[ 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. ]
[There had been a line, and not only had he gone over it, but he tap-danced back and forth just to make a show of it. Fuck.
Fuck.
The regret was instant and maybe this – this part right here – wasn’t as satisfying as he wanted it to be. Some part of him (a large part, really) just wanted to hurt the one who had destroyed him so long ago, who kept him in this orbit, suspended in gravity but never able to be free. The wound had festered into anger and maybe just-just knowing that he could make him jealous would be enough. Maybe it would be a balm on this fucking infection.
Anger he knew how to deal with. They both excelled at it.
This wasn’t that.
The regret flared brighter, but like the Radio Demon, he tried to shove it back down behind other, safer programming.]
Um, they won’t know. [Cables rose up behind him, pointing at the camera, the door.] Everything is locked down; it’s just us. And I don’t plan on telling them.
[Val would get pissy probably, even if he didn’t have any right after his fits about his little whore. And Velvette…well, she understood a brand, a look, but she also loved to start some rumors for views.
He leaned over, hands on the demon’s hips to try to get him to stay but not hard enough that he couldn’t just easily back away. The screen flickered with static, a simulated crack cutting diagonally through it, before it buzzed out and his eyes were left staring at him, raw and hurt.
For a moment, he had been vulnerable. What a mistake. Clearly, it wasn’t his fault.]
[ This really had been a mistake, though he had realized it too late. He was poking and prodding and ripping at Vox's emotions plenty, but the truth is that this wasn't supposed to be anything so serious. It was teasing at worst, at a time when the TV demon was riding high on some singular focus. There wasn't meant to be any harm in it, but it suddenly felt as though some old wound was being torn open - something that had scabbed over, but never really healed, because it was picked and torn at every time they interacted.
It's unfair. Isn't Vox the one who's been playing games? Isn't he the one who was just insisting that this didn't change anything?
Seventy years have tempered him as much as anyone. He'd hardened his heart and steeled himself. He had more precise control over his emotions than he had before. It was enough to keep him from venting those emotions. He felt the hands on his hips, but didn't move. Instead, he just watched as the other looked at him as though he'd committed some grave sin. He knew Vox too well to think that it was any sort of entitlement, but that only served to make it more baffling. ]
Aren't you the one that was just going on about how this doesn't change anything? How you hate me? Weren't you the one parading me all around for your own amusement?
[ There was a huff of breath, some incredulous, choked sound that didn't quite manage to form itself into a laugh. That was just the tip of the iceberg, and maybe he knew it was all just bluster and false threats, but this... He didn't know what this was. ]
[This was doomed before it started. The cracks in the foundation were there, sure, old pieces from decades prior and made weaker with years of growling rage and a seven-year secret abandonment. But taking him prisoner, every cursed word, every layered half-truth of hatred was a wrecking ball destroying it. Valentino wasn’t the catalyst; Vox himself was.
He blinked. He blinked and tried to smother the feelings of failure, of inadequacy, of that yawning void that was never filled enough to be complete. Each new bloody accomplishment, each violent ladder handhold, each dead body supplicated in worship or function, and it wasn’t enough.
Things had been, once. For one fleeting second.
Vox buried it, shoved it down like the corpse it should be. It couldn’t be his fault (it was). Fuck. Fuck.]
It’s not like you weren’t agreeing with all that! [The hate, the promise of death, the inevitable end.] You were all in even knowing and chirping it on back to me.
[Fuck, Vox – it’s just sex.
He stopped and stared at him. It was sex, was just sex, except for all the parts where it wasn’t. It was a door to a room being slammed in his face, locking him out in the snowing cold. For the first time in so fucking long, he had felt like-like he could have been part of this.
If it was just sex, Vox could be anywhere. He could be with Val. He could be with the Sinners that threw themselves at his feet when he was in the streets. Hell, he could have his assistant in here under his desk and not for the first time.
But that wasn’t what it was.
Vox laughed so he wouldn’t break, putting some distance between them. Currents of electricity danced between his antenna, casting an even sharper blue light onto his illuminated face.]
You’re right, Al, it is just sex. [He lied, like a lying liar.] Which means I can find a lot more important things to do with my extremely profitable and valuable time than spend it with my loser prisoner.
[Cables lashed out and grabbed that broken chair, holding it out for Alastor. His voice dropped, mocking and annoyed.] Your very visible throne awaits.
Ohh, Vox, honey... Complicated and sad and so very stupid.
[ He had agreed to it, and that was what made this shift in tone so frustrating. It was how everything should be, and it was how it could have been if the pair of them had just left well enough alone. It was Vox who had gone and ruined the moment, but it was Alastor who had allowed things to go this far. He had gone along with this farce despite knowing that it would end badly. It wasn't like him, and it couldn't be like him, and he had to take a moment to steel himself.
His hand ran through his hair as the other went on, fingernails scratching at his scalp as he grabbed a fistful of it. He pulled at his hair lightly in some vain effort to relieve the frustration that he felt, the nauseating disgust, and something else that he couldn't pin down. He wanted to snap, and he wanted to throw out every vitriolic word and statement, and he wanted to kill him right here and now. He wanted to start some fight with him so they might vent all those pent up emotions and find some way back to normal, but the shackles around his wrist were heavy, and there was nothing left for him to do but comply.
So he did the only thing that he could: He locked those feelings away. He shoved them in some closet where they couldn't hurt them; out of sight, out of mind. He kept the smile plastered on his face. If he could endure these things now, then nothing would be able to hurt him in the future.
One more little pull, and he dropped his hand back down and pushed himself off the desk. It was all just a game, anyway. It was just sex. It was nothing at all. And it'll be over soon enough. He just had to wait a little longer. And in the interim, these emotions would pass soon enough, and they could go back to how things were - how they should be. ]
Good. Do so.
[ Even if that smile hid all emotion, those icy and bitter words spoke volumes. There was plenty more than he could say, but that fury had built up in such a way that he didn't even want to spare words now. He only walked back over to that chair that had been indicated, sat back down on it, and crossed one leg over the other, as though nothing had happened. ]
But Vox, too, could throw his own silent temper tantrum, far more composed than anything Val would do, but heavy and barbed in its own way. His tells were always there: the red lines from his mouth, the bright dangerously manic shine in his eyes. This was falling apart, fast, and the part of him that wanted nothing more than to rewind time to ten minutes earlier was shoved into a box and kicked down the stairs.
He made a show of turning the phone back on, even flipping through his contacts in a speedy endless flicker over his screen before it was back to his own expression. One cable unlocked the door. Fingers pointed at the camera, hesitating for a moment before loosing the electricity and turning the camera back on.
No more privacy. No more hidden evidence. No more “just them”.]
Done.
[The determination to take Heaven, to own it, to fill that gaping black hole inside of him was maddening. A tower hadn’t filled it. A cult hadn’t filled it. A media empire hadn’t filled it. Maybe godhood would.
He needed to focus on the rally, approve the outfit designs Velvette sent over and the dancers Val was bringing in. He had meetings to prep for. He had things To Do.
But his day was productivity was ruined by whatever the fuck this had been.
He wrenched open one of his desk drawers and grabbed the fuzzy handcuffs left by Val. Stronger than they looked and blue, a gift for him, really. The rope was gone, but at least there was this.]
Hands behind the chair. Soap operas always did give shitty ratings.
[ Vox was throwing a tantrum now, and the Radio Demon hardly cared. This was a problem of his own making, so he could whine and cry about it as much as he wanted. It made it easier to accept what had happened, in fact, because of course he would act pissy the moment he didn't get what he wanted. It was always like that. And they would move on, just like always. It would be like nothing ever happened after awhile. But not yet.
Alastor moved to do as ordered before pausing. His eyes settled on one one bare forearm arm. It drew a frown out of him. It wasn't like him to forget something so important, and it made him feel even worse about the entire affair.
As little as he wanted to say anything more, he wanted people seeing that he was missing clothing pieces even less. That wasn't favorable for either of them. Besides, he felt undressed without it. ]
Toss me my coat.
These two fools. Also, sorry about Vox's bitchy temper tantrum.
There was an urge to let his cables tear the fabric apart, ignite all the seams with his electricity. But the two of them were nothing without their appearances, and Alastor without his coat would get people talking. Especially if Vox was without his own, too.
He picked up his own first and slid it back on like some suit of armor to protect himself from the mess that happened here today. Teal claws buttoned it, and only after he smoothed a hand over his lapels did he pick up Alastor’s and hold it out for him.
…Annnnd let himself drop it before the other demon could grab it.
Ha.]
Don’t give me orders. I thought your entire job was about being a welcoming person at your stupid hotel; I guess manners doesn’t really translate.
[Now, now, he was just being petty. He needed out of here so he could lick his wounds.]
Especially when I’m being kind enough to give you a gift.
Edited 2026-02-18 21:49 (UTC)
It's fine, is it really Radiostatic if somebody isn't making an ass of themselves?
[ He made a grab for it as it fell, but in the end the coat wound up on the floor. He leaned over and picked it up wordlessly before he put it back on. He fixed his shirt, ensuring it was properly tucked, smoothed the sleeves of his jacket out, then buttoned it up. The final touch was fixing his bow-tie. The entire process took less than a minute, and it was like nothing had ever happened.
Much better.
It was only once that was done that he did as previously instructed. He slid his hands behind the chair in since. He wouldn't bother to respond to the provocation, though he recoiled slightly at the mention of a gift. His eyes slid down from Vox's face to the handcuffs in his hand for the sake of having something to focus on. Tacky. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
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. ]
no subject
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…]no subject
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. ]
no subject
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.]
no subject
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. ]
no subject
Fuck.
The regret was instant and maybe this – this part right here – wasn’t as satisfying as he wanted it to be. Some part of him (a large part, really) just wanted to hurt the one who had destroyed him so long ago, who kept him in this orbit, suspended in gravity but never able to be free. The wound had festered into anger and maybe just-just knowing that he could make him jealous would be enough. Maybe it would be a balm on this fucking infection.
Anger he knew how to deal with. They both excelled at it.
This wasn’t that.
The regret flared brighter, but like the Radio Demon, he tried to shove it back down behind other, safer programming.]
Um, they won’t know. [Cables rose up behind him, pointing at the camera, the door.] Everything is locked down; it’s just us. And I don’t plan on telling them.
[Val would get pissy probably, even if he didn’t have any right after his fits about his little whore. And Velvette…well, she understood a brand, a look, but she also loved to start some rumors for views.
He leaned over, hands on the demon’s hips to try to get him to stay but not hard enough that he couldn’t just easily back away. The screen flickered with static, a simulated crack cutting diagonally through it, before it buzzed out and his eyes were left staring at him, raw and hurt.
For a moment, he had been vulnerable. What a mistake.
Clearly, it wasn’t his fault.]Am I a game to you?
no subject
It's unfair. Isn't Vox the one who's been playing games? Isn't he the one who was just insisting that this didn't change anything?
Seventy years have tempered him as much as anyone. He'd hardened his heart and steeled himself. He had more precise control over his emotions than he had before. It was enough to keep him from venting those emotions. He felt the hands on his hips, but didn't move. Instead, he just watched as the other looked at him as though he'd committed some grave sin. He knew Vox too well to think that it was any sort of entitlement, but that only served to make it more baffling. ]
Aren't you the one that was just going on about how this doesn't change anything? How you hate me? Weren't you the one parading me all around for your own amusement?
[ There was a huff of breath, some incredulous, choked sound that didn't quite manage to form itself into a laugh. That was just the tip of the iceberg, and maybe he knew it was all just bluster and false threats, but this... He didn't know what this was. ]
Fuck, Vox - it's just sex.
This man is sobbing on the inside.
He blinked. He blinked and tried to smother the feelings of failure, of inadequacy, of that yawning void that was never filled enough to be complete. Each new bloody accomplishment, each violent ladder handhold, each dead body supplicated in worship or function, and it wasn’t enough.
Things had been, once. For one fleeting second.
Vox buried it, shoved it down like the corpse it should be. It couldn’t be his fault (it was). Fuck. Fuck.]
It’s not like you weren’t agreeing with all that! [The hate, the promise of death, the inevitable end.] You were all in even knowing and chirping it on back to me.
[Fuck, Vox – it’s just sex.
He stopped and stared at him. It was sex, was just sex, except for all the parts where it wasn’t. It was a door to a room being slammed in his face, locking him out in the snowing cold. For the first time in so fucking long, he had felt like-like he could have been part of this.
If it was just sex, Vox could be anywhere. He could be with Val. He could be with the Sinners that threw themselves at his feet when he was in the streets. Hell, he could have his assistant in here under his desk and not for the first time.
But that wasn’t what it was.
Vox laughed so he wouldn’t break, putting some distance between them. Currents of electricity danced between his antenna, casting an even sharper blue light onto his illuminated face.]
You’re right, Al, it is just sex. [He lied, like a lying liar.] Which means I can find a lot more important things to do with my extremely profitable and valuable time than spend it with my loser prisoner.
[Cables lashed out and grabbed that broken chair, holding it out for Alastor. His voice dropped, mocking and annoyed.] Your very visible throne awaits.
Ohh, Vox, honey... Complicated and sad and so very stupid.
His hand ran through his hair as the other went on, fingernails scratching at his scalp as he grabbed a fistful of it. He pulled at his hair lightly in some vain effort to relieve the frustration that he felt, the nauseating disgust, and something else that he couldn't pin down. He wanted to snap, and he wanted to throw out every vitriolic word and statement, and he wanted to kill him right here and now. He wanted to start some fight with him so they might vent all those pent up emotions and find some way back to normal, but the shackles around his wrist were heavy, and there was nothing left for him to do but comply.
So he did the only thing that he could: He locked those feelings away. He shoved them in some closet where they couldn't hurt them; out of sight, out of mind. He kept the smile plastered on his face. If he could endure these things now, then nothing would be able to hurt him in the future.
One more little pull, and he dropped his hand back down and pushed himself off the desk. It was all just a game, anyway. It was just sex. It was nothing at all. And it'll be over soon enough. He just had to wait a little longer. And in the interim, these emotions would pass soon enough, and they could go back to how things were - how they should be. ]
Good. Do so.
[ Even if that smile hid all emotion, those icy and bitter words spoke volumes. There was plenty more than he could say, but that fury had built up in such a way that he didn't even want to spare words now. He only walked back over to that chair that had been indicated, sat back down on it, and crossed one leg over the other, as though nothing had happened. ]
It's a wonder that Al puts up with him.
But Vox, too, could throw his own silent temper tantrum, far more composed than anything Val would do, but heavy and barbed in its own way. His tells were always there: the red lines from his mouth, the bright dangerously manic shine in his eyes. This was falling apart, fast, and the part of him that wanted nothing more than to rewind time to ten minutes earlier was shoved into a box and kicked down the stairs.
He made a show of turning the phone back on, even flipping through his contacts in a speedy endless flicker over his screen before it was back to his own expression. One cable unlocked the door. Fingers pointed at the camera, hesitating for a moment before loosing the electricity and turning the camera back on.
No more privacy. No more hidden evidence. No more “just them”.]
Done.
[The determination to take Heaven, to own it, to fill that gaping black hole inside of him was maddening. A tower hadn’t filled it. A cult hadn’t filled it. A media empire hadn’t filled it. Maybe godhood would.
He needed to focus on the rally, approve the outfit designs Velvette sent over and the dancers Val was bringing in. He had meetings to prep for. He had things To Do.
But his day was productivity was ruined by whatever the fuck this had been.
He wrenched open one of his desk drawers and grabbed the fuzzy handcuffs left by Val. Stronger than they looked and blue, a gift for him, really. The rope was gone, but at least there was this.]
Hands behind the chair. Soap operas always did give shitty ratings.
Codependency is a Hell of a drug.
Alastor moved to do as ordered before pausing. His eyes settled on one one bare forearm arm. It drew a frown out of him. It wasn't like him to forget something so important, and it made him feel even worse about the entire affair.
As little as he wanted to say anything more, he wanted people seeing that he was missing clothing pieces even less. That wasn't favorable for either of them. Besides, he felt undressed without it. ]
Toss me my coat.
These two fools. Also, sorry about Vox's bitchy temper tantrum.
He cared about his coat.
There was an urge to let his cables tear the fabric apart, ignite all the seams with his electricity. But the two of them were nothing without their appearances, and Alastor without his coat would get people talking. Especially if Vox was without his own, too.
He picked up his own first and slid it back on like some suit of armor to protect himself from the mess that happened here today. Teal claws buttoned it, and only after he smoothed a hand over his lapels did he pick up Alastor’s and hold it out for him.
…Annnnd let himself drop it before the other demon could grab it.
Ha.]
Don’t give me orders. I thought your entire job was about being a welcoming person at your stupid hotel; I guess manners doesn’t really translate.
[Now, now, he was just being petty. He needed out of here so he could lick his wounds.]
Especially when I’m being kind enough to give you a gift.
It's fine, is it really Radiostatic if somebody isn't making an ass of themselves?
Much better.
It was only once that was done that he did as previously instructed. He slid his hands behind the chair in since. He wouldn't bother to respond to the provocation, though he recoiled slightly at the mention of a gift. His eyes slid down from Vox's face to the handcuffs in his hand for the sake of having something to focus on. Tacky. ]
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!
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)