. ] ... Are you asking me to stop?
[ Probably should have asked before climbing on top of him, huh? ]
Edited (just tweaking the dialogue a bit) 2026-02-12 00:58 (UTC)
[At least the feeling was mutual (it wasn’t, but who in Hell didn’t lie?). Just as with the tie, there was a rawness of being without the things that made up their pseudo armor, leaving them slightly more exposed than was prepared to be with each other. He unbuttoned his own coat, but didn’t discard it.
It was maybe a little mocking in the way he did it. ]
I wouldn’t have it any other way.
[He watched as Alastor staddle him, trying not to look as surprised (and eager) as he felt. It was an effort to keep a straight face, then he gave up that effort and swallowed the lump in his throat. He wanted to smile but he didn’t think he could make it as menacing as he needed it to be. And if it was soft and in awe, well, that was a whole other problem.
Did Vox want it to stop? The weight of Alastor on his lap, the heat of him this close, did he want those gone? Vox knew they should be gone, but that was so different.]
…Do you want me to?
[Asking a question with a question, sidetracking and answering nothing. It was better than admitting that no, no he didn’t want him to stop. His hands slid around to Alastor’s back, running lines along his spine, dragging loosely against each rib, riding the bumps of each shoulderblade as if he was taking stock of each bone in body.
But he knew better than to go under that shirt. Not yet.
He did, however, lean forward and flick his tongue against the side of Alastor’s neck.]
[ They should stop. This was a mistake, one that they would deeply regret. It was disrupting the careful balance that held their relationship together. It would ripple out into other parts of their lives. Sex always changes things.
He pulled his hands back. He let them rest on Vox's shoulders before toying with the lapel of his jacket. Vox had a different build than him. His shoulders were broader, his muscles more defined. Alastor was noticeably toned, but lean. He'd never developed muscle mass the way someone with a more dedicated regimen might. His frame was just slender enough to trace out the difference between the two of them.
None of which mattered, none of which was so significant as to draw immediate attention to the eye, but noted and considered now, because he was paying and mind and paying attention in a way that he hadn't before. He moved back just enough to let his hands rest on Vox's shoulders before he froze in place as nimble fingers worked their way up his smile. Alastor was already a person who avoided touch, but the constant pain he felt made him even more sensitive to all others.
He had done well in training himself not to offer up any outward reaction to stimuli, and so at first all that followed was his posture growing more stiff and his grip growing tighter. He toyed with the man's lapel, moved to slide the jacket off of him, running his hands along his shoulders as he did so. But that came to a halt when he felt Vox's tongue lapping against his neck, an electric sensation that drew a sharp breath from him and sent a shiver running down his spine.
Alastor still hadn't answered his question - a question for a question in place of an answer. ]
[It was a terrible mistake, but regret was always more of an after effect.
Vox could feel the other demon’s body tensing as he trailed claws up that back, something that made the fingers stall, eyes trying in vain to read an unreadable face. After years with someone so sensitive, so attuned and hungry to whatever touch he offered, this felt more delicate, fragile. Being able to stomp through the china shop suddenly needed mindful steps.
But he was also used to barreling through, commanding a situation. He wasn’t sure he was commanding shit here.
Fingers started back up again but managed only an inch before he realized that Alastor was taking his coat off and that would require his arms. Pulling them back to his side, he let the jacket fall down his biceps, his forearms, his hands. A little freer now, he could feel the chill of the air conditioning (a Hell mandatory), and stretched a little.
He wasn’t sure what got him more excited: that sharp breath or the Not yet. Permission. A go ahead. His tongue trailed up towards the deer’s jawline, warm and wet and ever-so-slightly shocking, keeping the worst of it held back. This was going so fucking great.
Time to mess it up. ]
The chair is more comfortable, you know. And stain-resistant; I made sure after Val obliterated the last one.
[Ahh, Vox, probably not the time to talk about him. But it wasn’t like it was a secret, so what could be the harm.
Certainly not him hoping to see some glimmer of…something…]
[ bro you can't just bring up your new wife during foreplay with the ex-wife you're trying to win back????
It was going better than expected.
Alastor was allowed to take the lead. He could control the pacing, explore things at his own pace, and that allowed him to accept it. His hands trailing along broad shoulders and strong arms that were so different from what he knew. He tilted his head slightly to one side, inviting him in. The electric sensation, the warmth pooling in his stomach, and even the sound of Vox's voice encouraged him to ignore any misgivings.
That is, until it doesn't. He placed a hand on Vox's chest at the mention of the chair, pushing himself back just enough to make eye contact, then blinked when Valentino's name was mentioned. He might have acquiesced without question if not for that, but that statement was enough to bring Alastor back to the present.
His ears tilted back as he pulled back more, just enough for them to speak comfortably. He was slightly displeased with the mention. Valentino may have felt that Alastor was intruding upon his space, but the other man had done so first. He had started joining in as though he were entitled to be a part of the Media Overlord and Radio Demon's conflict; he had taken over pieces of the media industry that had previously been carved up and divided between them. ]
... He did what now?
[ He asked. He left his hand splayed on the other's chest, but that along was enough to dampen his interest in the idea. It wasn't a secret (metaphorically speaking, it wasn't like this was anything to advertise,) and in fact Alastor was the one who would be, but that only served to make the mention more irritating.
Now would be a good time for Vox to choose his words with care. ]
[In case you haven’t noticed: he’s an idiot, and he most certainly will do such a thing.
The tip of his tongue was running against skin, loving the tingling static spark between them, before it was suddenly touching…nothing. Just air that filled in the space between them as he was pushed back. Disappointment filled him sharper than he thought it would at the sudden pause (it wasn’t an ending, right?), but that alone was telling.
Vox might not be able to read Alastor completely, but if nothing else, he was learning about ears. Someone wasn’t happy.
Someone might be jealous.
Vox silently put a little checkmark in his secret, admin privileges only, W folder.]
Oh, yeah, the gas springs can only handle so much, and the leather is never as durable as they sell you. I even made sure that this one was ergonomic. Real good for the back.
[He wouldn’t come out and ask if Alastor was jealous; that’s not how these things worked between them. But he did let himself have a little grin as he settled his hand over the one on his chest, tugging on it as he tried to close the distance once again.
Was this a petulant cry for attention? Always. Was he foolish enough to realize he would get the opposite? Probably.]
Want to see for yourself?
[On the other hand, there was no one else he would even think of letting sit in his office chair. And no way that he would admit to offering to let Alastor do just that.]
[ Alastor let his hand be moved away, let Vox press up against him once more, but it was no longer the same. He had already been pulled out of the moment. Under any other circumstances, there would be no issue. It wasn't just that sex was normally in Hell, either. They were two of Hell's most acclaimed figures and two of its leaders - two who had been at odds for decades - suddenly changing the entire narrative, and wasn't that exactly the sort of drama that made people tune in?
But here, it was just a black hole that would suck up all the excitement that had developed thanks to the Radio Demon's capture. He wouldn't want it advertised, even if it led to something more (because that idea briefly flit through his mind now,) but that would be his own desire for privacy and not any scandal. Here, it was some shameful secret, something to be hidden away, and a risk to both of their reputations.
He used these little excuses to obscure the real reason for his conflict. He was confident, good at spin, but that didn't mean he wasn't incapable of feeling inadequate. And while he knew he was at the top of Vox's priority list, the one who could command his attention at a moment's notice, there were certain lines that needed to be drawn.
And then there was the petty part of him that said if Vox was thinking about Valentino and whatever the Hell they did together, he should just go find him instead.
It was more disappointing than expected. His shoulders slumped, and his eyes came to meet Vox's once more. He shook his head. Why did Vox always have to ruin things? ]
I shouldn't... We shouldn't. This is a bad idea, [ He finally said out loud, agitation working its way into his voice before disappointing as he wrested control of his emotions back. ] Either of your associates would make an issue of it if they find out, and if the public does, then they'll start to think that this was all staged.
[ It wouldn't be unreasonable, for as long as the two have known each other and for how notorious Alastor was. And, well - he didn't trust those two gossips to keep something like this from slipping out. ]
And that... [ Alastor kissed him one more time, ] ... Would ruin the show that you're putting on.
[ And with that, he used Vox to support himself as he swung his leg back over the other, rolling back until he was sitting next to the man once more. ]
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The question was met with a shrug. He was above making jokes about Vox's head, it was too much of a cliche, but the turn of phrase really was made for Vox. His flat face would fall flat. He had been quite deliberate in saying it that way, and it really was a shame that Vox couldn't appreciate it.
The pat to the shoulder is accepted, and he looked up to Vox. ]
You see, that unearned confidence of yours is what will make it so satisfying to see your plan fall apart. There's nothing more satisfying than that moment when a person with an overinflated sense of confidence realizes they've lost everything. You should know the feeling well.
[ How satisfying it was, that is. The path to becoming an overlord was paved with blood and bodies and endless suffering, and there really was a special kind of satisfaction that came with being able to facilitate and witness it. ]
no subject
That…that was different. Completely different. If he was in command (his rightful place to be, mind you), then no one would be above him. No one could command him, subjugate him, could ridicule him.
Could hurt him
again.Vox spun him around again so he wouldn’t have to stare at how smug those eyes were, how sure they were that he would fail. If this smiling asshole would just believe him-]
Last time I checked, deer were prey animals. In fact, there’s a whole week dedicated to how useless, weak, and stupid deer are; it gets gooood ratings.
[Almost as good as Shark Week.]
I’ve broken a lot of people to get where I am, and you’re just another number. [The highest number. The most important. Vox leaned down to get on his level.] I can’t wait to prove to you how wrong you are.
[The champagne would flow, something to get him good and drunk so he didn’t have to think about the hole left after.]
You’re tied up and at my mercy, the front seat to all my greatness. The rally is tomorrow, and you’ll see. They will all see.
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But he didn't entirely mind hearing that there was an entire week dedicated to deer. There's only man that would go through all the effort of setting that up, and it was the one who was completely and totally obsessed with him. Ever desperate for his attention.
But he watched as Vox averted his gaze, then returned it, and as he moved himself down to Alastor's level. That attitude was better. It was what Alastor wanted to see. It was defiant, determined, the look and voice of a person who would do anything to propel himself to the top.
He thought to press that point more. It would have been nothing if not easy to continue to mock him and remind him that all anyone will be seeing in the end is what a failure he is. The thought was there, but he had to break up the monotony of mockery and discouragement here and there. Vox was one more person who would smile and push through any setback in his way, someone who couldn't be completely broken, so there was no real concern, but it would get boring for both of them.
So instead he says, ]
If you keep leaning in so close, I'm going to start to think that you're interested in something else entirely.
[ He would let Vox fill in the blanks on that one, but his eyes did briefly trail down to his hips, right around where the man's waistband was with no intention of implying something whatsoever. ]
Hey, Al, look. You broke him.
His deeply blushing face and giant eyes.]
Wha-
[He made a raspberry with his lips, blowing the air out quickly before he waved his hand.]
N-No! I’m not- no! Why would you think that?!
[He was protesting too much, too hard, too vehemently, and the cycle made his face darken even more. Fuck, he didn’t want- No. Alastor? Once, maybe. Back then. Not-not now?
Totally not now.
Nooooooo.
Uh uh. ]
You’re clearly projecting.
[There’s that spin that came naturally. Well, normally naturally; this time? Not so much.]
But can I break him harder?
He would be polite enough to pull back directly after. He didn't quite push back, but instead leaned back in the chair and tilted his head up with that ever present toothy grin before he finally said - ]
I wouldn't. You alone are immune to my charms.
[ He uncrossed his legs so he could plant his feet firmly on the ground with his legs spread apart in what was a perfectly normal amount for a man, since he crossed them more as a learned habit, for no other reason than that it allowed him more stability as he leaned back, heels lifting just slightly before he pushed back down. ]
And I have no interest in you.
[ And to whether or not that was true, well... Who knew? It was impossible to tell from that toothy grin. ]
The answer is always "yes".
It didn’t really matter if he never breathed again; he would come back over and over until his body got in line. But for now, the entirety of breathing, of thinking, left him. Electrical sparks danced over the edges of his head and down into the points of the claws as they curled around the desk edge. He could feel his heartbeat slamming against the prison of his ribs.
What was happening?
This had to be a trick, something Alastor was going to laugh at and tease him over. It wasn’t real. It wasn’t anything other than a reason to keep that stupid smile there. Alastor was mocking him.
Right?]
Damn right I am.
[Which might have been more convincing if his voice hadn’t cracked when he said it. Was it from before or because of the way he was sitting now? It was rare to see him without his legs crossed, and for a second Vox looked between them, where they were open, before back up to Alastor’s eyes.
He had dreams that started suspiciously like this over the years, but this felt too real to be one of those.
Vox started to lean forward, as if he could close the distance and-
And I have no interest in you.
The old hurts tangled up in the bottom of his stomach, another humiliation ritual like so long before. Why? This was crueler than the slaughters over his radiowaves. Fingers tightened on the desk, cracking the wood as his silent wounds seeped inside his chest. That smiling fucking face-]
You say that, but you’re the one that just came onto me!
[What an asshole. What a rude asshole and it wasn’t fair that there was something in Vox aching for his validation, for his acknowledgement, for just one stupid kis-]
What makes you think I have an interest in you? [His shoes scuffed the floor in front of his desk.] Val makes sure that my bed isn’t exactly empty at night.
oh ariana we're really in it now
[ Those last words were a stroke of luck, because Alastor was pushing too far in too certain of a direction. It allowed him to dismiss anything he might have felt, because he was too traditional to share. He was too selfish, he was too insecure, to not want to monopolize a partner's affection.
That was not to say that he resented the other Vees, of course - he had the same respect for them that he did all other Overlords. Rather, while Vox's little show of voyeurism had been nothing but tiring and an exercise in frustration, he did feel a certain amount of resentment for how much more they seemed to be. It was a complicated feeling, one that was on the whole unfamiliar, and one that seemed to be shared between them.
They were jealous of each other.
Alastor blinked lazily as his eyes rose up to meet Vox's once more. He had noted all those little reactions. He had delighted in them. There were certain little things that only he could draw out, and it made his heart race, and there was a chill that ran down his spine when the man leaned forward. It ended too fast, it was humiliating, but it was thrilling too.
He couldn't give, not yet. Not as long as there was that manacle around his neck, choking the life out of him; not because of any limitations pressed upon him, but because he would do nothing and form nothing so long until that chain was gone. He would risk nothing. He would allow for nothing to be gained that might be lost, and he might do the same after breaking it. But while it was there, nothing could be done.
But he did shift a bit. Vox had leaned in faster than expected, and he wasn't quite sure how to salvage it all, save saying what he had, and he settled on trying to shift back to the original subject - ]
You three will rule Heaven as equals. I'm just your little prisoner.
*leans against the poster*
But still, he wasn’t about to get into the specifics of his arrangement with Val, and instead just waved his arms around his waist and pants, before turning them and waving that at Alastor. It was a frantic and obvious motion, an explanation without words.]
Um, I don’t know, maybe whatever that was?
[‘Homewrecker’. It was a perfectly antiquated word that he would expect only from Alastor and maybe one of those royal birds mentioned outside of this city. Alastor had indeed wrecked a home, but it was a hypothetical one decades ago.
And here the Radio Demon was trying to act like nothing just happened, gaslighting him into thinking maybe he read too far into whatever that was. Dammit, why was it always a game, a grift, a trap? Why did he always try to embarrass him? No one else ever got away with it except him. He had killed so many people for suck lesser slights.]
Oh, no. No, no, no. You don’t get to brush this off. [It was his turn to move his leg, planting his foot on the chair between Alastor’s uncrossed thighs. He leaned closer, his eyes narrowing as if he could read the ones across from him.]
What the fuck are you playing at? Are you trying to wreck my home or be my prisoner?
does this give him more or less motivation to take over heaven
Maybe it was him playing games, and maybe it was him teasing Vox, but that didn't mean that he wasn't curious.
He brought his eyes back up to meet Vox's. He hadn't expected such a strong reaction. But it only took a few seconds of thought before he responded with a shrug.
Fuck it. He's committed now. ]
Well now, that depends, doesn't it? Which one are you asking for?
[ He was Vox's prisoner either way, but he wasn't going to be the one to kill the mood by pointing that out. ]
Too early to tell. Depends on how bad he fucks it up LOL
Point number one to remember: Vox was in charge. He commanded this whole thing, he had a prisoner, he was going to take over Heaven, it was fine.
Point number two: Alastor had a history of humiliating him, finding ways to embarrass him, get under his skin. Why wouldn’t this be a set up for just that?
Point number three: He had a good thing going with the others. Messing that up could jeopardize the plan, and while he could repair whatever, it would take resources, bandwidth, and time.
Point number four: Had Alastor ever shown any interest before? He…wasn’t sure.
Seconds were ticking by with nothing to fill them. Dammit. If he answered, it gave Alastor too much power to jerk him in either direction. He needed to treat this like any company acquisition meeting: distant, careful, and sharp.]
There’s nothing saying that it can’t be both.
[Negotiations often started high and worked their way down. And besides, it wasn’t like Hell cared about annoying things like ethics.]
I’m starting to think you’re the one who doesn’t know what you want.
He has a chance, but if he fumbles it, he has to take over heaven to unlock the R18+ scene
But that doesn't mean he hadn't been thinking about it. You two should just fuck already. Talk about getting straight to the point.
He watched in silent, patient, as he waited for the other to come to a conclusion. The grin stretched out, and there was a moment in which he wondered if he'd miscalculated, because, well - it's not as though he were incapable of feeling emotion. He could handle it much better, but he was nonetheless as prone to being embarrassed by misreading someone's intention as anyone else. And in this situation in particular, they're stuck with each other. ]
That's not an answer. Though I will say, I'm not doing anything while I'm tied to a chair.
[ Even if Vox could have it be both, this was just awkward. Snapping a person's waistband with one's teeth could easily be sexy, but the struggle to find the right angle and tilt for it dampened the effect. There was far more that he could do with free hands and a bit of mobility. ]
Look, he fumbles SO MUCH.
He told himself he had been happy.
He was supposed to be happy.
He flourished in work, expanded the networks and focused more on sponsorships and R&D than ever before. Some nights were spent wound up in Val both with work, sex, and weirdly domestic, and others were pouring over monitors. He had won. He had won.
And then Alastor had returned and everything was unmoored again, his footing tilted. The obsession threatened to drag him back down, as if he wasn’t already anchored to the depths this entire time. There was no explanation for where he had been, what he was doing, nothing. Just…suddenly there. Smiling. Always smiling.
Now Vox was here, keeping Alastor as a prisoner, having won again, and he should be happy (was happier than the silence of seven years). But instead there was just this conflict because no, no, you cocky, smug, unholier-than-thou asshole, he didn’t have an answer. Dammit. And worse was that he thought Alastor knew that.
He made a show of rolling his eyes as he pushed off the desk, reached out, and sliced through the rope with his fingers. It wasn’t like Alastor would leave or fight him (probably?); the ropes were mostly for show, demoralizing, propaganda shots, and his own satisfaction.
That done, he reclaimed his seat on the edge of the desk, facing Alastor.]
This doesn’t change anything. We still have a deal.
[The easiest deal in all of Hell. What could go wrong?]
He does, but I get it on this one... If I had this man in front of me, I would fumble too.
The ropes were cut, and that was enough to afford him an answer. It wasn't a decisive one, but Vox could always change his mind halfway through. For the moment, Alastor had no issue with being the one to take the lead.
He stood up, taking his time in stretching out to loosen up his stiff muscles and work the kinks out of his back. He placed his hands on the small of his back as he leaned to pop his back. Much better.
Once he was satisfied, Alastor rubbed his wrist. He was ever aware of the shackles that kept him bound to Vox, ones that could manifest at any moment. He was right. Nothing had changed, and nothing would change. Their deal would remain in place until Vox dissolved it, either willingly or by breaking it. The former was never an option, and so he was counting on the latter.
But that would come later. For now, he offered a resigned nod in return before he took a seat on the next next to the other. He was close enough for their shoulders to brush together, but left just enough space for it to keep from being uncomfortable. ]
I haven't forgotten. I didn't mention leaving as one of the options, now did I?
[ He reached over as he spoke, a clawed finger touching the ball of his antenna and lightly drawing it forward before releasing it to let it spring back into place. This was just a way for them to kill time, to entertain themselves. ]
Guilty as charged.
The little boing of his antenna as it was bounced back and forth after it was toyed with. ]
That doesn’t mean it hasn’t crossed your mind.
[Don’t do that. Don’t touch his antenna. In retaliation (and because sometimes he could act like a spiteful child), he reached up and flicked one of Alastor’s small antlers. It was nowhere near as satisfying, no motions or sounds to speak of, but it made him feel better. Slightly.
He settled his hand down on the desk again, gripping it. Nerves were electrifying inside him, anxiety a low roll under his skin, something seventy years old that he swore he had lost. It felt like a trap. It always felt like a trap now with him but this was charged, moreso. Val and Velvette would never let him hear the end of it if they saw Alastor out, and he was questioning his own judgement at the moment.
Where was the catch? What was he missing?]
If you try to kill me, I’m throwing you in the tank.
[Dirty talk was different with different people.]
no subject
He watched the reaction with interest. He had never stopped paying attention to Vox, and with the years he had only taken more pleasure in seeing what reactions he could pull from the man - reactions that were offered up to and meant for him alone, because he didn't need to see how the man acted in private to know that they could never have the same. It only became more obvious as he refined his look, as he settled more into that role of a public figure, found ways to spin every story except those about the Radio Demon.
He placed his hand over Vox's angling himself so that his knees were bumping up against the other. He leaned forward and used his free hand to take the corner of the other's head. He was still deciding what he wanted to do here. It had might have been a hundred years since he'd been with anyone. There wase no reason for such performative gestures in Hell. And that was to say nothing of the man's unique anatomy.
He tilted the other's head more toward him, and held it as place as he rubbed his cheek. His fingers curled lightly around the one he had placed it over. There was no effort to disrupt his grip, but just to apply a measure of pressure. ]
Is that all? I think you could come up with a more... fitting punishment.
[ He leaned forward as he spoke, his voice dropping, until his forehead was tapping against the other's, his ears tilted forward. Vox had his full attention now. He gave the other but a couple seconds to process that thought before leaning in to punctuation it with a kiss - soft and short to stop.
It was all just bluster, anyway. The only real threat was that somebody would barge in on them... It would be easy to spin, but Vox was too focused on image to want to be caught like this to begin with, much less being seduced by his "prisoner." That wasn't Alastor's problem, though, so he wasn't thinking about it at all. ]
no subject
When was “safe” a word to be used in Hell?
There was the smallest bit of tension in his body as he tried to pull back a few inches when his cheek was rubbed. It was a sweet gesture, affectionate, and it caught him completely off-guard. It was weirdly more disturbing than the intimate violence they had spewed at each other not that long ago. Funny how the blood and rage felt more comfortable than this.
Fuck, was this what being vulnerable felt like? It had been a long time, and he didn’t miss the fear that came with it.
When their foreheads met, he didn’t pull back, even as his breath hitched a little. When was the last time they had been this close? On the desk, his hand let go of the ledge and turned up, curling in Alastor’s as if he could regain some control. Control. He needed his control back. He was drowning, floundering, when he should have been a shark in these seas.
H-he could sex, dammit! He literally spent his nights with the Sex King!
Okay. He had this. Vox kissed him back, disappointing at how short it was. He followed after him, trying to grab another one, the free hand reaching over to settle on Alastor’s waist and squeezing it.]
I could throw you out the window. [He wouldn’t; it was too fast, too impersonal, he wouldn’t see the moment of impact. That was reserved for network execs. Instead, he let the electricity in body ramp up just enough to make that fur on those ears stand up.]
Or I could let you become part of the ever-buzzing electrical grid of my empire.
no subject
He told himself that there was nothing to worry about. It would stop and end with just this much. It was a thought that did nothing to stop his heart from beating quicker in anticipation.
One kiss, then another, and he found that kissing Vox wasn't bad at all. It was a new, different, and he had a different taste to him than he thinks a human might.
The first suggestion earned a disapproving sound, and the electrical current a shudder. His ears stood straight up, the fur standing up on straight ends, and his fingers twitched. It's familiar, from dozens of encounters, one of those tells that Vox was about to come crashing down on him. It was a warning sign every other day, but here a pleasant one that encouraged agreement. ]
Mm... Better.
[ He let his hand rail down the man's face, fingers sliding down his neck before fiddling with the bowtie that he wore. He unclipped one side, then the other, before pulling it off and tossing it off to the side. ]
Turn your phone off.
[ Or whatever it might be that he needed to do to keep it from ringing. If he wasn't committed before, Alastor is now, and there was nothing sexy about the idea his partner turning into a cellphone in the middle of it. Besides, fair was fair - Vox finally had his undivided attention, so why shouldn't Alastor have his? He was sure that Vox had some way or another of being contacted if it was that important. ]
no subject
ha). He knew better.But to let it go as far as it would, this was almost like chicken. And he wouldn’t falter first, not in front of him.
Vox couldn’t see how big his own eyes were as Alastor took off his bowtie, as that moment of praise pooled warmly in his stomach and went through his cables. It shouldn't have felt this good, but it did, made his face darken and the electrical current dance off his antennae. Better. It was a small thing, and yet it caught him off-guard enough that it made it easier to follow the command. That should have been a tell right there: separate himself from the others completely and wholly. Isolate him.
And still never truly on-his-own as Alastor so goaded, because the deer himself was here with him.
He pulled back a few inches, before putting the phone on Do Not Disturb. And as a point, he let go of Alastor’s waist, raised a hand up and behind him, letting a thin line of blue electricity strike a camera in the corner. The tiny green light positioned on it went dim and the tip hung, silent and dead. No more eyes.
They were truly alone, as long as one ignored the giant shark in the tank.
His fingers started to pluck at the front of that red coat, to open it slowly. After all, it wasn’t fair that he was the only one losing pieces of clothing, turning things off, giving in again and again. Alastor was still the prisoner, right?
…Right?]
This doesn’t change the fact that I still hate you.
[No, he didn’t, no matter how convincing he tried to make it sound.]
no subject
He looked down as the other began to undo the buttons of his jacket and pull it open, revealing a red dress shirt with black trim. It was hard for him not to squirm, but he managed, instead taking advantage of it to shrug it off his shoulders and allowing it to slide down. He felt oddly vulnerable without the additional weight - Vox had seen him without it before, and so had others, but it left him with just a single thin layer covering that gaping wound on his chest. He was suddenly aware of how close Vox was.
It was all give and take with them. ]
The feeling is mutual. That's the fun part.
[ Alastor didn't hate Vox any more than Vox hated him. The feelings shared between them ran deeper than love and hate. They shared something else that was far stronger than either, and something that no one else could offer. They needed each other, and all those barbs and scars that should have pulled them apart just pushed them together. There was no one else who could understand.
Once his jacket had slid down, he pulled his hands out of the sleeves. He placed one hand on the desk to support himself as he lifted his knees up. One was bent as he rested it on the table, and threw the other over Vox so he could bracket him on both sides. He wanted to hold control for just a bit longer. ]
Unless... [ He wrapped his arms around Vox's neck next, leaning in close as he did so. ] ... Are you asking me to stop?
[ Probably should have asked before climbing on top of him, huh? ]
no subject
It was maybe a little mocking in the way he did it. ]
I wouldn’t have it any other way.
[He watched as Alastor staddle him, trying not to look as surprised (and eager) as he felt. It was an effort to keep a straight face, then he gave up that effort and swallowed the lump in his throat. He wanted to smile but he didn’t think he could make it as menacing as he needed it to be. And if it was soft and in awe, well, that was a whole other problem.
Did Vox want it to stop? The weight of Alastor on his lap, the heat of him this close, did he want those gone? Vox knew they should be gone, but that was so different.]
…Do you want me to?
[Asking a question with a question, sidetracking and answering nothing. It was better than admitting that no, no he didn’t want him to stop. His hands slid around to Alastor’s back, running lines along his spine, dragging loosely against each rib, riding the bumps of each shoulderblade as if he was taking stock of each bone in body.
But he knew better than to go under that shirt. Not yet.
He did, however, lean forward and flick his tongue against the side of Alastor’s neck.]
no subject
He pulled his hands back. He let them rest on Vox's shoulders before toying with the lapel of his jacket. Vox had a different build than him. His shoulders were broader, his muscles more defined. Alastor was noticeably toned, but lean. He'd never developed muscle mass the way someone with a more dedicated regimen might. His frame was just slender enough to trace out the difference between the two of them.
None of which mattered, none of which was so significant as to draw immediate attention to the eye, but noted and considered now, because he was paying and mind and paying attention in a way that he hadn't before. He moved back just enough to let his hands rest on Vox's shoulders before he froze in place as nimble fingers worked their way up his smile. Alastor was already a person who avoided touch, but the constant pain he felt made him even more sensitive to all others.
He had done well in training himself not to offer up any outward reaction to stimuli, and so at first all that followed was his posture growing more stiff and his grip growing tighter. He toyed with the man's lapel, moved to slide the jacket off of him, running his hands along his shoulders as he did so. But that came to a halt when he felt Vox's tongue lapping against his neck, an electric sensation that drew a sharp breath from him and sent a shiver running down his spine.
Alastor still hadn't answered his question - a question for a question in place of an answer. ]
... Not yet.
[ A mild enough answer, for the moment. ]
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Vox could feel the other demon’s body tensing as he trailed claws up that back, something that made the fingers stall, eyes trying in vain to read an unreadable face. After years with someone so sensitive, so attuned and hungry to whatever touch he offered, this felt more delicate, fragile. Being able to stomp through the china shop suddenly needed mindful steps.
But he was also used to barreling through, commanding a situation. He wasn’t sure he was commanding shit here.
Fingers started back up again but managed only an inch before he realized that Alastor was taking his coat off and that would require his arms. Pulling them back to his side, he let the jacket fall down his biceps, his forearms, his hands. A little freer now, he could feel the chill of the air conditioning (a Hell mandatory), and stretched a little.
He wasn’t sure what got him more excited: that sharp breath or the Not yet. Permission. A go ahead. His tongue trailed up towards the deer’s jawline, warm and wet and ever-so-slightly shocking, keeping the worst of it held back. This was going so fucking great.
Time to mess it up. ]
The chair is more comfortable, you know. And stain-resistant; I made sure after Val obliterated the last one.
[Ahh, Vox, probably not the time to talk about him. But it wasn’t like it was a secret, so what could be the harm.
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It was going better than expected.
Alastor was allowed to take the lead. He could control the pacing, explore things at his own pace, and that allowed him to accept it. His hands trailing along broad shoulders and strong arms that were so different from what he knew. He tilted his head slightly to one side, inviting him in. The electric sensation, the warmth pooling in his stomach, and even the sound of Vox's voice encouraged him to ignore any misgivings.
That is, until it doesn't. He placed a hand on Vox's chest at the mention of the chair, pushing himself back just enough to make eye contact, then blinked when Valentino's name was mentioned. He might have acquiesced without question if not for that, but that statement was enough to bring Alastor back to the present.
His ears tilted back as he pulled back more, just enough for them to speak comfortably. He was slightly displeased with the mention. Valentino may have felt that Alastor was intruding upon his space, but the other man had done so first. He had started joining in as though he were entitled to be a part of the Media Overlord and Radio Demon's conflict; he had taken over pieces of the media industry that had previously been carved up and divided between them. ]
... He did what now?
[ He asked. He left his hand splayed on the other's chest, but that along was enough to dampen his interest in the idea. It wasn't a secret (metaphorically speaking, it wasn't like this was anything to advertise,) and in fact Alastor was the one who would be, but that only served to make the mention more irritating.
Now would be a good time for Vox to choose his words with care. ]
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The tip of his tongue was running against skin, loving the tingling static spark between them, before it was suddenly touching…nothing. Just air that filled in the space between them as he was pushed back. Disappointment filled him sharper than he thought it would at the sudden pause (it wasn’t an ending, right?), but that alone was telling.
Vox might not be able to read Alastor completely, but if nothing else, he was learning about ears. Someone wasn’t happy.
Someone might be jealous.
Vox silently put a little checkmark in his secret, admin privileges only, W folder.]
Oh, yeah, the gas springs can only handle so much, and the leather is never as durable as they sell you. I even made sure that this one was ergonomic. Real good for the back.
[He wouldn’t come out and ask if Alastor was jealous; that’s not how these things worked between them. But he did let himself have a little grin as he settled his hand over the one on his chest, tugging on it as he tried to close the distance once again.
Was this a petulant cry for attention? Always. Was he foolish enough to realize he would get the opposite? Probably.]
Want to see for yourself?
[On the other hand, there was no one else he would even think of letting sit in his office chair. And no way that he would admit to offering to let Alastor do just that.]
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But here, it was just a black hole that would suck up all the excitement that had developed thanks to the Radio Demon's capture. He wouldn't want it advertised, even if it led to something more (because that idea briefly flit through his mind now,) but that would be his own desire for privacy and not any scandal. Here, it was some shameful secret, something to be hidden away, and a risk to both of their reputations.
He used these little excuses to obscure the real reason for his conflict. He was confident, good at spin, but that didn't mean he wasn't incapable of feeling inadequate. And while he knew he was at the top of Vox's priority list, the one who could command his attention at a moment's notice, there were certain lines that needed to be drawn.
And then there was the petty part of him that said if Vox was thinking about Valentino and whatever the Hell they did together, he should just go find him instead.
It was more disappointing than expected. His shoulders slumped, and his eyes came to meet Vox's once more. He shook his head. Why did Vox always have to ruin things? ]
I shouldn't... We shouldn't. This is a bad idea, [ He finally said out loud, agitation working its way into his voice before disappointing as he wrested control of his emotions back. ] Either of your associates would make an issue of it if they find out, and if the public does, then they'll start to think that this was all staged.
[ It wouldn't be unreasonable, for as long as the two have known each other and for how notorious Alastor was. And, well - he didn't trust those two gossips to keep something like this from slipping out. ]
And that... [ Alastor kissed him one more time, ] ... Would ruin the show that you're putting on.
[ And with that, he used Vox to support himself as he swung his leg back over the other, rolling back until he was sitting next to the man once more. ]
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This man is sobbing on the inside.
Ohh, Vox, honey... Complicated and sad and so very stupid.
It's a wonder that Al puts up with him.
Codependency is a Hell of a drug.
These two fools. Also, sorry about Vox's bitchy temper tantrum.
It's fine, is it really Radiostatic if somebody isn't making an ass of themselves?
You're definitely not wrong!
lbr Alastor is being pissy and petty too, just in the opposite way.
Giving him the silent treatment is weirdly effective.
He needs his wife's attention to live... :( cries we can probably wrap here tho
Just one last one, first!
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