Archive of Our Own ^beta

Glitches.

They were mere glitches in his system. 

Just a few errant sparks here and there, a lag or two, nothing to worry about!

But two days after a truly massive acid rainstorm had started in Pride, graciously hitting just when he and Valentino were dining at an open-air cafe, Vox's system was still misfiring and fritzing at random intervals. Velvette's teasing them about catching a cold had come back to haunt him.

It would be a cold day in Hell before he admitted any sort of weakness, even amongst his friends, but the freak storm just so happened to also follow up with an abnormal temperature drop. Despite cooler temperatures being optimal for his operating system normally, it wasn't exactly well timed for his organic one.

“Maybe you need to stick your head in rice?” Valentino suggested, lounging luxuriously on the chaise in his penthouse as he scrolled through one of his social feeds. 

“Ugh, Val- I'm not a damn bricked phone. I just need time to do some maintenance and maybe eat some fuckin’ soup,” he paced in front of his partner as he sniffled and glitched, irritated at the never-ending joy that was Hell, “so can you go to the Overlord meeting without me and play nice?”

Valentino groaned and tipped his head back against the frame of the furniture, squeezing his eyes shut, “But that pent up bruja is so fuckin’ boring Vox… I can't help it if I try to make those shitty circle jerks more exciting.”

“Yeah well, just try to listen to what she's whining about this time, instead of doodling or damaging company property again. I don’t need invoices from her right now on top of everything else. If we want to keep profits on the upswing this quarter, we’ll have to be careful… since apparently you decided that a shopping spree on the company card was so necessary.” 

He leaned over the other man, jagged teeth bared, his claws pinched together and gesturing for emphasis right above his face. Valentino scowled, lips drawing into a pout.

“Hey, that girl's day was Velvette's idea!” Val said petulantly.

“Well, you certainly didn't help!” Vox threw his hands up and turned to pace some more, “She can at least manifest clothes or make them herself for Wardrobe, but did you have to have every single designer pair of shoes in that boutique?”

“It's what our public wants, Vox!” Valentino smiled innocently.

“Our public wants us to stay in business…” Vox growled, trying to hold back the sparks that arched and jumped across his clenched claws, “so that they can keep consuming our products. Not for us to go bankrupt over a pair of diamond encrusted heels!”

“Yeah, yeah…” Valentino said dismissively, raising a sparkling foot to catch the light, “You and Vel can keep up with the finances. I'll keep making money and looking delicious! ”

“Sex may sell, Val, but it can also sell on the street if you remember…” Vox grimaced and Val frowned at him, lowering the obscenely expensive boot again, “and none of us want to go back to whatever gutter we started from in this shithole.”

"I know I don’t, but I’m not sure about you …” Val purred, grinning lewdly, “What if you were able to get back the old days with your venadito~? " 

Vox grit his teeth, walking over to look out the floor to ceiling windows of Valentino's studio, frowning through the current light drizzle towards the hazy, distant glow of a particular building across town. The clouds were dark but patchy, and the scarlet beams that managed to shine down from the ever-present pentagram that loomed above almost seemed to coalesce upon that lone hill, drawing his eye through sparkling waters and murky feelings.

He briefly thought of rainy nights with Al, clutching a warming drink against the half-drunk temptation to touch soft ears. Of companionably watching a storm from a covered balcony, talking about dreams or just shooting the shit about the unfortunate voices raised in the squall, and desperately wishing the little distance that separated them was gone.

“And if he is there do not start shit with him,” Vox said firmly, turning back to Valentino to glare authoritatively.

“Oh honey, I know. That's your job,” Val smirked. 

Damn right, Vox thought to himself.

Alastor wasn’t a priority. He’d had that same argument with his own heart many times over the years. The CEO of VoxTek and rising star Overlord needed to be practical and logical, not let some has-been continue to lead him around by his metaphorical nose. He had a company to run, deals to make, a ladder to climb. Too many important investments and too little free time. 

But sometimes it was good to indulge.

As a treat.

“Do you want me to tell him you're sick so he can come play sexy nurse and babysit your sorry ass? I’m sure we have plenty of uniforms in Wardrobe,” Valentino laughed, his voice syrupy sweet as he pointed his long cigarette towards a door that led to the extensive closet that connected multiple floors, spanning many of their joint studios.

“Oh fuck off, Val,” Vox growled, sparks shooting between his antenna. He tried not to picture Alastor in a short-skirted, tantalizingly revealing nurse’s outfit and failed miserably. It didn’t help his overheated processors, and he was certain there was a bright haze of static snow filling his face, “And I'm not sick!”

“Sure, and I'm saving myself for marriage,” Val said sarcastically.

Vox glared at him as he came to stand by his friend again. His most recent system diagnostic was still running, but the amount of new error codes popping up was not exactly encouraging.

Val wasn’t done being a pest, teasingly resuming his musings as his porn producer mode started to kick in, “I could always hook him up with a tight little something in your color. Maybe something in a lighter blue would still compliment that hair… get him some white fishnets and that lacy lingerie from last year’s angelic collection-”

“Just go!” Vox cried, face bright and feverishly hot as he dragged Val up to his feet. He began pushing him toward the door to hide his embarrassment, “And leave your gun!”

“Oh sure, take all the fun out of it!” Valentino whined, but dutifully dropped one long pistol on an end table by the door with a clatter.

Thankfully it didn’t go off this time.

Vox sighed and shuffled about the wide room to put the weapon back where it belonged in the boudoir safe. Sniffing loudly as he trudged back to the windows, he realized he wasn't getting much air in his cooling vents. Just another thing that had been damaged. He wasn't sure if fluid had gotten trapped or if the high acidity had melted something in his circuits, but he really needed to disassemble and inspect before he could hope to get any work done.

He gazed across the city to that haunting presence in the distance again, frowning at the tall building that made him taste more bitterness than just the acrid remnants of rain caught in his casing. 

Vox sighed.

It was going to be a long afternoon.

Alastor was having a lovely week.

Nothing like a heavy, violent rain to get the blood pumping! Especially with the delectable sounds of screaming in the streets at a fever pitch, as the already wounded were pummeled by nonstop, torrential acidity. 

Did his heart good , really.

Decades ago, one of his favorite activities during a rainstorm was taking to the streets and finding new thralls in need of a sturdy, reinforced umbrella. Dangle the bait before them, come to an agreement, a firm handshake, then he'd hand it over… only to render it more akin to a lace parasol with sharp shadowy spikes as soon as they opened it. Their wails of anguish and agony as they realized their predicament and continued to be maimed, sans soul, had always been music to his ears. Not to mention being a tidy way to grow his influence in convenient bursts. 

Yes, a rainy day was quite the thing.

Several days of rain in a row may not have been as common in Pride as some of the other rings or in the living world, but even if he wasn’t in the market for new contracts at the moment, Alastor could still enjoy the sweet sound of despair in the air.

The only damper on his good mood that day was the prospect of being trapped inside with his Overlord colleagues, when he could be out amusing himself among the populace.

Normally he would be delighted to see what intriguing gossip he could glean from their little cohort, but even the promise of seeing his darling Rosie for a short time didn’t mollify his irritation at the inconvenience on such an enthralling day. 

He had arrived at the Carmine building and was ascending in one of the glass elevators, when he noticed a stretch limo in Valentino's atrocious taste arriving below. The moth stepped out alone, and Alastor wondered if perhaps Vox was still playing at being the self-aggrandizing recluse. Considering their last thrilling little chat, and the more recent meeting with Velvette being the only Vee in attendance for their trio, Alastor had a hunch that Vox was lying low tending injured pride or plotting something. The other media demon was just as much of a schemer as his old confidant, after all.

But if he was hiding from him, then Alastor wasn't going to let him live it down.

He strolled from the confines of the sleek conveyance at the top floor, following the reptilian tail of the gigantic Miss Zilla to their meeting room. Observing that Zestial was already seated and enjoying a cup of tea, he amiably nodded at his friend, who returned the gesture with a raised cup before returning to his chat with Carmilla. Rosie raised a hand from her place near the head of the table and he took the seat next to her, smiling warmly at his friend while he situated himself. 

“Alastor, you really must come over soon,” she said with hushed enthusiasm as he leaned his microphone against the table, “We sussed out a great recipe using marinated Angel gizzards. Some of the cooking brigade have absolutely outdone themselves writing up new recipes with all the different cuts we took home from the battlefield.”

He made a hum of interest, “Odd that they even have gizzards, are they birds…? It's too bad we can't have a steady supply, I'd love to be able to test out some of my own theories on smoking and salting.”

“I know what you mean! The fellas were moaning about not being able to get mesquite reliably down here, but ah well…” she looked wistful, “Maybe there'll be another opportunity to stock up and try more out. Not sure if they’ll still do the regular Extermination in a few months…”

He nodded distractedly as his eyes flicked to the tall form of Valentino, who had just stepped through the door. The scandalously clad Overlord noticed Alastor looking at him and smirked, but didn't say anything as he sauntered over to a chair on the opposite end of the table. The thick pink smoke that trailed in vague heart shapes off of his long cigarette began to fill the air with its horridly sweet smell. Carmilla cleared her throat meaningfully, and one of her daughters went down the table to offer a large crystal ashtray to the moth.

“Just for now, sir,” she said pleasantly, and Valentino rolled his eyes but obliged, stabbing out the embers with an irritated glower at her mother.

He drew back the chair from the table as she left, shuffling his wings before plopping down with a childish huff. 

Alastor wanted to laugh at the chagrin on the other man's face, but chose to instead observe mildly, "Where is your babysitter? Our dearest Vox couldn't be bothered to come himself again, I see."

Valentino's eyes narrowed at him, but he wasn't sure if it was out of anger, misplaced jealousy, or because the demon was trying to focus on Alastor's face with his piss poor eyesight.

“Not that it's any of your business anymore, but he has more important shit to do then play footsie with you today. I'll tell him you missed him though,” Valentino sneered, “But even if you like playing in mud puddles with the losers on the streets, it doesn't exactly agree with his equipment, if you care to remember. He's already acting all pissy because he has to deal with it from the other day.”

Alastor raised an eyebrow, “That fool actually went out into the storm? Surely he knew better by now…”

“Oh he does,” Valentino waved a hand disparagingly, putting the empty cigarette holder between his teeth and then frowning at it when he realized what he had done out of habit, “We got caught at a work brunch at A Salt & Battery when it started. Absolutely ruined my new skirt.”

Though Alastor didn’t give one whit about Valentino’s wardrobe malfunctions, his ears perked at this idiotically generous bit of news. 

That cafe was open-air seating only, if he recalled correctly. It was a rarity in Hell for an upscale establishment, especially considering the city’s typical “ambience” of distant screaming, shootings, and explosions didn’t usually appeal to those unlike himself. But Vox and Valentino were just as inclined to sadistic enjoyments as he was.

The restaurant itself wasn’t worth much, in his opinion. It absolutely wrankled him at how obnoxious it was, charging obscene amounts for fare that wasn't even edible. He could enjoy all sorts of dining experiences and flavor profiles, a well-aged roadkill even! But while it was apparently 'Voxtagram Worthy' according to Angel, whatever the hell that meant, the spider had been kind enough to let Alastor at his terrible leftovers out of morbid curiosity. He had agreed with their primary guest’s assessment, promptly lighting the rest aflame and causing a small panic in the kitchen when the overhead sprinklers activated.

Whatever Voxtagram was, he could only infer that it was absurd, purely out of association with that lone experience and the man himself.

Alastor considered himself an opportunistic eater. His Great Depression-era gullet had adapted to consume even the saddest rations during that time, but he still took great enjoyment from a well-prepared meal. Vox, however, the pompous show-off, had seemingly forgotten the lessons of old and would, of course, be drawn to this sort of pretentious eatery. Even if just for the sake of documenting that he had been there.

Serves him right if he got waterlogged , Alastor snorted to himself.

“Y’know,” Valentino purred suggestively, drawing him from his musings when his voice dropped to a haughty whisper. The lascivious sound was barely loud enough for his advanced hearing to pick up, but Alastor’s skin crawled when he caught the smarmy grin the studio executive was giving him, “He may not admit it, but he’d probably appreciate a home visit from his favorite nurse… and I could even lend you a little frilly something if you decide to drop by.”

Alastor raised an incredulous eyebrow, his grin sharpening dangerously, “Are you suggesting that I’m to be this nursemaid?

Valentino laughed, a thin trail of pink on his lower lip, “Who else? We’ve had plenty of turns at it, but everyone knows who he’d really love to see when he’s being a big baby like this. You’re the one who spoiled him rotten back in the day.”

Alastor’s lip curled, “I did no such thing.”

“Spoiled him to the point he followed you around like a whipped dog for years, then abandoned him when he tried to lick your hand. Sound like you?” Valentino’s sweet voice had an edge of protective anger to it now, “or maybe it wasn’t your hand he tried to-”

“Gentlemen ,” Carmilla’s raised voice interrupted, and both demons sat straighter in their seats like chastised children. 

Alastor’s smile tightened, his brows furrowing in consternation when he looked up the table at her. She seemed pleased by their unthinking response. 

“I’d like to begin the meeting, if I may…” Carmilla continued, affecting boredom, but her voice held the impatient exasperation of a mother. 

“By all means, my dear,” Alastor said, but he shot a glare at Valentino who shrugged with pursed lips.

The meeting itself was ultimately boring, as he had feared, just a debrief on the events of the Extermination and its aftermath. No one had really lost or gained much ground, at least as far as they were willing to disclose, but something about the way Valentino made a poor attempt at a poker face didn’t sit well with Alastor. He knew Rosie noted it, as she sighed quietly next to him at the amateurish display. 

If Vox had been present, he at least would have done a better job at concealing their private business. Alastor had trusted in that business savvy himself, once upon a time. 

The man hadn’t been a completely blank slate when he’d landed here. He grown his influence in both lifetimes with plenty of effort and elbow grease, making a name and one day becoming the face of a media company, twice over in fact. He had even, supposedly, drummed up a legion of devoted parishioners on the sly amongst his peers in twinkle town. So he’d come to Alastor with some notion of how to be successful in the afterlife, managing to catch the radio demon's elusive attention and keep it.

Alastor had taken some of the remaining rough edges and polished them to an even brighter shine, making the two of them a force to be reckoned with- before things had started to go sideways. 

When feelings got hurt.

He had come back to town but hadn’t reached out, only responding to Vox’s challenge when the fool attempted to malign him on his airwaves. Then he had the nerve to try and infiltrate his new residence and do another smear campaign when Alastor had been nursing his wounds. So far he'd told himself to be the bigger man and resisted tearing that blot of a tower apart, only eggimg the other demon on with his usual verbal jibes. But sometimes, especially when confronted with what utter embarrassments Vox had allied himself with in his stead, he did actually want to go and give that walking telethon a piece of his mind. Honestly, it reflected poorly on him that Vox had traded down to this lewd buffoon and the disrespectful teenybopper. 

Careful observation gave evidence that the moth and Velvette were both shrewd business people in their own right, but you wouldn't be able to tell it by the way they carried on at times. At the moment, the illustrious screen star had mentally checked out of meeting amongst dangerous peers and was seemingly playing a game on his cellular device. Alastor’s lip curled in distaste.

He half-suspected that Vox had regressed under their influence. 

Despite his best efforts, Vox had remained somewhat of a hot head when riled. It was something that they'd unfortunately had in common in the old days. Alastor had been working on the both of them, settling into his current poise as the years went on. And while they'd both grown accustomed to power and influence, Vox's reach often exceeded his means.

Painfully so when it came to his former best friend.

Vox, despite his good intentions and attempts to make a spotless image for himself, still fell to pieces whenever Alastor deigned to toy with him, or threw a fit if he didn't get his way in a meeting on the rare occasions he had attended in years past. That he was the voice of reason among the three overlords, but couldn't even hold his own tongue at times, was a true pity. 

He'd had so much promise.

If only he had been able to nip those delusions of a grand romance between the two of them in the bud long ago, perhaps they would have been running this town by now. But alas, Alastor felt doomed to be a solo act… merely featuring in others whenever he saw fit.

His current tour with the Morningstar sideshow had yet to bear fruit, but he was hopeful to cultivate something marvelous from it. It just needed more time.

Vox's desperate grasp for power and impatience to climb the ladder in the social hierarchy of Hell was more likely to burn him in the end if he got too greedy too quickly, Alastor had unfortunately reaped that reward himself and had a chain to show for it. As much as he would love to rub that sort of thing in Vox's face if he ever slipped up, some part of him didn't want to wish his fate on someone he’d considered a friend. No one as powerful as him should ever have their wings clipped in such a way, if Alastor hadn't been pushed to the extreme he wouldn't be in this situation himself.

Any sort of vulnerability was an opportunity for things to go awry in hell, and as he thought on this and what Valentino had implied, an idea came to mind. 

Perhaps there was something to him visiting Vox after all.

Still miserable, even hours and seemingly dozens of repairs later, Vox checked his schematics and clipped another piece of wiring to be replaced.

The fact that so many things had been fried meant that he had to redesign the seals and vents on his current model as soon as possible. Fixing the damage would hold him over for now, but there was no way in hell he was going to deal with this ever again.

Even though he tried to keep on the cutting edge and self-improve as much as he could, sometimes you just had to learn through old-fashioned trial and error. He could practically hear Alastor cackling at him.

He sighed while stripping the end of one wire to braid a bundle together, this is not what he'd had planned for the day.

Retractable arms and a variety of cables extended from the walls of his workshop and assisted him as he multitasked pulling things out of himself, replacing melted pieces with new parts he had to meticulously inspect for quality assurance. Usually he would have one of his pit crew helping him if he was trying to get the ball rolling on a new product, but his own chassis was extremely private, one of a kind technology that he didn't want anyone else getting their hands on or being able to manipulate. The full schematics were only ever available whenever he needed to look at them, and then he immediately locked them deep inside his own mind in a place behind so many firewalls and passcodes that it took him half an hour to get it out whenever it was necessary. Small repairs were easy enough that he could remember the details or pull surface-level fixes from his random access memory, but the more intensive, intricate work had to have the full book. Alastor had once helped him with repairs when they were still chummy, turning out to be quite the hand at small mechanics and electronics despite his protests, but he didn't exactly have Alastor's good graces anymore. He felt the same old bitterness well up inside him, but he pushed it down, focusing instead on soldering a circuit board that could thankfully be salvaged. Definitely needed better seals. 

He put that on his to-do list, feeling weary. Any other arbitrary meetings could wait, especially since the most important one had been foisted off on Valentino.

Vox told himself he hadn't been looking forward to seeing Alastor, but who could blame him? It had been so many years since he had been near him in person that he’d grown kind of nervous about the whole business, even as angry as he was with the man. Their last meeting had been so disastrously embarrassing that he had lashed out at his old friend, his frustrations and their mutual stubbornness starting this whole unfortunate feud. He’d only wanted to give their old partnership one last try, one last- strictly business - venture, but he’d miscalculated the voracity of his own feelings…

How did one get over such a love? 

He'd had his flames in his life before, but nothing as intense as what he felt for Alastor. Being cast aside by a true demon incarnate had left such a scar on his heart that he’d apparently never truly healed... but he had learned one of the hardest lessons in his afterlife. 

It hadn't stopped him from making a fool of himself. In fact, the moment Alastor had been on his screen again- his horrible, wonderful laugh filling him with conflicting emotions- he had embarrassed himself publicly for the first time in years, calling out to his ex-partner without a second thought. Valentino had lorded it over him for weeks, going so far as to sing children's songs about them kissing in trees and other such nonsense from the English and Spanish nursery rhymes, driving him up the wall and earning Val more than one well-deserved punch to the arm as he laughed at Vox’s expense.

At least Velvette had said that the airwave spat had them trending for several days, inadvertently bringing their products a lot of attention.

Thoughts of his most recent interaction had him grumbling about Alastor again, even as he was preoccupied with finding a particular piece for a small switchboard. He dug amongst his part drawers, straightening out the mess the engineering assistants must have left at some point- damn them and their non-metal-oxide memories- when he got an alert that someone had entered his private suite. Thinking that Valentino was back from the meeting, as he hadn’t gotten a breach warning, he dismissed this notification without any suspicion. No one could have gotten past his intensive security besides Vel or Val, who of course had top-level clearance. The feed for his bedroom was on a monitor that he could see out of the corner of his eye, but he didn't pay any attention to it, reorganizing his shop to his satisfaction as the remaining damaged wiring was replaced. 

He only took notice when there was a flash of a particular, achingly familiar red on the smaller screen showing his walk-in closet- his stomach flying into his throat, his heart beginning to gallop apace.

Surely not.

Vox immediately pulled up several of the feeds from his rooms, manifesting some additional projections in the air around him when he ran out of screens in this more limited space, but he didn't see what had drawn his attention. He checked every viewpoint several times, and was nearly ready to dismiss it as topically-induced paranoia, but then he saw a piece of clothing fly across one of the camera feeds. 

"What the hell?" he said aloud.

There was a cheerfully striped vest of pastel blue and lilac that he never wore slumped on the floor of his closet, having been seemingly thrown there by a phantom hand. As there were very few blind spots in his Tower, he was deeply interested to know how it was possible anyone could have hidden themselves well enough to not show up on his cameras. Especially without scoping the place out extensively. 

Vox pulled up the intercom for his rooms and called, "Val, is that you?"

There was a long stretch of silence. 

The vest moved by unseen hands, folding into a neat pile while aloft, but, try as he might to angle his cameras remotely, he could still not see what propelled this odd reality. Then a swath of dark, flaxen yellow filled the screen as an arm reached to take the folded garment. A familiar rich goldenrod fabric with thin pinstripes, faded to amber from many years of well-loved wear, of a turtleneck he had hidden in a neglected box at the back of his closet for decades now. 

As it moved, a sudden distortion filled the screen and his eyes flew wide. The hand at the end of that sleeve... had red claws. 

"Alastor!?" he cried as he shot to his feet, only to sway woozily from the vertigo of too many exposed pieces and pulled taught wires.

"Ah, hello Vox, my dear! I was wondering how long I would be waiting," a cheeky grin and one pixelated, glowing eye became visible as he leaned into view.

"What the hell are you doing in my apartment?!"

Vox was physically and mentally discombobulated, and this did not exactly set him back on his axis.

Alastor helpfully swept over to the lounging sofa in the midst of his closet, where Val would sometimes join him as he got ready for the day, and knelt on the deep blue of the crushed velvet cushions. Leaning provocatively towards the camera that faced the back of the couch, he held himself up with one hand and tugged at the high collar of Vox's old sweater with a saucy smile that jarred and jumped in blocks as the camera tried to catch his image.

"When was the last time you aired your favorite little sweater out, ol' boy? This poor dear is getting a bit musty from neglect."

Vox stared, uncomprehending at the vision before him.

Alastor was in his tower. 

In his tower, in his rooms, in his clothes.  

In that sweater.

Forgetting himself, and all the time and harsh words that had passed between them over the years, he didn't even try to call for security. He just witlessly let his eyes take in the loose material that enveloped the radio demon in such a tantalizingly appealing display, scarcely remembering to breathe for a moment.

He hadn't been as well-built back then as he was now, years of running a profitable fitness program as a side-hustle did wonders for the physique, but Alastor had always been rather spindly. That old sweater may have been pretty tight on him the last time he'd worn it, but it draped over Al like an over-stretched gown, and from that angle it almost looked like-

"ARE YOU NOT WEARING PANTS?!"

Alastor looked down with a raised eyebrow, as if it were a surprise to him too.

"Well, would you look at that! It seems I couldn't find any in my size to match! I was rather damp when I got here, hope you don’t mind…" he looked up coquettishly, rendered unhelpfully in crystal clear quality from his recent camera updates. 

Of course, that hadn't been distorted in the least. 

Damn him and his vacillating camera shyness. 

Vox swallowed, the cables that held him back from pressing himself to the screen before him made him want to scream. 

"Wh- why are you..." he said intelligently.

"Well, your gigolo friend kindly informed me of your predicament at the meeting today, and I thought I'd drop in to check on you, but you weren't here. Naughty boy , not getting your rest..." he laughed, a lilt of saccharine sarcasm behind his indulgent smile, "so I set about amusing myself in your absence. Not to worry, my dear. I haven't misplaced anything."

Vox set his remaining repairs on auto-shop mode, deciding to button himself up as-is for the time being and leave improvements for another time. An enemy had infiltrated his private sanctum and, even as innocuous as this strange appearance of his ex-partner seemed to be, he needed to get down there ASAP.

"Al, I may not know what the hell you're thinking half the time, but I definitely don't get why you're playing dress-up in enemy territory and gloating about it to my face. If you're here to talk then spit it out, or wait for me to get down there to beat it out of you," he finished in a hostile snarl.

"Now, now, there's no need to bare your fangs at me, dear. I'd hoped to lure you down here so I can make sure you're taken care of, like I'd been asked ."

Vox blinked.

"What."

"Valentino implied that you needed your good chum to come tuck you in and fawn over you," he rested his chin on the backs of his hands, elbows sinking into the back of the couch as he leaned farther forward, revealing a flick of his tail from the bottom of the old garment. Vox's breath caught, and Alastor's hooded gaze seemed to stare through at him, even as it jumped in and out of focus, "so if you'll hurry your prior commitments along, I may still be in the mood to be generous... "

He licked his lips with deliberate, dangerous slowness, and smirked as his features manifested clearly again. Vox's throat was dry, and he coughed out a curse under his breath, making Alastor's eyes crinkle in knowing smugness as his smile widened. 

The main panel clicked into place and Vox shut his workshop down with the snap of his taloned fingers. In the ensuing dark, he focused on the lone screen that cast light back upon his own glowing face.

"Be right there~" he crooned ominously.

His body zapped into the network connecting the tower, and he instantly shot through the camera Alastor had been staring up at to loom imposingly over his former friend and mentor.

"Hello, Alastor. It hasn't been long enough," he growled, jagged teeth filling the lower half of his screen.

Alastor raised a brow at his display and shook his head, "Posturing won't do you any good, darling, if you're shaking like a leaf."

"I'm pissed, Al!" Vox exploded, "What the hell d’you think you’re doing!?"

"I am merely-” he melted into his shadow on the couch and suddenly appeared against Vox's chest, adjusting his bowtie and grinning playfully up into the screen that was barely a breath away, “here to take care of you!”

This close, Vox could see the fan of Alastor's light eyelashes as he fluttered them with exaggerated flirtatiousness at him. 

Always eager to tease him, that prick.

“Alastor, I don't know what game you're playing,” he said, biting the words out as he tried to contain his fury at his long-battered feelings being toyed with again , “but I want you OUT! NOW! ”

Alastor feigned a pout that didn’t quite make it past a shit-eating grin.

“Oh, but don't you want your sweater back first? I should take it off, but-” he raised the front a bit, exposing bare- oh god in heaven - long, bare legs, the lightest dusting of red hair in the thin fur of his upper thighs drawing the eye to trail up to his- “as you said, I'm afraid I'm not wearing anything underneath…”

Vox's already addled circuitry fritzed with a multitude of sparks, and he choked loudly on nothing at all.

Alastor grinned knowingly and leaned farther into him, hooking a bare- oh so bare - leg around the back of his and rubbing lightly against his slacks with the soft back of a calf.

“Vox~ won't you let me be good to you?” 

He whispered this so close to Vox's mouth that the other media demon was certain he was going to faint, but his hands came up to grip Alastor's forearms, preventing them from sneaking around his neck out of some innate form of self-preservation.

He’d always wanted them to take care of each other. 

But this was too good to be true.

“Dammit, Al,” he near-pleaded, exasperation filling his tone as his anger was chased away by fluttering that was just as familiar as it was unfortunate, “what's your game? Huh? What's your angle?!”

“Mm... if you're well-behaved, then perhaps it will be horizontal!” Alastor quipped, laughing merrily at Vox's frustration.

The TV demon gaped at him, who had replaced the terrifying radio demon with a nubile temptress? 

This couldn't be the same man who had literally ripped out and stomped on Vox's heart in front of him in a fit of fury. Alastor had always been flirtatious with him, sure, when they were close. 

They had danced around each other for years within the tenuous bounds of their friendship, but when Vox dared to broach the subject of something more? 

His whole afterlife had crumbled around him.

Now here Alastor was, playing the promiscuous debutante trying to fill their dance card for the night. This went beyond casual flirtatiousness, however. This outright lewdness had him on the verge of a meltdown.

How was this his reality?

“Al… listen…” he began to push the radio demon away, but Alastor dove into his shadows again.

The lights flickered in the large closet room, and Alastor's shadow grinned evilly at him from the ceiling as it stretched and grew, its antlers expanding into an impossible number of points. He tried to look around when suddenly, a gust of hot breath hit the back of his neck and he stiffened. Elongated talons reached under his arms to encircle his chest and there came a dark voice to the side of his screen, hissing through feedback.

“No, Vox, you listen! We may have unsettled business, but I came here out of genuine concern and you will let me care for you… even if I have to make you.”

The claws dug into his clothes and he had the jarring experience of being lifted up and clutched against Alastor's demonic form. Vox cursed, his face brightening as pixelated colors raced across it, but he clung to the giant hand as he was carried into the main area of his bedroom and dumped unceremoniously onto his bed. 

As he righted himself, Alastor shrank down to resume his normal form, turning his back to prolong his air of mystery. Vox propped himself up on his elbows just in time to see the bare buckskin of that tiny ass and merrily twitching tail disappear beneath the well worn edge of his sweater once more. Alastor pivoted and knelt beside him on the mattress, looking for all the world like he was happy to wait for Vox to quit bumbling. 

From this lower angle, Vox could see even more pale skin beckoning temptingly from beneath the old fabric, and his eyes widened even as his focus narrowed on the subtle outline of something that made his mouth begin to water.

Al wasn't hard, but he could still see, and it was so close. So near the hem, that one quick pull would show everything…

He sat up quickly and tried to scramble back, but froze when the radio demon shifted closer.

“Now, my dear boy,” Alastor purred, placing a hand on his chest and using him as an anchor while he hiked a knee over one side of his hips. That hem rose to an alarming and enticing degree at the movement, and Vox could hardly move out of shock as Alastor continued, “You will let me play nursemaid, or so help me I will fry every frivolous technological gewgaw in this accursed place.”

Vox's breath caught as the other knee came to rest on the opposite side, gifting him with a lap full of Alastor, who leaned against his chest and draped his arms over Vox's shoulders.

“If you'll allow me…” he said pleasantly, and his shadow lengthened until the grinning doppelganger of Alastor joined them, running a phantom hand over the back of Vox's hastily pinned up head casing. 

Alastor clicked his tongue disapprovingly, “You’re not even fully latched… in a rush to see me as usual…”

“You're the one who said to hurry down here,” Vox sniped defensively, “I still had things to do before you-”

Alastor's bare ass sat fully against him and his thoughts fizzled out.

“Oh, don't worry dearest, we'll fix you up right as rain,” Alastor beckoned to the shadow to continue, as if he wasn't shifting his weight coyly right over Vox's clothed, but very interested, lower half. 

The shadow's hands ghosted over the maintenance access panel in the back of his head, and, to his chagrin, he felt it open without even needing a screwdriver. His thoughts raced, muddling as the intelligent Overlord warred with the primal need to take up the offer so sweetly dropped into his lap.

“Why the fuck should I let you of all people mess with my head… again!” he added petulantly, leaning away from the dark hands that attempted to rifle around inside his wiring. 

Unfortunately, this meant he also curled himself over Alastor, and looking down into his mischievous eyes did horrid things to his heart.

“Because, Vox, I am still intimately familiar with-” Alastor's fingers came up to trail the backs of his knuckles over his screen in the approximate location of a cheek before playfully tapping, “how. you. tick!”

Vox caught that hand in his brightening claws and glared at Alastor heatedly, eyes boring into the cheeky leer that met him for several searching moments. “If you know me so well… then you can’t complain this time…” he murmured, before he smirked.

He turned the wrist to his mouth, biting lightly at the delicate skin before placing a provocatively open-mouthed kiss over the radio demon's pulse. Alastor's eyebrows rose, but his grin widened in fiendish delight as his opening volley was met in turn. When the following nip and kiss on the palm of Alastor’s hand only drew a pleased snort of a laugh, Vox decided to be bolder. 

His other hand came to rest on Alastor's hip, the large spread of his fingers on the slighter man ensuring that he had a good grip on that barely covered ass. He expected Alastor to stiffen or perhaps even outright stab him with a sharp tentacle, but he only shifted in his seat again, effectively grinding down lightly on Vox's half-hard dick and making him swallow nervously.

The shadow hands in his head were so far gone from his thoughts- even as they literally sorted through the circuitry that comprised and composed those thoughts- quickly setting him to rights with such an adept hand it should have made him question how Al still knew so much about his modern tech.

“By all means, dear, indulge a bit,” Alastor rocked his hips and Vox gasped at the sensation, “Good little kiddies deserve a treat after a check-up, do they not?”

“I swear to fuck, Al, if you're messing with me right now I will eat you whole… and screw whatever pinky-swear you have with Rosie about corpse claims,” he groaned.

The strange pair probably had some sort of pact in the event of Alastor’s second demise, and his assumption must have been somewhat on the money because the other demon barked a genuine laugh.

The radio demon rocked back up to press his chest against Vox's, looping his arms around Vox's corded neck and just as their mouths were brought parallel, he whispered teasingly, “Perhaps I’d already planned to let you-” another delicious roll of his hips, “ devour me tonight.”

His lips pressed lightly to Vox's screen and, as the sensation he’d waited decades for raced through him, Vox felt several backup fans kick on to attempt to cool his overheated system.

His hand on Alastor's hip suddenly dug into soft flesh, breaking the skin through the garment and drawing unseen pinpricks of red into the light colored fabric. And oh - the moan he received for this made him gasp, which allowed Alastor's tongue to breach the magically ambiguous surface of his face.

Vox groaned and abandoned all hope of getting any more work done that day, placing his other hand firmly against the small of Alastor's back and molding their bodies together even more. The radio demon's legs flexed as he continued to move slowly against him, breathily making small sounds into Vox's mouth as they clung to each other, their bodies growing hot. He had longed to kiss Alastor for so many years that the reality of it overwhelmed his mind, he was sure that his antenna were arcing with electricity at a near constant rate now. And the delicious sounds he was making…

The television demon's winded breaths stuttered even more as he felt Alastor's body beginning to wake, growing hardness pressing mouth-wateringly against his abdomen with each achingly slow roll of his hips. He broke their kiss, pulling away a bit to make a joke about the cold man starting to thaw, when he happened to glance down and… the sweater had ridden up. 

The heavy cock that pressed against his suit was clearly ready for action, as Vox’s jacket would definitely have to be discreetly laundered after this, but he didn't give one flying fuck about that right now.

“Alastor…” he breathed, swallowing audibly at the delectable sight, “Oh fuck… you have five seconds to change your mind about this before I completely lose it and-”

A click came from the back of his head and Alastor beamed smugly at him, “and, Done!”

Suddenly, a forceful grip from behind dragged him down to the bed, shadowy hands falling away from him as Alastor began to unbutton Vox's suit jacket. 

Vox caught the idea and shrugged out of the material when he was done, reaching up to thread his claws roughly into Alastor's hair and tugging him down to resume their kiss.

Alastor placed a finger to his screen, “Hold your horses, eager boy.”

He tugged at Vox's striped sweater vest, and the inconvenience of his head apparently stumped the radio demon for a moment before he sighed and snapped red-tipped fingers.

Vox’s clothes disappeared instantly and the bare outline of Alastor's ass, balls rubbing a sweet siren song on the base of his shaft, rocked against the television demon’s lap.

“You didn't just destroy those, did you?” the TV gasped, trying to sound upset but honestly too turned on to care much about them.

“Folded neatly and out of the way, don't worry. Now-” Alastor rocked over him again, lining their cocks up and grinding with a quiet moan, “mmM-aybe you can show your appreciation for the house call?”

“Ohhhh fuck!” Vox panted, his chest heaving as Alastor propped his palms against his abdomen to roll his hips more effectively, “w-what kind of compensation did you have in mind?”

“Perhaps an evening's entertainment?” Alastor smirked down at him, his teeth flashing before he bit his lip at Vox's shallow thrust against his ass.

“Oh, of course…” Vox laughed, rolling his eyes.

His moment of mirth became a choking cough when Alastor raised the bottom of the sweater to expose a trail of soft scarlet hair that blended seamlessly down into auburn fur, leading straight to the near opposite gradient on the demon's delicious looking cock. Vox's heated gaze locked on it again and he ran his tongue over his teeth greedily, making Alastor take notice of his attention.

“You seem to like what you see~” he teased smugly.

“Honestly, Al,” Vox breathed through a pained groan, their bodies sliding against each other again, "if you ever let me suck you off, I don't think I would ever let you go .”

“Oh dear,” Alastor laughed, "then I shall endeavor to resist.”

“Can I at least touch you?” Vox pleaded, his voice strained as Alastor's balls dragged over his cock again. 

Alastor took pity on him, taking his nearest hand and unlocking his grip from where glowing claws had been on the verge of shredding the sheet beside them. He brought them to their combined need, joining him in the initial strokes before Vox valiantly took up the cause on his own.

He wasn't close enough to his bedside table to retrieve any safety caps, so he applied years of improvisation with the roughened palm and heel of his hand, dragging up their shafts with a flourishing twist over their heads at every upstroke, mindfully avoiding brushing any of the sharp edges of his talons over thin skin. Soon Alastor began to make more small noises, each gasp wrenched from his throat so unfathomably hot that he wanted to engrave them into his hard drive forever. But even though they both chased their pleasure against each other’s bodies, eventually the radio demon very firmly ceased his movements and batted Vox’s hand away. 

Vox made a noise of protest and Alastor leaned over him to bare his teeth in a superior grin, taking advantage of the lull to scoot up the other demon’s prone body. Al widened his kneeling stance and rolled his hips down and suggestively backwards, rubbing the cleft of his ass over Vox's pelvis and bumping into his head lewdly.

Something registered in Vox's impassioned mind, a kind of slick sensation that was heavier than the mixing smear of pre-come or the heady sweat that had been building. He narrowed his eyes at the other man, and very purposefully reached over Alastor's hip to envelop one cheek. His fingers pulled at the edge of Alastor's entrance and the radio demon shivered, his mouth falling open on a pant as he smiled cockily at Vox's raised eyebrow.

“Got a- a head start,” his labored breaths nearly whined out of him, “hope you don't mind my… presumption…”

“Fuck… Al…”  

He couldn't exactly check all the way inside, but that damning slickness at the entrance must have meant that Alastor had actually come here with this explicit intent…

“Since when do nurses offer home-visit services like this?” Vox said, at the end of his rope and ready to hang.

Alastor chuckled and sat up on his knees. He used the convenient assist to line Vox’s cock up with his finger-spread entrance, grinning maliciously into Vox’s snow-covered face, “Perhaps I thought I deserved a reward for my magnanimity…”

He sank down on Vox by degrees, his voice throaty and intoxicating as he moaned at the generous girth. The television demon’s own guttural growl of pleasure hissed and spit with static, reflected in his glitching face as he fought his overwhelmed systems to keep his eyes glued to Alastor. He didn’t want to miss a second of this fever dream, not when Alastor’s flushed body trembled around him in tandem with the mind-melting sounds filling his receptors. It was the most glorious sight in his afterlife. 

“mm- a-Anytime you want a ‘reward’ Al, you better let me know because fuuuck!”

Alastor nodded, traces of his bangs clung to his brow and his bewitchingly blown out eyes fixed Vox in place as he bit his lip. Their gazes burned into each other with the slow, all-encompassing heat of molten desire, and Alastor laughed breathlessly when he bottomed out, “I must say, I believe this is one of my more inspired ideas.”

He leaned forward to nip at Vox's collarbone before laboriously raising his hips. He sucked hard enough to leave a mark and Vox whined before pushing Alastor's hips pointedly down again as he thrust upward. The impact made both of them gasp, and like that they were unleashed- they began to rut against each other like they had been starving for it.

Alastor was ravenous, finding every bit of skin to mark and scratch and tease as Vox pulled him down time and again, holding on to Alastor's hips for dear life as he moaned his fevered approval.

Alastor bit at the big vein of cables that stood out in Vox's neck like a corded adam's apple and his voice pitched embarrassingly as he cried out, making the radio demon pull back to arch an eyebrow at him even as his purposeful hips swayed merrily in Vox's grasp.

“Remember? That's a- a nexus of sorts… shut up…” he griped around his labored breathing.

“I didn't say a word, sweetheart, but now that you mention it…”

Vox shouldn't have said anything, because then Alastor had a new weapon for his mission to fuck him out of his mind. He doggedly pursued this weakness- kissing, sucking and biting his neck- the inadvertent erogenous zone becoming the sole focus of his attention outside of grinding Vox’s cock in that tight heat.

“Fuck, Al! Bambi please, ahH-nnN!!” Vox begged through the waves of euphoria building within him.

The feral deer couldn't be persuaded to give up this new way of riling his favorite toy, even as his own body started to tremble from the pleasure. He was careful not to break skin beyond surface-level tasting, knowing that to crunch down here would be an inconvenient end to his most fascinating friend, but even that small bit of metallic honey was enough to have him growling his desire into Vox’s flesh like a maddened beast.

Vox couldn’t see Al’s face and it was driving him crazy. He had wanted to watch as Alastor fell to pieces, but his own blurry haze had built up so much he couldn’t even call up the distorted feeds. He was grateful when Al finally released his neck to pant down at him, “Vox- dear, I'm close… aH- so close…”

Delivered directly to his face, there was no way he could have missed the quiet whine behind those staticked words, and Vox whined in his own reverb-laced crash of broken sound. 

“Don't leave me behind, Red-” he begged raggedly, and Alastor's eyes lit upon his with a manic gleam that did all sorts of things to his heart.

Vox didn't really want it to end… he wasn't sure he was going to ever be allowed this again, but he decided to throw every bit of effort into a final salvo. Digging his claws into those hips once more, he braced himself against the bed and began to slam his hips upward. Alastor laughed, breathless but joyous when he rolled down to meet him.

“Come on, Vox- fuck- come for me,” Alastor commanded, tipping his head toward him for a kiss. Soft scarlet hair swept against his screen with their movements, curtaining them as the television demon met his lips eagerly; their desperate breaths filling that small space as their tongues and moans filled each other’s mouths.

Alastor's hands had been roaming his chest and ribs the whole time, but now they held Vox close, clinging tightly in a more intimate embrace than he’d intended as they rocked against each other. He held them together- as ever he had in the past- with claws in Vox’s flesh as much as they were in his psyche, but this time he had the added bonus of observing that screen splinter colors by degrees. The lovely fullness and bliss of having Vox unravel under his tongue made him clench around that thick cock at just the right moment.

“Nnn- Al!” Vox cried, coming at the precipice of pleasure and pain.

His electrified claws tightened and broke the skin on Alastor's hips more deeply, leaving his own sizzling mark upon the other man. The radio demon, caught off guard by this sweet sting and the sudden, heady rush inside him, cried out- cursing around his name with his own squeal of radio feedback- quickly following him over the edge.

Vox didn't even realize that he had been steadily panting out curses until Alastor laughed at him, breaths hot against his neck, “Did you kiss your mother with that mouth?”

“Not like you're any better,” Vox snarked as his vision cleared, pulling Alastor into an embrace, “but I'd much rather kiss you any day.”

“Hmm…” Alastor obliged him, their mouths lingering in chaste caresses amidst the afterglow. 

They stayed like that until their breathing began to normalize, an intimate tasting of each other that made Vox dizzy in spite of his very thorough treatment. 

Alastor shifted, moving his arms from Vox's middle to loop around his neck again, and Vox groaned when his cock came free and a bit of his come fell onto his softening member. The idea of Al full of his seed had him tempted to push the other man back into the covers and never let him leave. But, damn his taxed circuits, he was at his limit…

“Sorry about that,” Vox said, “I have some tissues or I can go get a washcloth to clean us up in a sec… I just… don't think I can move right now.”

“Neither can I,” Alastor chuckled, “my knees aren't what they used to be, I'm afraid.”

Vox narrowed his eyes at the other demon. Alastor looked like a vision… some kind of fucked out primal god draped across his chest like the physical manifestation of his darkest daydreams. He licked digital lips before hedging, “I'm fairly certain that I was older than you when I died, even as old as you are…”

“Oh, don’t be so sure! I wasn't that young,” Alastor smirked.

He had never gotten a straight answer out of him no matter how much he’d wheedled him in the past, even though Al had long known he had been tiptoeing into his fifties before he’d gotten a fresh face in hell. But, if Alastor was in such a giving mood today…

“No way… practically cut down in your prime,” he baited.

“I would've been born before you, and you can't call forty-two my prime,” Alastor huffed.

Vox felt warm, blessed even, by this small admission. A privileged glimpse behind the veil after so long.

“Really?” he said, breathless, “Wow… not that it’s particularly old, either but… you were aging gracefully, babe you're beautiful.”

Alastor smiled at him, softer in the come down than he’d seen him in years. He felt fingers fiddling with his antenna and desperately wanted to kiss him again.

“I could offer compliments to your current form of course, but I'm afraid I don't know what you would have looked like before,” he laughed lightly.

“I mean, I do have ways to show you,” Vox offered, “I still have archival footage from my career…”

Though he internally balked at the idea of seeing what he’d lost, he didn’t mind showing Al a bit of his past. Vox had only ever found one article from Alastor’s radio career; sadly, and predictably, without a photograph, but he’d treasured that interview clipping for years. 

Despite his best effort, Alastor must have read something in his expression.

“No, darling, that’s quite alright. I'm fond of you as you are,” he reassured the other demon, “I'd rather not have you irrationally thinking some nonsense about me secretly pining for your original face.” He laughed at Vox’s disgruntled grimace, continuing, “I do miss my old box Vox though…”

Alastor tapped the top of his casing before stroking between his antenna contemplatively. Vox swallowed at the blatant affection, nearly trembling as the deer smiled down at him with that same boyishly quiet, subtly vicious glee he had known in years gone by…. and had missed with every fiber optic of his being.

“I don't… it was heavy as hell…” he breathed against the feelings, weighty in his chest.

“I do recall you complaining about neck strain,” Alastor mused, leaning down to press a kiss at his throat where his imitation adam’s apple bobbed again. He could feel that smile against his skin and, god… it was as if his wires were melting again.

Those lips continued to mouth at his jugular, and his blood sang at the subtle show of the power held over him, that predator’s maw doing all sorts of unspeakable things to his frazzled circuitry.

“Yeah…” he panted, “T- trying to sleep like that was… I, uh… constantly had a crick in my neck and had to engineer m- my own pillow but, even then it was… fuck, Al…”

Alastor licked a stripe across his skin and Vox groaned. The other man pulled back to lean over his screen, smiling down slyly.

“W- what?” the television said nervously, voice thick with reverb.

“Oh nothing,” Alastor said innocently, “I just missed our little chats!”

Vox loved him, fuck he loved this horrible trickster demon more than anything.

“They didn't used to be this, uh- spicy…”

Alastor hummed, “The circumstances may have changed, but I'm glad we can still get along when we try.”

Vox ran his claws lightly up Alastor’s spine and smirked triumphantly when he shivered. 

“It helps that you just fucked my brains out,” he purred, voice deep.

He took Alastor’s cue and leaned up to press his tongue to the dip at the base of his throat, tasting the wonderful saline evidence of their deeds and basking in the gasp it drew as he traced from the clavicle to his jawbone.

“Were there… any to begin with?” Alastor laughed, though it came out strained.

Vox reached up to caress his chin, pulling him in for a kiss. He pulled away reluctantly, the vibration of a heated growl against his lips, “You're so lucky I'm under the weather or I'd be up for round two by now.”

Alastor gave another near-feral snarl of enthusiasm into Vox's mouth as he pressed him down to the covers again. The TV demon let his hands continue to roam over his bare back, roughly teasing through fur with the sharp tips of his fingers and rapturously grabbing that tight ass when he got to it. Al’s tail brushed his hands and he chuckled at the demanding nip on his lower lip when he stroked around its base. 

He didn’t break their kiss to speak, only cracked an eye open to watch Alastor’s flushed face as the radio demon moaned into his mouth. God he was so fuckin’ sexy like this… he didn’t know what lucky star he woke up under that day, or what bullshit Al was up to, but he was grateful for even this little taste of ecstasy.

“It’s too bad I still need to do a system reset…” he said through his speakers, “that was my limit for peak performance.”

Alastor pulled back, his eyes slowly blinking open through his own haze, and damn if that didn’t do things for Vox’s ego, “Nonsense… it’s just a bit of light exercise to sweat out some of the illness, dearest,” Alastor asserted, dick already half-hard again between them, beckoning to Vox's muddled mind with tantalizing thoughts, “perchance once you're feeling better...?”

He let the words drop off into a question that made Vox's heart skip, practically backflipping within him as he fought not to look too eager to answer.

"Oh! Absolutely!" he said, still far too quickly. His lips met Alastor's in covetous hunger before pulling away to give him a smarmy smirk, “If you'll let me know ahead of time, then I can really go to town on you.”

"I'll have to look forward to it, I suppose," Alastor chuckled with an answering toothy grin, “I may not normally share this particular appetite, but I do know about being… insatiable… ”

His eyes and teeth glowed, his fangs elongating dangerously as he purred idle malice into Vox's face. The other Overlord's breath stumbled out of him clumsily and a thrill shot through him like he had been delivered a high voltage blow of a kiss. 

“I bet you do…” he breathed.

Alastor's more demonic form faded almost as quickly as it came on, stitches disappearing from his mouth while he gave Vox a knowing look, “Mmm… and aren't I lucky you appreciate that, then?”

Vox could feel a silly grin slide onto his face as he leaned in to steal his lips again in place of an answer, Alastor laughed at him but returned it anyway. 

The radio demon felt he had somehow miscalculated. 

In the past, and earlier today, it hadn’t occurred to him that the desperate yearning Vox had always shown for him could be more flattering than off-putting, as he had once believed. Even if his companion had obviously enjoyed their intimacy, the man was apparently just as interested in smothering him with affection. He kept touching, well… everything. Alastor, bewilderingly, found that he could even appreciate this blatant need to memorize his flesh- finding the actions endearing, especially after so long apart.

They were like giddy children, whispering secrets to each other's bodies in this intimate space, neither wanting to break this pleasant mood to do such tedious things like clean up or clothe themselves. Even though Alastor's need to have a handle on the situation clashed with his new desire to extract every sound possible from Vox's speakers, he knew he wouldn't have had a complaint either way. The TV sassed him just as much as in the past, but was obviously still more than happy to let Alastor lead this new dance. 

He found Vox charmingly soft and a tad loopy from their zealous lovemaking, and evidently Alastor's mussed hair and fluffed ears called to the television nearly as much as his lips.

Vox reached up to take one ear between his claws and gently stroked it, earning a contented sigh from Alastor. He scratched at the base of it experimentally, remembering what it was like to have a dog back in his old life, not that he would ever make the comparison aloud. Alastor leaned into it ever so slightly, making a soft noise so adorable that his screen visibly glitched. He knew he risked Alastor's ire, but he couldn’t help himself when the man unintentionally and effortlessly pulled some of the cutest damn things Vox had seen in ages. It was the blessed realization of all of his ancient dreams of playing with those fluffy fuckin’ ears.

Alastor's eyes had slid shut as he enjoyed the petting, but suddenly he cracked them to glare at Vox suspiciously, “You monster.”

Vox tried to play it off with a snort, “What did I do? You seem to like it.”

He scratched the other ear, carding his fingers through Alastor's hair affectionately as he dug lightly into his scalp, and the radio demon looked both thrilled and exasperated.

“You're also lucky you just ‘fucked my brains out’ as you put it. You take liberties, Vox.”

“Ones I am grateful to be given,” he whispered reverently, and leaned up to peck Alastor's lips, attempting to placate the huffy deer.

Alastor grumbled against him, but still kissed him back, and that in itself was enough of a marvel. He continued to spoil himself and Alastor with his own self-gratification, his hands finally so entwined in the radio demon’s two-toned hair that they were on the verge of being tangled in more ways than one. 

Vox didn’t want to be parted but finally Al pulled back, nipping at his lip again before saying, “Well, I suppose I can allow it, as you're so adept.”

“At scratching or-?” Vox drawled.

“No comment.”

“Aww c'mon, Al,” he teased, trying hard to suppress a laugh.

"I will leave right now if you ask me to expound upon your prowess.”

"Nah, don't be like that,” he said, stroking his hair and smoothing it closer to its normal style, “And it's not like I wouldn't love to see you demonstrate your prowess…”

He waggled his eyebrows and Alastor’s eyes narrowed. He tried to affect a haughty demeanor around a tight smile, but was betrayed by his subtly quirking lips, “Is this your way, perhaps, of asking for me to serve a second course?”  

Vox shivered and licked his lips, the radio demon’s deepening timbre making his skin prickle with renewed excitement. The unabated hunger in that voice was unmistakable, and, while Vox wouldn’t be able to reroute his blood flow again, he was not about to let this opportunity go to waste.

“Hey… if you’re still up for the heat of the kitchen…” he said, going along with Alastor’s metaphor, “I’d be more than happy to cede the floor.”

“Is it wise? With your-” a smug flash of teeth, “ limitations?”

“Oh fuck you, I’m perfectly capable of taking it,” he growled, “But maybe that rusty old tool is too worn out?”

Alastor grabbed his lower screen and jerked it up. His jackal’s grin loomed so close to Vox’s lips he felt himself begin to salivate in anticipation, rivulets of red running freely on his face.

“I believe we established that you were my senior in physical age, despite my advantage in overall years. Not that you seem to have the benefit of much maturity…” Vox made to protest, but Al’s teeth and eyes glowed and the television shook eagerly in his grip, “and it seems as if I recall your little blackout tantrum much differently, my dear. So please, tread lightly on my patience…”

“Kiss me you fucking fossil,” Vox shakily snarled.

“Eager boy~” Alastor repeated, preening.

His lips sank onto him as Alastor plunged the heat of his tongue into Vox’s wretchedly greedy mouth, suffusing him with the same bone-deep hunger as before. They were more languid now, of course, more explorative, but the radio demon seemed content to take his time extracting every noise he could from his muffled companion.

Vox had more than a few things to add to his new model, or whatever updates he could work in before the next revamp. First of all, seals. Second… being able to get it up even when overwrought and on the verge of a grid-wide meltdown. This shaky, inexpressible need was for the birds… At least Al seemed to be having fun. 

Vox found himself victim to several experimental trials that Alastor had never been willing to conduct on his prior victims. He almost wanted to see how far he could dance along the edge of pleasure and pain before Vox shut down Pentagram City again, but he was supposed to be driving out the fever, not possibly making it worse. As it was, tweaking the nerve endings that lay under practically every inch of his torso drew such lovely noises that it might actually have made up for missing his regular rain outing for the day. Oh, they would have such fun now that they were together again.

Hmm. 

That errant thought flitted through him and he fought to keep his focus. It wasn’t exactly what he’d had planned when he’d initially decided to entice his way back into Vox’s good graces, but that worked as well. And if Vox’s flushed face, arcing antenna, and heaving chest were any indication, he was fulfilling his role rather nicely.

His shadow appeared, handing him a vial that he had discreetly purchased for himself on the walk over, and suddenly Vox’s hazy eyes were alert once again. 

“Alastor… please….” 

Ah, his voice was so delicious like this!

“Dearest, you needn’t beg, though I do appreciate the enthusiasm!” he generously coated his fingers and made a show of rubbing them together to warm the fluid. Vox panted while he watched this, eyes locked on his hand with such focus that the radio demon chuckled, “I am quite flattered by all of this, just so you know. I do so love a rapt audience.”

He pressed two of his fingers to Vox’s entrance and earned a sharp gasp, and he delighted in the shudder that visibly shot through him as Alastor slipped them in and began to work the lubricant thoroughly into his tight heat. One navy leg tensed and flexed at his side, the ankle arching from the bed and settling several times as the stimulation rocketed through his victim. Poor Vox… his ‘upgrades’ seemed to limit him more and more- each time he tried to be rid of whatever perceived flaws he had, something else would come back to bite him in the end. This particular flaw was rather funny from his perspective though. The helpless moans as pleasure built but was stymied, dammed up without a means of relief… his desperation was palpable in the air and Alastor feasted heartily upon it with all of his senses.

When he felt he had built up the fervor for his performance enough, and his own body was practically alight with need, Alastor pulled the vial from the covers again. Vox blinked at him, half-delirious, before it finally sank in that the main dish was about to be served.

“God I love you… I fuckin’ love and h- hate you, you horrible bastard,” he croaked, but angled his hips in anticipation.

Alastor laughed at his pleasure-drunk tone, but leaned in to press a consoling kiss to that trembling scrawl of a mouth when he practically pouted up at him.

“And I love that you do, my dear,” he finally said, smirking at him with ominously glinting fangs.

This revelation once again surprised even himself, but he gave neither of them the necessary time to contemplate this. He began to press in, and Vox immediately threw his head back into the sheets, a drawn out moan muffled as the majority of his speakers became hushed.

Vox was much more used to the act, so it wasn’t long before Alastor was able to work himself up to a steady pace, panting in time with the more pitched, keening breaths of the demon below him. Despite his assurance that he was “perfectly capable”, the glitching demon looked an absolute mess.

The blood that dripped from his screen may have been from a bitten lip or a malfunction they had both missed, but Vox’s beatific smile and half-crazed eyes wouldn’t let anyone know it. He met Alastor with every thrust, greedy as usual to chase his every step and try to meet him toe to toe, even with his damages.

The radio demon found himself slowing even further, out of a misplaced sympathy he supposed, but then Vox whined and reached up to dig his claws into Alastor’s shoulders, hanging from him and moaning his name pitifully as he tried to encourage his hips back into him. The sight of Vox, his protege, friend, rival, enemy and now- astoundingly- lover, begging for him with such mindless sweetness was enough to make even his iron-clad composure snap. 

Vox’s rapturous keening crackled through both the audible spectrum and their wavelengths, and Alastor's chin ran with the dark well of blood as he slammed into him and panted out even darker laughter, “You take me so well, my dear… Like you were made for me to destroy from the inside out…”

Vox whimpered but his eyes shone up at him through a slight pixelation, fevered and obviously enjoying himself, “You w- wanna wreck me, Al? Do it…”

Radio bore down on television, claws on his back and teeth at his throat, snarling and rutting into him like the world was alight with the fire of their passion, crackling and warping with furious static and burning down around them. This small taste wouldn’t be enough, he decided, not if Vox could sing so sweetly for him, not if his overlord conquering was stuck in the past and the closest he could get now was absolutely wrecking the man that loved him- at his request, no less.

Romance and relationships were messy. 

Alastor had known this from observing too many of his female companions strung out over disappointing men, and had never once longed to be in their shoes. He’d kept Vox at a distance, despite his admitted fondness for his friend, clinging to the desire to remain independent and not fall victim to any such “frivolous nonsense”. Having seen exactly how hard Vox took it, he had swallowed the awkward tinge of sympathy and shame and counted himself lucky that he hadn't succumbed to the allure of a more intimate companionship between them. In the end, he supposed he had inadvertently filled the shoes of the ‘disappointing man’. 

But here was a golden opportunity to regain lost ground.

He thought this, thought of how he would reclaim this fascinating man inch by inch, whilst he ground himself deeper within the fracturing television demon, sparks in vague hearts somehow not catching his bedspread alight. 

Vox, delightfully receptive beneath his hips, moaned a litany of sweet-nothings- from repeated confessions, to pleas and demands- and Alastor chuckled dark amusement at his wild-eyed friend before kissing him to hush him up for a moment. He took the opportunity to pull out, earning a horrified whine and the trapped shake of a screen. 

“Don’t worry cher, I'll fill you as much as you wish on some other day, but for now…” Alastor snapped his fingers.

Vox looked a bit ridiculous in the over-stretched sweater and nothing else, but the strained material was practically obscene across his pectorals.

Alastor’s own torso was more exposed now, chest fur on display as it stuck out from the top of the striped fabric of Vox’s vest. The red and black was more to his taste, but it was looser on him than the older knit and dipped in, of course, a V-neck, so a generous bit of tan fluff had been revealed from the exchange. But OH… Vox’s face…

He seemed to have stopped breathing and Alastor smirked before crawling up to his chest.

He sat astride the other media demon and grinned wickedly down at his shocked, gluttonous expression. When he settled his cock between those well-formed muscles and rolled his hips, those impossibly wide eyes seemed to fill the screen. Within seconds, Vox’s hands came up to press his shapely muscles together around him, and both of them locked eyes while the radio demon began to show his own love for that worn piece of their past. 

Vox's pitched curses filled his every ragged breath, and Alastor laughed as he nodded in agreement, feeling a bit manic at the edge of the abyss.

“If you'd be so kind,” he groaned, “stick out that tongue you do so love to wag at me…”

It didn’t take much, he found, to slip from that peak. That long, wide tongue extended, barely embracing the base of his glans and he fell to pieces, shattering like some embarrassingly fragile thing all over the pane below him. He curled over Vox’s face when that wide head tipped up to clean him off, suddenly possessed in his willful need to envelop Al’s softening cock in that heat. He held him by his backside, squeezing possessively, his claws dragging stinging lines through the light fur and not letting go until the breathily laughing Alastor was forced to to give him a sound whack atop his casing. When he finally managed to pull Vox off, his eyes were glazed over, rapturous, and he still mouthed at the oversensitive tip, his lips dragging obscenely while Alastor leered down at him in amused disbelief. He watched the expression on that screen with honed focus, eyes voracious, and noted that, when he began to pull away again, Vox's head still leant forward as if to follow.

The eagerness he'd poked fun at was definitely worth exploring further, but for now-

He laboriously moved himself down Vox’s body, collapsing upon him once again with a satisfied sigh.

It was several minutes before Vox emerged from his reverie with a grunt, his hands coming up to grasp Alastor's upper back as if he meant to steady them both, earning an exhausted chuckle.

Vox’s voice was slightly hoarse even as he attempted to clear it, “I knew you'd been holding out on me all these years you infernal cockte-”

“At least wipe your face off before you complain,” Alastor laughed, a helpless, worn giggle that made Vox long to hold him close forever. Bury him deep in his ribcage right next to his heart, even if it meant Al danced on top of it again.

He tugged at the shoulder of his sweater vest and Alastor struggled out of it, the radio demon groaning as his back began to protest his unusual evening.

Vox did his best to clean them both off from his trapped position, overheated in his tight old top and still panting. Alastor helpfully impersonated a felled tree, disproportionately heavy and unyielding against him, and eventually the TV demon called it enough and flung his soiled clothes somewhere for Morning Vox to worry about.

He wound his arms around the small of Alastor's back and sighed contentedly, luxuriating in the glow of this bizarre evening like a deprived hermit witnessing the incandescence of a star. There had never been a moment so vastly unnerving but simultaneously joyous in his life.

He wanted desperately to make it last.

“You might as well stay to make sure I fully recover, right?”

Alastor leaned back to look searchingly at him, “I hadn’t planned to leave, but are you sure you wouldn't like me to?”

Vox tried to school what was sure to be a vulnerable expression, but swiftly gave up that fruitless endeavor. 

With a soft smile he quietly admitted, "I’ve never wanted you to leave…"

The skin around Alastor's eyes tightened, “Vox…”

Vox interrupted him, trying to distract, nip a potentially somber mood in the bud, brightly saying, “But! As I said, it's not like I'll be a heap of fun or anything for the rest of the night. I need to reboot, and the ol’ organics probably need rest and something hot to eat- besides you-” he added with a wink, making Alastor's nose crinkle charmingly, “So basically…. Would you care to join me for dinner?”

Alastor's tight expression eased a bit, and he leaned forward to rest his forehead against Vox’s screen for a moment with his eyes closed, breathing out what seemed to be a significant sigh. His lips brushed across the flat expanse in the barest hint of a kiss before pulling back to gaze deeply into overtly lovestruck eyes. Al’s features had softened further, and Vox's guts twisted into a flurry of wings when the small grin quirked, shifting his whole expression into that of warm amusement.

“I'd like that.”

Vox was in no way up for cooking, and while Alastor’s offer to make him something was tempting, he hadn't wanted to end the lavish cuddle session so quickly.

He placed an order to a soup and sandwich shop, something simple and easy on his stomach, letting Alastor choose whatever he wanted on his own screen… with his thoroughly amused assistance. 

Eventually the food was out for delivery, so he'd reluctantly let Al go and went to the dumbwaiter in his main living space to stand by, impatiently waiting for the lobby assistant to send it up. He was sporting a more comfortable outfit than his regular suit now, having zapped into a pair of sweats and a loose tee without doing much more than a perfunctory cleanup out of “sheer laziness” as Alastor had succinctly put it. When he finally came back into his bedroom suite bearing the delivery, he found Alastor coming out of a shower looking like a literal wet dream.

“Oh fuck me…” he said under his breath, making Alastor's ear twitch and swivel toward him from where it peeked out under a plush indigo towel.

He was scrubbing dampness out of his hair and his raised arms allowed Vox to take in all of his deliciously bare torso, his glimpse earlier when Alastor had gotten out of bed having been nowhere near enough for his ravenous gaze.

He was wearing one of Vox's robes, silky navy loose about him and barely tied in a casual bow at the waist, showing off his chest fur in a way that looked purposeful. Alastor wearing his branding did all sorts of things to his circuitry, and his antenna arced with jolts that he hoped didn't give away his feelings.

“Ah, vittles have arrived! Thank you my dear.” Alastor said, smile smug as he turned to display himself more provocatively.

Vox just knew that Alastor had heard what he'd said and was taunting him with what was temporarily out of reach, damned reboot.

“Mark my words,” he growled darkly, "if this happens again, I'm not letting you get away with toying with me.”

“Mmm, but it does sound like you do want me to do something to you~” Alastor teased, voice lilting in a flirtatious singsong he could've sipped like fine spirits.

Vox's throat went dry. 

“So this is happening again? You would-”

“What, enjoy having you at my mercy?” the embers of Alastor's heated gaze roved him from top to bottom, setting him alight before his voice dropped to a smokey purr, "Anytime darling.”

Vox wheezed an attempted laugh, the wind knocked out of his lungs. He held up the bag of food like a shield against the sudden image, attempting to recover his higher mental faculties- that little audiovisual treat was going to be on loop in the back of his mind for sure. The dark tone of Alastor's voice as it crackled with power sent skitters of sparks along his skin, and he knew the radio demon noticed because he sauntered forward like a glutted tomcat to trail clawtips up Vox's arm, following in their wake.

“How ‘bout I enjoy something else for now?" he said, looking pointedly at the food, “and you really should have something else ‘hot to eat’.”

“Goddammit, Al you're not playing fair.” Vox groaned.

“All's fair dearest!” he quipped cheekily.

Vox's waning fortitude must have snapped all at once- the next thing either of them knew, he had backed them up to the nearest wall. He glared his own white hot trail down Al’s body and cursed numerous vehement frustrations internally. 

“Maybe I'd like to have you at my mercy next time…” he growled.

Alastor's glinting eyes looked so goddamn smug and he honestly just wanted to bite it off of him. 

He leaned forward to kiss the victorious prick instead, and Al humored it, letting his lips linger for several heartbeats before slipping from Vox’s grasp with a crack of laughter and swath of shadow.

"Come along, darling! I'm afraid I'll have to spoon feed you in the old folks home at this rate..."

His voice was a saccharine whisper at Vox's shoulder, and the television demon shivered as he turned. Alastor snatched the take-out bag from him and sashayed jauntily over to the small marble table by the bedroom windows. The rain still cascaded in an incessant thrum against the glass, city lights blurred smudges amid the torrent. The lack of external illumination and far-reaching view made everything feel more homey, more intimate.

It was almost like… like the old days…

He could see other nights superimposed over the scene, suppressed memories of Alastor pulling takeout containers or groceries out of other paper bags and arranging them on a counter or table, humming or telling a story and turning to ask Vox's opinion, tell a joke, or simply smile warmly at him in a rare dropping of his guard. But amid that legion of striped crimson, the Alastor of today wore his colors, his branding, his ill-fitting bathrobe as he placed their dinner in front of either chair and looked over his shoulder.

“I really will go grey before you get over here… This meal is mostly for your benefit, dearest, so don't dawdle just watching my behind.”

Well. Now he was.

“Vox.”

“Yes deer,” Vox chuckled, mentally shaking himself and coming to help set the table. 

Alastor hooked the bottom of his screen between the knuckle of his forefinger and thumb, affectionately rubbing a callused pad over where most would have a chin.

“Attaboy.”

Vox wound his arms around Alastor's waist, smiling softly at him and enjoying the attention.

“I think this is even better than when we used to watch the rain together,” that thumb rubbed over his bottom “lip” and he kissed it, smirking when Alastor’s eyes dilated slightly, “You’re lettin’ me get cuddly without you tearing something off of me.”

“I suppose that was something you’d wanted before?”

“Keeping my limbs would be ideal, yeah,” Vox joked, earning a toothy cackle.

In the end, they still enjoyed each other's company. It was reassuring to know they weren't all claws and teeth- but obviously they'd enjoyed claws and teeth in various circumstances. They took their time, luxuriating in their tentative truce and the rare comfort of a good meal in good company. Vox knew that he ought to have done his reset sooner rather than later, he would feel better when his artificial components could help boost his organics, but he really didn't want this little bubble to pop quite yet.

They had somehow gotten onto the topic of the Hotel, as much as Vox had tried to avoid mentioning Alastor's new clique. He was inwardly agonizing over showing any overt jealousy at Alastor allying with the princess instead of him, when Alastor suddenly said, “I feel I must… apologize for something.”

Vox looked up from the saltine packet he'd anxiously been crushing in a vice-grip. Collecting himself, he distractedly opened the cellophane to scatter it into the chowder he'd ordered. 

“Oh?”

“It seems as if our venerated King has some sort of emotional connection to some of the weather magic in Hell, or at least his ring… and this storm was- well.” Alastor looked extremely uncomfortable, and Vox tried not to stare while he stirred his bowl, “He and I were having somewhat of a tiff the other day and I seem to have genuinely upset him…  and the weather patterns as a result. As such, I may have… partially… had a hand in your current condition. Having held some responsibility, I felt it necessary to attend to you myself.”

Vox gaped at him, taking in the way his claws tapped staccato nerves into the tabletop beside his plate. He sounded truly contrite, which was extremely endearing, but the consternation that knit his brow was the most fascinating. It wasn’t directed at him, and was too intense to entirely be attributed to the apology itself.

“You and Lucifer… do you two have something going on?”

“What?! How did you get that idea?” Alastor's baffled expression was truly precious, nevermind the rain debacle for the moment- this was juicy.

Vox prided himself on being a jack of all trades and a master of some. He'd spent his near-immortal afterlife learning on his feet, gaining experience and know-how wherever he could and the advent of the internet age had only made that more efficient. But at his core, the demon was observant.

He learned to pick up on cues most would miss- it made it easier to drive people to do what he wanted when he could tell what they were after… Vox’s career had benefited in Life and Death from being able to dig up dirt, sweet-talk and schmooze, and that was merely the public.

This was Al.

He loosened his shoulders, affecting nonchalance and smiled placatingly. He wouldn't get anything out of him if his back was up.

“I mean that's pretty much been our dynamic for years, and obviously there was a little bit of, uh… sexual tension there, too…

Alastor looked absolutely appalled at this suggestion, “You think I ...with Lucifer?”

“Hey man, he's not bad to look at,” Vox shrugged, holding up his hands, “he's got a whole fan club on social media and everything. I don't know if he knows about it, but there's always a demand for pics of him, and every interview and exclusive sells like crazy. Folks are thirsty as shit for him.”

Alastor looked at him in confusion and Vox sighed... This old man.

“‘Thirsty,’ as in they want to-”

“No, I understood what you meant, I just can't imagine anyone being so… over him.”

“Just because you're happy just vibing on your own, or whatever your deal is, doesn't mean everybody else is suddenly clueless, Al.”

Alastor rolled his eyes and sighed, “Arguably his appearance lives up to the reputation the lightbringer had in lore as one of the most beautiful angels, when he isn't looking at me like I've stepped in something. But I suspect the citizens at large are unaware of his true personality. He is one of the most absurd creatures I've ever met.”

Vox was having trouble hiding his amusement now, but he was somehow able to channel his inner consummate professional to mildly state the obvious, “You've said the exact same thing about me, on numerous occasions, and look where we are.”

It took a moment, but then the gobsmacked gape of horrified realization made Alastor look like Vox had just insulted his mother.

He couldn't help it anymore, he started to laugh. 

It started as a tremble in the display, his face glitching a few pixels here and there, then his shoulders shook and soon he was lost.

“If I wanted a ridiculous man to laugh at me, I could have stayed home,” Alastor groused, “That buffoon may still be moping, but it hasn't kept him from being a pest.”

“You know Al, you're basically a natural at snarky flirting in the heat of a fight, and I don't think you even realize that you're doing it half the time. Maybe ol’ lonely Luci is just returning the favor?” he snorted and smirked toothily at the ruffled deer, “If he’s anything like me, he might be after your attention. If he starts pulling your pigtails and dipping them in your ink well, then you'll really know.”

“Laugh it up, go ahead. How about I pull your pigtails.”

“Oh honey, you can pull anything of mine~”

This earned him an indignant smack to the chest across the small space, but Alastor was laughing, “You just said you’d like to keep your limbs. Besides, I don't think I could handle the both of you at once.”

Oof, now there’s a million dollar idea, Vox thought, mind running wild with tantalizing images.

“I thought the radio demon was capable of anything?”

Alastor gave a deadpan stare and he chuckled, “Whatever it is that you did to piss him off, work it out with him. For my sake, if nothing else, you can make it up to me that way. I can't go fuckin’ anywhere like this.”

“I was under the impression that you never came down from your parapet, so color me surprised when your moth shared your little mishap.”

“Yeah, well, it may not be as easy to get out anymore, but I'm not a total homebody.”

“Then may I tempt you out whenever the forecast is fair again?”

Vox sat bolt upright, his spoon clattering into the bowl.

“As in- a date?”

“If you'd prefer something more casual, I'll understand-”

“Alastor, I will wine and dine you at whatever swank place you want, or hell, I’ll pack us sandwiches and we can go watch the massacre in the doomsday district. Just let me know.”

“As long as it's somewhere enjoyable, I suppose I’d be willing to be seen with you,” Alastor mused playfully.

The flat plane of Vox’s face had an even flatter expression.

“Gee, thanks.”

“In all seriousness, my dear,” Alastor smiled at him, eyes crinkling at the corners, “we really must find time to chat again, this was… the physical bit was fun, but I missed-”

His eyes widened as he broke off, and he flushed before covering his eyes with a hand. He chuckled disparagingly at himself. 

“Missed you too, Al,” Vox said quietly, fondly.

Alastor glared between his fingers, “You really must stop putting words in my mouth, darling. First you’re trying to set me up, now I'm supposedly mooning over you?”

“Maybe you're in your playboy era, babe, live it up why don't you!” Vox said cheekily, “and you don't have to be crushing hard to miss a friend.”

“Is that what we are?”

“Eh, maybe closer to frenemies…” he let his fingers scratch lightly down Alastor's arm, relishing in the subtle hum of pleasure this received in the field of energy between them, “with benefits…?”

Alastor raised an eyebrow and turned his hand over, gripping Vox's in a lenient cage of claws, “If you behave.”

The threat only ricocheted another zing of thrill through him. Vox brought Alastor's knuckles to his crooked smirk to press them with a lingering kiss.

“Never…”

Lights flickered in time with Vox's fluttering heart at Al's mirroring grin of devious delight.