Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Vox looked around his office again. Maybe the lack of sleep was finally getting to him, causing him to imagine things. He had holed himself up in there for hours, avoiding the monthly Overlord meeting. A meeting he had successfully skipped four times in a row. Or was it five? He'd lost count by now.

After a few more sips of his energy drink, he tried to get back to work, but an uneasy feeling still lingered. He felt like he was being watched, like someone else was in the room with him. He froze as he stared at a particularly dark corner of his office, his fingers hovering above the keyboard. He was certain he had seen something, for just a split second. Something moving in the shadows before vanishing almost instantly.

He closed his poor overheated laptop and tried to convince himself this paranoia was probably just the absurd amounts of caffeine in his system playing tricks on him.

Yet he decided to get up and check everything, just in case. 

As expected, the doors were locked and the windows were shut tight. His eyes scanned the room for anything suspicious or out of place, but found nothing. Still, a chill crept up his spine, like someone was standing right behind him. He turned around, but of course no one was there. 

This was ridiculous. He was driving himself crazy over nothing. He sank back into his chair, closing his eyes for a bit. He promised himself he'd send some emails, make a quick call to his assistant, then go home and relax. Maybe apologize to Val and–

"Salutations, old pal!"

His eyes snapped open as he felt the words brush the back of his neck, making him jump out of his skin and nearly fly out of his chair.

"FUCK!" he threw his hands up, still reeling. "What the FUCK!" he yelled at Alastor, who was standing behind his chair, looking smug as ever, as if he hadn't just given him the closest thing to a heart attack.

"Now, is that a way to greet and old friend?" Alastor asked looking around the dark office, his hands clasped neatly behind his back. "I simply wanted to check on you! See why you've been so keen on avoiding me."

"I'm not avoiding you!" Vox managed to say, one hand pressed against his chest, his heart wasn't ready to deal with Alastor on top of two cans of energy drink. 

"Of course you don't! But you must admit, your timing has been rather suspicious, don't you think?" he asked, examining Vox's office chair before lowering himself into it with a theatrical flair.

Vox's eye twitched in a mix of annoyance and embarrassment, Alastor was already taking the upper hand and he was just standing there, letting him do it. 

Why was he letting him do it?  

Alastor's hands drifted toward his laptop on the desk, but just as he began to lift the screen, his hand slammed down on top of it, keeping it shut.

"Don't get comfortable," Vox said, his voice surprisingly firm.

"So dramatic. You haven't changed much, I see," Alastor said, then shifted his attention to all the other fun things on Vox's desk, touching and moving anything that looked like it was kept in a certain order.

"You can't just come back after seven years and act like nothing happened." Vox stated, but Alastor wasn't even listening. He was too busy spinning Vox's chair and with each turn, the chair let out an obnoxious, high pitched squeak.

"Alastor." Vox said trying to keep it together as the chair squeaked again...and again...and again.

"Hmm?" Alastor asked, spinning lazily.

Squeak.

"Can you stop–"

Squeak.

"–spinning the damn chair!–"

Squeak.

Finally, Alastor planted his heels on the carpeted floor, halting the chair. 

Vox said nothing for a while, he just narrowed his eyes at the audacity, even though this was nothing new to him. In fact this was their usual routine; Alastor provoking him, then Alastor acting shocked and innocent when he eventually snapped, making Vox look like the crazy one. Preferably in front of an audience. 

"Where were you all these years?" Vox finally asked, even though he knew there was no way he'd get an answer, at least not an honest one.

Alastor's expression remained unchanged, that wide, permanent smile of his still on. "Wouldn't you like to know!" He answered, his voice full of false cheer, but got no reaction from Vox. 

Time to mess with the desk drawers.

"Can you not do that?" Vox asked, resisting the urge to slam Alastor's prying hands into one of the drawers. Alastor slammed the first drawer shut as a response. "Afraid I'll find something interesting?" he said, continuing to rummage through the second drawer. His fingers soon brushed against the familiar outline of a gun. How predictable. 

He shut that drawer as well and quickly reached for the last one, only to find even more boring things. A few USB drives, some pens, a blue plastic stress ball. But then he felt something interesting, shreds of glass.

"My my my, what do we have here?" he carefully took out a broken heart-shaped photo frame out of the drawer. The remaining shreds of glass shifted as he looked at the photo under them, it was one of Vox and Valentino. They both looked awfully happy in it. 

He turned the photo frame over in his hands, studying it carefully. "I see that little flirt between you two turned into something more, how charming!" Alastor laughed, attempting to break the remaining bits of glass from the frame.

At that Vox's patience snapped. "Stop that!" he reached across the desk, practically bending over it to grab the frame, but the moment his fingers grazed against it Alastor vanished from his chair, reappearing in the center of the room. "Afraid I'll break it?" Alastor mocked. "How long have you two been together?"

"We're not!" Vox snapped, cutting himself off. "None of your damn business!"

"Did you break up? Was it your fault? Did your little boyfriend had enough of you?"

"He's not my–fuck! Do you ever shut up!" Vox yelled, this was definitely not how he had envisioned his first reunion with Alastor to go.

"Why, It wouldn't be me if I did!" Alastor objected, enjoying how angry Vox had gotten at him, acting as if he was mishandling a living thing and not a half broken photo frame. "Maybe he cheated on you. Is that why you're so upset, sulking around?" he reappeared at Vox's side, holding the frame out in front of him. Vox kept his hands where they were, refusing to reach for it and play Keep Away. He decided the best course of action was to just let Alastor ramble on. He knew him, he'd soon get bored and move on to something else, hopefully something less sadistic.

"How did it feel?" Alastor asked, pausing for effect. "Was it bad? Watching your lover fool around with someone else?" his voice lowered to a whisper. "Did it hurt, having to share him?" he opened his hand, letting the frame drop to the carpet with a dull thud, the remaining pieces of glass now scattered around it. Vox stared at the frame, the urge to wipe the floor with Alastor was overwhelming, but he held back. 

That was it. It was over, he had had his fun. 

"Well! It's getting rather late," Alastor exclaimed, his hand hitting Vox's back with a light hit. Vox tensed, but didn't budge. Every nerve in his body was screaming at him to lash out, but he knew that was exactly what Alastor wanted, and he refused to ridicule himself any further. "It was such a pleasure to see you again after all this time Vox. Such a pleasure." He made sure to step on the frame before walking past him. 

Vox didn't reply, he was too busy chocking Alastor in his mind. He wanted him to fuck off, he really did, but the realization that this was the longest they'd spoken in years stung. He hated every word that came out of Alastor's mouth and yet, even this was better than nothing at all.

And the fact that Alastor had come here of his own accord had to mean something right? Sure, it was just because he noticed Vox was avoiding him, and in Alastor's twisted mind, only he has the right to disappear for months without an explanation. 

But still,

"Just so you know," Vox began, and Alastor stopped, the faintest flicker of surprise crossing his face. ''We didn't break up. We are on a break, since last week," Vox said, his voice quieter now, but It didn't matter how low he spoke, Alastor was expecting him to talk anyway.

"A break?" Alastor repeated and glanced over his shoulder. "And why exactly are you two on a break, if you don't mind me asking of course?" 

Vox smiled, he knew he should shut his mouth, but the words came out anyway. 

"Because of you."

At the sound of that Alastor turned back to fully face Vox, curiosity glittering in his eyes. "Me? Why I'm honored! And how did I affect this mess of a relationship exactly?" he asked with a playful tone, enjoying how the conversation had shifted to him.

"Val says I don't shut up about you." Vox said bluntly, settling back on his chair, knowing this was more than enough to keep him from leaving. 

Sure enough Alastor walked back towards Vox, settling himself on the edge of his desk, crossing one leg over the other. "You are aware just how pathetic and obsessed that makes you sound, right?" He asked, trying not to burst into laughter right there. "Your 'boyfriend' couldn't handle your nonstop chatter about me?"

Vox managed to force a dry, humorless laugh. "Look. Sure, maybe I do obsess over you every now and then," he admitted. "But whose fault is that?"

"Oh? So I'm to blame for your invasive behaviour? For your newfound need to monitor my every move?" the playful edge of his voice didn't entirely disappear, but it was serious enough to show Vox he wasn't really joking anymore.

"Obviously. You're so hot and cold with me, I don't know what the hell is happening. It's not even mixed signals at this point." For a split second, Alastor looked caught off guard by the bluntness. He adjusted his position on the desk, just enough to invade Vox's personal space. "I see," he said slowly. "And I suppose you've convinced yourself that I must be doing it on purpose, yes?"

"I don't know," Vox responded honestly. "I hope you don't. I hope you're just doing your thing and not actively trying to drive me insane. But then again, it's you we're talking about."

Alastor grinned, his smile sharpening. "What if I told you I knew exactly what I was doing?" He asked, voice smooth and sweet. "That I've been toying with your emotions on purpose all along?"

Vox blinked at the change of tone, but instead of pulling back he let out a quiet laugh. "Then that would make you just as obsessed as me."

"Oh, please," Alastor brushed off the statement with a dismissive wave of his hand. "What on earth could I be obsessing over? You're nothing but a bothersome, whiny, pompous idiot."

"Then why are you here?" Vox countered, his voice steady despite the rising tension. "Why do you constantly go out of your way to annoy me if you think I'm so beneath you? You're kind of contradicting yourself here."

Alastor titled his head at that. "Now, now, don't flatter yourself. I don't go 'out of my way' to annoy you. It's just that you're easy to mess with. You always were."

"And where's the fun in an easy target?" Vox shot back. 

"Hmm. I suppose you're right," Alastor admitted, locking eyes. "It does get dull after a while. Perhaps I should stop, save us both the trouble."

"So what? You won't talk to me anymore?" Vox asked, the words leaving his mouth too quickly. He immediately stiffened, clearing his throat in an attempt to look indifferent. "Do whatever you want. You think I care? If anything, I'd finally get some damn peace."

What a pathetic response.

"Are you sure you don't care?" Alastor pressed. "Because if I remember correctly, you were just complaining about me messing with your poor, fragile emotions."

"My poor, fragile–oh fuck off." Vox slumped further into the chair, enjoying...whatever this was.

"But it's true! You're the most emotional overlord Hell has ever seen. Thank heavens the other two keep this place from falling apart."

"Oh yeah?" Very mature.

"Oh, yes." Alastor moved his hand toward Vox's, which rested on the chair's armrest. He was pleasantly surprised when Vox remained still, even as his fingers hooked just above his wrist, claws grazing the warm skin.

"All it takes is one little push and you just fall apart," Alastor murmured, his voice a quiet taunt, "And sadly for you..." 

His lips curled into a sharp smile. "I know exactly how to get under your skin."

Without warning, he dragged his claws down, breaking skin.

"What the fuck Al!?" Vox flinched and looked at his hand. He was expecting literally anything but that. "Are you crazy? Fuck! These will scar! I have a shooting tomorrow morning!" he yelled and got up, creating some distance between them.

"Don't be so dramatic, I've done worse." Alastor said dismissively, examining Vox's blood on his fingers. "Besides, it adds a bit of character, don't you think?" he brought his hand closer to his mouth and curiously licked a bloody finger.

Vox stared back at him, his mind blank, caught completely off guard. 

"You did not just lick my blood of your fingers."

"I did!" Alastor pushed himself off Vox's desk. "Can't say I'm pleased with the taste though."

Vox swallowed. Hard. Still hiding his hand from Alastor's view. "Sorry Mr. cannibal that my blood isn't up to your refined taste, how fucking dare I?" 

"Oh believe me, your blood is very much up to my taste. It's just that I've had better, much better. Though you're still a good second." Alastor reassured him, but that sentence was anything but reassuring.

"God damn it! How the hell do you keep do this to me! And who's better than me huh? Who's the lucky bastard who managed to reach your taste level!" 

"Are you jealous?" Alastor asked, surprised. "You shouldn't be. After all, I've got a very specific taste." He paused, an even more sinister smile spreading across his face.

"Only the finest."

 Vox's eyes widened at that. Goddammit. He shouldn't find this hot. "You know, you're so full of yourself it's unbelievable! You think you can just come here and talk to me like that?"

"Like what?" Alastor asked, wiping the remaining blood off his fingers on Vox's vest.

"You–Fuck you! You act like the whole universe revolves around you and you're getting off it! You goddamn narcissist!" he yelled, not even sure at what he was more mad at anymore. "And how would you like it if I said your blood sucked!?"

"Ha! You believe your opinion on this subject is of any importance to me? I couldn't care less if you didn't like my blood." Alastor said and immediately thought of another way to mess with Vox. 

A moment passed before he, oh so casually, asked, "Would you like to try it?"

Vox stared at him in disbelief. "Are you seriously asking me this! And what, you expect me to say yes?"

"Yes." Alastor said immediately, his smile downright arrogant as he reached into his inner suit pocket, pulling out a small pocket knife. "You should be grateful, I'm giving you the opportunity to taste the finest blood in all of hell." He dragged the knife's blade along the inner side of his arm near his wrist, creating a small cut.

Vox watched, not even sure what was even happening anymore. His hand still hurt, he was tired and Alastor just kept on acting more and more unhinged. "What? You're going to make me drink your blood now?"

"Me?"Alastor said with mock innocence. "Oh no, no. I'd never force you to do something you don't want."

Vox gave him a glare. "Of course you wouldn't, you would just drive me mad until I snap and do it myself."

"Maybe," Alastor said, putting the pocket knife back in his pocket. "But I think in this case you are more than willing to do so, isn't that right?" he held his bleeding wrist in front of Vox, the wound slowly leaking more blood. Vox could only stare at the cut, wondering what he'd done to deserve to be in this situation. This was the strangest, the most twisted, and frankly, the most confusing attempt at flirting he had seen. If that's what this mess was anyway.

"You're actually insane."

"My hand is getting tired Vox."

"God dammit." Vox mumbled, grabbing Alastor's arm. "Are you actually going to do it?" Alastor asked, his tone was mocking, but it had a hint of anticipation in it as well. Vox couldn't believe he was actually considering this. He looked at the cut and slowly brought Alastor's wrist closer to his mouth, still mumbling under his breath. "God I can't believe I'm doing this. This is insane, you're insane." He then slowly dragged his tongue over the wound, Alastor's ears twitched for just a moment as he felt Vox's tongue making contact with the wound and to his surprise, he didn't completely hate the feeling of it. 

Vox withdrew his tongue and didn't say anything for a while, still trying to process what exactly just happened. This was weird, extremely weird. But he couldn't deny he found this entire interaction oddly intimate. 

Again, this shouldn't turn him on. 

"Well? How is it ? Alastor asked, breaking the silence, but Vox's mind was such a mess he wasn't sure what to say. He settled for:

"Basic boring blood taste. And you better not have rabies. Can you even get rabies in hell? Probably. Fuck. You're psychotic. Like actually insane. Why do I even let you talk to me? I should file restraining orders to you and m–."

"You are aware you still have my wrist in your hand, right?" Alastor pointed out.

"I.." how the hell had he not noticed that? 

"I should let go. Yeah. I should let go."

He let go.

Alastor inspected the cut. The bleeding had already stopped, but his gaze lingered on Vox's saliva on top the wound. Slowly, he tugged his sleeve down and his eyes flicked up, locking with Vox's. Without breaking the stare, he dragged his tongue over the cut and the trace of Vox's saliva with a nice slow motion. Vox watched, convinced this man wanted to send him to a mental hospital, which he wouldn't refuse at this point. "Can you stop doing," he frantically shook his hands and gestured at Alastor. "whatever the hell you're doing is."

"I was simply curious. But I'm afraid your saliva is equally disappointing in taste as your blood."

"Good!" Vox shouted, his voice crackling as sparks of static began to flare around him. Alastor recognised the warning signs. He knew he should stop, he had already achieved what he wanted after all. But the temptation to push Vox even further was irresistible.

"...Want to see how my saliva tastes like?"

And that did it. At the sound of that Vox's system gave out completely. His screen went blue and then a cheerful Please Stand By message popped up, accompanied by an upbeat jingle. Loud static was occasionally cut in, interrupting the tune.

Alastor didn't even try to stop his laughter. "Oh my!" He gasped between fits of laughter. "Are you actually broken?" he tapped his fingers mockingly against Vox's screen. "I remember you much more resilient than that!"

It took a few moments for Vox to reboot, his screen flickering back to life. "I am! You just–shut up!" His voice cracked and his body buzzed with the lingering aftereffects of his system crashing. Every part of him felt like pins and needles. Every part.

"Don't you have a hotel to run!" He snapped, trying to regain some composure.

Alastor wiped a tear from his eye, still chuckling. "Oh, I'm sure dear Charlie can handle things on her own for a little while, but wait!" he gasped and put his hand over his mouth. "You're not trying to get rid of me, are you?"

"I am! Go! Leave! We had of this for one night!"

Alastor gave a mocking pout at his response. "What a bore."

Why. Why was he letting Alastor mess with him like that? "A bore? A bore?"

"Yes, quite a bore!" he watched Vox glitching with an amused gleam in his eyes. "You should be honoured to even taste my blood, much less any part of me."

Stupid, fucking narcsististic fucker, son of a– "Oh yeah, I should be on my fucking knees, thanking god for even standing in your presence!"

"See? Now you're getting it." He tapped on his screen again and Vox groaned in frustration. No, no, he wasn't going to respond. Cause if he did, Alastor would just have another response ready, and then he'd have to reply to that, and then Alastor would respond, and this would go on all night.

"Bye." Vox said, pointing the office door. 

"How rude of you, and here I thought we were bonding!"

"Yes because tasting each other's blood is the perfect bonding experience!"

"Please, this was more fun than whatever you could have planned, if you even had something planned that is." Alastor said casually, brushing past him with an air of confidence.

"And if you ask me, I believe this was a wonderful bonding experience...perhaps a bit more bonding than you think."

Vox had more to say, but Alastor was already gone, having already disappeared into the shadows. For a moment the only sound in the room was his system desperately trying to keep itself from overheating again. 

"Boo."

He felt Alastor's breath on the back of his neck. Again! He spun around instantly, but of course -of-fucking-course- Alastor was already gone. His hands twitched on his sides, his chest heaving, searching for any sign of him. In his frustration, he stumbled back and felt a crunch under his shoe. Glancing down, he saw the broken picture frame. His eye twiched and he kicked it across the room, sending it flying against the wall with a loud crash. That FUCKER.

Chapter Text

Once again, Vox’s eyes darted from screen to screen in his office for what had to be the hundredth time today.

One whole week had passed since he’d last seen Alastor and it was as if he had vanished from Hell itself. Cause normally, no matter how much Alastor tried to avoid his cameras in general, he would still catch a glimpse of him here and there. But now? Nothing.

If this wasn’t proof that he was avoiding him on purpose, he didn’t know what was.

But why? What had he done wrong this time? A clue would’ve been fucking nice, but God forbid Alastor made anything easy for him. 

Maybe it was a mistake to tell him about his relationship with Val? Nah. Alastor had laughed at that hadn’t he? Or had he laughed at something else? Had he even laughed at all? Vox couldn’t recall anymore. The more he replayed their last meeting in his mind, the fuzzier the details became. 

His gaze didn’t leave his screens for even a second as he restlessly paced up and down his office. He’d been acting like this for days now, his mind caught in a relentless loop and he had tried everything to get him off his mind. Music, drugs, alcohol, even Yoga for fuck’s sake! And none of it had worked!

At some point, his office door opened and his assistant cautiously stepped in. Poor kid, Vox must’ve stepped on his tail at least five times this week.

"Ah!"

Six times.

Vox could hear his assistant desperately trying to get his attention, and it only angered him more.

"Sir?"

"Mr. Vox, you specifically asked me to-"

Before he could finish, Vox turned around, grabbed him by his jacket and pulled him forward.

"One. More word," he warned, his voice crackling, static weaving through. "And I’ll personally feed you to my sharks."  

The assistant opened his mouth to say something but decided to simply nod and then bolt out of the room, leaving a trail of papers behind him that he knew better than to stay and pick up.

When Vox heard the door closing he let out a strangled groan and flopped back into his office chair. Fucking Alastor. Where the fuck was he anyway!

Meanwhile, Alastor sat comfortably in his radio tower, sipping tea and feeling better than ever. He was practically glowing with satisfaction, knowing that Vox was undoubtedly losing his mind. That idiot probably had no idea blood magic had been used on him. And the best part? Alastor didn’t even have to try! Vox drank his blood so willingly, sealing the spell in a heartbeat.  

Alastor smiled to himself at the memory and set his tea aside. It was time to check on him, it had been a week after all. He ought to pay him visit before he got desperate enough and try to break into the hotel.

He got up and immediately felt a rush of excitement. Perhaps he should mess with him just a little bit more. Maybe he should stand in front of one of his cameras long enough to fry a few pixels before disappearing again. Nothing he hadn’t done before.

His hand reached instinctively for his staff leaning against the corner of the room but he paused midway. The staff was still broken, which meant his magic was not as reliable or stable as it used to be. Controlling his powers without it was tricky, but he decided he didn’t really need it for this. He hadn’t brought it with him the last time either and Vox had been easy enough to handle. If anything, now it should be even easier to mess with him.

He let his staff where it was and teleported outside the Vee tower for a few seconds before reappearing in the hallway right outside of Vox’s office. 

Inside the office, the sound of Vox choking on his coffee could be heard. He knew that glitchy silhouette, he would recognize it everywhere. He almost fell out of his chair as he rushed to the door.

Alastor didn’t even have time to knock. His hand stayed suspended in the air as Vox flung the doors wide open, nearly ripping them off their hinges. Just as he’d predicted, Vox looked utterly delirious at the mere sight of him. How wonderful, he thought, his smile sharp and satisfied.  

"Why, hello there!" he greeted. "You look rather disheveled. Is everything alright?" he tilted his head to the side, blinking twice in exaggerated innocence as Vox simply stared back at him.

"You."

"Me!"  

"You’re here. You’re actually here, right?" Vox asked, still in disbelief. 

"Of course I’m here! Flesh and blood." he said, gesturing to himself. "Am I interrupting something?" 

"No. No, l’m not busy right now." Vox said hurriedly. "Splendid!" Alastor responded and stepped inside, not waiting for an invitation. He knew Vox would beg him to come in anyway, so why waste precious time? As he stepped in, he needed a moment take in the chaotic disarray around them. All the items he had intentionally moved on Vox's desk were still out of place, papers were scattered all across the floor, along with numerous fragments of glass.

"Why, I’m surprised you can get work done in this-"

Click.

The lock turned with a sharp, jarring sound, startling Alastor. His stomach tightened, an uneasy sensation crept into his gut, but he quickly masked it, pushing it to the back of his mind, trying to focus on the task at hand.

"-mess."  

His voice lingered in the air, but Vox said nothing. The silence was uncomfortable, pressing down on him. He could feel Vox’s gaze boring into his back, continuous and heavy, making him turn around. 

"Vox." 

That seemed to snap Vox out of whatever trance he was in.  

"Yeah. I’ll get someone to clean it up later." He cleared his throat, though it did nothing to smooth out the strain in his voice. 

"Good," Alastor said, dragging the word out, savoring his obvious discomfort. "Did you miss me, Vox?" he asked with a playful tilt of his head. 

Of course he missed him. For an entire week, he couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep, couldn’t think about anything but him. Alastor had taken up every single inch of his mind and driven him to the brink of madne-

"Ha. No." 

"Is that so?" Alastor mused, his eyes drifting to the screens behind Vox. All displaying places Alastor frequented and parts of the Hotel, every shred of footage Vox could scrape together in hopes to see him.

"Well, I would be lying if I said I didn’t miss you." Alastor began, his gaze still on the massive glowing screens, feigning interest in what was displayed, though his real focus was the man in front of him. "Your company does have a certain...charm. I nearly forgotten how amusing you can be." He said with practiced sweetness, testing the waters. "Perhaps," he added smoothly with a comforting smile. "We should schedule a weekly meeting. See it as making up for lost time."

"Oh." Vox said, caught of guard, he still couldn’t believe Alastor was right there, talking to him, suggesting they see each other more. 

"You’re not interested?" Alastor interrupted, with mock disappointment. "How unfortunate. Perhaps I should go then, leave you to your own devices,"  

"No, no!" Vox blurted out, moving quickly to block his path with outstretched arms. "Sure, weekly. Weekly sounds good. Same time? Here? I have another office. A bigger one."  

Alastor’s eyes lit up at the eagerness in Vox’s voice. "That sounds wonderful." he said and sauntered to the couch on the corner, the only part of the office that seemed somewhat presentable, he sat down and gestured for the other one to join him. Vox didn’t need to be told twice, practically throwing himself on the couch, all elegance gone out the window. He was almost vibrating with the need to just talk to him, maybe touch his hand again, and….well it went a lot further than that. 

"Oh, I almost forgot, dear," Alastor said, leisurely crossing his legs, enjoying how Vox looked at him like he was the only thing he could see. "I have a small favor to ask of you."

Vox swallowed, fully fixated on the sight. "Anything you want."

"How gracious," there was it, the answer he wanted. "It’s more of a request, really," Alastor said, his tone deceptively trusting. "I’d like you to keep our little meetings a secret from the other two. It’s not that I dislike them, not at all, I’m just not particularly fond of them."

Alastor knew he had to act fast but cautiously. Velvette, no doubt, should have her suspicions by now.

If she’d seen Vox, that is.

Yet judging by the disheveled state of the room and Vox himself, it seemed like he hadn’t left the office in days, which was perfect. He had to act now that Vox’s defenses were down, his mind was still clouded.

Vox, blissfully unaware of Alastor’s thoughts, listened eagerly, hanging on his every word. Keeping a secret from his friends didn’t feel right, but they wouldn’t understand anyway. They didn’t know Alastor like he did.  

"Sure," Vox agreed. "We don’t talk much these days, so no problem. I’ll keep my mouth shut."  

That would be a first. Alastor thought.

"And why is that? Did you have a fight with your friends?" Alastor asked, his voice full of faux sympathy.

"Kind of..me and Val broke up, Velvette is taking his side, so they both kind of ignore me."

Alastor hummed thoughtfully, as though he was deeply invested in this sob story. Vox was isolated and vulnerable. He could not have asked for a more perfect timing.

"How unfortunate. But don’t you feel much better now? What you and Valentino had was a mess. You weren’t even sure how to label it." his voice switched to more comforting tone. "Don’t you think you deserve something better? I say good riddance. Personally, I never cared for that vulgar pimp anyway. And Velvette is so loud, so disrespectful." He did a dismissive wave of his hand. "They’re nothing like you dear. You have discipline. A vision. In fact, this whole thing would collapse without you."

Vox blinked, the words repeating in mind. "Yeah..I’m the one coming up with everything. They don't..appreciate me."

A chuckle escaped Alastor. Oh this was too easy.

"Exactly," he chimed and tugged at the edges of Vox’s bowtie, straightening it even though it was already in place. "They don’t. If only they could see how brilliant you truly are," his hands then made their way on Vox’s shoulders. "Cause you my friend, you’re capable of extraordinary things."  

It too so long for Vox to speak that Alastor was convinced he had glitched again. "You really think so?"

"Of course I do." Alastor assured him. "They have no idea what you’re truly capable of. You’re so hardworking and bright, you could accomplish so much more." The air in the office seemed to shift, a subtle green hue began to seep into the dark edges of the room.

"We could accomplish so much more."

"But," Vox’s voice wavered. "You didn’t want to join us."

"Indeed." Alastor agreed. "I have no interest in your little trio. But you? You’re a different story Vox." 

The room grew colder and darker, a low static noise filling the air.

"Think of it. Just you and me, shaping this world as we see fit," his grip on Vox’s shoulder got a bit firmer, his eyes boring into him, wide and unblinking. "So what do you say, old pal? Do we have a deal?"

Vox didn’t know what to say, at this moment all of Alastor’s words resonated perfectly with him. He wanted this, he’d dreamed of this.

And yet..

The haze in his mind started to fade away for a moment. He thought of Valentino and Velvette. As much as he wanted to say yes, he couldn’t make such a big decision without discussing it with them first. 

"Let me think about it."

Alastor tried his best to stay composed at the sound of Vox’s refusal, though his shadow betrayed him, it’s hands had already stretched across the wall over Vox, ready to strike.  

"Why, of course." Alastor said through gritted teeth. At the sound of his voice his shadow quickly retreated back to his side.

This wasn’t going as planned, he was certain Vox would agree immediately. This minor hesitation threw him off. His magic should have crushed that damn hesitation before it even began.

The staff, he thought bitterly. Of course, that was it. It’s the staff, he decided. The damn thing must have dulled the sharpness of his craft. That was the only reason. It had to be. Because the alternative, that Vox was now powerful enough to resist the full effects of his magic, was absurd, a humiliating thought Alastor simply refused to entertain.

“Quite the businessman as always,” he said, but his voice lacked its usual playful lilt. He went to remove his hands from Vox’s shoulders, but before he could do so, the metallic ends of Vox’s hands clamped down, keeping them there. Alastor froze, his smile twitching at the unexpected contact.

"Aha," he chuckled nervously. "Vox dear, this is…"  

Vox tightened his grip.  

"Quite unprofessional."  

He tried to sound stern, but his voice wavered and soon, his pulse started to quicken.

"Vox."

He jerked his hands, not caring that the edges of Vox’s claws were biting into his wrists in the process. Despite his attempts, Vox’s grip didn’t loosen. If anything, it tightened further.

"Are you listening to me!" Alastor yelled in genuine frustration. The only response he got was a sharp wave of bright green static rippling through Vox. The unstable energy soon met Alastor’s skin, cold and electric, sending a sharp jolt through him. 

He stood up, hoping to wrench his hands free, but Vox’s hands weren’t even budging.

"Let go!" His voice was but a sharp bark now, all charm gone. He tugged and twisted with frantic movements. His body’s cursed instincts were on the verge of driving him into hysterics, he was panicking and ridiculing himself in frond of Vox out of all people! 

And then, Vox let go.  

The force of his own pull sent him backwards, his legs tangling beneath him as he fell to the floor. He stared up at Vox, his chest heaving.

Vox looked down at his hands, then back at him, as if trying to piece together what had just happened as he took a tentative step forward. That made Alastor freeze up instantly. His heartbeat slowed down as instinct overtook reason. His chest tightened as if any movement, even the smallest breath, would give him away. He hated this wretched form, cursed the reflexes that came with it.

Above him, Vox got closer, and without warning he grabbed his head with both hands. He’s going to kill me he thought. He’s going to He’s going to-

Before he could think anything else, Vox’s tongue was already in his mouth. Wait what? What. He couldn’t believe it yet it was happening. That faint, electric buzz of his tongue against his own, making everything tingle. 

His mind screamed at him to move, to put a stop to this mess, but his body refused to cooperate. Vox felt bold enough to deepen the kiss, his tongue now down his-

No. No no. Absolutely not.

The absurdity, the sheer audacity of what was happening gave Alastor all the motivation he needed to make his teeth snap down. 

Vox jerked back, but not before Alastor’s hand shot up. The sharp sound of the hit echoed through the room, likely down the hallway as well. Vox stumbled back, his hands pressing on the back on his screen, as the force of the blow had momentarily jolted the whole thing out of place.

Alastor shot to his feet in a frenzy, panic and anger still coursing through him. "How dare you!" his voice rose, sharp and biting. He didn’t even care about his plan anymore, this had gone too far.  

"What?" Vox mumbled, confused.

"Shut up!" Alastor snapped at him, talking to him in this state was pointless. This is his fault, he thought bitterly, directing the blame at Vox, then at his broken staff, anywhere but himself. He couldn’t let this spiral out of control any further. He focused, and with a snap of his fingers, the spell was undone.

The shift was immediate. Rational, clear thoughts rushed back into Vox's mind. He straightened his posture and processed everything, or at least tried to. “What–what did you do to me?” he asked, his voice cutting through the tension.

Alastor wiped the trace of Vox’s blood from his bottom lip with his thumb. "Nothing you didn’t agree to..well, indirectly."

Vox raised an eyebrow in confusion as his mind slowly pieced everything together. "You tricked me." He said, anger bubbling in his chest. "What’s wrong with you?" he asked and Alastor realised he didn’t really have an answer ready. Vox’s tone was too serious, carrying a weight that he wasn’t prepared to deal with right now. 

"You had no right, no reason to do that to me!"

Something flickered in Alastor’s expression, something that looked like guilt, but he deflected it, raising his voice defensively instead. "You brought this upon yourself. You licked the blood off my wrist like a starving dog." 

"You asked me to!" Vox’s voice cracked with raw anger, humiliation gnawing at him. 

"And you did it." Alastor shot back. "Because you Vox, have a problem. I simply decided to teach you a lesson and have some fun in the pro-"

"Fun?" Vox’s voice echoed through the room, making the smugness drain from Alastor’s face.

"You think this is funny? That this is some kind of game?" Vox pointed a finger as he advanced at him and Alastor felt his whole body tensing, instinctively backing away, not expecting this outburst. "How much patience do you think I have left for your bullshit, Alastor?! You know, I told myself to let it all go! Over and over cause I thought that maybe." Vox continued, his voice reaching a range that Alastor hadn’t heard in ages. "You wanted us to be friends again,"

"I-"

"And that maybe," he cut him off sharply. "This time you weren’t going to be the same manipulative bastard you’ve always been!"

The volume of Vox’s voice made Alastor’s ears flatten, his head turning to the side as his back hit the wall.

"So thank you!" Vox kept on yelling, his anger rising with his sense of betrayal. "Thank you for proving me wrong once again!"

Alastor hated this. He was cornered, both literally and metaphorically. But he also knew that Vox would let this go if he played his cards right. A well-timed apology, an admission of fault, and he could walk out of this room without further damaging what little remained of their friendship. But doing that would require him to acknowledge that he had fucked up and that, 

That wasn’t really his style. 

He straightened up, turning his head so his eyes met Vox’s and proudly spat out a "Fuck you."

And that did it. Vox’s patience snapped and his hand rose of it’s own accord. All the humiliation, frustration, and betrayal demanded to be unleashed in one clean strike. Alastor tried to keep himself steady, to resist the instinct to flinch, but once again, his body betrayed him. His shoulders tensed, bracing for the impact.  

But the slap never came.  

Vox’s froze when he saw him flinch. Alastor was supposed laugh at his face, hit him back. But instead he looked scared. At that moment Alastor didn’t look untouchable. The unfamiliar sight disarmed Vox and he slowly lowered his hand. "Fuck..sorry I.."

Before he could finish, Alastor had already vanished, leaving him alone with his thoughts and he desperately tried to make sense of the situation. Alastor’s actions had come out of nowhere. What was even the point of all this? Revenge? A power play? Or something else entirely?

He should talk to someone about this, a voice of reason.

Velvette. 

Dear God she’d never let him hear the end of it. But if there was even a shred of Alastor’s magic left on him, he'd need her help to get rid of it. 

He desperately needed a drink. A strong one. But first, he had to drag himself to Vel, for his sanity, if nothing else.

Chapter Text

A week had passed and both Alastor and Vox were still on edge. The ‘incident’ had left a lingering tension between them, and both were adamant that the other was the last person they wanted to see. 

Which was funny, considering neither of them could stop thinking about the other.

Vox had barricaded himself away in his part of the Vee Tower, claiming he was extremely busy sulking in self-pity. Part of him wanted to storm into Alastor's territory, shake him by the shoulders and demand answers. Maybe tell him to fuck off while he was at it. But every time he got close to making a move, doubt crept in.

Would Alastor even care? Would he want to talk to him? If he did, what would he even say? Another set of excuses? What if he had already dismissed the whole thing, and Vox was losing sleep over something that didn’t even matter? He wasn’t sure he could handle it if that was the case.

On the other side of the city, Alastor wasn’t feeling any better. He felt humiliated, seen in a way no one had seen him in ages, completely stripped of his usual charm and control. How could he possibly face Vox after that? What if he brought it up? Or worse, what if he didn’t? What if Vox’s pity was silent and all-consuming?  

And if it wasn’t pity, it would certainly be anger.

Who cares, though? Not him! He didn’t need Vox’s forgiveness, nor his friendship. It was better this way, much better. He’d remain in his hotel room, too proud to admit he was afraid he might have lost something that, at some point, might have meant something to him.

But eventually, around 3 a.m. he reached his breaking point. He decided that this whole thing was ridiculous, they had survived far more humiliating situations and Vox’s precious delicate feelings were not his responsibility to coddle, especially when they were nothing compared to the real problems he had to deal with.

He threw on his clothes as if he was worried he'd change his mind if he thought about this any longer. He hated that he was the one making the first move again, but this had to be done. He grabbed his staff that dared to remain broken and shook it sharply in frustration. This is all your fault! 

After a long deep breath, he slammed the staff’s base against the floor and teleported himself to Vox’s hallway.

He wasn’t exactly welcome or allowed in any parts of the Vee tower, but that didn’t matter at the moment. Right now, the only room he was interested in was Vox’s office. 

At least he hoped that’s where Vox was. If not, this was going to get a whole lot more awkward. 

He walked right in front of the camera outside his office and stood still, ensuring it caught a good glimpse of him like last time. Vox noticed him immediately. He watched as Alastor’s silhouette glitched on the screen in frond of him before the feed cut out, just like it always did.

He wasn't sure how to even feel about this. Alastor hadn't barge in to kill him yet, so that was something. He remained seated, watching the black screen as if daring him to come in. When he realised Alastor wasn’t entering he sighed and walked over to the doors, opening them.

"Do you need to be invited in like a vampire or something?"

Alastor bristled at the sarcasm, but if he was being honest, he knew he had it coming. "Believe me, I could enter without an invitation, but let’s stick to some basic etiquette for now, shall we? Now, may I come in? I believe we need to talk."  

With stiff movements, Vox stepped aside. "By all means. Grace me with your presence," he gestured inside his office. "It’s not like I’ve been waiting for you or anything."

Alastor stepped inside, but not before giving Vox a glare. After all, he hadn’t come there to be ridiculed. "Waiting for me, you say?"

"Yeah. Waiting for an explanation. Or at least a reason not to strangle you for what you did."

"Ah, straight to the point. How very…you." Oh he was asking for it."So, what exactly do you want from me? An apology? A confession of guilt?"

"All I want," Vox began calmly, not taking the bait. "Is for you to admit you crossed a line, you don’t get to act like that was nothing. Do you have any idea what it felt like?" he asked Alastor, searching his face for any sign of understanding.

"Do you even care?"

"Care?" Alastor echoed. "Oh Vox, you give me too much credit," he sounded bored, intentionally dismissing Vox’s frustration."And if I’m being honest, I barely noticed a difference."

"Barely noticed a difference? Are you kidding me!" Vox surged forward, his voice rising. "I couldn’t work, I couldn’t focus of anything but you! I couldn’t even sleep! Because of you!"

Alastor was neither phased or touched by this confession. “And yet here you are, alive and well. So tell me Vox, is this little tantrum of yours worth it?"

"My what?" he asked, his patience wearing thin.

"You heard me. You act as if you were completely helpless," he said with a lazy flick of his wrist. "You had plenty of control, whether you admit it or not," he added dismissively. 

"If anything, that situation allowed you to finally be your true self! An obsessed, clingy wannabe you always have bee-"

Vox’s hand lashed out before he could stop himself. The slap echoed through the room, sharp and brutal. The force made Alastor’s head snap to the side, his monocle landing somewhere on the carpeted floor. 

He raised a hand to his cheek, touching it as if testing to see if the sting was real. "Did you just hit me?" his voice got low and distorted, his wide red eyes now glinting with something dangerous. No one had ever dared to strike him like this. Not in his afterlife, at least.

"You needed it." Vox said, his tone cutting despite the tremor in his hand. "You deserved it."

The tension soon got suffocating and Vox’s bravado wavered as he noticed the not so subtle shift in Alastor’s demeanor. His playful aura was completely gone, replaced by something cold and deadly. 

The lights and screens in the room started to flicker till they went out completely, plunging the office into darkness. The glowing red of Alastor’s eyes burned through the gloom, his silhouette growing larger and Vox realised that he might have fucked up. "Al. Al, you can’t kill me over a slap okay? Let’s just talk about this," he held his hands up, slowly backing away, trying to keep his desk as a barrier between them.

His confidence continued to falter as felt the temperature drop and the familiar weight of Alastor’s energy surrounding him.

"Alastor, listen to me." He said, his tone shifting to something more desperate. "You can’t kill me. We’re in my territory. You’d be asking for trouble from the other Overlords. And you don’t want that now do you?"  

A low, distorted sound left Alastor. "You overestimate your importance," he got closer to Vox, his shadow stretching unnaturally long across the floor. "You think anyone would care? They’d probably thank me for getting rid of your pest of an existence."  

Vox’s body stiffened at the cruel words.

"You think anyone takes you seriously? You’re but a joke. A sad excuse of an Overlord."

Vox opened his mouth to snap back, but his voice caught in his throat as a sharp pain shot through his chest. He looked down in horror to see a shadowy spear piercing right through him, dark and jagged.

There was no blood, just an icy acidic feeling that seeped into his body, making every single nerve of his scream in agony. The spear disappeared and he stumbled back, his legs giving out.

Alastor observed Vox with an unsettling calmness. "Don’t worry, If I wanted you dead, you’d already be in pieces," he lowered down to his level and Vox struggled to steady himself. "Think of this as a gift," he said, before straightening and stepping out of Vox’s view. "A courtesy, for old times sake."

The room returned to its usual dim lighting and Vox slumped under the desk, his hands clutching where the spear had struck. He managed to pull himself upright by gripping the edge of his chair.

His movements were sluggish and pained, but he forced himself to rise, climbing back into his chair only for him to see Alastor was still there. He was sitting comfortably across the desk, legs crossed and a hand atop of his staff, looking down at him with a mixture of satisfaction and condescension.

Vox tried to mask his pain, refusing to let Alastor have the last word. "You know," he began, voice pained but still proud. "One day, someone’s going to knock you down a peg. And I’ll pay good money to see it."

"Sorry to disappoint, but no one can knock me down." Alastor’s voice dropped, smooth and certain.  

Vox knew he was risking it but his ego was so crushed he couldn’t stop himself. "I don’t know, I think I did pretty well last week."

The second he said that, the smile slipped from Alastor’s face just enough to expose the irritation underneath it. Vox saw it and of course, kept going. “You couldn’t move a muscle, could you?”  

"You wish."

"Is that so?" Vox pressed. "Because I remember you being fucking helpless." Extra emphasis on helpless. 

"But hey, since you insist otherwise, let’s break it down shall we? That leaves us with two options: a) You pretended to be a scared, trembling mess and let me shove my tongue down your throat, or b) You were a scared, trembling mess. So which one is it Al?"  

Alastor’s smile was now accompanied by a cold, stony glare. "Neither," he said firmly. "I was merely caught off guard, that is all. You may have had the upper hand for a moment, but don’t delude yourself into thinking it was anything more. I’ve put you in your place more times than I can count."  

Despite the pain on his side, Vox let out a chuckle, enjoying how he had successfully managed to piss Alastor off. 

"And that bite?" Alastor continued. "I’d do it again in a heartbeat." He warned.

Vox let the tension hang in the air for just a moment. "And I'd enjoy every second of it."

Alastor, momentarily of course, found himself at a loss for words. Vox’s flirty tone, at this moment at least, was unexpected. 

"What do you think you’re doing?" he asked sharply.

Putting his hands on the desk, Vox struck his familiar self assured businessman pose. "Lighten up Al, I know you secretly love my filthy mouth. And trust me, I can do a lot more with it than just talk."

Alastor’s eyes narrowed as he looked at Vox with disdain and disgust. "You’ve gotten crude. Shameless. Is that all you have to offer now? Constant vulgarity and suggestive commentary?"

Vox only shrugged smugly, which made Alastors stand up abruptly. "I believe we’re done here."

Noticing the shift, Vox shot himself up, his hand once again pressed at his side, still in pain. "I’m just messing with you. No need to get all worked up," he gestured back to Alastor’s seat. "Why don't you sit back down? Relax. Have a drink with me?" Vox snapped his fingers, and in an instant, a bottle of cognac and two glasses materialised on his desk.

Alastor side eyed the bottle and then him. "As if anything here could satisfy my refined taste," he mocked, but his voice was still flat. "So please, stop embarrassing yourself." The double meaning wasn’t lost on Vox, but he was a determined man. He poured both of them a drink, the liquid shimmering in the expensive glasses.

"Embarrassing myself? Yeah, as if you don’t like this. You know you’d be bored out of your mind without me right?"

Alastor turned slowly, noticing how Vox was still clutching his side, pain evident on his stupid smug expression, yet his stubbornness to keep him from leaving remained unwavering. It was almost...flattering. "Oh Vox. You overestimate your ability to give me the kind of satisfaction I truly crave. I assure you, you’re far from a thrilling or challenging opponent. Do you really think you’re my only source of entertainment? Beause you’re not. I’ve had plenty of thrilling confrontations before you came along, and I’ll have plenty more when you're gone."

Vox momentarily subdued, now back into his chair, but he refused to stop. "You know, it's funny how you say that, yet every time I try to distance myself from you here you are."

Without a word, Alastor reached over, took the glass from the table and took a much needed sip before setting it back down and lowering himself back on the chair.

"Let’s make one thing clear, because this is getting tiring," he raised a finger. "I might tolerate your company, perhaps even enjoy it, but don't go thinking I see you in any other light."

"Did you just, friendzoned me?" Vox asked, his hand fumbled around the desk, blindly trying to find his glass.

"If you must put it that way, then yes. For the sake of what once was, Let’s pretend we’re still friends. But nothing more."

Vox found his drink but couldn’t take a sip just yet. "But, come on. You can’t tell me you don’t see it, there’s a spark here. A tension"

"Tension? Oh absolutely, but not the kind you’re hoping for. It’s more of a ‘I want to wrap my hands around your throat and squeeze’ kind of tension."

"Joke’s on you, I’m into that." Vox said, unbothered by the threat.

Alastor closed his eyes briefly. "Of course you are."

"I’m into a lot of stuff, feel free to ask." He poured Alastor another drink, glancing him over with a smile.

The drink was downed immediately.

"I would rather not. But I will ask you this," he was already regretting his decision to engage further into this mess. "Why do you keep insisting on whatever this is? What are you hoping for?"

Vox kept on nonchalantly swirling his drink. "What do you think I’m hoping for?"

Alastor stared at him, irritated by the lack of clarity. "I don’t know, that’s why I’m asking you."

"Isn’t it obvious?"

Sigh. "Pretend it isn’t. Cut this ridiculous tone and be direct for once."

Vox smiled, enjoying how much he was riling him up. "Fine. Let’s be direct then." He took a moment, trying to steady his nerves. He had thought about this moment for too long, rehearsed it to perfection countless times. But now, every carefully thought sentence felt wrong, fake.

"I want something more than this," he began, no time for hesitation now. "Something real."

He was no longer clutching his side, whatever injury Alastor had caused seemed to have healed itself.

"Something passionate, something that leaves both of us breathless and satisfied." He added, not bothering to filter his thoughts anymore. 

The meaning was crystal clear and Alastor was tempted to get up, smash his screen on the desk, and never speak of this again. But for whatever reason, he remained seated. "Excuse me?"

"I want you." Vox said plainly, sincerely. "I want the late nights together, I want to feel my hands on your body. And I want you to want me just as badly."

Alastor could only stare back at him. How does one even respond to such an unapologetically blunt and direct confession? Probably with the same level of boldness. "And what in God’s name makes you think I’m interested in indulging you in any of that?"

"Well, you haven’t torn me apart yet." Vox said with all the courage he had left.

"Maybe I’m feeling merciful. I’m a kind and generous soul after all."

"Or you’re curious. Maybe you’re starting to wonder if those late nights won’t be so bad."

Alastor couldn’t help but scoff at Vox’s pathetic attempt to get in his pants head. 

"I see." Alastor said, almost amused. "And? Am I supposed to believe you’re over what happened today? You slapped me across the face Vox. And I’ve done far worse. And sadly, forgiveness isn’t as simple as you’re making it seem," he paused. "You really expect me to believe that you’ve put everything that has happened between us behind you, and now you’ve got only the best intentions in mind? Because if you do, I’m sorry to disappoint, but I’m far from convinced."

Vox kept on looking at him with that  confident smile. "Oh, I never said I was over the blood magic part, I’m still pissed at you for that. But I also know you’ll never apologise, so why bother?"

Alastor’s fingers tapped impatiently against his glass. "And you expect me to just go along with this? To accept whatever you offer without questioning your motives?"

"Oh, I know you’d question my motives. You’re far too paranoid to trust anyone."

"I am not paranoid, I’m cautious." Alastor corrected.

"Call it whatever you want, but I know you. I know how you think. You’re always expecting someone to come for you." Vox said and paused for effect, or because the cognac was starting to get to him. "But you don’t have to be so guarded around me."

"Really? And why is that?"

He had to give Alastor credit, he was not making this easy for him.

"Because you know you can trust me to not actually hurt you."

Alastor struggled to hold back laughter. "Vox, that was a terrible answer that gave me no reasons on why I should trust you."

"Okay, okay, let’s make this a question then." Vox suggested. "What do you think I have to gain from betraying you?"

Alastor balanced his elbow on the desk, resting his head on his hand. "I can’t possibly know your true intentions," he answered honestly, his mind quickly turning over every possibility. "Perhaps you want to humiliate me, distract me from my goals, kill me, use my power to expand your little empire. Take your pick."

Vox couldn’t help but be entertained by his paranoid scenarios. "Yet I haven’t done any of those things now have I? Things don’t have to get physical for us to make any of that happen you know. I could use you for my gain, or whatever else you think I want to do right now. But I don’t. I even asked you to join me. So hear me out. This might sound crazy, but maybe...I genuinely like you."

"Like me, you say? Even after all the times I’ve called you a nuisance? An arrogant, loud, self obsessed joke of an Overlord?"

"Joke’s on you, I’m into that."

"Someone is starting to repeat themselves."

Vox kept his eyes on him, not backing down. "Well, you know, it’s getting harder to focus."

Alastor hated to admit that this wasn’t going as disastrous as he thought it would. 

"Just think about it Al." Vox continued, his voice taking on a more serious tone. "Just give me a chance, and let’s see where this goes. Maybe it doesn’t work out and we stay friends. Maybe it turns into something more, I don’t know. But what I do know is that you’re worth the risk."

How stupid, how bold.

"And? if you don’t like what you’ll see?" Alastor asked.

Vox didn’t hesitate. "I’ll like it, no matter what."

Alastor blinked, still trying to decipher Vox's intentions even through the haze of alcohol. "So you don’t like me Vox, you’re just here for the shiny packaging."

"Okay look. I may be a vain bastard, but that’s not why I’m here. I like all of you, I like your intellect, your stubbornness, your sense of humor, and hell, even your radio voice."

Alastor huffed. "And you expect me to just believe that you genuinely like everything about me? I’m not that gullible."

"Why else would I still be here then? You think I’d be putting all this effort just for something superficial? You are the most interesting and challenging person I’ve ever met. Life and afterlife combined." Vox said with a calm assurance.

"You just like all the good parts," Alastor responded, his voice a bit slurred but still full of skepticism. "What about my paranoia? My violent tendencies?"

"Yeah so? I know how sadistic you can be, and thanks for agreeing, paranoid as hell,” he joked. "But you know what?"

He got closer, clinking their glasses together. "It’s kinda hot."

Alastor blinked, a surprised laugh escaping him. "Are you even listening to yourself?"

"Sadly, yes." Vox replied, "Just give me a try, you know I’ll do anything you want me to."

"Ah, and you'll just bend to my every whim without question? I can’t help but feel like I’m getting the better end of the deal here."

"Maybe you are. So why not take advantage of it? After all, it’s not like I wouldn’t enjoy myself as well."

"You trust me too much Vox. I wouldn’t do this if I were you." Alastor warned.

"I know you wouldn’t."

Alastor resumed tapping on his glass, amused by Vox's ability to always have an answer ready. "And, what if I say no?"

"I’ll throw myself out the window." Vox replied without missing a beat. 

Alastor laughed again, this time the sound was more genuine than usual. "I’m afraid that makes me want to refuse."

Vox was well, expecting this. "We're on the seventh floor, just saying."

"Ah, the perfect height for a spectacular crash landing. Glass shattering, blood splattering. An absolute nightmare to clean up."

"Quite the show." Vox’s words settled between them, and for a while, everything felt fight. In that quiet pause, Vox’s suggestion didn’t sound that terrible. Despite his arrogance, Alastor sadly found Vox trustworthy enough.

At last, Alastor broke the silence. "And If I were to agree, you’d keep this between us, wouldn’t you?"

Vox was not surprised by the subtle request. After all, Alastor always valued his privacy. "Who would believe me if I told them anyway?"

"I mean it." Alastor insisted.

"Of course. No one will know, you have my word."

Satisfied, Alastor took the last sip of his cognac. "And just so you know, if I agree to this," he said, his tone taking on a slightly playful edge. "It won’t be as frequent as you think."

"Okay but uh, how often are we talking about?" Vox asked, a bit too hastily. 

Alastor took his time to reply, enjoying the little power he had over the conversation. "You seem a bit eager. You probably want it every day, maybe even twice a day."

Vox opened his mouth and then stopped, realizing Alastor was baiting him. "Well, I’ll take what I can get. So how often are we talking?"

A low hmmm escaped Alastor and he looked up, pretending to think it over."Once a week. Take it or leave it."

Vox blinked in surprise, not expecting such a low frequency. "Al. You’re killing me here."

"Ah ah ah!" Alastor waved a finger right in frond of his screen. "This is the final offer. Once a week. I’m not particularly interested in these things, so I’m giving you one shot. And If I don’t like it, I’ll call the whole thing off. Understood?"

Vox let out a internal deep sigh, knowing it’d be impossible to change Alastor's mind.

"Oh and," Oh for fucks sake. "Don’t expect me to be a very responsive partner."

Vox was again, not surprised. Alastor struck him as the type to be a bit reserved when it came to sex. "We can work on that."

"I should’ve known you’d see this as a challenge. You’re more than welcome to try and fail." Alastor said, his eyes narrowing playfully.

"You make it sound like you’ll just lie there, silently judging my every move."

Alastor’s grin widened, his tipsy confidence growing. "Oh no no, I won’t be judging you silently, I’ll be judging you very loudly. You’ll know exactly what I think of your performance."

Vox chuckled nervously. "Okay, now I’m starting to wonder what I’ve gotten myself into."

"Good. You should be wondering. After all, you’re the one who threw yourself at me."

"I wouldn’t call it ‘throwing myself at you,’ more like ‘willingly offering my services.’"

"Of course." Alastor tilted his head slightly. "You were always so desperate to please me after all."

Vox met his playful gaze without hesitation. "Well, can you blame me? You’re fascinating, unique. How could I not want to please you?"

There was a sincerity in Vox’s words that was hard to ignore. "You’re very... loyal, aren’t you?"

"Is it obvious?" He asked, a hint of vulnerability peeking through as he continued the little staring contest they had going on and he paused for a moment. The sight of Alastor looking genuinely at ease gave him the boost he needed to take this further. "Hey Al?"

"What now?"

With an unexpected surge of confidence, he got up from his seat, and moved around the desk to stand before Alastor. "Can I kiss you again?" he asked, offering his hand to him. "No teeth this time."

Alastor looked up at him. What a blunt request. But considering what he’d just agreed to, it hardly seemed out of place. "I suppose. After all, what’s a kiss in the grand scheme of things?" He took Vox’s hand, allowing himself to be pulled up. As soon as he was on his feet, Vox gently let go of his hand and moved both of his hands behind his back, a silent offer of space. It was a small gesture, but Alastor appreciated the fact Vox was giving him control over the moment.

And with that, Alastor leaned in.  

He had braced himself for something hungry and impatient. Something that matched Vox’s demeanor. Instead, the kiss was unexpectedly gentle, especially coming from a drunk Vox. Even more surprising, Vox kept his hands behind his back, almost as though any sudden move might cause him to back out. Vox's tongue brushed against his, and Alastor decided that he didn’t completely hate the static-like sensation it carried.

After a few moments, Alastor slowly pulled away. "Don’t get used to it." He wasn’t sure when his hands had found their way to Vox’s shoulders, but he kept them there for now.

"You know…" Vox whispered. "I’ve imagined this scenario so many times. Having you close, feeling you against me." One of his hands slid out from behind his back, settling on Alastor’s waist, while the other moved on the hand Alastor was resting on his shoulder. To his surprise, Alastor allowed himself to be positioned. "I have no doubt you’ve spent a considerable amount of time pondering your little fantasies," he said as Vox began to sway them, leading them in a slow dance.

"You have no idea. I've got so many fantasies, and you're the star of the show in every single one of them."

"Oh my, how charming that I’m the main character of your delusions."

"You should be flattered you know," Vox smiled, and with a swift movement, gave Alastor a small, controlled twist. "I've imagined you in so many different scenarios..."

Without warning, he pulled Alastor closer in one fluid motion. "And in so many different positions."

At the sound of that Alastor’s shoe came down with a little more force than necessary, just barely missing Vox’s. "Spare me the details."

Unfazed and ever the opportunist, Vox opened his mouth again. "How about I share one or two of my favourites?” he suggested. “Don’t you want a preview of what’s to come?"

Alastor’s rational side screamed at him that indulging in Vox’s nonsense would only encourage him further but after a long sigh he told his rational side to fuck off. "Fine. Just one, and keep it brief."

"I can work with that. So Imagine this…you’re my secretary." For a second, there was silence. Then Alastor bursted into laughter, stopping mid-sway to bring a hand to his mouth.

"How original!" He said between chuckles. "But please, do go on."

Vox let the laughter roll off him, guiding Alastor back into position. Their movements were beginning to get unsteady and clumsy, but they were having fun regardless.

"You’re dressed all classy and you wear those cute little glasses. You know, the vintage kind that scream ‘I’m smarter than you.’ You have a nice big desk that’s always perfectly organized and every time I ask you for something, you look at me like I’m the biggest idiot you ever had to deal with." Alastor listened, fascinated. "How realistic. Go on, what more am I doing in this little scenario of yours?"

"You know, usual secretary stuff. Fetch my coffee, look hot, and then one day..."  He trailed off, his tone dropping suggestively.  

"...I accidentally spill my coffee all over your papers." Vox said. "You get so mad you slam me against your desk and—"

"Enough, enough!" Alastor cut him off with another burst of laughter, stepping back to steady himself against the desk. "You’re lucky I’m in a good mood Vox. Any other night, I’d have thrown you out that very window you so graciously threatened to jump from earlier."

Vox could only smile back at him because despite the teasing, despite the sarcasm, Alastor was still there, laughing with him. They kept talking, the conversation flowing with a familiar ease. Vox continued sharing his ‘creative’ fantasies, each one earning a detailed critique from Alastor about how cliché and unrealistic they were, though he never made a move to actually stop him.

By the time the cognac bottle ran dry, the office was filled with a comfortable silence.

Their arrangement wasn’t voiced again, but it was understood by both of them. A silly agreement born out of curiosity, trust, and the strange gravity that pulled them together in the first place.

Chapter Text

It had been a week since Alastor had foolishly agreed to this mess. This reckless, stupid decision born of laughter, liquor, and poor judgment, and his nerves hadn’t settled for even a second since sobering up.

He could just cancel the whole thing, right? He could show up only to laugh in Vox’s face. "Oh Vox, you really thought this would happen? HA!" Sure, Vox would be confused, he’d probably throw a fit, but that wasn’t Alastor’s problem. He could simply walk away, unaffected, untouched, unbothered.

Right?

But deep down, he knew Vox wouldn’t let him off that easily. Not this time. Vox had endured far too much of his nonsense already. He’d demand answers, he’d want an explanation. And that was the real problem, Alastor didn’t have one.

Not even he could figure out why he was so on edge. It was just sex. People did it all the time, for fun, for connection, for whatever fleeting gratification it offered. It was something ordinary. Normal. And normal people craved intimacy, didn’t they? They hungered for closeness, for the press of flesh and that spark of connection. Some even called it a basic need.

So why did the thought of it made his chest tighten? Why did his stomach churn at the mere idea??

He couldn’t decide which was worse, the dread of his upcoming encounter with Vox, or the relentless punishments he was subjecting himself to all day. For the second time that afternoon, he stood under scalding hot water, letting it pour over him, burning his skin. Then, when the water turned lukewarm, he immediately twisted the faucet to the coldest setting, letting the ice cold droplets strike his skin as he wondered how he even got himself into this mess.

He was tempted to repeat the whole thing again, but decided to get dressed and distract himself by eavesdropping on the hotel residents group therapy sessions instead. Normally, their whiny, sorrowful voices and tearful confessions were more than enough to lift his spirits. Today however, not even that managed to soothe his nerves.

Vox, on the other hand, had spent the entire week counting down the hours until he could see Alastor again. Tonight wasn’t just another evening. No no, it was an opportunity,one he had absolutely no intention of wasting. He wanted this to work, more than anything.

There was something about Alastor that captivated him. Something that defied logic and any sense of self preservation. He was so smart, so unpredictable, and maddening in the best possible way. Vox simply couldn’t afford to mess this up. That’s why he promised himself he’d be the perfect gentleman tonight. He’d be respectful, attentive,

And then he’d absolutely pound him into the mattress.

"Have I told you you’re my favorite assistant?" Vox asked, wrapping an arm around his poor assistant’s shoulders. 

"Um… no?"

"Well, you are!" Vox said and pulled out his wallet. He flipped it open, and took out a handful of bills. "Here, go get yourself something nice."

The assistant’s eyes widened as Vox put the cash into his hand. "Mr. Vox. I-I can’t take this."

"Don’t be ridiculous!" Vox said, firmly closing his assistant’s hand around the money. "You’re my most loyal one after all. I don’t know what I’d do without you!"

"…What’s your name again?"

"Oh It’s-"

Before he could answer, Vox’s phone alarm went off. 

"You tell me tomorrow!" Vox chirped, placing his phone back on the desk before shoving his assistant out of the office and into the elevator, the doors closing before his assistant could utter another word.

Dusting off his hands, Vox straightened his bow tie and stood right outside his office, ready for Alastor to appear any minute now.

At the hotel, Alastor took a deep breath, mentally preparing himself for what was about to come. Despite his anxious state, he had to keep up appearances. His usual smile spread across his face, masking the absolute mess underneath. He held on to his staff for dear life and was once again in Vox’s office. He quickly looked around the room, but Vox was nowhere to be found.

Well, what a shame! I tried! He got ready to return to his room and never set foot inside this tacky building again. But just as he raised his staff, his shadow appeared beneath him and started pointing towards Vox’s desk. 

There, glinting under the dim light, was his monocle.

"Ah, here you are," Alastor said, reaching for it. Just as he was about to put it on, the doors swung open.

"Hi!" Vox called, his voice full of excitement. 

Alastor got startled, dropping the monocle. Goddammit. He’d almost convinced himself that Vox wouldn’t show up, that this mess could be avoided entirely.

"Sorry, I thought you’d show up like you usually do. You know, your dramatic entrance and all that," Vox said casually, stepping in and kicking the door closed with the heel of his shoe. "But anyway! Why don’t we head to my bedroom? Unless you’re up for that secretary scenario. Although, between you and me, I hope you’re not because my back is killing me. Like actually killing me. I had this long ass meeting earlier. You won’t believe who just became an Ov-"

Good grief, what am I doing? Sweet lord how can he talk so much. Did he always talk so much? This is ridiculous. I should stop this nonsense before we, 

Without realizing it, Alastor allowed himself to be guided by Vox through the labyrinth of hallways. Vox kept talking and talking, but Alastor was zoning out, his eyes skimming over the modern furniture and the sleek decor of what was undoubtedly Vox’s bedroom. 

Then, silence. Vox had stopped talking.

He looked his way and found Vox watching him expectantly, clearly awaiting a response to whatever nonsense he’d just said. Sadly, Alastor had been too preoccupied with wishing he was anywhere but there to pay attention.

"Still have atrocious taste, I see," he replied dismissively, deflecting with practiced ease.

"Oh, fuck you." Vox said completely oblivious to Alastor’s increasing panic. He took a purple portfolio that was sitting on top of one of his nightstands and held it up. "Give me one second, I’ll be right back."

And with that, he was gone, leaving Alastor alone in that futuristic nightmare. In the sudden silence, the weight of everything hit Alastor all at once. What was he getting himself into?

Why, why, why did I agree to this? 

What was he even gaining from this? The idea of sex had never made sense to him, and now here he was, standing in Vox's room, surrounded by all of his terrible furniture choices. He sat on the edge of the bed, trying to relax, or at least trying to understand why he was feeling like this.

He heard the door open again, and Vox entered the room with confident steps, unaware of his inner turmoil. He extended a hand, and Alastor's heart skipped a beat as it reached for his coat. "May I?" Vox asked.

The tension started to press down on him, but he forced himself to speak, keeping his voice deceivingly steady. "By all means, be my guest." He let Vox unbutton his coat and slide it off his shoulders, placing it carefully on a nearby chair before he moved on to his shirt. Vox's hands worked tenderly, undoing the buttons with ease, unaware of Alastor’s unblinking eyes following his every move.

"Are you cold?" Vox asked, now undoing his tie. "Want me to turn on the heat?"

Alastor let out a forced laugh, desperately trying to keep his smile in place. "How kind of you, but there’s no need."

Vox, still unaware of Alastor's discomfort, let the bow tie fall onto the bed and resumed undoing the last buttons of his shirt, slowly sliding it off his shoulders. "Of course you have an undershirt on," he said, his eyes glued to the black fabric clinging on Alastor’s slender form.

Alastor felt his ears pin back involuntarily, the only external sign of his growing anxiety he couldn’t completely suppress. His chest felt tight, constricting with each shallow breath he struggled to take. He felt Vox’s fingers trailing lightly over his arm, marveling at the gradient of his hands, a detail Vox always found mesmerizing. Then Vox’s hands slowly slipped under his undershirt, gently pulling it over his head.

As the fabric left his skin, Alastor crossed his arms over his chest. In Vox’s mind, this was a display of modesty, or perhaps a playful act. He misinterpreted it, just like everything else. "Why don’t you lie down?" he whispered, slowly pushing Alastor down the bed. "Let me do the work."

Vox’s voice buzzed around him, words and questions blending together into a distorted mess he couldn’t make sense of. His heartbeat slowed down and he was once again drowning in that primal panic he couldn’t control. And eventually, thankfully, Vox noticed.

He immediately scanned Alastor’s body language. The signs were all there, the stiff posture, the wide eyes, the silent breaths. Then, realization struck. "Oh, fuck," he muttered, crawling off of him and standing up.

"Hey. You with me, Al?" he asked, his voice losing its earlier lustful edge.

"…Yes," Alastor replied hoarsely, struggling to even get the words out, hating everything about the situation. The vulnerability, the shame, that pitiful look plastered all over Vox’s stupid screen.

"Hey, come on. Relax. It’s just me," Vox said, trying to calm him down.

Just him? Just him?! What was that supposed to mean? As if that made this any easier to handle. "I know it’s you," Alastor hissed. "I can see you. I can feel you. I’m well aware that it’s ‘just you!’"

He shut his eyes, but he could still feel Vox’s gaze on him, studying his every reaction to react accordingly.

And finally, he admitted it. "I can’t… I can’t do this."

"Hey, fuck that now," Vox said, holding his hands up. "Just calm down. Take a deep breath. Can you do that?"

He tried to let out a shaky breath, more out of spite than anything else, just to prove himself he still had control over something. Vox raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "That sucked Al. Did you forget how to breathe out of sudden?" He knew he couldn’t sound pitiful, not with Alastor.

Alastor shot him a look but tried again. He took a slow, deep breath and let it out. It didn’t settle his nerves completely, but at least his heartbeat was coming back to normal again.

"Happy?"

"Very," Vox replied, deadpan. He could tell Alastor was still on edge, but at least he was talking. "Now," he slowly lowered his hands, "You’re gonna have to explain why that happened again, because I’m seriously lost here." His tone softened just enough to show that he wasn’t mocking him.

"It’s just..." Alastor started, then stopped just as quickly. How the hell was he going to explain this in a way that wouldn’t make him feel even more humiliated and pathetic?

He let out a frustrated sigh before speaking again. "It’s this body’s damn instincts. They don’t always cooperate."

Vox frowned, his arms crossing loosely over his chest. "Why didn’t you say something sooner?" he asked and Alastor let out a sharp, bitter laugh. "Why? Because I’m a goddamn idiot, that’s why! Because I thought I could handle it. I thought I could suppress them long enough to just get this over with!"

He paused, the weight of his words sinking in. The tension in his body didn’t ease, and his gaze snapped up to Vox, cold and accusing. "But you had to pry and push, didn’t you? You had to drag me into this mess."

Vox blinked, taken aback. "Wha–seriously? Don’t try to blame me for this!" his voice pitched higher. "I would’ve stopped if you’d told me! Do I look like a mind reader to you?"

"Oh, spare me Vox!" he snarled.  "You knew something was off. I was clearly on edge! You just chose to ignore it."

Vox threw up his hands in exasperation. "How! How was I supposed to know you were tensing up because you were uncomfortable and not just nervous! We’ve never done this before, I don’t know how you act during-this! Stop trying to put the blame on me again, damn it!"

"Don’t play dumb with me! You knew exactly what you were doing. You just wanted to satisfy your sick obsession. Admit it."

Vox stared at him in disbelief, his eye twitching faintly. "Holy hell, you gotta be kidding me," he muttered, then louder, "You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me! Why would I keep going if you weren’t into it? I’m not a rapist dammit! " he pointed at Alastor. "You didn’t say anything! You just sat there, smiling like everything is fine. Like you always fucking do!"

"Ah yes how silly of me!" Alastor yelled back. "Clearly, it’s my mistake for not rising above the instincts that came with this miserable body!"

Vox was tempted to choke the sarcasm out of Alastor, but he held back. For now. At least Alastor was back to his usual self. Which was great, but it also meant that now he’d never admit to messing up. So Vox figured he might as well let this incident slide as well.

"Alright, fine," Vox said, crossing his arms in frustration. "You’re right, I should’ve paid more attention. I fucked up. Sorry."

Alastor’s anger turned to confusion. He had been bracing for Vox to lash out, accuse him of being paranoid, shift the blame back to him. Where was the argument? The resentment?

That didn't go unnoticed by Vox but he refrained from commenting on it, refusing to give Alastor something to work with. "You know, I can’t tell when you’re uncomfortable just because you get a little quiet and your ears pin back. You’ve got to actually tell me."

Alastor’s eyes narrowed, but his words still held a bite. "And what good would that have done? You would’ve just told me to relax and you’d keep going."

"Can you give me some credit here? If you had told me you were uncomfortable, I would’ve stopped. Simple as that."

"Forgive me for not having much trust in your self control, Vox. It’s not as if you have a sick collection of fantasies about me after all. The idea of you willingly stopping halfway through just because I said so, sounds a bit far fetched, don’t you think?"

"For the love of-" he let out a frustrated sigh before sitting on the other side of the bed, leaving a respectful amount of space between them. "I'm not a complete monster, okay? Yeah, I’m attracted to you, but that doesn’t mean I’d force you into anything," his voice softened, desperately trying to salvage the situation. "It may come as a shock to you, but some of us actually care about boundaries and consent and all that stuff you probably think of as ‘modern nonsense’."

Alastor turned his head away, his shoulders still stiff. "Terribly sorry for underestimating your moral standards. I suppose I should overlook your obsessive tendencies and the fact that you constantly invade my privacy. I’ve seen how you look at me Vox. I know what goes through your mind when you’re watching me through all those screens of yours. You can act all high and mighty, but deep down, you’re just as hungry and predatory as everyone else in this hellhole."

Vox stared at him for a long moment, holding back the urge to shake some sense into him. "Can you, for one moment, for one single second, believe me when I tell you I care about you?"

"I’m sure you do," he sneered. "You’re just saying what I want to hear, hoping I’ll still let you have your way with me tonight."

"Do you have any idea how frustrating it is that every time I say something, you twist it into something completely different!?"

Alastor didn’t back down, using that same biting tone. "Ah, yes. How dare I assume you have ulterior motives? Everyone here is trying to manipulate each other, but not you! No no, you're different. You're special. A true saint among us filthy sinners."

"Can you-" Vox cut himself off and scooted closer, leaning forward enough to glare Alastor dead in the eye. "Okay, then explain this to me, if I’m such a massive asshole, why didn’t I have my way with you while you were frozen up huh? Why didn’t I take advantage of that?"

"Well you..." Alastor’s voice trailed off, struggling to find a better counter argument other than 'Because I say so!’

"I don’t know okay? I don’t know." The admission burned like acid in his throat. "Congratulations Vox! You were right, and I was wrong."

"Yeah, and that kills you, doesn’t it?"

Alastor shifted, stubbornly turning his head away from Vox and in response Vox pulled back. This was again, not going as planned. He looked at Vox out of the corner of his eye.

"…Are you sure you still want to go through with this?" He asked. 

With a sigh, Vox untied his bowtie, allowing it to dangle around his neck, making him appear even more worn out. "No, not really. I’m not in the mood, like, at all." 

Alastor hesitated before clarifying. "I mean in general."

Vox crossed his arms over his chest as he processed the question. "Honestly? Sometimes it’s very difficult to deal with your constant mood swings," his tone was raw, but not unkind. "I never know if you’re going to freak out on me, accuse me of something, or just shut me off completely."  

Vox’s tired admission made Alastor realise that despite his seemingly endless patience and tolerance for his eccentric behavior, even he had limits. Guilt crept in, subtle but unmistakable.  

"But, fuck my life, yes. I still want us to give this a try," Vox admitted. "But can you just trust me a bit? I’m not asking you to drop your guard completely. Just… give me a chance dammit."  

Now trust was a foreign concept for Alastor, something he avoided almost instinctively. A concept he couldn’t and refused to wrap his head around. But Vox, with his infuriating patience and stupid loyalty, made it hard for him to not reconsider. At least for tonight.

"I’ll consider it," he responded, trying to lighten the mood and Vox scoffed, a smile spreading across his screen. "How generous of you." 

Alastor tilted his head a bit so he could look at him better. "I suppose I must admit that this," he paused, searching for the right words "This is a lot less uncomfortable when we talk things out." Vox’s smile widened "Communication. Who’d have thought?"  

Alastor sighed and he sat up and by doing so, his deer tail flicked up, catching Vox’s attention immediately.

"I missed that thing," Vox commented and Alastor, ever the petty one, shifted his hips so his tail was no longer visible to him. Vox's expression softened slightly, and his voice took a more serious tone. "Seriously though, we need to talk about some things."

"Just tell me what makes you uncomfortable," Vox pressed. "Something, anything. Help me out here."

Alastor hesitated, looking around as he considered whether to actually share anything. But he knew they’d keep going in circles if he didn’t, so with a reluctant sigh he broke the silence. "I don’t appreciate being touched unexpectedly," he confessed, a bit quieter now. "Or that vulgar sex talk you’re so fond of."

"Got it." He said, encouraging Alastor to continue. 

"And those weird….pet names. I absolutely despise those."  Alastor added.

"Got it baby," Vox teased.

Alastor glared at him, his gaze a bit sharper than necessary. "Don’t call me that. Ever."

"Okay, okay, I promise I won’t," he assured, standing up to stretch. His back cracked loudly, earning an amused raised brow from Alastor. "How about we call it a night? We can try again next week." 

"Yes, I believe we had enough excitement for one night," Alastor replied, standing up as well. He moved towards Vox's chair to retrieve his clothes, but paused when he noticed his expression.

Vox hesitated, then asked, "You’re not staying?"

Alastor paused, the question surprising him. "You want me to stay?"

Vox tried to appear indifferent

"Well, you don’t have to." 

Tried and failed

"But I think it’d be better if you stayed."

"You’re almost begging me to stay. How adorable," he teased, watching Vox taking off his jacket and then tossing it onto the chair next to his own clothes.

"I’m not begging," Vox corrected, his voice low as he began to unbutton his shirt, fully aware of Alastor’s eyes on him. "I’m suggesting," he continued, pulling off his shirt and draping it neatly next to his jacket. "Won’t you get undressed?"

Alastor met Vox’s gaze, his fingers  over his belt as he slowly began to undo it. "You want me to strip already?" His tone was teasing, seductive.

"I wouldn’t mind a show," Vox admitted, not even trying to hide the way his gaze roamed over him.

Alastor teased and removed his belt with a swift, motion, letting it fall to the floor. "Don’t malfunction on me now." He teased and let his pants slide down, and he stepped out of them, soon he was standing there in nothing but his boxers. 

"Don’t..don’t worry about that," Vox replied, sitting back down on the edge of the bed, fully focused on Alastor’s silhouette being framed perfectly by the bright city lights outside. He looked ethereal, otherworldly, beautif- "You look hot as fuck."

"Why, thank you," Alastor replied and began to pace in frond of the tall windows with effortless grace. "But I’m sure you can do better."

Vox’s throat went dry. Everything about Alastor in this moment was perfect. Sensual and magnetic. "You look…like you were made to be worshipped." He whispered, following every step Alastor took. Before he knew it, he had pushed himself of the bed, and reached for Alastor, kissing him with a desperation he couldn’t suppress.

For a moment, Alastor’s body tensed, and Vox thought he might pull away but to his surprise, Alastor kissed him back. The kiss deepened and Alastor’s hands found their way to Vox’s shoulders, pushing him back onto the bed.

Vox let himself fall against the mattress and Alastor’s hands began to explore him. To his surprise Alastor’s touch was slow and curious and Vox made no move to stop him, which only encouraged Alastor further. His claws went deeper, and he sank his teeth into the tender spot where Vox’s neck met his shoulder. 

"Ouch-!" Vox hissed, startled by the sharp sting, but his voice cracked with laughter. "That-" another bite, a lot harder this time. "Jesus Al!"  

Alastor pulled back just enough to look into his eyes with a playful glint. "I thought you said you’d do anything I wanted you to."  

"I might have, ah-" Vox’s breath hitched as Alastor’s claws got dangerously close to his d- "Exaggerated a bit."  

"You’re being awfully well-behaved," Alastor teased and his hands continued to scratch and squeeze, testing Vox’s patience and resolve. 

"Can’t say the same about you."

"I’m simply getting accustomed to you," Alastor whispered, his body pressing against Vox’s, feeling him rock hard under him. "You can touch me as well you know." 

Vox reached out but hesitated, his usual bravado momentarily absent. He wanted it. God, he wanted it, but everything that has happened tonight made him question if this was really the right time. A part of him insisted it was worth the risk. He knew if things went wrong, he'd fix them later. After all, he was the one Alastor would inevitably return to for reassurance, the one who made him feel scary and important. But for some reason, he kept his hands where they were.

Alastor stopped, noting Vox’s hesitation. "What?"

"Just… wondering if this is a good idea," Vox admitted.

"I think it’s a splendid idea." He started pressing his fingers against the fresh bite mark on Vox’s neck.

"I can’t believe I’m saying this," he gently moved Alastor’s hands off him. "But as much as I want this, and believe me, I really, really want this. It’s a bad idea." He said, mentally kicking himself with every word.

"I assure you, I’m feeling much better now," Alastor replied, tapping his fingers on Vox’s screen. "See? No freeze response. I’m perfectly fine."

Vox forced himself to stand his ground, despite the overwhelming temptation. "It’s not just about how you feel, It’s also about how I feel. And right now, the thought of having sex after everything that happened tonight makes me uncomfortable."

"You’re being dramatic."

Vox’s frustration grew. "I just don’t want to risk making things worse. Or wake up tomorrow and find you ready to murder me."

"Stop acting like I’m going to fall apart at any moment." Alastor snapped, clearly irritated.

It was in that moment that Vox realized he needed to change tactics, bring out the big guns.

"Al, listen," he sat up a bit and Alastor pulled back as well, but not before stubbornly crossing his arms across his chest. "Are you sure you’re ready for this? Cause well, sex is sex. Things will get messy. Sweaty. We’re talking skin on skin, clap clap clap. Does that sound appealing to you right now?"

Alastor’s lips parted, his confidence faltering but he didn’t want to lose this argument. "Yes," he said, his voice lacking in well..everything. "It sounds very appealing."  

"You sure?"

Alastor paused. Good grief. "I know what intercourse entails. I’m not an idiot."  

"You can’t even say sex."  

"Sex," Alastor replied, dying on the inside.

"Okay but do you know what sex with me entails? We’re not gonna have a round of missionary and then cuddle. You’ve given me one shot at this, and I intend to make it count."

"Stop acting like I’m some clueless idiot!" Alastor snapped defensively. "I can handle this. I can handle you."  

"Can you handle this 12 inch di—"  

A loud, distorted crackle of static come from Alastor and he got up, feeling himself physically cringing.

"See?" Vox said triumphantly.

"It’s not  twelve inches." Alastor shot back.

"Wanna check?" Vox teased, raising an eyebrow. 

Alastor narrowed his eyes. "Do you let me check?"  

"Alright, alright. How about this." Vox started, after all he knew how Alastor’s mind worked by now, he didn’t want this to be something Alastor forced himself into, whether it was to prove a point or to win some kind of internal battle. "Let’s take a small break. We can talk, have a drink, anything you want. And If you’re still up for it afterwards, we’ll pick up right where we left off. If not, no big deal." 

Alastor hesitated for just a moment, clearly running through the options in his mind. "Fine. But it better be something worth drinking."

                           xxx

Vox couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief as they settled into a quieter atmosphere. He turned off the lights completely and grabbed a bottle of wine, hoping it would loosen things up. He desperately tried to get Alastor to talk about himself, but as expected, he received no new information. So Vox decided to shift the conversation to himself and his interests, explaining how most Overlords gained more power nowadays. 

"You just build a high-security block of flats," Vox explained. "Round up the newcomers, scare them with the good old extermination speech, and sell them protection. You stuff them into the apartments, and watch the contracts roll in. That’s it. That’s what everyone does."

Alastor pretended to yawn, "How innovative. But I think I’ll stick to my methods. They’ve worked brilliantly so far, haven’t they?"  

Vox chuckled softly, reaching over and pretending to take the glass from Alastor’s hand. "Easy there, Prohibition survivor."

He discreetly took hold of the half-empty bottle and set it on the floor.

"You know sometimes forget how old you are," his voice turned a bit more thoughtful. "Damn. What a shitshow that must’ve been. But you must’ve had the time of your life, huh? Dancing and drinking till your liver gave out."

"…"

"Al?"

Alastor paused for a beat, as if lost in his thoughts, before snapping back. "Indeedy! Oh, you should’ve seen me back then Vox. You’d have been thoroughly impressed."

Vox smiled, enjoying the brief, rare glimpse into Alastor’s past. "I bet you were a real wild card back then. Drinking, gambling, all that jazz."

Alastor waved a dismissive hand, seemingly enjoying the attention. "Why yes, of course."

"Go on then, give me the full picture."

Alastor let out a small laugh. "Ah let’s see," he said, playing with the empty wine glass in his hands. "I could outdrink any man, cheat at any game, and still have enough time to attend three different parties in a row."

Vox listened, mesmerised. "I can picture you, right in the middle of that mess, laughing your ass off."

"Oh, absolutely," Alastor agreed. "All that chaos provided wonderful opportunities to take advantage of. No one paid attention to my little activities."

"Mmm, I bet you were hot as fuck."

Alastor tilted his head slightly. "Maybe."

"Bet the ladies loved you. You must’ve had a different ‘dance partner’ every night."

"Why, yes, of course. Sometimes three or four a night!"

At the sound of that, chocked on his drink, coughing violently as he tried to recover. He held a hand on his chest, still coughing. "Sorry. Ha, I didn’t expect you to be such a ‘dancer’." 

"I was! I really loved dancing."

Vox cleared his throat, trying to regain at least some of his composure. "Okay, okay, serious question. Totally cool if you don’t wanna answer, but what’s your body count?"

Alastor blinked, caught off guard. "Well, that’s a question I wasn’t expecting."

Vox laughed nervously. "Yeah yeah, it’s a bit personal, but I'm just curious. So, how good were you with the ladies?"

"Ah no, not women…I preferred men. Much more fun to play with." Alastor clarified. He was both happy and relieved the conversation had shifted to his hobby.

Vox froze for a long time. Desperately trying to process this. "And, how many people are we talking about here Al?"

A soft hum escaped Alastor and he started tapping his fingers on the empty glass. "Hm… do you mean during my life, or should I include my time here as well?"  

"Both. Both is good."  

Alastor smiled wide, exited to finally share this information with someone. "Let’s see, during my lifespan, I’d estimate somewhere around fifty. Though, it’s been a few decades, so forgive me if I’ve lost track."  

Vox froze, again.

"But if we include my time in Hell… Oh, it definitely adds up to three, maybe even four hundred!"  

The sound of Vox’s glass cracking under his grip was loud in the otherwise quiet room. "You’re joking, right?" he asked, trying to understand if Alastor was just messing with him. "Please tell me you’re joking."

"Why do you look so surprised?" Alastor questioned. "I’ve been here for quite a while after all. What you think I did for fun all this time? Play chess with Husker?"  

"Okay no, but this is insane!" Vox shot to his feet, pacing up and down. 

Alastor chuckled, watching Vox lose it. "Now, I believe you’re overreacting a bit. It’s not that  many if you think about it! It went up by a hundred during the last Extermination alone."

"YOU FUCKED THE ANGELS TOO?!" Vox’s distorted shout echoed through the room.  

Alastor blinked twice. "I beg your pardon?"  

They stared at each other and then Vox brought his hands together. "Al. What do you think ‘body count’ means?" he asked, calmly. 

"It means how any people I’ve killed....why?"

"..."

"..."

"….Please tell me you haven’t been going around telling people your body count is four hundred."  

"Well, sadly no one has asked before!" Alastor replied cheerfully. "But what’s wrong with sharing this information? It’s a rather impressive number, don’t you agree?"  

"Al. baby. When someone asks your body count, they’re asking how many people you’ve had sex with."  

Alastor stared at him, confusion turning into sheer disbelief. "Since when!"  

"Since I don’t know! A while now!"  

"How ridiculous!" Alastor scoffed, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he noticed the sheer bewilderment in Vox's gaze. "So out of pure curiosity, what’s your body count then?"  

Vox closed his mouth. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to answer, it was just-okay yeah he didn’t want to answer. "How many do you think it is?"  

Alastor’s grin sharpened, sensing Vox’s discomfort. "Well it can’t be that many. You’re just an overrated TV host, after all."  

"Oh, fuck y–"  

"But!" he interrupted. "I suppose your Overlord status and wealth might attract the easily impressed. But you’re also egotistical, loud, self centered, a workaholic,"

"Can you not do this–"

"And you care far too much about your public image, so you wouldn’t let just anyone get close to you. So I say thirty, at best."

"Okay, so what if it’s in that range!"  

"Oh, no judgment!" Alastor assured him. "But isn’t thirty a rather small number? For someone of your status and age, of course."  

"It’s a decent number!" Vox snapped defensively. "And I have standards okay! I’m not some kind of a whore or–Stop laughing at me!"  

"My apologies," Alastor managed to say between bursts of laughter. But it’s so amusing watching you getting defensive over something like this."

"I am not defensive!" Vox yelled and crossed his arms. "You know what? What’s your body count then? Since you think mine is so low and all that."  

That really shut Alastor up.

"Now, what good is that information going to do you?" he crossed his legs, turning just enough to face away from Vox. "And don’t you think it’s a bit personal?"  

"I answered it! You could at least be fair and do the same." Vox protested, hands on his waist.

"How pushy," Alastor replied, a teasing lilt in his voice. "But I’m  afraid that information is simply none of your business." Where on earth is that wine bottle?

"Come on, don't tell me the Radio Demon doesn't have game," Vox teased, stepping back into Alastor's view. Alastor remained silent, his silence daring him to push further.

"Let’s see," Vox began smugly. "You’re hot, but you’re also a creepy fuck with a reputation for being a cannibal. And not many are as insane as me to actually ask you to have sex with them. But you wouldn’t go after someone who doesn’t already have an interest in you," he paused, trying to come up with a number. "So, how about 20? Or 40?"  

Alastor’s smile stayed in place. "Yes." He said flatly.

"Yes what? 20 or 40?" 

Alastor sighed. "Can’t you leave it be and let me keep that information to myself?"  

"Hey if you want us to have sex tonight, I wanna know what I’m working with. Mine is 36 exactly."  

Alastor stiffened and started playing with the empty glass on his hands again. 

"You know, the fact you refuse to answer and just keep on dodging the question gives me an idea of what that number might be…" He trailed off, "No…" he let out a disbelieving laugh. "No fucking way. You’re messing with me, right?"

Alastor glanced at his staff in the corner, calculating how much time he needed to grab it and disappear.

"I can’t understand why you’re so amused by that–" Alastor mumbled.

"Oh my god. Al. YOU’RE A VIRGIN?!"

Alastor’s ears pinned back, eyes squinting in irritation. 

"You actually are!" Vox exclaimed, vibrating with shock and excitement. "How is that even possible!"  

Alastor’s ears flattened completely against his head, and he crossed his arms, trying to hide his irritation as Vox tried not to burst out laughing at the new information. "Oh, come on, don’t be like that. I’m not judging you! I’m just surprised!" He said, a wide grin spreading across his stupid screen.

"Well if you’re done being surprised," Alastor replied, uncrossing his arms and legs. "I believe we have other matters to attend to."

Vox’s eyes widened slightly, his grin turning into a more genuine smile. "Wait, really?"

"Really."

"Are you sure?" Vox asked, his voice full with excitement.

Instead of answering, Alastor extended his hand, as if reaching for his staff.

"Okay, okay!" Vox said quickly, holding his hands up. "Let’s do this, just relax and trust me okay? I know what I’m doing."

"Trust us with your entertainment!" Alastor said in sing-song tone, mimicking Vox’s voice almost perfectly.

"Oh, ha ha, very funny," he deadpanned and offered a hand to Alastor. "Mocking my slogan which, by the way, is way more popular than your little radio show."

Alastor allowed Vox to help him off the chair and guide back on the bed. "Yet I assure you," Alastor said with a smirk, letting Vox lower him onto the mattress, "My show is far more interesting than anything you’ll ever put on those flashy screens of yours!"

Vox leaned over him, laughing softly. "Yeah, I listen to it sometimes, it’s the perfect cure for insomnia."

Alastor laughed as well, light and genuine. "Ah, that’s amusing, considering I tried to watch one of your shows once. I wanted to give it a shot but the dialogue was so incomprehensible, I thought it was in tongues!"

"Oh, sure. Because your endless monologues about ‘the good old days’ are so thrilling."

Alastor laughed harder and he noticed how much easier this felt, how much calmer he was compared to earlier. Vox laughed along with him, his tone softening. "Are you okay now? Or should I keep embarrassing myself?"

Alastor smiled up at him, his fingers ghosting over Vox’s shoulders. "I could listen to your nonsense forever. But if you think you’ve humiliated yourself enough, I suppose we can continue."

"By the way, I talk a lot during sex. But I can shut up if you want." Vox informed him, not that Alastor had any doubts of course.

"I will let you know if it gets too distracting," he promised, though his attention had already been shifted to all the bite marks and scratches he’d left on Vox’s body. Vox of course, caught the look.

"See something you like, old man?"

"Nothing I haven't seen before." Alastor replied, just as playful.

Vox hooked his thumbs into the sides of his boxers. "Wanna see something new then?" he asked, and Alastor’s eyes widened ever so slightly. His smile remained carefully neutral as he watched Vox slide his boxers off and then strike a shameless pose with his chest out and his hands on his hips. "Like what you see? I know I do."  

Propping himself up on his elbows, Alastor let his gaze roam over Vox’s form. "Showoff."

"What can I say?" Vox said with a cocky grin. "I like to put on a good show, especially when I know I have a very eager audience." Before Alastor could respond, Vox carefully slid his hands under the waistband of Alastor’s boxers, his thumbs pressing against his hipbones. He pulled them down a bit too hard and Alastor gasped at the sudden movement, his expression quickly souring.

"Fuck sorry!" Vox exclaimed, immediately letting go. "Forgot about your tail for a second." 

"I didn’t." Alastor grumbled, lifting his hips to remove the underwear by himself.

"Wouldn’t it be easier to move it to the front for now? You know, so it’s not dragged underneath you?" His concern was genuine because he was such a kind and caring s-yeah no, he just really wanted to see the tail up close. 

Alastor paused, glaring at him. "Fine. But if you make a single comment about it-"  

"Not a word," Vox promised. "But I’ll be looking at it the entire time."

Alastor sighed and reached behind him, carefully adjusting his tail to a more comfortable position, Vox’s eyes lit up as he noticed the underside of the tail, white and fluffy.

"Holy fuck," Vox blurted. "It’s white underneath like an actual-"

"Yes, what a surprise!" Alastor interrupted. "It’s white like a real deer’s. Now can you stop!"  

"Fine, fine," Vox promised again and reached over to the nightstand, opening a drawer and rummaging through its contents.  

"Do I even want to know what you’re looking for?" Alastor asked.

"A dildo," Vox replied, pulling out a small dildo and setting it on the bed. "Lube," he grabbed the bottle and placed it next to the toy. "Handcuffs." He glanced at them before shrugging and putting them back into the drawer.  

Alastor stared at the….things "And you just have all that in your bedside drawer?"  

"Hey, sometimes I have a hard time falling asleep."

"My, and I believed your lies about listening to my show when you couldn’t sleep."

"I wasn’t lying," Vox teased. "What you think I do when I listen to it?"

Alastor stuttered. "Ex-"

"I’m kidding! I’m kidding." Vox said with a laugh and got bit closer, feeling the warmth of the Alastor’s inner thighs pressing against his hips. "You look so good like this," he remarked, his voice dropping lower. "Under me, on my bed, your tail all nice and visible." 

"I’ll throw you off the bed."  

Vox grinned, unfazed. "And I’d climb right back."  

"Is it really necessary to have so many of those things?"

Poor thing hasn’t even seen half of it.

"Well, I’m a slut for overconsumption, and a slut in general." Vox said, picking up the sleek black dildo. "What do you say we start small?"  

"Don’t ask me, you’re the self-proclaimed slut." 

"True," Vox agreed without hesitation. "But this is a mutual endeavor, so I’m asking you as well, so what do you want to do?"  

"How considerate of you. I suppose a smaller one is better to start with."  

"See?" Vox said. "We can be polite to each other when we try,"  he popped the lube cap open. "Spread those legs, radio star."  

Alastor sighed, but he obeyed, parting his thighs a bit wider as Vox held the toy next to his own dick, measuring thoughtfully. Alastor tilted his head, confused. "What are you doing?"  

"Figuring out the game plan." Vox replied without looking up.  

Alastor got even more confused. 

"Deciding whether the size difference between this and me is too much for you." Vox explained and poured some lube on the dildo. 

Alastor tried to not get embarrassed any further. "Fine, whatever. Just get on with it." He closed his eyes, steadying himself. The vulnerability of his situation was difficult to ignore but he drew a deep breath, reassuring himself that he was in…capable hands. Hopefully.

"How about you open your eyes so you can see what’s happening?"  Vox suggested.

"I appreciate your expert advice, but right I prefer to focus on the feeling rather than the visuals."  

"Suit yourself," Vox said and got closer, keeping the toy steady in his hand as he guided it toward Alastor. "Just tell me if I go too fast or if anything feels off, yeah?" He said, pushing the dildo forward. "That's it. You’re doing so good," Vox said softly, his voice full of genuine praise as he watched the dildo slid in with ease.

He was mostly focused on getting the toy as deep as he could before he could start pumping it. 

Alastor inhaled sharply, slowly adjusting to the stretch. "If you keep going this slow, you’ll bore me to death."

Vox chuckled loving the defiance in Alastor’s voice. "I’m just being careful, even though part of me really wants to ravage you right now,"  he said, maintaining the same careful pace. "I like seeing you like this," he whispered absentmindedly, his free hand sliding up and down Alastor’s inner thigh, the teasing touches sending heat in places that were already far too warm. Alastor moved his hips, trying in vain to create some friction against the toy.  

"Almost done," With a final slow push, Vox buried the toy up to its flared base, holding it still and steady. 

He momentarily took his hand off Alastor’s thigh to close the lube bottle before its contents spill on the bed. "Oh, fuck," he said, his smirk faltering for just a moment as he took a closer look at the bottle. "I might’ve fucked up."  

Alastor blinked, "What..what do you mean?"  

"I think I used the warming lube instead of the normal one," Vox explained, trying to make it sound like it was not a big deal. "In my defense, the bottles look exactly the same."  

Before Alastor could process what he’d just heard, Vox pulled the toy out completely and shoved it back in with one smooth, motion. "See?" 

"What the hell, Vox?" Alastor ground out, his voice trembling.  

Vox laughed, clearly enjoying himself. "Sorry, but like I said, they look the same." Without wasting any time he let go of the bottle and started pumping the toy again. This time at a faster pace but always keeping it as deep as he could, making short but deep thrusts. The sudden onslaught left Alastor reeling, his body jolting with every thrust. He tried to suppress the sounds threatening to escape, but few broken moans slipped out anyway. The heat was too much, the toy burning inside him in a way that made him feel overstimulated and desperate all at once.

"You wanted faster, right?" Vox teased, as he picked up the pace, making longer thrusts now, mesmerized by the way Alastor's soft moans filled the room. They were so unexpected, so utterly him, and yet they caught Vox off guard. He was used to women being vocal, but men? Most men just grunted or went all ‘oh yeah you like that’.  Alastor didn’t even seem to realize how much noise he was making and each broken gasp and muffled whimper send a jolt straight to Vox’s cock.

"Why don’t you let go of your poor arms…" Vox suggested. "And touch your dick instead?"

Alastor was beyond embarrassed at the vulgar suggestion. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to, or needed to do it, but he was mortified at the thought of doing this in front of someone else. But he hesitantly released his grip on his arms. As he did, he realized how stiff his fingers were, his forearms aching from holding himself so tightly.

"That's it." Vox encouraged, slowing down the dildo’s pace as Alastor’s hand wrapped hesitantly around himself. The moment his fingers brushed his cock, he whimpered.

"Keep going."

His hand moved in slow, trembling strokes, each motion almost too much for his hypersensitive body. His thighs jerked involuntarily, and he froze, breath hitching.

"Too much." He whimpered, his hand faltering.

"Oh? Too much? After begging me to go faster just a minute ago?" Vox’s voice was mocking, teasing. "Don’t stop now. Keep going."

He pushed the toy slightly deeper, testing Alastor’s reaction. But when Alastor didn’t respond he gently removed the toy, watching with satisfaction as Alastor gasped in relief. "Let’s take a 5." He suggested, his hand trailing soothingly up and down his thigh, enjoying how the muscles twitched under his touch.

"I.." Alastor struggled to form words, his breaths coming in shaky gulps. Without the toy inside him, the heat was less intense, but still burned faintly, making his legs weak. The repeated motion of Vox's hand was driving him insane so he swatted it away and brought his hands under his thighs as he sat up, knees pulled tightly to his chest. Vox let his hand fall away without protest. He pulled back, taking in the sight before him. With his knees tucked in defensively and his tail curling inwards, he found Alastor extremely hot. But then concern crept in.

"Baby? Are you okay? Oh fuck- are you mad at me? Please talk to me. Baby? Al?"  

Alastor’s eye twitched at the relentless barrage of questions. "Can you shut up for a second?" He snapped, voice rising in frustration. "I’m fine, you idiot! You moron! Just shut up!" He said the last part, or maybe the whole thing, in rapid French, a clear sign of his irritation.  

Vox blinked, caught off guard but relieved regardless. "Okay, okay, Just checking, I’ll shut up." 

And he did shut up. 

For five seconds.  

"…Was that French?" He asked and Alastor groaned, running a hand down his face.

"I don’t think I’ve ever heard you speak French before!" Vox said brightly. "I only know some broken Spanish."  

"Good grief, Vox! Is this really the time to discuss languages!?"

"Probably not, but it’s a fun fact, isn’t it?"

Alastor couldn’t believe the absurdity of the situation. Here they were, naked, rock hard, and Vox wanted to bond over linguistic skills.»Just stop. Stop everything. Stop trying to make conversation and give me a moment to breathe."  

Vox gave him an enthusiastic thumbs up in response.

This idiot. Despite Alastor’s irritation, there was something oddly comforting about Vox’s attempts to lighten the mood. The silence that followed was a welcome relief, though it also left him feeling strangely restless. He pressed his forehead more firmly against his knees, trying to focus on his breathing. After a few moments, he allowed himself to glance at Vox. To his surprise, he was still behaving. 

Vox raised a hand as if asking for permission to speak. "You’re kinda…looking at me like you want to kill me, or eat me alive."

Alastor blinked, his lips twitching into a faint, exasperated smile. "And if I did, you’d let me do both."

"I would absolutely let you."

"Are you that desperate for me to snap your neck in half?" his voice was soft, teasing. Just the way Vox liked it. 

"Maybe," Vox admitted. "Maybe I’d thank you for it."

Alastor reached out, his hands trailing slowly up Vox’s chest before resting on his neck.

"How sweet. You’ll really do anything I tell you do?" Alastor whispered, enjoying how Vox melted under his touch. 

"Anything you want," Vox whispered back, feeling Alastor’s fingers down his neck. "Name it, and I’ll do it."

"Such dedication, so eager to please," he slipped his hands behind Vox’s neck and gently pulled him closer. "Lucky for you, all I want right now is for you to finish what you started."

He dragged him down, adjusting his position, planting his legs on either side of Vox once again.

"Are you sure?" Vox checked and Alastor let out soft laugh. "You’re wasting time Vox."

He gulped. "I just don’t want you to freak out on me again."

"Aren’t you sweet," Alastor said mockingly, "My little worshiper, so careful and worried about me." Vox gaze flicked nervously to the nightstand. His instinct was to grab another toy to further prepare Alastor, but before he could reach, Alastor’s hand shot out to stop him.  

"I don’t want anymore silicone in me." Alastor said simply. 

Sweet lord. The way Alastor spoke, so casual, so playful would live rent free in his head forever, "I just don’t want to hurt you," he explained, his voice cracking slightly.  

"Maybe I want it to hurt." Alastor teased, his grin sharpening.  

Oh

"Okay!" Vox said, his heart racing. "I’ll just grab the normal lube, okay got it. It’s the normal one. I think?" he brought the bottle closer to his screen. "Yep, yep it is, I also have one with a numbing effect. And  flavoured condoms. Wait do you want me to use a condom? If you do I also have some very fun ones with spikes on them, unless you don’t want them, and that’s okay! The normal ones are fine."

Alastor cut him off. "You’re far too invested in those silly little toys of yours. I want none of these fancy things, just the normal kind of protection. No toys, no spikes, no numbness, just you. Do you think you can handle that?"

"Yeah, yeah of course," Vox stammered, his words stumbling over each other. "I can-I’ll be careful. So careful. God, you’re so sexy, you’re so sexy and perfect and you know that, don’t you?" he was desperately trying to get a condom wrapper open and Alastor chuckled, leaning back against the pillows with a satisfied smile. "You’re a mess," he said, watching Vox fighting to open the wrapper. "I’m just lying here, and you’ve already lost the ability to think straight. Do you really think you can behave and be careful like you promised?" he asked, his voice low as he spread his legs slightly.

"Y-yeah?" Vox replied. "Just tell me if I fuck up." He somehow managed to put the condom on.

"Oh don’t worry about me. I won’t let you hurt me."

Vox swallowed hard and whispered, mostly to himself, "Okay. Okay, I got this,"  he can’t mess this up. He can’t mess this- "Just stay vocal."

"I did promise to judge your every move, didn’t I?"

"Right. Right, you did," Vox said, grabbing a pillow and carefully placing it under Alastor’s hips. His fingers trembled as they brushed Alastor’s skin. He held him cautiously by the hips, trying to steady himself. "Okay. Okay." 

Slowly, and so so carefully, he began to push himself inside.

Alastor gasped as Vox entered him, the sensation unlike anything he’d felt before. It was… different, not like the dildo. Vox paused halfway, "Are you-are you okay?" he asked, eyes locked onto Alastor’s face, searching for any hint of distress. "It’s…not like the toy." Alastor replied, dodging the question as he concentrated on his breathing.

"Yeah no, it’s not." He pushed in a little deeper, still moving carefully.

"I’m bigger," Vox said, his voice taking on a cocky edge he couldn’t quite suppress. "But that’s good, right? More for you to enjoy."

Alastor let out a shaky laugh at the cocky tone and shut his eyes further. "Besides size, why do you feel different than the toy? Explain it to me. Talk to me."

"Because," he croaked, his words punctuated by a shallow thrust. "It’s the angle." He continued, pushing in further, "And the curve. The toy didn’t have that, did it?"

"Vox." Alastor gasped, voice shaky, "I can’t believe I’m saying this, but don’t stop talking to me."

"I won’t, I won’t," he promised, giving an experimental short thrust. "Tell me what you want."

"I-I don’t know," Alastor breathed out, his breathing uneven. "Just  keep talking to me."

"Okay, okay," he said, keeping the pace slow and controlled. "You like the toy talk, right?"

"Mmm."

"Okay, the toy doesn’t have any texture right?" he did another shallow thrust, the movement making Alastor shiver. Another soft sound escaped Alastor’s throat, his back arching slightly as Vox started to push deeper into him. 

"And it doesn’t throb, does it?" Vox asked, moving his hips, trying to build a slow, deep rhythm.

"No… no, it doesn’t," Alastor replied, his breaths turning into soft gasps.

The sight of him, the way he squeezed him, the shameless sounds coming from his lips, drove Vox to the edge. "You’re doing so good," he whispered hoarsely, his hand moving down Alastor’s stomach to wrap around his arousal and Alastor let out a small gasp at the sudden touch, "So good." The rhythm of Vox’s hand soon matched his hips. 

"I think I’m… I’m getting close." Vox muttered, his thrusts growing a bit uneven. "Just stay with me."

"I can’t." Alastor gasped, his hands gripping Vox’s shoulders. At his words Vox’s entire body trembled with the effort it took to hold himself still. "Okay. Do you…do you want me to pull out?" he asked, voice shaky.

Alastor took a deep, trembling breath, his body still tense but far from panicked. "No, no just don’t move."

"Okay," Vox whispered, his voice low and soothing. "I won’t. Take your time."

Alastor closed his eyes, focusing on Vox’s voice and the weight of his body. "Talk to me," he begged. "Just… keep talking."

"About what?"

"Anything."

Vox swallowed hard. "I can do that. Uh…okay um, want me to tell you about shark migration?"

That made Alastor open his eyes. 

"…"

"…"

"An enjoyer of sea life, I see."

"Uh yeah? Sea life is awesome, oh fuck I haven’t shown you my sharks yet. I’ve got two of them. You’d love Vark, you can pet him for hours."

"You pet the shark?" Alastor asked, his tone teasing even as he worked to calm his breathing. "Really Vox?"

"Yeah I do," Vox shot back, smiling despite the situation. "They have this very smooth skin."

"You’re going to get your hand bit off and hope I’m there when it happens."

"Ha! That won’t happen. I’m a responsible pet owner," he bragged. "And for your information, sharks are actually very chill, they don’t just bite."  

"Oh, I’m sure they don’t."

"You have no appreciation for sea life or animals. You only like blood." He kept his tone playful, as he noticed Alastor’s body relaxing.  

"Mostly your blood," he replied, the lingering sensation of Vox inside him making him feel oddly warm and fuzzy. "You want to continue?"  he asked.

"Sure, but I’m okay with the cockwarming as well."  

"Cockwarming," Alastor repeated, his voice pitching slightly higher than he intended.  

Vox smirked. "It’s when-"  

"The name is pretty self-explanatory," Alastor interrupted and then met out an exasperated sigh. "How much more vulgar can you get?"  

Vox laughed, his eyes gleaming as he watched Alastor’s hands wander down his own waist. 

"Well? go on then."  

God he loved the sound of Alastor’s voice, all rough and sexy. His hands moved back to grip Alastor’s hips firmly, and with a swift, decisive motion, he began to move again.  

He soon built a steady rhythm of rough movements, and Alastor felt his chest heaving as the pleasure increased with each hard, relentless thrust. His hand digging into his arms as Vox’s hips kept slamming into him.   

Vox then forced one of Alastor’s thighs to press down against the mattress, locking him into a tighter position and he groaned at the sensation, the new angle making everything tighter, hotter.

"You’re taking me so well."

Alastor wanted to protest at the god awful commentary but  decided against it, not wanting to ruin the relentless pace. Soon, Vox’s movements grew faster, rougher, more desperate, than Vox froze suddenly. "Wait," he panted. "Fuck, I think the condom broke."  

Alastor, needed a moment to register the words. "What?"  

"The condom," Vox repeated, doing an experimental thrust to double check. "I think it broke."  

Alastor blinked, the realization sinking in. "Oh," he paused, meeting Vox’s gaze. "Well, take it off and keep going."  

"You sure?" Vox asked, surprised.

"Yes, I’m sure. What, are you scared of? Getting me pregnant or catching something?"

Vox let out a breathless laugh. "Sorry for asking I guess." He pulled out briefly, letting go of Alastor’s hip to remove the condom or him. Alastor tried to close his legs, but his body refused to cooperate. His thighs trembled, sore and shaky from being held open for so long. He let out a soft, frustrated huff.  

And with that out of the way,Vox thrusted back in and the pace he set was relentless. Each thrust was deep, hard, and perfectly angled. Alastor closed his eyes, his body completely surrendering to the new sensations. 

"I’m close," Vox whispered, his voice low and strained as he tried to maintain the brutal pace.  

Alastor opened one of his eyes. "Congratulations," he replied, and Vox blinked down at him in disbelief. "Did you seriously just say ‘congratulations’?"  

"How else am I supposed to react to this information?"

"I don’t know! Maybe tell me if you want me to finish inside or not?" Vox replied, his voice pitched slightly higher with exasperation.  

Alastor laughed at that, a breathy mix of a gasp and a chuckle. "Oh, I thought that was a given."

Good heavens. 

Vox swallowed, his pace picking up again as he took Alastor’s words as permission. "And you’ll just, let me?"  

"Mmm," Alastor replied "Are you going to take much longer?" he asked, the overstimulation was starting to get a bit too much.  

"Ah, fuck, don’t stress me out right now!" Vox pleaded.  

Alastor smirked, he always loved finding new ways to torment Vox. "Just hurry up already." He commanded. 

"Well like, I’m trying!" Vox snapped, his voice cracking slightly under the pressure.  

"Well try harder Vox!" He taunted as some sharp gasps escaped him.  

"Al, come on, shut up for a sec." He begged, all raw and desperate.

"Oh for hell’s sake, Vox," Alastor said, his voice trembling as the sensations overwhelmed him. "You’re a man, Is it really that hard for you to finish?"  

"Well It’s a lot harder when you keep talking and stressing me out!" He could feel himself overheating.

"For crying out loud Vox. Just finish already!"

"You know what?" Vox sneered. "You first! Go on, let’s see you finish!"  

He stopped moving and Alastor’s mouth snapped shut. He was not expecting Vox to turn the tables, or for his own overstimulation to creep up on him.

"What’s the matter, Al?" Vox mocked. "I thought it wasn’t that difficult. Just finish already."  

He started moving again, enjoying how Alastor tried to keep a poker face while he was balls deep inside him. "Aw, does my baby need help?" he teased, letting his hand slide down, then wrapping it firmly around Alastor’s length. A slow, teasing stroke earned him a sweet, involuntary gasp.  

"N-no." He bit out, his pride visibly fracturing as his body jolted at the sensations, unable to stop the sounds that escaped him as Vox’s hand picked up a steady rhythm.  

"Come on, Al. Just finish already, it’s not that difficult," he teased and started moving his hips again and Alastor was dying of humiliation. He squeezed his eyes shut, hands burying in his hair as he fought against his own body’s overwhelming demands.  

Vox’s hand slowed down, his grip loosening as he tried to ease Alastor’s tension. "Just focus on my voice."  

Alastor squirmed, his body trembling under the overstimulation. "Stop talking like that, It’s embarrassing."  

Vox shifted, momentarily pulling back. "Hang on. I need more lube."  

"Don’t tell me!" Alastor whined with a shaky exhale.

Vox savoured his shyness, he applied a generous amount of lube on him and carefully pushed back in, resuming his favourite rhythm. Hard and deep.

"This is so humiliating." Alastor mumbled, hands gripping his hair.

"It’s not humiliating, It’s just sex. This is how sex ends." Vox’s tone softened again but kept his movements nice and steady, enjoying how Alastor’s little gasps matched his thrusts. He could tell he was close, his cock throbbing and leaking in his hand. 

He started moving faster, his strokes matching the rhythm and Alastor let out a sharp gasp, his body arching. His breathing turned frantic, his voice breaking. "Vox wait, wait-I-"   

Vox could tell the exact second Alastor came, feeling him squeeze  around him. He stopped moving not cause he wanted to but cause things got suffocatingly tight. Alastor shuddered as pleasure crashed over him, leaving his legs shaky and numb. Vox started to move again and Alastor’s body jerked in protest, his eyes shot open, and he let out a sharp hiss. "I know, I know." Vox said, his voice shaky as he tried to string the words together. "Just give me a second, I’m so close."  

Alastor clenched his teeth as each thrust sent jolts of overstimulation through him, his body tried to squirm away instinctively, but Vox held him firmly in place. "Just a moment, give me a moment." He repeated, his hips moving on their own. He then grabbed Alastor’s thighs, pulling them closer, successfully creating an intense tight grip around him and then pressed down on Alastor’s hips, completely pinning him down as he moved faster and faster.

Soon, his body shuddered as he thrusted deep one final time. His hips stuttered and he buried himself as deep as he could go. He stayed there as waves of pleasure coursed through him snd Alastor felt it, the sudden heat filling him. He tried to make sense of the sensation. It was strange, quite uncomfortable, but at the same time, almost intimate. 

Alastor stayed quiet, his breathing coming in shallow gasps. He kept his eyes closed but he could already picture the dumb, wide smile that was probably plastered all over Vox’s stupid flat face.  

Sure enough, Vox had that dazed, wide smile on his stupid flat face. He slowly came down from his high and pulled out, his movements slow and careful, not wanting to push Alastor’s limits any further.   

Alastor winced at that, too humiliated to meet his gaze just yet. He wanted to disappear, mostly to clean himself, but his body wouldn’t cooperate. Instead, he stayed there, Vox laid beside him, watching the rise and fall of his chest. His legs trembled as he moved to sit up, his muscles protesting at the effort. Vox mirrored his movements, sitting up as well, before reaching to grab Alastor’s hand and pressing it against his chest.  

"Alastor, I lo—"

Before he could finish, the unmistakable sound of Britney Spears Toxic blasted from inside the tower.

With a sharp crack of his neck, Alastor turned to glare at Vox, his look murderous. "Vox, dear," he hissed through clenched teeth, his grip tightening around Vox’s hand. "Are the other two in the tower?"

Vox blinked, a nervous laugh escaping him. "Uh…well…" he stuttered, trying to gently pull his hand away. "Well, you know. They kind of, live here?"

Alastor’s hand squeezed harder.  

"Ow-ouch! Al that’s my good han-ow!" Vox yelped, trying to pry his hand free.  

"Did you really not think to mention that before we decided to do this?" Alastor snapped, his voice rising.  

"They’re on the third floor getting cocked up! We’re on the seventh floor! It’s fine! Ouch, Al-ouch!"  

Finally, Alastor released his hand, though his sharp glare remained.

"We weren’t quiet at all! I’ll kill you-I’ll actually kill you!" He lunged, his hands going at Vox’s neck, and Vox took a hold of his wrists, trying to keep Alastor’s hands away.  

"Baby, you’re overreacting!" Vox protested, his tone something between pleading and defensive. "Those two are probably so high they don’t even know what’s going on!"  

Alastor’s ears twitched at the faint sound of another voice from downstairs, the unmistakable voice  of Angel joining that cursed karaoke session."I’m not overreacting!" Alastor spat, he wiggled his hands free, grabbed Vox by the shoulders and started shaking him. "You’re the one who conveniently forgot to mention they are other people here! You idiot! You moron! You-"  

"You’re so hot when you’re mad."  

"Shut up!" Alastor barked, pushing him down onto the bed, muttering curses in multiple languages.

"Okay, okay! But seriously, the tower has crazy soundproofing! I promise, no one heard us! You can only listen to them cause they have the windows open"  

"Oh, really?"  

"Yes!" Vox said quickly. 

"Let’s test it then!" He went for Vox’s neck again and Vox rolled out of the way just in time, accidentally falling off the bed.  

The attempted strangling continued for a while, though Vox knew it was more of a dramatic act at this point. Eventually, Alastor’s urge to clean himself became too strong, and he decided to spare him for now. Vox, out of the goodness of his heart, offered to join him in the shower to help him clean up. But was he thanked for his noble act of pure altruism? Of course not.
No direct confirmation came regarding their so called arrangement. Alastor hadn’t said a word about whether their ridiculous, chaotic thing would continue. But Vox knew better. The fact that Alastor hadn’t killed him yet spoke volumes. Also the fact he agreed to spend the night there was a small indication that their agreement was probably, hopefully, still on.

Chapter Text

The Vee Tower was the kind of place that made Alastor feel profoundly out of place. He found it kitsch, uselessly spacious, flashy, excessive, and utterly devoid of any subtlety. But most of all, he hated to admit that if he had woken up all alone in his hotel room instead of this tacky place, he’d definitely driven himself mad by overthinking everything. Not that he wasn’t doing that now! But at least Vox’s presence was a nice distraction.

He could hear Vox’s voice coming from what he assumed was the kitchen, talking on the phone with his assistant, his confident voice tired and strained, since had stayed up with him almost the entire night, like some self-appointed watchdog, just to make sure he was ‘alright.’ Of course, Alastor had stayed up even later, pushing his own limits, just to watch Vox desperately trying to blink himself awake.

As irritating as he could be, Alastor had to admit Vox knew how to handle him. He was so infuriatingly patient, persistent, and surprisingly unfazed by his quirks. No matter how ridiculous he acted, Vox always found a way to adapt. The thought was reassuring, comforting even.

But, naturally, as soon as comfort threatened to settle in, a sinister thought crept into his mind. What if Vox came back, only to find him gone? That would be fun. Oh, the questions he’d ask himself. Did I offend him? Was it something I said? His smile sharpened at the thought. He could almost hear Vox pacing up and down these gaudy halls, drowning in his insecurities. 

Oddly enough, he decided to stay within this peculiar sense of comfort. Then again, maybe disappearing and never speaking of this ever again would be just as satisfying.

Before he could dwell on this any longer, Vox appeared with two mugs in hand, setting one down in front of Alastor and keeping the other for himself.

"Still not a fan of tea, I presume?" Alastor asked, picking up the mug and inspecting it briefly before taking a sip of the hot tea.

"Absolutely not," Vox replied, settling on the chair across from him.

"Yes, I can tell," he glanced at the white mug in his hands. "You see, you don’t use a white mug for black tea. It stains."

"Noted," Vox said, taking a slow sip of his coffee, his gaze inevitably drifted toward Alastor. The silk robe he’d lent him hung loosely on his slender frame, slipping off one shoulder in a way that was both elegant and terribly sensual. "Are you okay? Everything good?" he asked, his tone casual, though the sincerity was unmistakable.

"Why wouldn’t I be?" Alastor replied, his eyebrow arching slightly.

Sensing that Alastor’s mood wasn’t anything dire, Vox visibly relaxed. "Just checking. You’re not exactly forward when something’s wrong, you know."

Alastor hummed noncommittally, taking another sip of tea. "Don’t worry, I’ll be sure to inform you if I feel the urge to fall apart over breakfast."

Vox chuckled, deciding to let the subject drop for now. "You want something to eat? We’ve got literally everything here. Just name it."

Alastor tapped the side of his mug thoughtfully. "Some more honey for this tea would be nice. And I’ve grown fond of some awful butter cookies we serve at the hotel, do you have anything like that here, or are they too simple for your ‘expensive taste’?"

"No, we definitely have something like that here. Wait," he said, looking around the room. "Kitty! Come here for a second."

Alastor almost choked on his tea.

"Oh no, don’t worry! We’re alone. She’s not, like, alive!" Vox said with a wave of his hand, as if that explained everything.

Seconds later, a robotic assistant strutted into view, and sure enough, Alastor found it as flashy and overdesigned as the rest of the tower.

"Kitty, can you bring me some honey and some butter cookies from the kitchen, please?" Vox asked sweetly. Kitty didn’t respond verbally but complied immediately, heading toward the kitchen.

Alastor tilted his head, watching her leave. "I thought these things were supposed to be more…talkative."

"They are," Vox replied. "But her voice box broke and she’s from the Greed Ring. Those assholes make their parts proprietary, so any voice box I use on her doesn’t get recognized by her system."

Alastor let out a small laugh at the unexpected backstory. "Her, you say?"

Soon, Kitty returned, placing a jar of honey, a spoon, and a packet of butter cookies on the table. Vox beamed at her. "Thank you, Kitty."

Alastor stared at him. "Vox, I can’t believe you’re saying please and thank you to a pile of metal."

"Hey!" Vox protested, looking genuinely offended. "She is not a pile of metal, she’s more alive than you think, okay? And AIs cooperate way better when you’re nice to them."

Alastor stifled a laugh, spooning honey into his tea. "What do you even like about her? Her ‘unique’ personality or her ‘charming’ looks?"

Vox let out an offended gasp yet again and turned to Kitty, placing his hand on her shoulder and pulling her closer protectively. "Why are you so mean to her?! And for your information, we keep her offline, but even like that, she’s very smart!"

"Oh dear, I had forgotten how much you appreciate tacky electronics," Alastor teased, taking another bite of the cookie.

"She’s not tacky!"

Alastor paused mid-sip as Kitty’s head turned toward him, her gaze locking onto his face. "Why does she stare at me like that?" he asked, his smile fading into suspicion.

"She’s just trying to analyze you," Vox explained. "Your constant smile must be throwing her off."

Alastor turned fully to face her, tilting his head slightly. "Well, I’m flattered to be the subject of her analysis."

He kept staring back at Kitty, determined to win this little staring contest. A few moments later, Kitty tilted her head and looked back at Vox, seemingly confused.

"What’s wrong, Kitty?" Vox asked. Kitty turned her head back to Alastor for a moment, then back to Vox. After emitting a confused beeping sound, she spun on her heel and quickly marched out of the room.

Alastor chuckled softly and took another sip of his tea. "Well, looks like I’ve made quite the impression on your little helper."

"She usually doesn’t react to people like that. Congratulations, you broke her."

"Good," Alastor said smugly, he had just set his mug on the table when the alarm on Vox’s phone went off, buzzing against the surface. "Ah, what a shame, our little morning tête-à-tête must come to an end after all."

Vox turned off the alarm and set the phone back on the table. "Yeah, poor you. Back to the dull life of the Happy Hotel until next week," he said casually, testing the waters.

Alastor’s eyes narrowed playfully, not missing the implicit offer beneath the words. "Ah, ah! It’s Hazbin Hotel now," he corrected.

Vox smiled back at him, relieved. "Yes, my bad. Hazbin Hotel. Much catchier."

"Thank you! It was my idea, you know," he said proudly, placing a hand on his chest.

"I never doubt that." Vox murmured, getting up and typing a quick message to his assistant.

Without warning, Alastor reached out, placing his fingers gently on top of the phone’s screen, effectively blocking it. "Could I, perhaps, get a kiss goodbye?" he asked, his voice soft and sweet.

Vox’s heart skipped a beat at the unexpected request. "Sure! Let me just—"

Alastor yanked him by the collar of his jacket, pulling him in and kissing him with surprising force. Vox melted into the kiss almost immediately, his hands finding Alastor’s waist, feeling his warm body under his robe. He deepened the kiss, his pulse quickening as he pressed their bodies together. Alastor then broke the kiss just enough to whisper, "Bite me."

Vox, already entranced, obeyed without thinking. He found a spot on Alastor’s neck and bit down gently. Alastor let out a soft, muffled moan and the sound going straight to Vox’s head.

"Harder," Alastor dared.

After a moment's hesitation, Vox soothed the faint mark with a lick, then bit down on the same spot. When he heard that soft moan again he let go, giving the mark a small kiss and Alastor laughed softly, then loudly. Vox pulled back, confused.

Following Alastor’s gaze, he turned around to find Kitty standing a few feet away, frozen in place with a feather duster in hand.

"Can you stop traumatising kitty!"

He turned back to Kitty, her attention fixed on the bite mark on Alastor’s neck.

"Don’t worry, Kitty," he said quickly, raising his hands in reassurance. "He’s fine, I’m fine, we’re both fine."

Before he could even catch his breath, Alastor yanked him back in, pulling him into another kiss that was far more intense than the first. Vox could faintly hear Kitty’s confused beeping in the background, and Alastor loved the fact that he was probably giving Kitty the equivalent of a heart attack. 

"Well! That was fun." Alastor said abruptly, breaking the kiss, pushing Vox away. "Off to work you go now!"

Vox stumbled slightly, catching himself on the table, looking thoroughly done with him.

"Oh, cheer up, Vox," Alastor teased. "You act like that’s the worst thing she’s witnessed in this place."

"Okay, fair enough," he admitted with a sigh, straightening his jacket. "Just don’t mess with her anymore, alright? Let her do her thing."

Alastor tilted his head, confused. "Aha. That sounds like you’re planning on leaving me here."

"…"

"…"

"You’re not planning on leaving me here, are you?" Alastor asked, wide eyed.

"Oh, I am," Vox replied casually, checking the time on his phone.

Alastor laughed, clearly unconvinced. "You’re not worried I’ll burn the place down? Snoop around? Find things I could very easily use against you and the other two idiots?"

"Look around all you want. And if you get bored, we’ve got a cinema room upstairs," he offered. "And It’s riiiight next to a mini bar. Oh, we also have a gym if you want. And a pool! Just ask Kitty, she’ll show you around."

"Stop explaining," Alastor cut him off. "I have to get back to the hotel."

"I know, I know," Vox replied. "But just in case you wanna stay-"

"I don’t."

"Alright," Vox said, raising his hands in surrender. "Just don’t wreak too much havoc while I’m gone."

Alastor’s eyes narrowed in disbelief. "You’re seriously trusting me to stay here alone? Are you insane?"

"Let’s just say I’m not as big of an idiot as you think I am," Vox replied, carefully adjusting the robe slipping off Alastor’s shoulder. "And let’s be honest, how much damage can you really cause in a few hours?" He raised his hand, giving Alastor’s cheek a soft tap-tap and followed it with a tender kiss to the same spot. "Have fun." 

And just like that, he disappeared, leaving Alastor standing there, stunned into silence. How dare he show him such an overwhelming amount of trust and then vanish into thin air like it was nothing. He touched his cheek, and even though there was no trace of saliva, he still wiped it with the back of his hand.

This made no sense. Sure, there had been moments of vulnerability between them, maybe more than a few, but this? It had to be a test. Or a trap. A setup to catch him in the act. 

He walked back to Vox’s room, briefly looking at all the expensive furniture and personal possessions just lying around. Was Vox truly that stupid, or was there some other game being played?

Scoffing to himself, he removed Vox’s robe and dressed back into his normal clothes. He clutched his staff and turned away from the absurdity of Vox’s domain. 

Back at the hotel, a sense of familiarity washed over him. It wasn’t much, but the quiet corridors felt like a safe haven compared to the unpredictable mess he’d just left behind. He made his way back to his room, his footsteps light. The last thing he needed right now was to run into someone in this fragile state. But then, as if on cue, the soft sound of a door clicking open made him stop dead in his tracks.

He glanced over his shoulder to see who it was, and his eyes landed on Husk, who seemed to be stuck in place.

That was odd. That wasn’t Husk’s room. That was Angel’s—

Oh.

Oh.

This was good. Considering the time, it was safe to assume Husk had spent the night there, probably helping Angel sober up, or other things.

"Having fun, aren't we?" Alastor whispered.

Husk groaned inwardly, cursing his luck. "None of your business."

Alastor bent down with a sharp smile. "Oh, I beg to differ. It’s most definitely my business. Did you spend the night here?"

"Yeah, I spent the night at the hotel, unlike some."

Alastor's expression wavered for a moment before regaining his composure. He had underestimated Husk's ability to notice the slightest change in his habits.

"Clever observation, Husker. But I assure you, my whereabouts last night are nothing important. Whereas your little sleepover seems worth discussing."

Husk raised an eyebrow. "So does that bite mark on your neck."

Alastor straightened back up. "Ha! Don’t be ridiculous. This is just a small injury."

Husker gave Alastor a skeptical look, clearly not fooled. "You expect me to believe that? I’m not blind, you know."

Alastor didn’t break eye contact, speaking through clenched teeth, "Yet."

Husk knew better than to push Alastor, even though he seemed to be in a good mood. "Just thought I’d let you know that whatever that is, it’s visible."

"Thank you for the observation!" Alastor said with full sarcasm. "Truly, your keen eye is a blessing."

"Any time, Al. Always here to point out the obvious."

"Yes, yes. You’re the epitome of observation. But if we’re done with your little commentary, I have better things to do, and you have to go and be a little bartender."

"Yessir," Husk said lazily, before making his way down the hallway.

Alastor watched him go, already plotting revenge. He adjusted his collar to ensure the bitemark was fully hidden and continued to his room.

Once inside, he caught his reflection in the mirror. His fingers immediately brushed over the faint mark on his neck. He pressed his fingers against it, making it sting. Vox’s presence lingered on him, in more ways than one.

He had never allowed himself to get close to anyone, especially not like this. Yet Vox had somehow managed to do just that. He couldn’t quite make sense of it. He hated how natural it felt, how unbothered he was by everything that happened between them. It was a strange comfort that almost made him uneasy. A few minutes passed in silence before he withdrew his fingers from the mark, pulling himself out of his thoughts and decided to go on with his day like he normally would.

Soon enough, the hotel started to buzz with its usual chaos, providing him with a nice and peaceful distraction, it was the usual routine: helping Charlie, avoiding Nifty’s cleaning spray, and enjoying Husk’s misery.

Around noon, that calm was broken when Angel strutted in, holding a bouquet of flowers someone had delivered to their front door. His heart skipped a beat when he noticed the electric blue ribbon tied around it. Oh for hell’s sake. 

Angel proudly placed the bouquet on a table, quickly drawing attention from everyone around him.

"Pretty." Nifty held up her spray bottle and sprayed one of the roses.

"Hey!" Angel said, moving the bouquet out of her reach.

"Who sent that?" Vaggie asked, narrowing her eyes suspiciously.

"Ugh, who do you think? Val’s been bothering me all week," Angel grumbled, reaching for the card that came with the flowers. Alastor appeared next to him in an instant, snatching the bouquet from the table and holding it out of reach.

"Angel! What do you think you’re doing?!"

Everyone turned to look at him in a mix of surprise and confusion.

"…I’m trying to read the card?" Angel replied.

"Didn’t we say you’d limit contact with Valentino?" He asked in a condescending tone. 

"I am! I haven’t seen him outside of work for weeks!" Angel said, his voice a tad too defensive.

Alastor raised an eyebrow. Oh, have you now?

"Come on, smiles, free stuff. Plus, if I ignore him, he’ll just send more things," Angel added, trying to grab the bouquet once more, but Alastor held it out of his reach again.

"You’re hindering your progress, dear! I'm doing this for you!" Alastor insisted.

"I just want the flowers!" Angel whined.

"No means no, Angel! Do you want to upset poor Charlie?" Alastor said dramatically, gesturing toward Charlie, who was watching the scene with a nervous look on her face.

"And if you like flowers so much, we can always plant some for you." Alastor added, and Charlie gasped, her face lighting up. "That’s a wonderful idea!"

Angel groaned, his arms crossing in defeat as Alastor used Charlie against him.

"Ugh, okay fine! But you better make ‘em look good," Angel muttered.

"Of course! We can plant them in the front yard!"

"Yes, that sounds splendid. It’ll add a touch of color to the hotel," Alastor said, watching as Charlie excitedly began asking Angel about his favorite flowers.

He quickly went back to his room, leaving the bouquet on his bed. He rubbed his temples, feeling a headache coming. That idiot. That cheesy fucking idiot.

He muttered under his breath, glaring at the flowers. He eyed the small card attached to the bouquet, reluctantly picking it up and tearing the envelope open. The front of the card was decorated with a small "V" written in neat handwriting, with a little red heart next to it.

Goddammit. He wasn’t going to get flustered by a piece of paper.

He grabbed the bouquet again and then his staff. God, he’d strangle Vox. No. Skin him alive. Yes. No. He’d come up with something when he got there, he thought, and appeared to Vox’s office.

Vox jolted for a second when he saw him, almost dropping his phone. He then raised a finger at Alastor, silently asking him to keep quiet until he finished his call.

Naturally, Alastor ignored him.

"Don’t hush me!" Alastor hissed.

Vox immediately pressed the phone to his chest, muffling the receiver. "Al," his tone holding a sharp edge, but then relaxed and let out a strained chuckle. "Al, baby, this is so important. So please, can you just-"

"Don’t baby me!" Alastor yelled, louder this time, causing a loud screech of static to burst from Vox’s phone.

"Al!" He yelled back. "Don’t mess with the signal now! Give me one minute."

Alastor started tapping his foot on the floor impatiently. "One minute."

Vox returned to his call, and after what felt like an eternity, he set the phone down and turned to Alastor, his trademark smile already in place. 

"Yes, my baby?"

Alastor’s eye twitched. "Your baby? I’m not your ‘baby’! And what made you think you could send me flowers?" He slammed the bouquet onto the desk, several petals scattering.

Vox blinked, looking at the bouquet. "I did what?"

"This tacky bouquet!" Alastor snapped. "With your initial on the card!"

Realisation dawned on Vox as he put the pieces together."Oh, wait no. No, those weren't for you. Those were from Val, for Angel."

"What?" Alastor asked, still suspicious.

Vox grabbed the bouquet and plucked out the card. Sure enough, it was Valentino’s handwriting. "Yep. He’s been all over Angel since we broke up." His grip on the bouquet got more firm. "And you know the best part? He still has my card. He definitely used it to buy these. Fucking cheapskate."

A bright blue spark shot from Vox’s hand into the bouquet, igniting it and making vanish in a flash of light.

Alastor stood there for a moment, his anger subsiding. "Oh."

"Yeah, ‘Oh.’" Vox said.

"Well, I thought it was you."

"Me?" he laughed. "I’d never get you something so boring. I’m insulted you’d even think that." Then he paused. "Unless you want me to."

Alastor sighed, tempted to start rubbing his temples again. "No. No, I don’t."

"Why not? I’ll get you the best bouquet you’ve ever seen!"

"I don’t want any flowers! They are a waste of space and money."

"It’s not a waste if it’s for you." Vox countered smoothly. "I’ll buy you a whole field of flowers if you want!"

"You do realize this isn’t one of your dumb teen dramas, right!"

"As if a teenager could afford the things I can buy for you."

Alastor raised his voice slightly. "I don’t want you to buy me anything!"

"Let me spoil you and heal whatever trauma the Great Depression left you with."

Alastor let out a groan of pure frustration and collapsed into the chair in front of Vox’s desk, rubbing the spot between his eyes. Hard. "We’re in Hell, Vox. We’re two grown men. In Hell."

Vox chuckled. "So?"

Alastor muttered under his breath, barely audible, while Vox’s office door creaked open. Vox immediately spun Alastor’s chair, so he was out of view, then snapped his screen at the door, glaring at his poor assistant. "Didn’t I say not to disturb me for any reason, you useless idiot!"

His assistant tried to explain, but Vox cut him off. "Get the fuck out before I throw you out the window! Again!"  

His assistant quickly shut his mouth, not daring to challenge his boss’s unpredictable tendencies, and hurried out, closing the door behind him.

Alastor raised an eyebrow, slightly impressed. "Oh, so you are capable of acting like an actual overlord when you feel like it."  

Vox settled back in his chair, opening his laptop and typing away without breaking eye contact with Alastor. "You like me being all mean?"

Alastor huffed, crossing his arms. "Don’t put words in my mouth."  

"I could be a little mean to you, if you want. In the fun way."  

"No."  

"You sure?"

Without a word, Alastor raised his staff slightly, holding it like he might swing.

"Oh, come on, it could be fun!" Vox said. "Wanna give it a shot next week? I’m actually good at this."  

"I find it difficult to believe you’re good at something." He kept side eyeing Vox in his usual disapproving way. The idea was absurd, he found those dynamics so laughable. But maybe…trying it once wouldn’t hurt. Also, the thought of Vox saying all those horrible corny lines had it's appeal. 

Vox’s eyes widened in shock. "You’re actually considering this."

"I wouldn’t call it considering," Alastor said, waving a dismissive hand, "but perhaps- "

The sound of hurried footsteps approached, followed by a desperate knock on Vox’s office door. Vox hurried to the door, where he found an imp delivery worker out of breath, panting as if they'd run the whole way. Which they probably did. Vox didn’t waste any time, he snatched the bouquet, tipped the imp, and shut the door with a flick of his wrist.

He set the bouquet down on his desk, grinning at Alastor’s confused expression.  "Al. Baby. I was kidding, I just wanted to keep you here until this arrived."  

Alastor stiffened. "You were…what?"

"But hey, if you want to try!"

"I don’t!"

"But you just said-"

"Forget I said anything," Alastor cut him off, his tone leaving no room for argument. But Vox wasn’t about to let this opportunity slip away. He used his last card and dropped to his knees, clasping his hands together. "Please, let’s give it a shot! You don’t expect us to have boring missionary forever, now do you?"

"Don’t you have a filter?!"

Vox pressed on, determined. "Please, please, please. I’ll make myself look like a complete idiot. You can even record it and laugh at me later!"

"You’re a pathetic man, you know that, right?" Alastor yelled back.

"I know," Vox said, without a single shred of shame. "Don’t you love it? Look at me! I’m on my knees, begging. You’ve already won! So please, let me have this."

Alastor let out a long, suffering sigh. "Oh, for the love of-fine! Fine! But I better enjoy every single second this mess."

Vox jumped back to his feet in an instant, practically vibrating with excitement. "You won’t regret it. It’ll be amazing!"

He took the bouquet from the desk and held it for Alastor to take.

Alastor stared at the bouquet. "Didn’t I say I don’t like flowers?"

"Yeah, but these can’t wither or die. They’re eternal roses!" Vox announced triumphantly, putting them into Alastor’s hand anyway. "They just stay in a corner, all pretty and quiet. You should try it sometime."

Alastor didn’t bother with words. Instead, he swung the bouquet at Vox’s screen.

Pleased with himself, he turned around to leave, Vox’s chuckle following him out of the room.

Back in his hotel room, he placed the flowers on his vanity. He stood there for a moment, weighing his options. He could throw them out. Shred them. Burn them, even.

Instead, he sat down and materialized a nice vase for them.

This whole thing was absurd. He knew it. Yet, for some reason, the thought of meeting up with Vox again didn’t fill him with dread or anxiety. There was no reflexive instinct to pull away. He felt no need to distance himself.

Something was different, he could feel it. His old familiarity with Vox was slowly becoming something new. 

Perhaps,

Something real.

Chapter Text

Six days later, Alastor once again found himself in Vox’s bedroom. And once again, Vox was on his knees, this time desperately trying to get him to accept an ancient flip phone.

"I need a way to reach you between our meetings!" Vox pleaded, holding the phone up. "What if I have to reschedule? Or cancel?"

"No." Alastor said flatly.

"It’s ancient! I have zero control over it!" Vox desperately pressed on. "I just want to talk to you, send you dumb texts at 3 a.m., maybe a picture or–"

"No," Alastor repeated, crossing his arms and Vox let out a frustrated noise. "But I can’t go on like this anymore! You just disappear for days at a time, do you know what that does to me?!"

"If you want to see me so badly, come find me in person," Alastor replied coolly. 

Vox’s knees were starting to ache. "I can’t just show up at your stupid hotel every time I want to talk to you! And you want me to do what? Wait in the lobby while you decide whether I’m worth your time?"

"That would be ideal, yes."

"You realise someone’s eventually going to question that, right? Do you want to risk anyone finding out about this?" He gestured vaguely between them.

Alastor raised an eyebrow, which only encouraged Vox to keep going.

"Alright, fine," Vox said, shifting tactics. "How about this? You don’t have to use it all the time, just check it once a week. The day before we meet. And you don’t even have to respond! Just look at my texts. I promise, I’ll  message you only if it’s something important. Or, you know, an ‘I miss you,’ or ‘I’m bored, wanna hear what I’m wearing?’"

"You think that is going to convince me?"

Vox huffed and opened the phone, holding it higher. "Stop being difficult. Please?"

For a moment, Alastor simply stared at him, letting the silence stretch, just to make Vox feel humiliated a bit. Then, with an exaggerated sigh, he took the phone from Vox’s hand.

"Once a week. I’ll check the damned thing once a week," he declared, snapping the phone shut with a sharp click, which admittedly, was very satisfying.

"Don’t be so rough with it!" Vox said, pushing himself up from the floor with far more effort than he was comfortable with.

Alastor slid the phone into a pocket of his coat. "Relax, old things are built to last."

"Oh, I agree," Vox said, resting his elbow on Alastor’s shoulder. "I’m surprised you didn’t break a hip with the things I did to you."

Alastor was already regretting showing up at all. "Ah, yes. You must be referring to the, how did you call it? Boring missionary stuff?"

Vox grinned. "Yeah. But you didn’t seem bored at the time, in fact, you seemed very engaged."

Alastor shrugged his arm off his shoulder.

"But it won’t compare to what I’ll do to you today." Vox continued, smug as ever.

"Ah, yes. Your BSDM nonsense," he drawled. "Please, go ahead. I’m sure you’ll be as disappointing as usual, why I continue to let you mess with me like this is beyond me."

Vox raised a finger. "Actually, it’s BDSM."

Alastor gave him a flat look. "How informative. Thank you," he said dryly. "How shameful of me to mix up your precious acronym."

"Don’t be grumpy just because I know more than you." Vox said, strolling over to the windows and yanking the curtains shut. "Because I do. A lot more."

Alastor let out a slow, unimpressed hum. "Of course you do. And? What exactly do you have planned for today?"

"Nothing too extreme," Vox replied. "I’ll tie you up a little and then blindfold you. Keep it nice and simple."

"Ah," Alastor sighed. "How boring. I expected far more creativity from someone so insufferably self-assured."

"Oh, don’t worry." With a snap of Vox’s fingers, the LED lights around his room flickered to life, casting a cool glow around them. "I’ve got plenty of creativity saved for later. But for now, I just want you to get used to this."

Alastor scoffed. "Well, I suppose it’s my fault for expecting anything resembling innovation."

"Be careful with that sassy mouth of yours. More of that, and I might be tempted to stuff something down in it."

Alastor bristled at the remark, momentarily caught off guard. He expected his own irritation to flare, but instead, a sense of anticipation took place. He wasn’t sure what to make of it, but one thing was certain, he wanted to see where this led.

Vox reached for his shirt, idly tracing the shape of a pentagram over his chest. "I was thinking how you’d look stunning in a star harness," he mused. "Or a straitjacket harness."

"A straitjacket? Well, isn’t this becoming all kinds of kinky?"

"Don’t worry, it’s just a binding technique. Though, you could use the actual thing." His fingers worked a button loose. "The pentagram one is one of the most beautiful binds, it wraps around your chest, nice and tight, shaping a star."

He undid another button, watching closely for any sign of hesitation.

"I’ll make sure you’re completely immobile and helpless," he whispered, feeling the slight rise and fall of Alastor’s chest underneath his fingers. "Then I’ll have you all to myself, and I will do whatever I want to you."

"But don’t worry," Vox added, "If you get bored, or feel like slapping me midway, I’ll untie you right away.”

That small assurance settled a quiet worry Alastor hadn’t even realised was there. "How considerate," he said flatly. "And I’m just supposed to let you have your way with me?"

"That’s the point." Vox slid the shirt off his shoulders, satisfied to find bare skin underneath. "The ‘S’ in BDSM does stand for submission, after all. All you have to do is be a good boy and do as you’re told."

Alastor scoffed. "You think this is sexy? This sounds ridiculous."

Vox’s hands wandered over his chest, mentally calculating how much rope he’d need. "‘Good boy’ is the least ridiculous thing you’ll hear from me tonight, I did promise to embarrass myself for you, didn’t I?"

"Why yes. And I must say, you’ve never failed to do that before."

Vox grinned, relishing the small shivers escaping Alastor. Turning away, he plucked a bundle of rope from the dresser, pitch black, soft, and stretchy. Not ideal for suspension, but perfect for what he had in mind. He gave it a firm tug, testing its strength before facing Alastor again.

"Now, are you going to behave and let me tie you up?"

Alastor tilted his head, pretending to consider it. "Maybe."

Vox turned the rope over in his hands. "You do realise that the more you misbehave, the rougher I’ll be, right?"

Alastor sighed, rolling his eyes but didn’t protest as Vox stepped behind him.

"Just be nice and hold still for me." Vox instructed, his voice steady as he folded the rope in half and wrapped it around Alastor’s lower chest.

Alastor flinched at the sensation of the rope making contact with the scar on his chest. Vox caught the reaction immediately, adjusting his grip and loosening the tension slightly, careful not to tie it as tightly as he’d originally planned.

His movements remained smooth, securing the rope at the back before lifting it over Alastor’s shoulder. He came to the front and looped it under his chest  tightening it. Alastor took an experimental deep breath, feeling the gentle pressure of the ropes against him. It was strange, but far from uncomfortable. Vox continued, forming a V-shape across his chest before carefully lifting Alastor’s arms, wrapping the rope around his upper torso.

"Good boy," he praised, and Alastor’s pulse jumped.

He moved behind him again, fingers tugging and adjusting with practiced ease. His hands worked fast, yet his mind remained focused, watching for any sign of hesitation or discomfort. He trusted his muscle memory do the rest of the steps and within minutes, he stepped back, eyeing his work critically. The pentagram was flawless, framing Alastor’s chest perfectly.

"How’s my rope bunny holding up?" he teased, running his fingers over the bindings, double checking for any imperfections.

Alastor glanced down, genuinely surprised by Vox’s skills. "Well. I must admit, you’re somewhat skilled at this."

"Yeah, I’ve had some practice," Vox bragged. He settled his hands lightly on Alastor’s shoulders as he steered him towards the mirror. Standing behind him, he let his fingers drift lazily over his waist. "And a seminar."

"Quite the talented student, then," Alastor mused, studying his reflection with quiet curiosity. After all, he never thought he’d look good tied up. Hell, he never thought he’d allow himself to end up tied up in the first place.

"You look gorgeous," Vox said, pressing a soft kiss to Alastor’s shoulder.

Alastor blinked, caught off guard by the tenderness of it. It was such a simple gesture. Yet it made something unfamiliar stir in him.

"Ready for me to tie your arms?"

At that Alastor paused, giving up control and allowing himself to be that restrained went against every instinct of his. The idea should have made him uneasy. Trust had never come easy to him, after all. And yet..

"Yes," he said, meeting his own eyes on the mirror. "Tie them up."

Vox’s eyes lit up, a slow, pleased smile spreading across his screen. His let his fingers slid over Alastor’s sides once again, before reaching for the white rope bundle on his dresser.

"You know, I was going to go with red, but then I thought white would match the underside of your tail." Vox said, awfully pleased with himself and Alastor exhaled sharply through his nose. "How thoughtful of you."

"Oh, it’s a perfect match!" He lifted his tail just enough to check, only to let go with a startled laugh when Alastor elbowed him, barely missing.

"Okay now, do you want to undress yourself, or should I take care of that after I’ve tied you up?"

"I can undress myself," Alastor said, already working his belt loose.

Vox took a step back, giving him some space, watching him strip with no hesitation. He was still in disbelief over how seamlessly this was going. Alastor, for once, wasn’t being a complete menace. He was actually cooperating. Trusting him.

"Leave your underwear on," he instructed and Alastor didn’t argue. He simply folded his pants neatly and set them atop the dresser along with his belt.

"Good. Now, turn around for me."

Alastor took his time, dragging out the motion just to be difficult, but he eventually faced away from Vox.  A moment later, he felt the rope brushing against his wrists as Vox began securing his arms behind his back.

This time, there was no teasing. No drawn out touches. Vox worked quickly, fingers moving with practiced ease. Within minutes, Alastor realized his arms were completely bound. His first instinct was to test the bindings, shifting against them.

"Don’t even bother," Vox said, giving one last tug to ensure everything was perfect. "I know what I’m doing."

Alastor tried again, trying to at least twist his wrists slightly, only to realise he couldn’t move them at all. Then, Vox’s hands settled on his hips and he was pulled back, pressed flush against him. Vox made sure Alastor could feel every part of him, pressing shamelessly against him.

He wanted to swat Vox’s hands away, but the ropes reminded him he couldn’t. And annoyingly enough, the realization didn't bother him as much as it should have.

"You’re being so good today," Vox purred as the sharp edges of his fingers ghosted over Alastor’s sides, making him shiver. "Not fighting me. Letting me touch you like this." He paused, claws sinking just a little deeper. "And what do good boys get?"

"…Rewarded?" Alastor replied, refusing to leave the sarcastic tone behind.

"Exactly." Vox’s voice dipped lower, his hand sliding down, "So how about, I give you this?" His fingers teased over Alastor’s stomach before cupping him through the thin fabric of his underwear.

Alastor tensed, a silent gasp escaping him, caught off guard by the sudden boldness. Vox applied some gentle pressure, letting his fingertips trace over his length. He felt his body jerk in response and he took his hand of him, only to return it when Alastor made no further moves to actually stop him."That’s a good little rope bunny," he praised, sliding his hand back, slowly stroking him.

He watched him carefully, adjusting his touch to every twitch, every shift in his breathing. "Do you like that?" he asked, giving a soft squeeze, and he felt the faintest flick of Alastor’s tail against him.

"Bet you want more than my hands on you," he whispered, his grip tightening as he stroked him just a bit harder. "Bet you want my dick inside–"

Alastor yawned.

Vox went still.

"Did you just yawn!"

Alastor titled his head against Vox’s shoulder, blinking lazily at him. "Oh, don’t take it personally. I just wasn’t expecting such recycled material."

Vox raised an eyebrow. "What does that suppose to mean?"

"Well," Alastor said, far too casual for someone practically naked and bound, "Angel played one of his films for us last week, and someone said those exact same lines to him. Word for word."

Vox’s hand stilled completely. "He what."

"Oh yes, we have a movie night every week!" he said. "We each pick a film and draw a number to decide which one gets played. And oh my, poor Charlie was mortified by that last film. In fact, I’m fairly certain that last phrase you just said was followed by Angel saying–"

Vox slid his fingers into Alastor’s hair, giving it a sharp tug to hush him. The shift in his mood was immediate, all of Alastor’s amusement dying in an instant.

"Don’t."

"Oh, so you can pull your hair out, but I can’t?" He joked but Alastor’s gaze remained icy, unamused.

And for once, Vox decided that he had some survival instincts left in him and released him. "Okay! No hair pulling, noted."

Alastor straightened, lifting his head off Vox’s shoulder, and Vox took the opportunity to fix his disheveled hair. Or at least, he tried, until Alastor opened his mouth like he was going for a bite.

Vox caught the movement just in time. "Ah ah." He lifted a finger in warning. "Don’t make me gag you."

"Just blindfold me already," Alastor said impatiently and Vox’s smile returned, wide and satisfied.

"Gladly."

Walking over to his nightstand, he retrieved a brand new blindfold, a sleek black satin piece with a padded interior. He held it up in front of Alastor for a moment, as if giving him time to process what was coming, before carefully slipping it over his eyes, tucking its band neatly under his hair and adjusting the straps at the back.

Alastor shifted slightly at the loss of sight, quickly feeling his other senses sharpen in response.

"Can you see anything?" Vox asked, his voice softer now.

"No, no I can’t."

Vox made a heart with his hands in front of Alastor, then a peace sign, before flipping him off, just to check. "Good. Let’s take you to the bed now."

Guiding Alastor backwards, he moved him until the back of his thighs met the edge of the bed. Then, with a careful push on his shoulders, he helped him lie down. Multiple pillows had already been arranged to ensure his bound arms wouldn’t strain.

Alastor tried to relax and get  comfortable, but his ears picked up every tiny sound. He could hear even the faint rustling of clothing being moved, no, removed. But nothing else.

Out of all times Vox decided to be quiet.

Vox was loving his disorientation, the way he strained to understand his surroundings. Slowly, he opened the nightstand drawer again, retrieving a bottle of lube and a box of condoms.

He didn’t close the drawer right away. He let the silence stretch. And then he slammed it shut, making Alastor’s breath hitch. "You-" he tried to sit up, only for Vox’s hand to press firmly against his chest, keeping him in place.

"Aww, did that scare you?" Vox teased, climbing onto the bed and settling into his new favorite spot between Alastor’s thighs. His hands ghosted over his skin as he reached for his underwear. This time, he didn’t rush. He slid them down slowly, committing this moment of trust to memory.

"You look so good like this," he whispered, running a hand down Alastor’s thigh. "I got those condoms I told you about last time, the ones with the spikes. Want me to describe them to you?"

Silence.

Vox’s smile faltered.

"Baby?" he called again, this time softer. "Al?"

For a split second, panic tugged at him. Goddammit, not now.

"Yes," Alastor finally said, voice steady but tense. "I’m just trying to concentrate."

Relieved, Vox let his fingers trace on the rope pattern on Alastor’s chest, giving him a moment to breathe. "It’s okay," he soothed. "You’re in my bed, looking hot as hell."

A pause.

"And you called this boring," he added. "You’d die on me if I went full Fifty Shades with you."

Alastor frowned. He opened his mouth to ask what Fifty Shades even was, but something told him maybe he was better off not knowing.

Then, his ears twitched at the quiet click of a button.

"I set the LED light to red," Vox said, taking in the way the soft glow bathed Alastor in a rich crimson, making him look downright sinful.

Another sound. The faint pop of a bottle being opened.

"Ready to feel those spikes?" he asked, hands on Alastor’s knees, spreading them just a little wider.

Alastor, trying to maintain his composure and maybe some of his dignity, quipped, "You’re a satisfied customer, I assume."

"Yeah, you could say that." He set the lube on the nightstand for easy access. He reached for the condoms and the small dildo they’d used last time.

Then–

"Have you used them with others, or have others used them on you?" Alastor asked suddenly, voice deceptively calm.

"Both," Vox answered, smug as ever, sliding a condom into place now that his hands were still dry.

Alastor considered that for a moment. "Do they hurt?"

Vox nearly laughed. It was sweet how Alastor wanted him to keep talking, just like last time.

"No, not at all," he reassured him. "The spikes aren’t everywhere, and they’re all nice and soft. Don’t worry, they are straight from the Lust Ring, they know what they’re doing there."

He reached for the dildo, deciding to start slow. "I’ll warm you up with the dildo we used last time," he said, coating it generously with lube. "Then I’ll absolutely wreck you."

Alastor exhaled sharply. "Get on with it already."

"You’re so fucking impatient, you know that?" 

"Language, dear," Alastor said.

Vox rolled his eyes. "‘Language, dear,’" he parroted before pushing the dildo in.

Alastor felt every inch of it slide in smoothly. With the blindfold in place, every sensation was sharper, more vivid. Strangely, the fact he couldn’t see settled him. It allowed his body to just feel and relax.

"That was easy," Vox teased, pushing the toy in deeper. 

"Did I stretch you out too much last time? Was my dick too big for you?"

Alastor let out an annoyed gasp. "Do you have no shame!"

"For you? Absolutely none." Vox grinned, suddenly slamming the toy in, pushing it as deep as it would go and holding it there, watching Alastor trying to adjust. Then, he began moving it, slow and deep, pulling it back before easing it in again. His free hand wasn’t idle either, he was stroking himself at a lazy pace, unable to resist the sight before him.

Alastor could hear it, the slick, rhythmic sound of Vox working himself and he realized that, to his horror, it was actually turning him on.

Vox caught the way he squirmed and mistook it for discomfort. He slowed his pace. "Want me to untie your hands?" He asked.

"No." He said a bit too quickly and a quiet laugh escaped Vox. "You really want me to keep you tied up, huh? My little pillow princess."

"Can you stop calling me that?"

"Why? It’s fitting." Vox said, withdrawing the toy with a slow, motion, pulling it out with a soft pop.

"That implies I just lie there," Alastor muttered with indignation.

Vox raised an eyebrow. "What are you doing, then?"

Alastor huffed, trying to maintain some semblance of dignity. "I actively participate and provide you with informative feedback."

"Oh yeah, you’re a real giver, Al. offering insightful commentary like ‘Ah’ and ‘Oh.’"

Alastor shot him an annoyed look, well, as much as he could manage with the blindfold still on. His frustration however, didn’t last long. Vox’s mouth found the inside of his thigh, pressing a lingering kiss on the soft skin. Then, Vox’s tongue traced a slow line along his length, and a soft, shaky exhale escaped him.

Vox’s tongue returned for another slow, teasing lick, this time tasting the precum on his tip.

He glanced up at him with a satisfied smile. "I could get used to this." He said, getting back into position, his hands sliding to Alastor’s hips, pulling him closer.

Guiding himself with one hand, he eased in slowly.

Alastor inhaled sharply, body tensing as he felt the textured ridges of the condom  against him. Vox moved carefully at first, watching his every reaction. The sight alone was enough to spur him on, and once he saw that Alastor was adjusting, he picked up his peace.

Each thrust sank deeper, the soft spikes pressing in all the right places and Alastor’s head fell back against the pillows, letting the sensation take over.

Being bound, completely under someone’s mercy, was a thrill he hadn’t expected. He couldn’t believe he was in this situation, or that he was actually enjoying it. He kept taking deep breaths, allowing Vox to rock his body with each thrust.

The past few months had been full of chaos, frustration, and endless cycles of unrest but with Vox, he found a  unexpected sense of comfort. He enjoyed this warmth, that sense of safety. Whatever this was, this closeness, this shared heat between them, was more than welcome.

Then, he felt Vox slowing down, his hand sliding between him and the pillows. Vox’s fingers fumbled blindly for a moment before swiftly untying the ropes, releasing his arms. Alastor didn’t question it. He brought his arms in front of him, letting his back settle flat against the pillows.

A quiet moan escaped him as Vox began to rock his hips again, his movements slightly more urgent than before.

"Can you even feel anything with that thing on?" He asked, genuinely curious.

Vox let out a small, frustrated breath. "Not as much as I’d like to."

Alastor liked the sound of that. The fact that Vox had willingly dulled his own pleasure for him was, well, flattering. "Take it off then."

Without hesitation, Vox pulled back, carefully untangling Alastor’s legs from around his waist before pulling out. He was back just as quickly, guiding himself in again, sinking back into him.

Alastor inhaled sharply, the ropes pressing against his chest as he moved. Vox found his rhythm again, his movements picking up in intensity, and Alastor’s hand slid down instinctively, his fingers wrapping around himself, attempting to match Vox’s frantic pace.

The short, deep thrusts were relentless, and he was almost certain he’d been pushed closer to the headboard by now. His breaths grew shallow, coming faster, more uneven, as he moved in sync with each pounding thrust. He tried to adjust, to move his hips slightly, but Vox’s hands were firm on him, keeping him pinned in place.

And he had the nerve to call him a pillow princess.

"Why–why do you insist on holding me down like this?”"

Vox’s voice come in ragged pants. "It’s tighter, and…just–" He trailed off, Alastor’s ears twitched at the fragmented explanation. Curse this blindfold.

Soon Vox’s hips stuttered, his movements turning sloppy, less controlled.

"I’m close–where do you want it?"

The question pulled Alastor from his haze. He’d almost forgotten about this part. The immediate sensation was one thing, but the aftermath? Messy. Sticky. Far less enjoyable.

"Not inside," he managed between gasps.

"Okay, just lift your hips a little."

Alastor obeyed, arching slightly. "Doesn’t this make things less tight?" he asked, more out of curiosity and to see if Vox could even form a coherent answer in his current state. He couldn’t.

Soon his own movements grew more desperate, his hand struggling to keep up with the erratic rhythm. And suddenly, the blindfold that had heightened every sensation, every sound, became unbearable. He fumbled with his free hand, clumsily tugging it off. It slipped to one ear, hanging messily, but he didn’t bother to remove it completely.

The moment their eyes met, Vox lost whatever restraint he had left.

Not even his wildest fantasies hadn’t prepared him for this. Alastor looking at him, all flushed and vulnerable, pupils blown wide.

"I…ah-" Alastor’s voice broke into a glitchy whimper as Vox pushed into him with reckless urgency. His body trembled, legs shaking slightly as he arched into him. A few more strokes of his own hand, and the tension snapped. His body tensed, a full-body shudder wracking through him as release crashed over him.

The sight of him, the way he squeezed around him, was too much for Vox. He barely had time to pull out as his own climax tore through him. With one last, deep thrust, he came hard, his mind going completely blank for a moment. He stayed there, buried deep in him when he realised,

"Ah, fuck. Sorry," he said, voice still strained as he carefully pulled out.

Alastor, still lost in his high, barely registered the words. His body was still tingling, his breaths shallow as he lay there, limbs loose and heavy. "It’s…fine," he managed, voice hoarse. He closed his eyes and felt Vox collapsing beside him.

His gaze drifted to the ropes still wrapped around Alastor’s chest They looked stunning on him yes, but he couldn’t ignore how long he’d been bound.

"Want me to undo the ropes?" he asked, reaching out to turn Alastor’s head toward him.

Alastor barely cracked an eye open. "...Later."

Vox let out a quiet laugh, pressing his fingers into his cheeks, "Want me to lick you clean?"

That made Alastor’s eyes snap open. "You and your weird fetishes." He grumbled, too drained to do much else.

Vox, decided to take full advantage of his sluggishness and grabbed his right hand, still slick from his own release. He then dragged his tongue across his palm in one slow motion. Alastor just stared at him, utterly dumbfounded. "Haven’t you learned your lesson about carelessly licking my bodily fluids?" he asked, regaining his voice.

Vox placed a small kiss on the top of his hand. "Oh, I have. But I’m just a very dedicated worshiper."

Alastor yanked his hand back. "You’re not right in the head, that’s what you are."

Several minutes later, Alastor was struggling with the ropes in front of the bathroom mirror, growing more frustrated with every failed attempt. Eventually, he admitted defeat, calling Vox in who effortlessly undid the ropes, checking on Alastor as he worked. When Alastor was finally freed, Vox got him back to the bed, trying to get him to relax, share a quiet moment, maybe cuddle, but Alastor was having none of it.

"I don’t care about this aftercare nonsense,” he muttered, pushing Vox’s screen away with both hands. "Stop touching me!"

Vox only laughed, completely unfazed, his grip still firm on Alastor’s waist."But you’re so hot like this."

Alastor shot him a glare. "I’ll stab you in your sleep."

"Please do so," he replied, completely unbothered and that only irritated Alastor more. With a tired huff, he turned his back to him, only for Vox to pull him closer.

"Your tail feels so warm against my–"

"It will not end well for you if you finish that sentence."

That didn’t stop Vox, of course. He stayed exactly where he was, despite the warning.

And strangely he didn’t pull away either.

He should have. He should’ve shoved Vox off the bed entirely, yell something about personal space, or said something to kill the moment.

But he didn’t.

Because, frustratingly, this felt..okay.

Familiar.

At first, he was worried that this whole situation  would change their relationship in ways he wouldn’t be able to fix. But somehow, it hadn’t.

Vox was still Vox. Annoying, smug, loud...And willing to handle anything he threw his way.

He knew there were so many things unsaid between them, perhaps too many things that Alastor wasn’t ready to confront yet. But for now, he let the quiet fill the space, feeling Vox’s warmth seep into him and allowed himself relax into it.

No analysis. No second guessing.

Just this.

Chapter Text

Alastor’s day at the hotel had been dull, tedious, and unbearably boring. Nothing worth his time had happened, and the hours seemed to just drag on and on. Everything around him seemed to lack the spark and excitement Vox had brought into his life over the past few weeks.

By the time evening rolled around, he was alone in his room, flipping through a book without really absorbing the words. Then, the phone in his coat's pocket started to buzz. He had nearly forgotten about the damn thing.

Fishing it out, he flipped it open to find a string of message notifications from Vox, with even more rolling in as he tried to read through them.

The first was a simple "Making sure you still have the phone on you," message, followed by numerous complaints about the work meetings Vox had to endure. Then, a massive block of text that took Alastor nearly a full minute to scroll through.

His thumb hovered over the small keypad. He considered ignoring Vox. After all, he hadn’t contacted him in two days. Yes, Vox had promised he’d only reach out if something important happened, but still. Was it really so wrong to expect a little initiative? And he wasn’t exactly obligated to reply, after all. But as more messages kept coming, he started typing.

"ST6P TYPING. CALL."

He sent the message and crossed one leg over the other, absently tapping his fingers against his book before closing it, without even bothering to mark the page. A few seconds later, the phone buzzed in his hand. His stomach did an odd little flip, he straightened up and cleared his throat before answering.

"Hello, dear listener, you're on the air!" he greeted smoothly.

A sharp laugh came from the other end. "You actually picked up!"

A genuine smile curled at Alastor’s lips at the enthusiasm in Vox's voice. "Yes, yes, how thrilling. How could I possibly ignore my most loyal fan after, what was it? Thirty messages?"

"Don’t act like you didn’t enjoy the attention. You’re the one who told me to call." He said, voice brimming with self satisfaction.

"Only because the constant buzzing was getting rather annoying," Alastor quipped.

"Yeah, if someone heard all that vibrating, they might think you were getting really busy in there."

Alastor blinked, then pulled the phone away slightly. Without warning, he messed with the signal, sending a sharp burst of glitching static through the speaker.

A startled yelp came from the other end, followed by a muffled curse. "Okay, okay, sorry, I’ll keep it PG," Vox relented, chuckling. "I’ll ask about work and all the boring stuff."

"How kind of you. Work was as exhilarating as always," Alastor said dryly, rolling his eyes. "But why don’t you enlighten me about your argument with Velvette instead? I’m assuming that’s what that massive block of text, riddled with typos, was about?

A displeased noise came from the other end, followed by the sound of liquid being poured into a glass.

"Where do I even start?" Vox sighed in frustration. "So, whenever one of us wants to do something big, we rent out a certain venue, okay? And Vel knew I wanted it for my new phone launch. But she went ahead and booked it for a fashion show. She just had one!"

Alastor listened, amused. "Oh, how dare she!"

"Right?! She knew I needed that place, but no, fuck me, I guess." Vox huffed.

"What a tragedy, being unable to launch your shiny new phone at your desired location. You have my sympathies."

"No like, she definitely did it on purpose! She and Val love pulling this kind of crap just to piss me off. He’s still pissed I broke up with him!"

At the mention of Valentino, Alastor’s eye gave an involuntary twitch. Vox had been bringing up that tacky bas fellow overlord a bit too much for his liking.

"Is that why you're so upset? Just rent another place. Ignore their passive aggressive games."

There was another clink on the other end of the line, the sound of more liquid being poured into a glass. When Vox spoke again, his voice had lost some of its sharp, irritated edge.

"That’s not the point," he said. "The point is they always do this. The second I start being happy, it’s like they sense it and go, ‘Oh! Vox is happy! How dare he be happy without us involved? We can’t have that!’ And they pull some shit like this to fuck with me."

Alastor listened carefully. Normally, he thrived on others’ suffering, he found a sick, twisted joy in their pain. But sadly, this wasn’t satisfying in the slightest. If anything, it made something twist in his chest.

He was partially responsible for this situation, after all.

"You're awfully self-aware for someone who’s still falling for it," he said, trying to lighten the mood, for Vox’s sake and for his own.

At that, Vox let out a small laugh, though it sounded more like an exhausted exhale. "Fuck you."

"I’m just saying," Alastor continued, his voice more comforting than condescending. "You’re a grown man, Vox. Why you allow this?"

For a moment, there was only silence.

Then, another tired sigh. "I guess it’s just… habit? I've known them for so long. We've been through literally everything together. And it’s not always like that. They still care about me, they just… you know, try to piss me off. It’s whatever, it’s fine, but I’m just… tired. They've been like this for weeks now."

For a man who loved to talk, for a man who never shut up, his words now felt uncertain, forced out of him. And Alastor hated that he understood why. He tried to ignore the feeling settling in the pit of his stomach.

"Vox… you do realize that this isn’t healthy, right?" he said, his usual playfulness dulled.

As if he was one to talk.

"Yeah, I know." Vox breathed out, the sound crackling faintly through the receiver. "But I still care about them. They’re the most constant thing in my life, and we understand each other. I know them. They know me. And at least they’re always there.."

"... At least I’m not alone."

Alastor had to fight the sudden, overwhelming urge to teleport there and slap some sense into him. Vox always had that infuriating habit of being loyal. Even when he shouldn’t have been. Even to people who didn’t deserve it.

He should go there. Shake some sense into him.

Then apologise.

For disappearing.

For being the first ghost Vox had ever learned to live with.

There were a thousand things he could say. A thousand ways he could twist this into something cruel and dismissive. He should call him pathetic, tell him to stop clinging to people, to stop letting others walk all over him out of fear of being abandoned. But how could he? After all he had been the one to teach him that friendships could end without warning, without a single word of explanation. He was the one who had made leaving seem so easy.

Silence stretched between them, and like always, Vox tried to fill it.

"Look, okay, ha. They can be assholes sometimes, but it's okay,  I don’t want to start a fight and make things worse, they are the only friends I have."

Alastor set the phone on speaker, just so he could rub his temples properly. "They’re your only ‘friends’ because they make sure they’re the only friends you have," he said firmly. "If you stopped giving them the time of day, you might actually find people who don’t treat you like that."

Vox scoffed, the sound followed by a clink of glass as he took another gulp of his drink. "Oh, yeah. Yeah sure. Because there’s a huge line of people wanting to get close to me for something other than my money and power."

"Stop with the pity party, Vox. You’re not that insufferable."

"But I am," Vox groaned. "I can't handle criticism, I want the final say in everything and I go insane if something doesn't go my way." A sharp clink of glass meeting the desk. "I even drive myself mad sometimes!"

"Oh, spare me, Vox," Alastor said dismissively. "You make it sound like you’re the only one with issues. Do you believe I’m any easier to handle?"

Vox let out a half hearted laugh. "Okay no, you’re a mess too. But that doesn’t count, because you’re-you're a hot mess. You're perfect."

Alastor arched a brow. "Vox, I’d suggest you put that drink of yours down."

"But it's true," Vox insisted, voice slurring slightly. "Everything you do is just so…effortless. And you just don’t care about what other people think. I wish I could just smile and wave like you do."

"Well, now I know you’re absolutely drunk out of your mind," Alastor said, thoroughly entertained.

"Shh, shh," Vox hushed him. "And you have all that confidence. And you’re so hot. In like, a creepy-hot way."

Alastor pressed the button on the side of his phone, raising the volume.

"How do you even exist?" Vox went on, sounding awed. "You’re so different from everyone else. You're in my head all the damn time…"

"... you there?"

"Yes, yes, do go on," Alastor urged, tucking his knees up to his chest.

"You’d never let Vel and Val treat you like that. Because you–you just have this thing. People respect you. And if they don’t? You put them in their place. God. You’re perfect." He let out a breath, dizzy from both the alcohol and his own thoughts. "I can’t believe you let me kiss and hug and fuck you."

Alastor sighed. He could always count on Vox to be utterly shameless, but at least this meant he had snapped out of his self-pity.

"Oh, don’t get me wrong," he said, "I’m just as surprised as you are that I let you touch me in the first place." He let the words hang in the air, drawing out the silence, enjoying how Vox seemed to hang on to his every breath. It was rather flattering how enamored he sounded with him. Then, his voice dropped a bit lower and he brought the phone closer to him, "Do you like how I let you use me for your own pleasure?"

There was a loud thud from Vox’s end.

"You can’t–" Vox stammered, laughing nervously. "You can’t just say that."

"Why not?" He asked, unfolding himself and he slowly standing up, phone in hand. "I have nothing better to do, and perhaps this little distraction will keep you from wallowing in your own misery. Unless, of course, you're not up for it."

Oh, Vox was all in, though his mind was still struggling to catch up. He had spent so long seeing Alastor as something untouchable, something almost sacred. And yet, here he was, flirting with him, letting him cross lines Vox had never dared to imagine.

"Oh, fuck. I’m too drunk for this," he said, his heart beginning to race. "I’ll be so bad at it."

Alastor merely laughed, settling into his bed, sinking into the soft mattress. "No worries, I can take the lead."

Vox heard the soft creak of the bed, followed by the rustle of fabric as Alastor placed the phone on top of a pillow, on the side of the bed Vox always seemed to end up on.

"Now." Alastor whispered. "Why don’t you do me a little favor? You will, won’t you? Because you’re such a dear."

Vox nearly blacked out. He reached for his drink, taking the final sip before answering. "Yeah, I, I will, anything you want."

"Anything?" Alastor repeated, his voice full of delight. "My, you're so well behaved. How about we start with something simple?" he asked, eyes fluttering shut, his fingers lightly brushing his bowtie, loosening it in the same slow manner Vox would. "Tell me what you're wearing."

Oh. We’re actually doing this.

Vox reached for his glass, only to remember it was empty. "I'm–just my suit," he said, voice a little slurred. "Haven’t changed out of my work clothes yet."

"Ah, your fancy little suit," Alastor remarked, his fingers lazily trailing along his neck. "How adorable."

"Now then," he continued, "I want you to undo the button and zip off your pants."

Vox nearly swallowed his own tongue and his hands scrambled to obey, fumbling with the button and zipper in a rush. His pants felt too tight in all the wrong places anyway.

"Done."

"So soon? My, what a good boy."

Sweet Lord.

"How about a little surprise for me?" His voice dipped just enough to send a shiver down Vox’s spine, enough to make his head spin as if he’d downed a shot. "Tell me what color underwear you’re wearing."

Vox would pay to hear that demanding tone more often.

"Oh, uh," he blinked, his brain halting for a moment before refocusing, and he looked down. "Black. They’re black. Just… black underwear," he tried to clear his throat. "What color are yours?"

"Ah, ah," Alastor said, thoroughly entertained. "Someone’s getting a bit bold. That’s for me to know."

Vox winced, immediately regretting not giving Alastor a more modern phone he could hack into.

"Now," Alastor continued, slowly unbuttoning the top few buttons of his shirt, his fingertips grazing over his collarbone. "How about you try describing what you want from me, dear? What you’re currently picturing in that filthy mind of yours?"

Vox’s mouth went dry. 'I’m… You’re…' He squeezed his eyes shut, struggling to focus as his brain was suddenly flooded with too many thoughts, none of them even remotely PG.

He let out a soft breath. "You’re lying on your bed… looking all smug and perfect."

Alastor smiled to himself.

"Why, you’re correct," his eyes remained closed as he listened to Vox’s voice through the phone resting on the pillow beside him. For a fleeting moment, he wished Vox was actually there. "But I didn’t ask you to tell me what I’m doing now," his hands moved down, undoing his belt. The soft sound of leather sliding through the loops nearly made Vox fall off his chair.

"I asked you what you want to do to me. What you want from me."

Vox's mind scrambled to focus. To give him an answer. He tried to picture him, all sprawled out on his bed, waiting for him. Letting him do whatever he wanted. He loved how pliant Alastor turned out to be in bed, how he relaxed into his touch, submitting to whatever he suggested, letting him take control. The way he would lie there and take it was everything he had ever wanted.

"I want to touch you." He had officially given up on trying to keep it together. The hand that wasn’t holding his phone was already occupied, wrapped around himself, desperate for some kind of relief. "I want you under me. On top of me, inside me. Fuck, I want you everywhere."

Alastor chuckled into his hand at Vox's answer. "Such a greedy little thing," he said, tilting his cheek against the pillow. "Wanting me in every way possible."

"Ye–yeah, I do," Vox admitted, breathless, voice shaky with want. "Do anything you want to me, I won’t say no. I want you."

I want you.

Alastor loved all the desperation in his voice. He rolled onto his stomach, kicking his feet up as something warm and self-satisfied curled in his chest.

"Oh, I know that. You just can’t say no to the ones you’ve convinced yourself you like, can you? You're such a little people-pleaser… and always for the wrong people."

"Please," Vox gasped. "Fuck, just keep talking–"

"Well, aren’t you needy? But I suppose I will, since you asked so nicely."

He could hear it now, the raw unfiltered desperation in Vox’s voice and actions. He could easily get used to having someone so eager for him.

"You like to pretend you’re the one in control," he continued, keeping his voice low and soft. "But deep down, you know it’s the other way around, right?"

Vox let out something between a moan and a whimper, his breath stuttering. "I just–I just want to be useful."

"Oh, I know you do," Alastor said with an all knowing tone. "But you realise it, don’t you? You’re the one who's ending up being used."

Vox kept going, his choked moans crackling through the speaker. Alastor recognized the pattern by now. He could tell he was close, so, so close.

"I–ha, I don’t mind when it’s someone I like. And you can’t complain. You like it too, don’t you?"

At that, Alastor stopped kicking his legs, his playful energy slowly fading away and he actually considered the question as Vox’s breathless, lewd sounds kept spilling through the speaker.

He thought about it for a moment. It wasn't a secret that he enjoyed messing with others.

Others.

Strangers, enemies, people he had no attachment to.

But Vox was not a stranger, he hadn't been one for a long time. He mattered in a way others didn’t.

His gaze dropped to the phone beside him, the sound of Vox’s ragged breathing snapping him out of his thoughts.

"No. No, I don’t," he decided, letting the words settle, almost as if he needed to hear them himself. "To use you and to abuse you are two very different things."

Vox’s fogged-up brain struggled to keep up, still sluggish from the alcohol and the remnants of his high. Why was Alastor, the biggest sadist hell had to offer...well, not acting like the biggest sadist hell had to offer?

"Then… then what do you want from me?"

Alastor stared at the phone. A rare quiet settled over him.

What did he want from Vox, anyway?

"Well, I…"

"Yeah?"

"I suppose I don’t want.." He tried to sit up, taking the phone in his hands. This wasn’t easy, or something he was used to. The words caught in his throat as he spoke them. "I believe that In order for this to continue, there needs to be respect. We need to trust each other and see each other as equals, or at the very least, let's pretend we are for the sake of it, and-"

A loud crash sounded from the other end of the phone, followed by a sharp clatter.

Alastor blinked. Had that idiot fallen out of his chair? Or dropped his phone? Or both?

"Al, I’m still drunk. Can you just, explain this like I’m five?"

Alastor let out a slow, frustrated sigh and breathed through his nose.

"You like me, yes?" he asked, carefully measured.

Vox, still struggling to catch up, answered with a disoriented "Yes."

"Good! Now, this might come as a surprise to you, but sometimes, I like you as well." He said it quickly, rushing past the uncomfortable reality of it, refusing to dwell on it.

"Now," he started again, only to hesitate. He pushed himself off the bed and started pacing aimless circles around his room, resisting the urge to just hang up.

"Vox, before I say anything else, are you at least remotely sober?"

"I… think?" He replied, and Alastor clicked his tongue. There was no way Vox was going to remember any of this in the morning.

At this point, Vox sounded like he was just trying to stay awake. But even through the haze, he could tell this conversation was important.

Or maybe it was a joke. Maybe Alastor was just messing with him, playing another one of his games.

Nah, Alastor wouldn’t do that.

Okay, he would. But he hoped he wasn’t doing that right now.

"Just listen to me, okay? Focus!" Alastor said, his voice jolting Vox awake.

"Yes, okay!"

"We’ve established that sometimes I like you, correct?"

Vox nodded. Then realised, right. Phone call. "Yes."

"Excellent. And we’ve also established that you like me, correct?"

"So much." Zero hesitation.

"Good!" Alastor stopped pacing, his hand twitching at his side. He knew what he wanted to say. But actually saying it? That was the tricky part.

"Al?" Vox’s voice broke through the quiet, slurred and confused.

Alastor exhaled sharply once again. He should just say it. If anything, Vox being so out of it was a blessing, at least he’d get a raw, genuine reaction out of him. And if Vox actually remembered this conversation tomorrow? That'd be great! Because there was no way in hell Alastor was going to repeat himself.

"I might, potentially, possibly, not completely hate the idea of getting closer to you."

The words finally left his mouth. They probably made sense only to him, but at least he had actually said it. Admitted out loud that he actually wanted this, wanted this ridiculous mess between them to continue.

Silence.

"Like…coming to my office right now?"

Alastor bit his lip, dragging a hand down his face. God, he would strangle this man with his own bare hands.

"No, you-" He started pacing again, then stopped. Then started again. "Forget it! Go to sleep!"

"No, I can-I can focus," Vox insisted. "I’m not that drunk."

(He was.)

"Really?" he drawled. "You wouldn't even be able to tell me how many fingers I'm holding in front of you if I were there."

There was a long pause. Five full seconds of nothing but static-filled silence.

He almost thought Vox had hung up.

"Two," Vox answered, with complete confidence.

Alastor simply stared at the phone in his hand. "What."

"Everyone always holds up two fingers when they ask that."

Alastor could feel a headache forming.

"For the love of-" He resisted the urge to snap the phone in half. "Focus! You said you could focus!"

"I am," Vox mumbled, sinking further into his office chair, sounding seconds away from passing out.

"Listen here, Vox, because this is your one and only chance to hear me say this, okay? So pay attention!"

Vox made a vague sound, something between a hum and a cough, which Alastor chose to interpret as permission to continue.

"My point is, and I want you to understand this correctly," he began, walking around once again, now reaching the other half of his room, the swamp part that he could easily drown Vox in if he didn’t start cooperating.

"The thought of us Beep Beep doesn’t repulse me. Get it? I. Do. Not. Hate. The idea of us. Beep Beep–"

His monologue was rudely interrupted by the sharp buzz of an incoming call.

His eye twitched.

"ARE YOU Beep Beep-ING KIDDING ME?!" He shouted. "Who is calling you?!"

Vox squinted at his phone screen, blinking few times to focus.

"Oh, Hah!" A drunken laugh escaped him. "It’s Val and Vel! Haha! They-oh, this is gonna be fun."

Alastor’s blood ran ice cold. Normally, the thought of a drunk Vox finally getting a backbone and standing up to those two would be hilarious, but not now!

"VOX!" He was this close to tearing his hair out. "DON’T YOU DARE ANSWER! HAVE SOME DIGNITY! YOU SAID THEY'VE BEEN IGNORING YOU FOR WEEKS!"

"Oh, I am absolutely going to answer," Vox announced, zipping his pants up. "We're gonna–we’re gonna talk."

"LISTEN TO ME. You are in no condition to get into a fight with those two!"

"Oh no, no, I won't fight. No–I'll tell them to fuck off, they can suck it. Because I- 'cause I lov–"

Silence.

Alastor raised an eyebrow. He pulled the phone away, checking the screen.

Dead.

The phone was dead.

He just stared at it.

And Vox never gave him a charger for this thing, now did he?

A low, humorless chuckle slipped past his lips. Then another. And another. It was funny, really. Like some higher being was playing a sick joke on him.

But it was fine.

This was fine.

Vox had promised to keep this a secret, after all. He would keep his mouth shut.

…

Dear God, who was he kidding? Vox never kept his mouth shut.

He hurled the damn phone into the swamp, his mind racing through every possible worst case scenario. He couldn’t just sit here and wait.

Without hesitation, he hurriedly searched for his staff, and went straight into Vox’s office, only to find it empty.

He rushed to the door, but an invisible force stopped him dead in his tracks.

A barrier.

Fantastic!

But this was fine! If he was lucky, that cursed trio would be too busy arguing about their own pent-up issues to give Vox the chance to talk about him, assuming Vox didn’t pass out first of course.

God, the fact that his damn reputation was currently in the hands of a completely hammered Vox was enough to make him want to tear the entire tower apart.

Instead, he forced himself to take a deep breath, just like the ones he was taught to do during the last mandatory group therapy session.

Inhale, exhale.

Then, with a perfectly composed expression, he kicked Vox's chair across the office before teleporting back into his room. Hoping, praying he'd be able to get some sleep tonight.

Chapter Text

Alastor had gotten exactly zero minutes of sleep.

By morning, he was a wreck. Not that anyone was able to tell, of course. He knew how to keep up appearances.

And so, here he was, sitting at some celebratory breakfast Charlie had surprised them with. Something about reaching their first 100 guests.

A milestone, apparently.

He sat at the table, tea in hand, his usual smile firmly in place as the others prattled on and on so enthusiastically this early in the morning. He tried to play along, but his mind was too busy spiraling, trying to figure out what could have possibly happened between Vox and the other two last night.

To make matters worse, he was seated between Husk and Angel, the latter just wouldn’t stop talking and whining about how he could’ve slept more, and Alastor’s ears were starting to ring.

Then suddenly, silence.

The chatter stopped, and all eyes were on him.

He blinked, snapping out of his thoughts just in time to hear Charlie wrap up with, "–because we couldn’t have done this without you!" and then look at him expectantly.

Oh.

Oh, no.

She wanted him to make a speech? Now? That was the last thing he needed. But there was no way around it, him turning down the chance to monologue would raise suspicions. So, he forced his best smile, cleared his throat, and stood up.

"Well!" he began, a bit too loud. "What an achievement indeed! One hundred sinners, bravely choosing the path of redemption!"

"A hundred lost souls seeking change, and some of them might even succeed!"

Jesus Lord, he was going to pass out right here and now.

"Of course, it’s safe to assume most will fail miserably,"

Charlie shot him a playful look.

"BUT!" he amended, grinning. "Regardless of the outcome, let’s celebrate this glorious milestone! And let's hear it for our wonderful, hardworking staff… and Husk."

The group cheered and offered a small round of applause.

He sat back down, hands steady, mask perfect, only to immediately knock over Angel’s drink, spilling most of it onto the tablecloth and, more importantly, onto Angel’s phone.

Angel immediately snatched it up.

"Hey, watch it! Vox just gave me this one!"

Alastor’s head snapped towards him so fast it was a miracle his neck didn’t break. "What?"

Angel, completely unaware of Alastor’s internal meltdown, was busy patting his phone dry with a paper towel. "Yeah, it’s not officially launched yet, so I can’t fix it myself if it gets fucked. And yeah, yeah, I know Val probably keeps–"

Alastor wasn’t even listening anymore.

Of course. Of course Angel’s phone was from VoxTech. VoxTek? However it's called!

He needed that phone. Now.

His expression remained perfectly composed, but his voice crackled with static as he extended a hand.

"My apologies, dear! Here, give it to me, I’ll clean it properly."

"Nah, it’s cool," Angel said, now wiping the phone's screen with his sleeve.

Alastor’s fingers twitched. He didn’t have time for this. He tried to keep up the act, but Angel was making it increasingly difficult with every second he refused to part with the damn thing. "I insist. It’ll only take a minute."

Angel gave him a weird look but reluctantly handed the phone over. "Do you even… know anything about phones?"

Alastor forced out a chuckle as he carefully took the device, standing from his chair.

"Enough to know that letting it soak in liquid isn’t ideal!" He peeled off the coffee drenched case. "I’ll be right back."

And before anyone could question him, he vanished.

The very moment he reappeared in the hallway outside his room, the act dropped. His whole body tensed up as he turned the phone over in his hands, pressing the buttons on the side.

One of them made the screen light up, and predictably, Angel had set up a password. Okay. That was expected. He should remain calm. He had three attempts after all, which was more than enough.

Hopefully.

He took a sharp breath, tapping his fingers anxiously against the device. Think. Think. He had seen Angel use his phone plenty of times, always typing fast, usually grinning like an idiot. But for the life of him, he couldn’t recall watching him unlock it in frond of him.

What would he realistically use as a password anyway? Probably something easy. Something stupid.

He typed in 6969.

The phone unlocked.

He stared at the screen for a long second. The urge to be disappointed battled with the sense of relief that this had actually worked. Well, no time to dwell on this any longer. He immediately tried to find the messages app, hands shaking.

He quickly scrolled through the messages, and there he was. Vox.

Their conversations were short, filled with passive aggressive jabs.

Lovely.

He didn’t waste another second. His fingers trembled, moving fast.

"IM USING ANGELS PHONE COME TO MY ROOMNOW."

Huh. As much as he hated to admit it, the touchscreen was more convenient than the numbered keyboard on his flip phone. Then again, that tiny thing survived being tossed into a swamp, so perhaps convenience wasn’t everything, but maybe this new technology isn't that terrib–

Seen.

His heart stopped, now he could only wait.

God, he hated waiting.

It felt like an hour, (it was five seconds) before Vox appeared in a mess of static that made all the hotel lights flicker.

"Baby!"

"Don’t baby me!" Alastor snapped.

Vox had been about to wrap his hands around Alastor’s waist but wisely stopped.

"I missed you." His gaze then flicked around the hallway. "Oh wow, you guys really redecorated the place."

Alastor didn’t respond. His focus was on the shuffle of random guests wandering nearby.

How dare there be other people in his hotel?

Without hesitation, he yanked his bedroom door open, grabbed Vox by the shoulders and pushed him inside.

"Stay."

Vox stumbled but somehow managed to stay upright. "Oh, so that’s what we’re doing today?"

Alastor shot him a glare before closing the door, locking it as well. Then he put a spell on it, just in case.

He quickly turned around, heading back to the breakfast table. As he walked, he deleted his message from Angel’s phone. Then, with a flick of his wrist, he disappeared any trace of coffee from the device.

"Here you go, Angel! Good as new." He handed the phone back with a smile, and Angel took it without much thought, giving him a lazy thumbs up as he bit into a piece of cake.

Oh great. They were cutting cake now.

Alastor cleared his throat, clasping his hands together. "I'm afraid I had a little too much to drink this morning, so I think I’ll rest in my room for a while."

Husk gave him a look. "But you didn’t drink–"

Alastor turned to him slowly with a wide smile, unblinking stare combo.

"–that much," Husk added, getting the memo.

Alastor blinked, giving him a slow nod. He spoke loud enough in case someone was listening. "Yes, sadly, these old bones aren’t what they used to be."

Husk snorted.

"Yeah, you can say that again," he said under his breath.

Alastor only chuckled in response.

With that, he left the table, heading straight to his room.

His heart pounded in his chest, the tension from all the waiting and the dread of not knowing what had happened at the Vee Tower last night was slowly catching up to him again, driving him insane.

He stormed down the hall till he reached his room. He unlocked the door and quickly stepped inside.

Vox, meanwhile, stood by his vanity, idly toying with the petals of the flowers in the vase, as if everything was perfectly fine. When he noticed Alastor, his expression lit up.

"You kept the flowers I got you!"

Alastor never wanted to strangle someone and pass out at the same time until now.

"Never mind those!" His voice was all bite as he fumbled with the key, hastily locking the door again, ensuring no interruptions. "Tell me about last night. Now. What did you and the others talk about?"

Vox visibly froze for half a second, a blink and you miss it reaction, but it was long enough for Alastor to notice, even in this state. Just as quickly, Vox recovered, read the room, and let out a perfectly timed, tired exhale, trying to match Alastor’s mood.

"About… everything, really."

Alastor didn't like that. Not at all. This short response, this vagueness reeked of deflection.

He didn’t move. Didn’t blink.

"Go on."

Vox, regrettably, did blink. And swallowed. He immediately realized he was one wrong answer away from homicide.

"Well, it started with how Val never answers his damn phone and how Vel is always glued to hers. Except, of course, when I try to reach her." He let out a laugh, backing further into the room.

He could feel the temperature drop, and suddenly, his heel landed on something wet. Instead of the sturdy wooden floor, his shoe sank into the soft, swampy muck of the room. It squelched under his weight, and he stumbled, nearly losing his balance.

"Then we got to the big stuff," he continued, desperately trying to keep a decent distance between them. "Why they keep sabotaging all my relationships. Why they just can’t stand the idea of me having something that’s just mine and,"

Alastor tilted his head. "Vox."

Vox flashed him a smile. "Al."

"I haven’t slept. At all."

"Yeah, I can–I can tell," Vox said, tugging at his collar.

Alastor didn’t humor him. "So get. To the point. Did you say anything about me?"

"No! No, no, I almost did. I swear I almost did, but I didn’t!"

Alastor finally moved, just a small, sharp tilt of his head that made his neck crack.

"Are you sure?" His voice was calm, way too calm for Vox's liking. "Are you absolutely sure you managed to keep your big mouth shut in that catastrophically drunk state you were in?"

Vox hesitated. "…Yes."

Alastor didn’t say anything. Didn’t breathe. And sadly, didn’t look remotely convinced. Vox then realized he didn’t feel like double dying today, so he decided to share some of the truth.

"Okay well, you see, I know I promised I’d keep this between us,"

Alastor’s unblinking stare made him regret that decision immediately.

"Which I did! I, personally, didn’t mention us." He gestures between him and Alastor. "But we were, mentioned?"

Alastor’s silence stretched on, and Vox let out a nervous dry laugh. "Look, it’s not that bad!"

Alastor took a step forward, and Vox figured out that if he kept talking, hell, if he did so much as breathe another word about what was actually said, Alastor would kill him. Or break up with him. He’s not sure which one is worse at the moment.

What he is sure of though, is that he needs an out. Now.

He isn’t proud of what he’s about to do, but between his morals and his survival, well, he’s always been good at prioritizing.

"How about we just… relax?"

The pitch of his voice drops, now accompanied by a low inaudible frequency, a subtle vibration made just for Alastor in case his eye won't do the trick.

Thankfully, he immediately notices Alastor's pupils dilate, his focus shifting fully to him, eyes locked. He tilts his screen just slightly, and Alastor’s head follows the motion in sync.

"That’s it," Vox continues, voice smooth and steady. "Just relax, calm down."

"Just trust me."

A sudden heavy drowsiness crashes into Alastor as his mind gets even more hazy and soon, his entire body feels heavy. Before he can even process what’s happening, Vox is already guiding him toward his bed.

"I don’t…"

"Shh. Just breathe," Vox hushes him, easing him down onto the bed with a hand on his chest. "Relax. Actually, why don't you sleep for a while?"

Alastor blinks. That sounds... nice, reasonable even. The others downstairs are too busy celebrating and the door is locked, no one would realistically barge in to find him and Vox here.

A few minutes of rest surely wouldn’t hurt.

"What are you guys celebrating today?" Vox asks, the low frequency buzz still present beneath his words, vibrating at just the right pitch, and Alastor, so lost in his haze, doesn’t even think to question how Vox knew about the party downstairs.

"Hundred hotel residents," he mutters, barely audible, and Vox lets out a quiet laugh. "They’re really throwing a party for just a hundred?"

"Those morons will party over anything," Alastor mumbles, voice weak, his eyes already slipping shut.

Vox watches him closely, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath his hand.

There was no better moment than now.

"You know, I was thinking,” he whispers, his voice warm and persuasive, joining the soft frequency buzzing inside Alastor’s head.

"Imagine how many more souls you'd have crawling in here if you let me run your commercial on my channels."

Alastor’s eyelids flutter as he tries to open them in an attempt to keep himself alert, but Vox’s hand is there, keeping them closed.

"Just think about it," Vox continues.

"You’d all get to do, whatever it is you do here, and I’d get more viewers. It’s a win win situation."

Alastor, though barely conscious, found himself intrigued. A part of him actually considering it.

"Of course, I’d have to film it again. With proper equipment, a real script." Vox’s voice kept buzzing around him, still gentle, still coaxing. "But don’t worry, I’ll make you a very good offer.

"...A good offer?" Alastor repeats, his voice drained, almost like he's thinking aloud rather than talking.

Vox’s fingers trail upwards, untangling his hair. "Yes. A very good one. It’s a big production, after all. I’d have to get all my equipment here, hire a screenwriter, set up a catering. And then, when we're done, I’ll air it at least three times a day during prime hours, for a whole month."

He pauses, making sure Alastor is still awake.

"And for all that, I only want a kiss per commercial."

Alastor processed the words like Vox had actually said something serious, only to give him a look when the words clicked.

Vox smiles at that. "I can always ask for more, if you'd like," he suggests, but gets no reply. Alastor has finally drifted off to sleep.

Vox watched him for a while, making sure he was actually asleep, before letting himself relax as well.

Not even half an hour passed before Alastor's much needed power nap was rudely interrupted by the sound of the doorknob rattling, making him stir. Then Husk's voice, a lifeless, soulless 'Room service' behind the door, made him wake up for good.

His eyes snapped open, immediately on high alert, and he tried to untangle himself from Vox's arms, who merely mouthed a casual, "So what?"

"What do you mean, so what?" Alastor hissed.

Vox looked at him, confused. "You own his soul? You really think he’s going to snitch?"

Husk knocked on the door again, and Alastor stumbled back onto his feet and proceeded to yank Vox off the bed and shove him behind the door in one swift motion.

Then, as if nothing had happened, he grabbed a random book from his nightstand, flipping it open in a hurry. He cast Vox one last silent warning before undoing the lock and swinging the door open, greeting Husk with a perfectly practiced smile.

"Missed me already, Husker?"

Husk just gave him an unimpressed, flat stare. "Yeah."

Alastor let out a dry chuckle. "Ha." Then, he leaned in slightly, his voice dropping low. "What do you want?"

From behind the door, Vox heard the sudden shift in demeanor.

Hot.

Husk, however, was completely unfazed. "In case you didn’t notice, the lights went nuts about an hour ago."

Alastor tilted his head slightly, feigning curiosity. "Really?"

"Really." Husk said.

Alastor straightened back up. "I see. And here I thought you all had rebuilt this place properly while I was away. Clearly, I overestimated your competence with electronics."

Husk exhaled through his nose. "That ain't a wiring issue. That's the kind of glitching that happens when Vox appears."

Behind the door, Vox pointed to himself smugly, raising his eyebrows.

Alastor ignored him, turning a page in his book. "Is that so?"

Husk narrowed his eyes. "Yes."

Another loud page turn.

"So, what did he want?"

Alastor side eyed him. Smart, straight to the point even. Well, if Husk was fishing, he might as well give him something believable.

"That’s for me to know, Husker. And perhaps Charlie."

"Charlie?" Husk echoed, momentarily thrown off.

"Yes, Charlie." Alastor closed his book with one hand. "You see, news travels fast. Vox realized we happen to be the most important topic at the moment and decided it was in his best interest to put our little differences aside, if it meant making some money out of it."

He stole a quick glance at Vox behind the door before speaking again.

"That idiot practically begged me to let him make a commercial for us and air it on his little screens."

Husk raised an eyebrow, still skeptical but unable to completely dismiss the explanation. "And what? You just let him in here?"

Alastor gave him a pleasant smile. "Why yes. In my room, where he couldn’t leave even if he wanted to."

"And why’d he talk to you instead of Charlie?" Husk pressed and Alastor resisted the urge to sigh. Husk's relentless skepticism was something he didn’t have the patience to deal with right now.

"Oh, he did want to talk to her. But come on, Husk. I couldn’t just leave her alone with that pompous fool. She’d agree in a heartbeat without a second thought. I wanted to see what the Vees really wanted."

Husk considered that for a moment. That was… plausible.

"And? What do they want?"

"Oh, Vox claims he wants nothing. He insists the publicity alone will be helpful for all of us." He rolled his eyes, momentarily landing on Vox's. "So, most likely? They probably want to get closer to Charlie."

"Or put cameras everywhere," Husk cut in.

"Well, I’d love to see them try." He smirked at Vox before shifting his attention back to Husk.

"Have you told her yet?"

"I will, as soon as that little party downstairs finally dies down," Alastor replied, feeling Husk studying him for a moment longer. He was far from stupid, after all. He knew Alastor was definitely lying, but he also knew that at the very least, some part of this story had to be true.

And that was good enough for him.

"Alright then." Husk finally said.

Alastor’s smile widened. "Good. Now that I’ve satisfied your curiosity, may I please have a moment of peace?"

"Sure," Husk said, and Alastor gave him a mocking little wave as he shut the door.

Once he made sure Husk had completely left the hallway he turned around, still whispering, just to be extra cautious. "So, was I convincing enough?"

Vox let out a short laugh. "Uh, yeah? You’re an incredible actor, you know that? You didn’t even break a sweat."

Alastor dismissed the compliment with a lazy wave of his hand, setting his book back on the nightstand. "Yes, yes, I’m aware, did you enjoy the part where I referred to you as a pompous fool?"

Vox got closer, wrapping his hands around Alastor's waist in a loose hold. "Sure, but I think my favorite part was when you said I practically begged you."

Alastor grinned, making no effort to pull away. "I think that’s what sold it, honestly."

"Soo, does that mean you’ll actually let me film a commercial for you?"

Alastor looked up at him playfully, tilting his head. "Why, I’m afraid you’re asking the wrong person. Charlie is the official owner, after all."

Vox blinked, momentarily thrown off, and Alastor continued.

"But don’t think for a second I’ll leave you alone with her." He tapped a finger against Vox’s chest. "I manage this place too. I’ll be present at the little meeting you two will have. I’ll tell her you approached me with the idea and that you want to discuss it with her."

At that, Vox visibly brightened.

"Really? Oh fuck YEAH! We’re gonna make so much money!" He yanked Alastor off the ground for a quick spin, before setting him back down just as quickly, a bright smile plastered across his screen

"I didn’t say she’d accept!" Alastor  said, swatting Vox’s hands off him.

But then, he actually thought about it. "Then again, she’ll probably agree as soon as she hears the words ‘advertisement’ and ‘we considered leaving our differences behind,"

"I’m going to make you the best damn commercial you’ve ever seen!" Vox declared, already brainstorming. "Fuck, how big is this place? And you haven’t even put it on the maps yet. But it’s fine, it’s fine, I can do that."

As he spoke, several holograms appeared around him, displaying images, notes, and rough layouts of potential shots. He swiped through them at lightning speed, scribbling adjustments midair, completely in his element.

Alastor watched the display, all the vibrant colours and excited gestures. "You’re going to overwhelm poor little Charlie with all of this."

…Or maybe not. He watched Vox sketch out his ideas with boundless energy, the way he moved, the way his enthusiasm practically radiated off him, it was exactly like watching Charlie when she was explaining them one of her grand ideas.

Vox kept going, completely absorbed in his own world, "The opening scene should be me giving maybe, a tour of the place. And I'm feeling nice, so I trust you with the music, then after the tour–"

Alastor, surprisingly, kept on listening to him. There was something about watching him like this that made a warmth settle in his chest. It wasn’t rare to see Vox this stupidly enthusiastic about something ridiculous, but still..

He hadn’t seen this exact spark in a long time.

It was like looking at the Vox he first met, back before everything between them had gotten so complicated. The Vox who would share all his ideas with him, convinced that he was onto something huge. The Vox who was ready to rule the world... and then share it with him.

The thought lingered for a brief moment before Alastor brushed it away. There was no point in dwelling on the past, not for this at least. Things had changed and they’d never return to how they once were.

But perhaps, what they had now could be something new, something different.

Something better.

Chapter Text

It had been months since the whole production started, and to Alastor’s dismay, Vox was doing exactly what he had promised, working on that damned commercial like the responsible businessman he was pretending to be.

He had expected that Vox would use the excuse of being in the same space so often to pester him, or even better, shove him into a closetand do something fun to pass the time between takes. But no, no. Instead, it had been nearly eight weeks since anything remotely fun had happened between them. In fact, Vox hadn’t even asked him about it.

Now, they were in Vox’s office, where Vox was glued to his laptop, working on some nonsense, and Alastor couldn’t be more bored.

Bored and frustrated.

Where was the Vox who used to drool at the mere sight of him? Whatever happened to the Vox who used to beg to make their once-a-week arrangement into literally anything higher than that.

He had thought something, anything, was going to happen when Vox asked him to sit on his lap while he worked. But no. Nothing. That idiot actually had sat him on his lap while he typed away.

He glanced at the clock on the wall. There were still a good few hours to go before he was expected back at the hotel. Great.

He tried to ignore the frustrating click click click of Vox's keyboard, but the more he tried to block it out, the more his mind wandered to all kinds of unpleasant places.

Had Vox finally had enough of his games and mood swings? Was his low libido a dealbreaker after all?

Or worse, was this what Vox wanted in the first place? Access. Important connections. And now that he had them, was he simply keeping him close out of convenience? Waiting for him to grow frustrated enough to walk away first?

Was that it? Had he been used without even realising it? Had he just been a means to an end?

He continued to torture himself by coming up with every possible scenario to explain Vox's indifference, all while Vox’s hand rested on his side, the sharp edges of his fingers idly scratching him beneath his shirt.

Alastor expected it to wander lower, for Vox to finally do something, to prove he still wanted him. But of course, nothing had happened. His hand stayed right where it was, and the thoughtless, uninterested motion was only adding to his irritation.

He pressed his back against Vox's chest a little harder, trying to get his attention, and surprisingly, Vox did snap out of his workaholism for a second.

"Sorry," he said, withdrawing his hand.

Alastor opened his mouth but didn’t say anything. What was he supposed to respond with, anyway? Keep scratching me? 

The subtle click clack of the keys resumed, and he wanted nothing more than to open a window and throw the laptop directly onto the ground. And then, when he’d turn around, Vox would slap him silly, pin him down, and–

Jesus Lord, what was happening to him.

"I didn’t mind it," he said, hoping Vox would at least put his hand on him again.

"Oh." Vox didn’t even look away from the screen as his hand slid back onto his side, letting it just rest there.

Alastor felt murderous.

He hated the casualness. He hated not getting any comments. He hated being ignored.

"Vox."

"Hm?"

"Are you almost done?"

Vox kept typing, barely slowing down. "I wish. I’ll probably have to pull an all nighter."

Alastor raised an eyebrow at that. "Ah. I see." It took a few more moments of silently staring at him before he spoke again.

"Vox."

"What?"

Well. He had already lost his dignity by sitting in Vox’s lap in the first place, so he might as well spell it out for him.

"It’s Friday. We’re scheduled tonight."

Vox barely reacted, still focused on the screen in front of him. "Yeah, that’s not happening. I’m drowning over here."

Alastor watched as Vox took a sip of that awful, bitter black coffee, looking all serious and disinterested, and he wanted to scream.

"So you’re canceling on me. Again."

"Jesus, Al, I wish I could," Vox sighed, setting the mug down. "You know I’m busy. Vel doesn’t help around anymore, I have to do everything myself."

Now, Alastor knew that he should be understanding. He was aware of how much pressure Vox was under. He should accept that work had taken priority, that this wasn’t personal or an elaborate scheme.

But damn it, he didn’t do well with being ignored.

"One might think you don’t want me anymore. At all."

That finally made Vox pause, his brows lifting in genuine surprise. "Al, what?"

"You don’t call, you don’t text–"

"What? I text you every day."

Alastor scoffed. "Ah yes, a 'good morning' and a random text at the crack of dawn. How exciting."

"And you don’t even respond to those."

"Well, forgive me if I think they lack a certain passion."

"You ignore every text, every call, what else am I supposed to do?" Vox’s voice was flatter now, perhaps keeping his own frustration in check.

Alastor crossed his arms at that. How dare Vox make good points right now? "If you really wanted to talk to me, you’d be more..." He refrained from using the word desperate, even though it was the perfect word to describe Vox in any context. "Insistent."

"I was insistent. I called you to meet up the first two weeks," Vox countered, still keeping his cool. After all, he had learned by now that he had to be calm with Alastor. "And since you hung up on me, I figured you weren’t feeling like it, or you were busy as well."

"See, that’s why I didn’t answer. You only bothered to call when it was time to have sex."

"Al." Vox shut his laptop and pushed it to the side. He knew Alastor was just being his usual, impossible to please self, but God, it was frustrating regardless. "Please shut up."

Alastor looked at him. That was new.

"You are not doing this right now. You can't complain that you’re not getting enough attention when you’re the one who’s been ignoring me. What are you trying to do anyway? Start a fight?"

He was still so infuriatingly calm, genuinely trying to decipher Alastor’s way of thinking, and that only irritated Alastor further. How was he supposed to argue with someone who was giving him nothing to work with?

And the best part? Not even he was sure what he was trying to do.

Was he just testing Vox’s limits? Trying to force out some buried resentment, some proof that he still hadn’t been completely forgiven?

Prove that all this was just a long game of revenge? Or did he want to see how far he could push before Vox finally decided he wasn’t worth the effort? It would be so much easier that way. Easier to ruin things now before this went too far. Better to destroy everything on his own terms than to sit around, waiting for the inevitable.
But the truth was, this had already gone too far. Four months was too long to pretend this didn’t matter.

"I didn't want to be pushy," Vox continued. "You didn’t seem interested."

"Well, I wasn't," Alastor started before falling quiet. "...But I am now," he admitted.

Vox liked that admission. It made him bold enough to let his hand on Alastor’s side drift lower. "And how was I supposed to know that?" he asked.
Alastor sucked in a breath as Vox’s hand reached between his legs. The touch was light, but it had been so long that even this made him shiver.

"Maybe–" he said, feeling the faint buzz of his zipper being undone. "Maybe you should pay more attention to me."

Vox pressed a slow kiss against his cheek. "Maybe you should tell me when you want it." His hand moved, rubbing against him through his underwear. It was almost pathetic how quickly he had gotten hard.

His other hand snuck up to his neck, fingers ghosting over his skin before pressing down. "You act like I’m supposed to know exactly what goes on in that head of yours," he whispered, his grip tightening, tilting his head a bit. Alastor’s fingers dug into Vox’s wrist, a small warning that if Vox felt like squeezing any harder, he would scratch. Under normal circumstances, he would have already bitten his hand off, but right now, he was so touch starved he’d let him do just about anything. Vox knew that, so his hand between Alastor’s legs kept moving. He was already leaking through the fabric, his whole body responding with almost humiliating eagerness.

"If you knew what went through my head, you wouldn’t speak to me again," he said, though it was hard to sound condescending when he was practically rocking into his hand.

"You’d be surprised at what I’m willing to tolerate." Vox let his thumb graze the tip, making Alastor shiver against him. "I told you I can handle you. You don’t have to keep testing me." He kept going, determined to make Alastor regret all the times he thought it was cute to act all haughty and distant. His hand pumped him faster, matching his breaths. His own arousal strained against his pants, throbbing with need as he watched Alastor come undone in his lap. God, he wished he could just shove himself in and–

Wait.

He could shove himself in.

It was Friday. Holy hell.

Thank God it was Friday.

His hand stopped, and he pressed another kiss against the corner of Alastor’s mouth. "I'm gonna take you right here." A shuddering breath left Alastor, but only that.

"You heard me?" Vox asked, hand squeezing around his neck again.

"Yes," Alastor gasped out. He needed this. He needed Vox to make him feel whole again.

Vox let go, reaching into his desk drawer, fumbling around for any forgotten condom. Having Alastor all sweet and needy like this was rare, and he was going to take full advantage of it.

"Right on my lap," he mused, tearing open a wrapper.

He then slipped a hand underneath Alastor, pushing his pants up. His hand stayed there, under his thighs, keeping them up as he rolled the condom on with one hand. He loved this position, loved how he could feel Alastor’s warm body against his. He spread his own legs wider, pulling him closer and if Alastor had any shame left, he might have felt embarrassed about being manhandled so easily.

Vox bucked his hips up, blindly trying to find his entrance, putting way too much trust in the lube on the condom. And Alastor, Impatient as ever, took matters into his own hands. Literally. He grabbed Vox’s cock, lined him up properly, and sank down in one smooth motion, feeling that wonderful stretch again.

"Fuck–" Vox groaned.
Alastor put his head back onto Vox’s shoulder, his fingers digging into his arm, which had slid back to his neck to keep him steady.

This pose was so humiliating, but it didn’t matter. He’d dwell on it later. For now, all that mattered was the way Vox’s hips snapped up into him, over and over again. Every sharp thrust drove into him perfectly, so Vox kept pushing him down, making him take all of it.

He was a bit rough but Alastor wasn’t complaining, he couldn’t complain, not after he’d been thinking about this for weeks. He missed the way Vox's thrusts made his body rock, how his cock filled him up. He felt his body shuddering with every deep thrust. He cursed, and Vox's rhythm faltered before he gathered himself and fucked into him harder, deeper.

Then Vox felt him squeezing, felt the way his muscles tensed, and he slowed down again. As perfect as this position was, he knew Alastor wasn’t flexible enough to keep his legs up like this forever.

"Want me to bend you over the desk?"
Alastor let out a shaky breath, looking at him. At this point, he’d agree to anything to keep this up. Vox chose to interpret that sweet little sound and that doe eyed look as a yes and lifted Alastor’s legs slightly to pull out. The moment his hand left his thighs, Alastor’s legs dropped limp onto his own. He barely had time to be embarrassed before Vox was handling him again, making him stand up. His pants immediately fell to the floor, leaving him even more humiliated.

He felt Vox's hand going to his stomach, pulling him backwards while Vox’s other hand pushed the back of his head down until his chest met the desk.

"Just like that," Vox whispered, his fingers gliding down his spine, making his tail flick up in response.

He pushed Alastor’s shirt up to expose even more of his back. There was something so surreal about seeing him like this, all half naked and needy.

And then, he pushed in again.

Slower this time, letting him feel every inch. His hands moved over his hipbones to keep them from smacking against the desk once his pace inevitably got rougher. He was so nice.

With a deep thrust, Vox filled him to the hilt, stretching him completely. It was hard, rough but it had been so long his body was starving for this. He couldn’t stop his hips from rolling back, urging him deeper.

And of course, Vox took the invitation gladly.

He snapped his hips forward, slamming into him at just the right angle, hitting that spot inside him over and over again. Alastor groaned, reaching down to grip himself, stroking in short, jerky motions as Vox got sloppier, pulling him into each thrust.

Vox’s hand wrapped around his waist, and Alastor whined as his fingers dug into the soft flesh. He thrust into him harder, his strokes getting frantic just to feel him squeeze around him. Just to see that cute little tail stand up with every deep move, to hear those soft, pornographic moans that were just for him.

He was completely fascinated by him. How did this small body devoured people whole? How did it take him whole?

He pulled out almost completely and slammed back in.

At that, a sharp gasp left Alastor. His hand around his length stopping, his whole body tensing. That familiar feeling in his stomach was building, and he kept rocking back without even thinking.

And oh, Vox could do this forever, but he was getting impatient. He wanted to finish, but Alastor was taking longer than usual. So, he decided to help.

The help was a controlled, low amperage shock of 100 volts, right at the base of his tail.

The effect was of course, instant.

Alastor’s entire body jerked, his tail fluffed up and pleasure slammed into him in waves as he came almost immediately with a strangled cry. Vox let him ride it out, giving him a moment to catch his breath. Again, he was so nice.

Alastor exhaled shakily, his body twitching, struggling to get air into his lungs. He still felt the lingering buzz of electricity tingling along his spine and down to his legs. "Was that... necessary?" he panted.

"You were taking a bit too long, thought I'd give you a hand." Vox replied, shifting his hips in a slow, lazy thrust, clearly pleased with himself.

Alastor let out a weak breath. His body felt useless, pleasurably numb, but numb regardless. 

"...Too much."

At that, Vox pulled out completely, and Alastor took a moment to gather himself, straightening up and turning around, feeling his legs shake beneath him.

"Wait here, I need some extra lube," Vox said and Alastor huffed, already attempting to tug his pants back up, nearly stumbling in the process. "Actually, I believe we should call it a day."

Vox blinked at him, confused. "But we still–" He cut himself off, realising there was no decent way to say 'you still need to finish me off'.

Alastor fastened his belt with whatever dignity he had left, completely ignoring the uncomfortable stickiness and pretty much everything happening in his lower body.

"No," he said simply.

Vox raised an eyebrow at the unapologetic rejection. Maybe he had gone a bit too far.

"Hey now, don’t leave me like this," he gestured to himself.

Alastor, unsurprisingly, did not care.

"Ah, ah, now," he said, adjusting his clothes. "I’d hate to distract you any further when there’s so much work that needs to be done."

Vox’s jaw would’ve dropped if it was physically possible. "You’re kidding, right? Al, baby, baby, come on. I'm sorry, I thought you'd like it. Al. Please. I’m desperate here."

Alastor just smiled at him. "You’re a big boy, Vox. You’ll manage."

Vox opened his mouth to argue, to beg, if necessary, but before he could even get a word out, surprise, surprise, Alastor was gone, leaving him alone in his office, painfully hard and painfully aware that he had just been thoroughly fucked over.

Vox buried himself in work for the rest of the day and night, trying to drown out the frustration Alastor had left him with. When exhaustion finally caught up to him, he locked his office and made his way to the main living room.

As he stepped into the room, he saw Velvette and Valentino still awake, chatting and laughing while some random movie played on the TV.

The second he stepped inside, the chatter stopped.

He stood there for a moment, eyes narrowing. At this point, he couldn’t decide if they were still pissed about the whole situation, or if they were just being assholes for the fun of it. Either way, he refused to let them get under his skin.

He tried to say something, only for Valentino to reach for the remote and turn the volume up, loud enough to drown him out.

Okay. Fine. Whatever.

He turned around and walked to the elevator, slamming the button for his floor repeatedly and with way more force than necessary.

The moment the doors slid open, he stormed out, heading straight to his room. He nearly slammed the door behind him but stopped himself. He wasn’t about to give them the satisfaction of knowing they’d managed to ruin his mood again.

Muttering under his breath, he locked the door, shrugged his jacket off, and headed for his bed. With a heavy sigh, he flopped onto it, back first.

Only to hear a startled jolt beside him.

Alastor was there, tucked under the covers, now on high alert. He blinked at him groggily, realization settling in before he let out a sigh and flopped back down.

"Hi," Vox whispered, a stupid smile spreading across his screen.

He sat up slightly, looking over him.

"You’ve never come by yourself before."

Alastor pulled the thick covers over his head in an attempt to block Vox out. "Too many people at the hotel."

Vox chuckled. "Aww, my poor social butterfly," he said before getting up from the bed.

Alastor tried to get back to sleep, but now that he could feel someone else in the room, his ears twitched at every little sound, no matter how quiet. After a while, he felt the bed dip beside him. Vox had settled in next to him, moving quietly, trying not to disturb him. His eyes opened involuntarily, even though he was still half asleep.

"You don’t mind me sleeping in my bed, do you?" Vox asked.

Alastor let his eyes slip shut again, already starting to doze off. He was too tired to argue and too comfortable to push him away. He made a low noise as Vox slipped an arm around his waist, pulling him closer. He felt  his hand trailing up his back before settling on the back of his head, fingers threading into his hair.

"You have so much hair." Vox said, running his fingers through it.

"Jealous?"

Vox responded with a soft tug and Alastor huffed a quiet laugh, eyes still closed.

Vox liked this. He liked this a lot. He wanted to have it every night. To wake up to it every morning.

"Al?"

A quiet hum was his only response.

"I hope…" he hesitated for half a second. "I make you as happy as you make me."

The words barely registered in Alastor’s sleepy mind, but he still heard them. Still felt them. He could also feel Vox looking at him, waiting. His chest tightened, but not in the usual, suffocating way that happened when someone got too close. He simply didn’t know how to respond to something like that. If he said something equally nice, Vox would never shut up about it. If he said something too apathetic, again, Vox would never shut up about it.

So instead, he did the only thing that felt right.

He slipped his hand from beneath the pillow and placed it gently on Vox’s chest.

That was his answer.

Sleep crept in again, and with it, a quiet, undeniable feeling that he was exactly where he wanted to be.

Chapter Text

It had been a few weeks since the commercial aired. The cameras were long gone and the fuss was finally fading, but sadly, the aftermath remained. The hotel was constantly packed, filled with all kinds of poor souls.

Everyone saw it as a victory. Alastor, not so much.

Because now his space was swarmed with a crowd of nobodies, laughing, talking, existing.

So he figured a stroll through Pentagram City’s more colourful districts would do him some good. The random screaming, the confused newcomers, and the occasional street fights always had a way of cheering him up.

This wasn't just a simple walk though, it was also a job for the hotel. In each hand, he carried a pile of posters and a staple gun. Well, some of them resembled posters. Most were a mess of crumpled papers filled with ink smudges, from where he’d accidentally used them as a coaster earlier.

He started stapling them onto every random surface available, not really bothering that some were upside down. Just as he was having a blast, a sharp car horn blared behind him.

He turned around, seeing the obnoxious and sleek vehicle on the road. He didn’t even have to check for the owner. There weren’t many sinners who owned cars in the first place, and even fewer who would pick something like that. He looked around the half empty street before tucking the remaining posters under his arm, making his way across the street just as Vox rolled his tinted window down.

"You know you stapled a poster over an eviction notice, right?"

Alastor grinned. "Mh hm."

"What are these for?" Vox glanced at the posters under Alastor's arm, but before he could get a proper look, Alastor made the remaining stack and staple gun disappear, clasping his hands behind his back.

Vox deadpanned him but didn’t press it. Instead, he looked him up and down. "Want a lift?"

Alastor knew this was just an excuse for Vox to show off, but the idea of walking back up those hills after all his hard work didn’t really resonate with him at the moment.

"Well, how could I refuse such a gracious offer?"

At the sound of that, Vox immediately stepped out of the car, walking around to open the door for him, and Alastor climbed inside. He barely had time to settle before something in the backseat caught his eye. There were stacked several rolls of fabric in all sorts of flashy colors and frills. Obviously for Velvette.

He turned to Vox, who had got back behind the wheel.

"You're back to being an errand boy, I see."

Vox started the car again, putting his seatbelt on. "I was already out, so I just—"

Alastor waved a hand. "Sure you were." Vox gave him a look but didn’t argue.

"You realize they’re only talking to you because you’re useful again, don’t you?" Alastor added.

A sigh and a moment later, Vox spoke again. "You know I can’t just be mad at them forever, right?"

"Of course you can't."

"What am I supposed to do? Keep grudges forever like you do?"

Alastor just smiled back at him, and Vox kept driving, ignoring him and the seatbelt warning echoing through the car.

"They tossed you a scrap of civility, and you came running–"

"Put the seatbelt on," Vox said flatly.

"Yes, of course," Alastor whined but complied, clicking the seatbelt into place. "It’d be a shame if we were to die or something."

Vox's refusal to snap was no fun, so he decided to let the matter drop, for now. But he would annoy Vox about it later, in far more exquisite detail. For the time being, his attention shifted to the car, taking in all the... flashiness. He wasn’t even sure what half of these controls did.

"You like my car?" Vox asked, clearly proud of this thing.

"It’s quite flashy." Alastor dragged out the word, eyeing the glowing control panels and unnecessarily complex dashboard. "And loud. Much like its owner. A vulgar display of wealth, really."

Vox chuckled, making a smooth turn. "If you think this is vulgar, you should see my Ferrari."

Alastor wished he had misheard that.

"Has your Great Depression ass even seen a Ferrari up close?" Vox asked, only for Alastor to poke him with his staff. "Sadly, no. But I–" poke "–have seen more luxury and wealth than you can begin to imagine. And I can assure you, your cars don’t hold a candle to the elegance and sophistication of the automobiles from my time. I’d take a Rolls Royce any day over whatever this is."

Vox swatted the staff away. "Yeah, yeah. Your Rolls Royce this, your Model T that. At least my cars can go over fifty miles per hour."

"Don’t be so immature. Speed isn’t everything," Alastor said, flipping a random switch. "It’s about craftsmanship. Elegance. Taste. Qualities your toys, and by extension you, severely lack."

"Oh fu–"

"Eyes on the road, Vox."

Another smooth turn.

"I must admit though," Alastor continued. "This particular car is decent, but only because it’s not automatic."

"Thanks, I like driving manually once in a while," Vox muttered, knowing this was the closest he was getting to a compliment from Alastor right now.

"Good, at least you're not completely hopeless." Alastor's tone was unforgivingly mocking, but his eyes stayed on Vox for a little longer than usual. Vox could feel it, but by the time he turned around to confirm it, Alastor had already looked away, leaving him wondering if it had ever happened at all.

"So, do you remember how to drive?" Vox asked, genuinely curious.

Alastor's eyes lit up. "Of course I do! And I'll let you know, I was a fantastic driver."

Vox lifted a brow, slowing the car down, testing Alastor's self assurance. "Wanna see if you still got it?"

Alastor's ears perked up at the challenge. "You really want to see this old soul outdrive you?"

The car came to a full stop, and Vox unbuckled his seatbelt. "Let's see what you've got then." He stepped out, rounding the front of the car, offering Alastor the driver's seat.

Alastor felt a rush of excitement as he slid behind the wheel, immediately adjusting the seat and mirrors to his liking. His fingers flexed over the wheel, taking his time with familiarising himself with the modern layout as Vox dropped into the passenger seat.

"Clutch, brake, gas. Left to right," Vox offered smugly, settling into the passenger seat.

Alastor side eyed him. Then, without another word, he floored it.

The car lurched forward violently, tires screeching as Vox was thrown back into his seat.

"AL."

Alastor sped up, maneuvering and zigzagging through the fancy, and thankfully half empty, roads of the Entertainment District with effortless confidence. "How fast are you going?!" Vox shouted, desperately trying to click his seatbelt into place.

Alastor squinted at the speedometer, letting go of the wheel entirely to adjust his monocle.

Vox's soul left his body.

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU–"

"Hundred and forty!" Alastor declared proudly.

The car side tranched, and Vox lunged for the wheel, only for Alastor to grab it just in time, making an absurdly sharp turn that sent Vox slamming sideways and the fabric rolls in the backseat flying.

Then, with a calm that didn’t match this moment, Alastor asked, "Say, if we hypothetically crash and die, do you think you'll come back with your old head?"

Vox barely processed the words before snapping his screen at him. "WHAT?!"

"Oh how I'd love to see that version of you again!"

"I DON'T!"

And with that, Alastor sped up.

Vox fumbled with frantic hands for his seatbelt once again, managing to click it into place, but there was no time to relax as his eyes shot back to the windshield, noticing something unexpected at the end of the road. "Is that, Fat Nuggets?"

And sure enough, there it was, waddling down the middle of the street, the tiny pig looking around, hopelessly confused and out of place.

"Indeed! Oh my, Angel's been looking for him all day," Alastor replied, all too cheerfully.

"Al! The pig!" Vox yelled, as they drove towards it at an alarming speed.

"You know, I never particularly liked that little thing," Alastor said, his eyes on the road, his grin wide. "You wouldn’t believe how many of my cables he's chewed through!"

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING!" Vox yelled, lunging for the wheel again, full blown panic in his eyes. "ARE YOU INSANE?! STOP THE CAR!"

Before he could even touch the wheel, Alastor slammed the brake, making the tires screech against the pavement. For a moment, there was nothing in the air but the acrid smell of burning rubber and the faint crackle of static coming off Vox.

Vox stood completely still, frozen on his seat, not entirely convinced he was still alive. He was about to cuss Alastor out, but then a soft, high pitched oink came from right outside his door.

With shaky hands, he opened the door a crack, and there, standing perfectly unharmed, was Fat Nuggets, blinking up at him with his big black eyes.

Vox slumped back against his seat, his heart hammering. "Holy shit. Holy fuck. You're insane, you're actually fucking insane," he wheezed, and Alastor laughed, finally letting go of the wheel, his own heart still pounding with adrenaline.

"I thought you said you could handle me," Alastor grinned, then, instead of using the door, he crawled over Vox’s lap and hopped out off the car, kneeling beside the pig, gently patting him on the head. "Hello there, you little nuisance."

Fat Nuggets gave an excited little spin as he saw him, completely unaware of how close he'd come to a violent demise. "Let's take you back home," Alastor said, scooping him up with ease.

"Are you good over there?" he asked Vox, who had also gotten out of the car. "No. No I'm not," Vox replied flatly, hands braced on his knees.

Alastor bumped him aside with his hip and sat back into the passenger seat and Vox let out a heavy sigh, too tired to protest. He climbed back into the car, making peace with the fact that this was his life now. For some reason, he had chosen this.

The drive back to the hotel was, thankfully, less deranged. Alastor flipped through the radio stations, trying to find his own, while Fat Nuggets settled happily on Vox's lap. They pulled up in front of the hotel, and Vox gave the little pig a few affectionate pets before handing him back to Alastor.

"So, what time should I expect you to come over?" Vox asked.

Alastor tilted his head, giving him a confused look. "Who said I'd come over?"

Vox raised a brow. "So you won’t?"

Alastor gave him a sly smile. "You'll see." He then reached for the door handle, only for it to not budge.

"Don't I deserve a thank you for driving you all the way here?" Vox asked.

Alastor's eyes narrowed playfull. "Ah yes, of course. How dare I not reward you for the ride you offered."

Vox's hands wasted no time sliding under Alastor's coat but Alastor raised his hand, stopping him.

"Wait."

He carefully placed his palm over Fat Nuggets' eyes.

"Proceed."

With a soft exhale, Vox’s hands now slid beneath his shirt, pulling him closer. The kiss was slow, all teeth and tongue, Vox’s tongue brushing against Alastor’s, who seemed determined to see if he could suffocate Vox with the kiss.

Eventually, they pulled apart, eyes meeting in a shared silence, as Fat Nuggets was squirming, desperately trying to get Alastor’s hand off him.

After another equally sappy kiss, Alastor was allowed out of the car, with Fat Nuggets in his arms along with his staff. He watched as the car went down the hills, and before he could take another step the hotel doors burst open and Charlie and Angel stepped out.

Alastor barely had time to blink before Angel rushed in, taking Fat Nuggets from his arms and hugging him close.

He offered a smile, soft and distant and answered their questions with absentminded politeness. His eyes strayed again, just in time to catch the last flash of Vox’s car vanishing completely around the corner.

Only then did he turn towards the hotel, following Charlie and Angel inside.

To no one's surprise, Alastor was once again spending the night at Vee Tower.

Today's excuse, something about the hotel being too loud, was, of course, nonsense. Especially considering he was the one responsible for at least half the noise complaints.

But it was the excuse he'd given himself tonight, and that was good enough.

This night, though, was different. Special. Because after just the right amount of pestering, he'd finally convinced Vox to show him a strictly off limits wing of the tower.

Valentino's prized collection of lethal flora.

And to Alastor’s great surprise, it was a stunning collection. Bright LED lights bathed the entire room in a rich glow of deep blues, violets, and pinks that shimmered off every waxy leaf and curling vine. All the plants were beautiful and well cared for, making the air thick with the sweet, cloying scent of them.

He hated to admit that Valentino, for all his many, many, many faults, certainly knew how to set a scene.

Alastor wandered around the plant filled room, his eyes gleaming in delight, all while Vox trailed right behind him in a state of high alert. "Just don't touch anything," Vox said, for what must have been the twentieth time. "Valentino would rather kill us both than lose even one of these things."

Alastor, who was thriving under all the attention, simply tossed him a look over his shoulder. "You act like he's going to materialize any second now."

"Not taking any chances," Vox muttered, eyeing him warily as he was already inching closer to a huge flytrap.

"There's no need to worry so much. After all, I am nothing if not a respectable houseguest!" Alastor declared, right before brushing his fingers against one of the trap's curling leaves.

Vox immediately nudged him back.

"You think it's going to be fun explaining to Valentino why one of his 'babies' is missing a petal?"

"Oh, pish posh," Alastor huffed.

"Out," Vox said, already pushing him toward the nearby balcony. "Before we both end up dead."

But Alastor turned in his grip, his hands landing on Vox’s shoulders, successfully redirecting him backwards instead.

"Oh, but imagine the thrill of doing something deeply inappropriate right in your ex’s domain."

"No. No," Vox said, doing his best not to sidestep and bump into anything. "No."

"No?" Alastor echoed and gave him one final shove, right into the edge of a large marble planter. "Such a buzzkill."

Vox scowled, brushing himself off. "I'm not getting skinned alive because you have a thing for being obnoxious."

Alastor rolled his eyes, silently mouthing Vox’s words before sitting down beside him.

With the balcony door cracked open, the music drifted in from the city, mingling with the dizzying perfume of the plants. Alastor, in his infuriatingly cheerful mood, allowed himself to just relax and soak it all in.

So naturally, Vox had to open his mouth.

"Since the hotel’s always busy now," he began, making Alastor pause mid head bob,

"and you only come here during the day when the other two are out, which, let’s be honest, isn’t that often, why don’t we just… get a place together?"

The silence that followed was loud, immediate. Alastor stared at him, wide eyed.

Vox scrambled to fill the gap, gesturing behind him. "These are Mountain Laurels, by the way. Straight from Earth."

"…And that one’s called Angel's Trumpet. We got it last–"

FZZZT.

A weak green spark came from Alastor’s staff.

Vox’s eyes narrowed. He looked at the staff, then at Alastor. "Are you seriously trying to leave right now?"

Another fizz, that one leaving a pathetic puff of smoke behind.

Alastor gave him a small, innocent smile and made his once again uncooperative staff vanish. "No."

Vox tried to reach for his hands, but Alastor kept them primly over his chest, leaning back.

"Just think about it!" Vox pressed, way too eagerly. "We can get a huge place! Or a small place! Wherever you want. We can call it Black Maria. You know, like Edison and Dickson."

A light blue hologram appeared, displaying a glowing map of Pentagram City, with several locations in Vox's and Alastor's territories circled.

"You can be Dickson!" he added, with a hopeful grin.

Alastor gave him a sideways glance.

"Don't be like that. We already spend half the week together," Vox whined. "Might as well–"

"Which means I still have half the week to myself," Alastor cut in, pushing up to stand, but Vox pulled him right back down.

"Can you not act like I’m asking something crazy? It’s just a place, a nice one. With me. What’s so bad about that?"

Alastor shook his hand off him, cursed his broken staff once again and, as always, he started thinking. Because despite Vox's usual nonsense, he didn’t just say things like this out of nowhere. Not without reason. There had to be something behind it, some motive or some underlying mess. This wasn’t about convenience, or Vox's sudden desire to settle down. This had to be Vox escaping before confrontation hit. He wasn't planning the future, he was fleeing the present, looking for an exit instead of dealing with Valentino and Velvette head on. An easy way out before things got messy. Before he had to choose.

Alastor’s smile returned, sharp and knowing. "Sure!"

Vox smiled back, something between hope and suspicion. "Wait, really?"

"Absolutely! I think it’s a splendid idea. After all, who am I to deny you this desperate attempt to flee from your friends?"

"What?"

"You heard me."

The hologram glitched and blinked out as Vox stood, his frustration rising. "Can you stop doing that?! Can you stop twisting everything I say? If I wanted to move out, I’d just leave! I wouldn’t drag you into it!"

"Don’t yell at me."

"I’m not! I’m just–" Vox groaned. "Okay. Okay. If you really think that’s what this is, why don’t you move in with us, then?"

Alastor’s grin vanished.

"Absolutely not."

Vox threw his hands up. "You’re here almost every night! What’s the difference!?"

There was a difference.

Because right now, there were always excuses.

I was just passing through,

The hotel is too loud,

I couldn’t sleep,

But if he moved in, really moved in, there’d be no more excuses. No more pretence, no more playing it off like this was something that didn't matter.

He exhaled through his nose. "Vox, I like to keep myself busy. The hotel is doing just that." It wasn’t the whole truth, but it wasn’t a lie either. The hotel was a job yes, but it was also a distraction. It made him feel needed but also kept his mind from wandering to places it shouldn’t.

Vox, of course, didn’t look that thrilled about that answer, or convinced. "You really enjoy babysitting those rejects? That’s your plan for eternity?" he argued, and Alastor's expression cooled.

"What would you prefer I do instead? Lay around all day, waiting for you to come back?"

Vox didn’t take the bait, he just sighed and eased back down beside him. His hands found Alastor’s, cautious and firm, and Alastor didn’t yank them away or vanish on the spot.

Progress!

"Okay," Vox said, softer now, trying not to startle the moment any further. "Forget what I said. Keep the hotel. Keep your 9 to 5, spend your days doing whatever you want. And then, when the day’s done, you come back home to me. We'll hit the clubs, the casinos, wherever you want. We’ll go out, dancing and partying, just like we used to. I'll buy you anything you pretend not to like and show you all the new things this city has to offer. You'll never be bored again."

Alastor looked down at their hands, then off into the distance, imagining the version of them Vox was chasing. Dressed in fancy suits, surrounded by endless noise, neon lights, and loud laughter. A perfect little picture. Glitzy, loud, and gold plated. A pretty dream, yes. One anyone would want.

But it was, a dream.

"You’ve built yourself this little fantasy," Alastor said, voice quiet and hollow. "But how about I tell you how this really plays out?"

He looked up, eyes cold and clear.

"You’ll run out of things to buy me within a month. We’ll run out of things to say by the second. And let’s not kid ourselves. Your patience has its limits and I'm well aware of them. You really think you could handle me not returning affection the way you want me to for weeks? For Months?"

Alastor’s unblinking gaze didn’t leave Vox’s, as if waiting for something, anything to shift in his expression.

"Well?" Alastor asked. "How does that future sound to you?"

Vox, for the fool that he was, didn’t shy away yet.

"You’re assuming a lot," Vox said calmly. "What if we don’t run out of things to say? What if things don't get dull? Why do you always assume the worst?"

Because I’ve already ruined this once, and I don’t trust myself not to do it again.

"Because that’s reality, Vox." Alastor said quietly. "Life isn’t some romantic fantasy. There’s no happily ever after. No perfect ending, no eternal thrill. Everything gets dull, people get bored."

"I don’t." Vox said, looking at him with that stupid, stubborn certainty. Like he truly believed he could be the exception to the rule.

Alastor looked up at him, tired. "..I do."

"But we’ve been making this work so far, haven’t we?"

Alastor wanted to laugh. He knew Vox would say that. He knew he’d act like this wasn’t a disaster waiting to happen.

"We’ve been making this work," he corrected, "because we don't see each other every day."

And that was the truth of it, wasn’t it? This worked because there was space. There were gaps, room to breathe. Because he could just vanish when it got too much. Because the fiction of casualness let him pretend that this wasn’t becoming something he was afraid of ruining.

"You act like you’re so difficult to be around," Vox said, meeting his gaze. "You're not. Well, at least not for me, I don't know what the rest of Hell has to say." There was a tilt in his voice now, a small attempt at levity. "And you know we wouldn’t be glued to each other, right? We’d still have our own lives. I’d do my thing, you’d do yours… just, together."

Alastor didn’t respond right away.

Vox was pursuing, and not in his usual salesman, performative way. Just a quiet, hopeful persistence.

"You’re acting like this is simple," Alastor muttered. "Like it’s effortless. But it’s not. This isn't about having a routine. It’s about sharing space, sharing everything, constantly."

"And?"

"And it’s exhausting, Vox. All that closeness. All that time."

"It’s not." Vox insisted stubbornly, not letting go.

Of course it wasn’t exhausting for him. Vox had already built a life surrounded by people. But Alastor didn’t know how to do that. He didn’t know how to be with someone without losing himself. Or worse, without feeling like he had to keep on performing.

"This is a pipe dream," he said. "It’d be a disaster. We’d kill each other in a month."

"And it’d be the best month of my life." Vox said.

Alastor could only stare back at him. "You’re not even listening to me."

Vox smiled, softer this time. "See how I feel?"

Alastor wanted to argue. Wanted to tell him this was doomed from the start, that he knew how it was going to end.

But what if he didn’t? What if he wasn't miserable?

What if this time was different?

"Let’s humor your little fantasy," he said at last. "Say we try this. And somehow, everything is going fine. What then?"

Vox raised an eyebrow, like the answer was obvious. "Then we keep going."

Alastor blinked. "That’s your plan? Just keep going?"

"Yeah," Vox said, looking at him with so much patience it was almost frustrating.

"...You say that like it’s as easy as breathing."

"It is." Vox said, like it was the simplest thing in the world. Like Alastor was just being difficult. Like this wasn’t a huge thing to ask. "Just trust me, just this once."

Alastor’s gaze fell to their hands again. It was never that simple, was it? But for a second he could imagine it. Waking up in that bright room everyday, feeling another presence beside him. The peaceful mornings and late nights spent side by side.

"I’m not asking you to pack a bag," Vox added, voice low, knowing better than to poke it too hard. "or make some big declaration to anyone. Just stay for a few days, see how it feels. If you hate it, I’ll never bring it up again."

Alastor stayed quiet. For way longer than it was polite. Long past comfortable. Then, finally, he cut his eyes sideways.

"And? What about the rest of the team?" he asked. "Surely they won’t be thrilled about me lurking around even more than I already do."

"They’ll deal with it."

Alastor arched an eyebrow. "Will they?"

"They might throw a fit," Vox admitted. "But it’s my place too."

They stayed there for a while. Long enough for Alastor to slip his arm around Vox’s, letting everything around him fade as he felt that steady warmth he’d grown to rely on in a world that simply refused to stay still.

He didn’t say yes.

But he didn’t say no either.

Then came the sound of the elevator followed by the unmistakable click, click, click of heels on marble.

Vox stiffened.

It was as if Valentino had some kind of sixth sense for knowing someone was too close to his beloved plants.

Vox didn’t hesitate. He grabbed Alastor’s wrist and pulled. Using their powers would’ve made them immediately detectable, they could only run, or more accurately, climb down to Vox's floor.

Alastor slipped over the edge of the balcony, jumping  down silently with an eerie grace.

Vox was… less graceful.

He stumbled onto his own balcony just as Valentino flung the glass doors open right above them.

Alastor stepped forward to look up, only for Vox to yank him back. Alastor toppled, right onto him. It was unclear whether it was gravity or intent, but the result was the same, a questionable crack from Vox’s back. Alastor didn’t bother getting up. And as Hell’s nightlife hummed softly from below and Valentino’s not softly swearing came from above, he figured that if this was the kind of idiocy he could expect on the daily, maybe the Vee Tower wasn’t such a terrible place to stay after all.

Chapter Text

Alastor sat behind his brand new, custom-designed desk in the recording studio that was built just for him, perched high up in the Vee Tower. It was spacious and soundproofed to perfection, with all the latest tech Vox could brag about slapped into every surface.

It was almost 6 p.m., which meant it was time for another broadcast, a Valentine’s Day special no less, and Alastor was in unusually high spirits, his desk buried in letters from his listeners, both new and old. They varied wildly, from tales of failed love confessions to stories of heartbreak, betrayal, and full blown romantic disasters, just as he’d requested.

Alastor skimmed through them with evident delight, plucking one at random from the pile. "Ah, what a tragedy," he crooned into his mic, holding the letter delicately between his fingers. "This poor young lady thought she’d found the One… only to discover he’d been messing around with her best friend! Oh, the betrayal you must have felt! It never comes from a stranger, now does it? But chin up, my dear. At least you caught him early, unlike this unfortunate soul."

He picked up another letter, already unfolded and used as a fan for the past few minutes. "Now he was left at the altar! Can you believe it? Dumped on his wedding day for someone else!"

Leaning away from the mic, he tore open another envelope with barely restrained glee. All this heartbreak and infidelity was just what he needed.

"Oh, how rude of me," he said suddenly, eyes twinkling. "I must take a moment to wish a very special friend of mine a happy name day." He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a rich purr. "Don’t think I can’t feel you listening."

A smooth laugh slipped out as he unfolded the next letter.

"I must say, I’m very proud of you all. So many of you still remember, or at least had the decency to learn, how to send a proper letter. Though I am disappointed no one thought to send anthrax. A wasted opportunity, truly."

He adjusted his monocle, brought the letter close, and immediately grimaced.

"Oh my," he muttered, squinting at the scrawl. Still, he persisted, determined to decipher the mess.

"Let’s see… Ah! A hopeless romantic," he raised an eyebrow,

"…with a touch of voyeuristic flair."

He cleared his throat before continuing, albeit selectively, after glancing down at a small printed list on his desk, the Vees "on-air restrictions." He hadn't taken the censorship well, but it was that or be forced to shill for ads. So in the end, the list had won.

"'Mr. Radio Man. Hi. I really like ur show. Ur voice is cool and all. But u know what’s not cool? The fact I’m seeing this guy and he’s so rich and smart and I just don't know what he even sees in me.'"

Alastor chuckled. These were the kinds of fanmails he truly enjoyed, the messy ones, filled with insecurity.

"And here we have a classic case of ‘I’m not good enough,’" he mused. "Oh, the ever present agony of unworthiness. Such a common affliction among us sinners. You poor, poor dear."

He eyed the signature, squinting once again. "Litzo? Blito? Well, whatever your name is, stop wasting time questioning why someone likes you. If they treat you well, enjoy it, before your own self loathing drives them off first!"

With a flick of the wrist, he threw the letter over his shoulder. He reached for another that had caught his attention for a while, its envelope stained with what appeared to be both blood and lipstick.

He could’ve gone on for hours. In fact, he probably would have, if not for the growing soreness in his throat and the creeping curiosity about what the other three were up to. He assumed, or rather hoped, that they would be out for the day. Some precious solitude in the Vee Tower would be a rare and welcome gift.

"Well, dear listeners," he said brightly, as if he hadn’t just spent the last half hour dissecting people’s romantic failures, "I’m afraid that’s all for today’s broadcast. Perhaps I’ll do a part two and read more of your pitiful letters. Or maybe I won’t! You’ll just have to stay tuned."

With a wide grin, he flipped the switch and signed off.

Finally, he took a much needed sip of water, uncrossed his legs and stretched, or well, tried to do so without feeling the restriction of his brand new outfit. A beautiful mix of blood red and dark greys that clung to him with unforgiving precision, covered in entirely unnecessary embellishments, all courtesy of Velvette’s craftsmanship.

He got up and stepped out of the recording booth and, to his surprise, found Vox already waiting just outside, hands outstretched and a wide, expectant grin across his screen. "Well? Signal’s much better now, right?" A direct callback to Alastor’s frequent complaints about sound quality, which was purely a fabricated excuse to justify retreating to his beloved radio tower that had been collecting dust.

Alastor tilted his head with a sly little smile. "It was acceptable."

"Only the best for my radio star," Vox said, offering his arm. "Why don’t you take a break with me for a while? Then you can go record that part two."

"A break, you say? How generous of you, choosing not to work me to death today!" Alastor drawled, linking their arms together. "And you know I don’t record, I prefer things live."

"I know, I know," Vox said as he walked him toward the elevator, "but wouldn’t it be smarter to preselect the best letters?"

"No," Alastor replied flatly, pressing the button for the floor below.

Vox rolled his eyes, already half-expecting that answer. "Okay, okay, do your thing."

The elevator doors slid open, revealing the familiar expanse of the Vees' extravagant main living room, now drowned in Valentine’s Day decorations. Balloons floated near the ceiling, bouquets of roses spilled across the couches, and heart-shaped chocolate boxes artfully arranged on the table, with a bottle of wine sat waiting in the middle of it.

It was tacky,  and cliché in every way. A complete shrine to indulgence.
And of course, Vox looked positively proud of it.

Alastor did a slow blink. "How… festive," he said dryly, trying to process the scene.

With a snap of Vox’s fingers, all the candles across the floor sparked to life, a fire hazard made charming only by showmanship.

"Just a little something I put together," Vox said, smiling broadly. "Do you like it?"

Alastor turned to look at him and matched Vox's smile with one full of saccharine cheer. "Don’t expect to get lucky just because it’s Valentine’s. I have no regard for such holidays."

Vox chuckled, letting Alastor slip free of his arm. "I know," he said, waving it off. "But since there’s a thunderstorm rolling in, I figured we could just relax, have some wine, watch the world burn. Literally."

Alastor considered this. After all, acid rain did lend a certain ambiance.

He finally relented, glancing around the room again. "You didn’t have to do all this, you know. We’re grown men."

"So what?" Vox said, one hand settling lightly on Alastor’s back as he guided him to the couch. "I can’t buy you chocolate and ask you to be my Valentine?"

"I can’t believe you actually want to celebrate this," Alastor muttered, settling onto the spacious couch beside Vox, eyeing the decor with quiet judgment. "You are aware it’s a made up, commercial holiday, correct?"

"Well, it’s also Valentino’s name day," Vox pointed out, taking the wine from the table and uncorking it with ease. "So we’ve been celebrating it whether we like it or not for years now," he added, pouring Alastor a glass.

Alastor took the delicate glass and took a long sip, the wine cutting some of the dryness in his throat. "Still. It's nothing more than a manufactured excuse to sell cards and guilt people into buying useless things." He set his glass down, right next to a cluster of flickering candles that were far too close to a bouquet.

Vox poured himself a glass, unbothered by the disdain. "But it’s also a day to appreciate and have fun with our significant others. Even if they’re surly and allergic to joy."

Alastor reached over and plucked a rose from the overflowing bouquet on the table, frowning when he noticed it had no thorns to toy with, so instead, he began idly pulling off its petals one by one. "And I suppose you consider yourself my significant other?" he asked.

"I’d say I qualify, yeah," Vox replied playfully, watching the deconstruction of the poor rose with a raised brow.

Then, suddenly, he put his glass down and got up. "Wait. Don’t move. And close your eyes."

Alastor, naturally, didn’t.

"Close them and don’t turn around." Vox repeated, more insistent.

More out of curiosity than compliance, Alastor obeyed and shut his eyes. There was the sound of rustling, and after a while, something heavy and box-shaped was placed in his lap.

"Okay. Open them."

Alastor opened his eyes one at a time and blinked down at a black gift box, wrapped with an unnecessarily extravagant red bow. Vox climbed back over the couch to rejoin him, watching eagerly.

With his curiosity begrudgingly piqued, Alastor pulled the ribbon loose and lifted the lid. Inside sat a pair of gleaming black and red shoes. At first glance, they were almost identical to his old, dearly departed favorite pair, the one Velvette had gleefully burned.

But these looked way better, the black was rich and glossy, and the soles were red. He lifted one out, squinting at it. "What are these?"

Vox cleared his throat.

Alastor immediately sighed, regretting showing any hint of interest.

"These," Vox began, adopting his best salesman voice, "are custom-made Loubo—"

"Don’t you think Velvette has given me enough shoes already?" Alastor cut in, unimpressed.

"Al. Baby. Yes, you have shoes," Vox said, taking the shoe from Alastor's hand and gesturing at it. "But these are an upgrade. They’re not just shoes, they’re a statement."

"And what statement would that be?" Alastor asked dryly. "That I have more money than sense?"

"That," Vox replied, placing the shoe back in the box with care, "or that I have a rich someone who likes to pamper me."

Alastor, now down to the rose’s stem, resumed dismantling it with a look of practiced indifference. "You do know what gifting shoes signifies, don't you?"

"You know I don’t believe in these."

"Well, I do. And I haven’t even broken in this pair yet."

"Come on," Vox coaxed. "Just try them on."

"Fine," Alastor huffed, setting the ruined rose aside. "I’ll humor you." He knew he was being difficult, but it was always fun watching Vox fuss over him like this.

Vox smiled triumphantly, watching Alastor, who had begun pacing around the candlelit room with the new shoes on. 

Then came a soft beep from his phone, drawing Alastor’s attention.

"Vel," Vox murmured, checking the screen. "She says they’ll be home late." He set the phone with its screen down on the table, then looked up just in time to watch Alastor take a few more slow steps.

"So?" Vox called. "What do we think? I had them made lightweight and waterproof. Just for you."

"They're doing what they promised," Alastor said coolly, casting a sly glance over his shoulder. "I suppose you expect a gift in return?"

"I wouldn’t say no to one," Vox replied, casually refilling Alastor’s wine glass. "Though really, all I want is to see you wear those more often." He paused. "And maybe nothing else."

Alastor didn’t bother with words. Instead, he shoved Vox onto the couch and followed, settling on top of him, seven floors be damned.

"Thank you, I guess," he muttered, shifting his weight slightly. "But you didn’t have to spend money just to acknowledge this ridiculous holiday."

"Mhm," Vox hummed, hands resting low on Alastor’s back. "Says the guy who just hosted an entire Valentine’s Day special."

"That," Alastor replied primly, "was entertainment. Satire, at most. Not some consumeristic cash grab nonsense."

"Oh, sure," Vox deadpanned. "Because mocking Valentine’s and capitalism while dressed in designer, surrounded by illegally imported roses is completely different. Really noble of you, Al."

"My point still stands," Alastor said, unbothered. "This holiday is insincere and manufactured. Love is and should be a private affair."

Vox blinked, a little caught off guard. "I always figured you’d be more of the 'love doesn’t exist' type."

"Me?" Alastor looked genuinely surprised.

"Yeah." Vox said.

Alastor was quiet for a moment. Rain had started tapping lightly against the windows, filling the silence.

"How could I believe that," he said finally, "when so many songs are love songs?" He looked off at nothing in particular. "I can’t possibly argue with that kind of cultural persistence." He reached for his glass again, tone shifting just enough to be teasing. "But if it’s not real… then it might be the most convincing illusion ever made."

Before his fingers could close around the glass, Vox’s hand slid in to stop him.

"I want you sober." Vox said quietly.

Alastor tilted his head, amused.
"But aren’t I more fun when I’m tipsy and agreeable?"

Vox didn’t answer. He just took Alastor’s hands and pressed them gently against his chest as thunder rumbled low all over the city.

"I used to want this so much," Vox said softly, unexpectedly tender.

"Used to?" Alastor teased, arching a brow.

Vox slid his hands a little lower on Alastor’s back, pulling him closer. "I mean, I still do. Obviously."

Alastor tilted his head, watching him more closely now in the amber glow of candlelight. "Since when?"

"Since…" Vox hesitated, then attempted a shrug. "Probably before I was even supposed to."

That got Alastor’s full attention.

"You saw me that way back then?"

Vox smirked. "What, you didn’t notice?"

"You never said anything."

"I figured it was obvious?" Vox said, amused. "You seriously didn’t catch on to the way I looked at you?"

Alastor blinked, genuinely baffled. "I assumed that was just… you. Flirty. Handsy. Over the top." He wasn't aware that Vox was actually notoriously antisocial and highly selective, particularly because Vox had always behaved in an unusually accessible and persistent way around him.

"And you?" Vox raised a brow. "Don't you think you were being a little extra?"

"I was being friendly," Alastor, oh so gently rephrased.

"Yeah, too friendly."

"Well, you didn’t seem to mind."

"Oh, I didn’t," Vox grinned. "Still don’t."

Alastor rested his chin lazily on his hands on top of Vox’s chest, looking up at him. "You make it sound like you’ve had a thing for me since the very beginning."

Vox let out a soft laugh. "Al, I have. What, you think I stuck around for your sparkling personality and casual homicide?"

"Yes, actually."

That pulled a real, sharp laugh from Vox, and Alastor started kicking his legs up playfully. "Who even thinks about their friends like that?" Alastor asked, genuinely skeptical.

"Most people do. It’s pretty normal," Vox said, a bit defensively.

"Not for me," Alastor replied, glancing at the window as the rain tapped more insistently against the glass.

Vox’s gaze didn’t waver. "So you just don’t see people that way?"

"Oh no, I do," Alastor said, reaching up to fuss with Vox’s bow tie. "Just not you."

"Mm." Vox’s voice dipped slightly, his hands sliding playfully lower in response. "Funny. Because I don’t remember you dating anyone down here."

"I did plenty of that before." Alastor said with a glint in his eyes.

"Really?" Vox perked up a little too fast, trying to sound casual, and failing.

"Really." Alastor replied, catching the shift in his tone instantly.

"And? How was dating for you back then?" Vox asked, just a little too sharply.

"Much more chaste and proper," Alastor mused. "Very different from what you do to me."

"You mean what you’ve been letting me do to you," Vox kindly corrected him.

Alastor just rolled his eyes, legs still kicking in the air. His dating life wasn’t something he dwelled on too much, but he had a good amount of fond memories.

"Were you a little heartbreaker and all?" Vox asked, seizing the rare chance to get Alastor to talk about his life.

"You could say that," Alastor replied. "I wasn’t exactly an ideal partner, I always ended things quite suddenly."

"Mmm, was hand holding too much for you?" Vox teased.

Alastor laughed. "Oh, please. You make it sound like we were completely backwards back then."

Something in Vox’s chest grew heavier, and not just because Alastor had his entire weight on him. "Aha," Vox said with a small smile. "I’m starting to think you’re not as innocent as you want me to believe."

Alastor gave him a mischievous look, his fingers deft as they worked on unknotting the bow tie around his neck. And before he could reply, Vox had to open his mouth again.

"I thought I was the only one you’ve been with?" Vox questioned.

"Why yes," Alastor purred, and Vox's bow tie came undone, the red silk slipping through his fingers. "I meant all the way. I never said I haven’t fooled around a bit."

Vox’s hands on his waist stilled. "...You have?"

Alastor gave him an impish look. "What’s the matter? Can your ego not handle the fact I wasn’t some nun locked in a convent?" He looped the bow tie around Vox’s neck and gave a gentle tug with both hands, but Vox barely felt it. Breathing seemed to have left his to-do list entirely.

"Actually, yes," Vox said after a moment. "I would’ve preferred you were a nun instead."

"Oh, poor you," Alastor cooed. "All bothered by the fact other people had the chance to do all sorts of things to me before you."

"That’s not it," Vox said a little too quickly. "I mean, who cares? They’re probably dead anyway."

Wait.

If they were dead, that meant they were probably here. Which meant he could find them. And kill them. Double kill them, personally, barehanded and–

"I just thought you were more  reserved, back then. That's all," Vox muttered, trying to sound unbothered.

Alastor let out a delighted little hum, lazily dragging a finger across Vox’s chest. "Oh, trust me, I was. In fact, I was the perfect gentleman," he assured Vox. "But some of the women I dated back then, oh my, " Alastor paused, feeling Vox's heartbeat under his fingertips. "They were quite shameless."

"Really?" Vox said, hoping he sounded more intrigued than horrified. "I don't remember women being that forward back then."

Alastor kept lazily kicking his legs behind him, thoroughly enjoying every twitch in Vox’s body. "Oh, you’d be surprised," he said, head tilting slightly in mock reminiscence. "One girl in particular was so bold, so impatient and needy. She just couldn’t keep her hands to herself..."

He shifted his weight slightly, just enough to press down and test a certain theory about how Vox was truly feeling about this storytelling. "She was a lot like you, in a way."

"I suppose she was just very affectionate?" Vox managed, forcing his voice into something that resembled calm.

"Insatiable is the word I’d use. And so very pushy. She’d get devastated if I dared to say no to her."

"I see," Vox said, his voice hitting every range but his usual baritone.

Alastor looked up at him, eyes big and sweet, just the way Vox liked, and whispered, "She would put my hands on her body and beg me to squeeze."

Triple kill them. "That’s all?"

"Oh, I wish," Alastor said and trailed a single finger down the center of Vox’s chest. "She did all sorts of things to me." He pressed against him once again, voice softening into something huskier. "There was this one night... we went back to her house, up to her room... She’d been asking me for days to do something new," Alastor whispered, clearly enjoying the buildup. "So we settled on something rather interesting."

Vox had officially forgotten how to breathe.

"She wanted me to watch her," Alastor continued, pausing for effect, "...have fun with herself."

Sadly, Vox’s brain decided to supply him with an image he didn’t ask for.
"And you, watched?" Vox croaked.

Alastor beamed, eyes gleaming. "Why, of course I watched. What else was I supposed to do?"

Alastor finally let his legs drop to the couch, pressing his cheek against Vox's chest lazily. "But don’t worry," he said. "I was bored out of my mind. She was, well, putting on quite the show, but all I could think of was what to talk about on my next broadcast."

Vox blinked, his chest still tight with a mix of jealousy and relief. "Really?" he asked, still a little winded.

Alastor hummed in agreement.

"You didn’t like it?" Vox pressed, now sitting up just slightly. "At all?"

Alastor whined at Vox's decision to stop multitasking as a pillow and a jealous lover. "You still don’t seem to understand me. I wasn’t kidding when I said I don’t take pleasure in such things."

Vox listened but didn’t get it. Not really. Alastor practically oozed charm and made a sport out of touching people just to throw them off. So how could he be so uninterested by it all?
It didn't make sense, but then again, nothing about Alastor ever really did make sense, so perhaps that contradiction was exactly what made him so him.

"Sooo," Vox said slowly, a grin creeping back onto his screen, "am I special, then?"

How cute. How utterly adorable that once again he really thought he was the exception to the rule.

With a wicked grin, Alastor sat up as well. "Don’t flatter yourself. You’re just lucky," he kindly informed Vox through half-lidded eyes. "The only reason I’m allowing you to do all this is because I’m very, very bored."

"Oh, how generous," Vox drawled. "Should I be honored that you’ve decided to stoop to my level?"

Alastor flashed teeth. "You should be down on your knees, thanking me," he said sweetly.

There it was again, that voice. Low, sultry and devastatingly hot. It made Vox’s fingers twitch with the overwhelming urge to grab him, ruin him, and shut him up in the most satisfying way possible. "Oh, fuck you," Vox groaned. "Were you being serious about that girl? Does she even exist, or you made her up just to mess with me?"

Alastor paused, just long enough to be annoying. "She is as real as you and me." he whispered at last.

Vox narrowed his eyes. "Uh huh. What's her name, then?"

"Don’t tell me you plan on finding her?"

Yes.

"Why not?" Vox said sweetly, matching Alastor's irony. "Maybe I should track her down, see if she’d put on a show for me too."

"Now, now," Alastor tutted. "She may have been a bit bold, but she was a lovely young lady. I wouldn’t be surprised if she didn’t end up here at all."

Vox scoffed, feeling offended on multiple levels. "She better."

Alastor looked at him, some of his playfulness eased from his expression. "Although I'm flattered, you shouldn’t worry too much," he said quietly, more sincere now. "Because if you must know... you’re the only person I’ve ever felt comfortable enough to do these sorts of things with."

Vox brightened, quite literally, all hopeful and infuriatingly smug.

Then, without warning, Alastor placed both hands gently over Vox’s mouth, silencing whatever cheesy words were most definitely about to spill out.
"Whatever you’re thinking," he said, low and steady, "I don’t want to hear it."

Vox raised both hands in surrender and when Alastor was foolish enough to remove his own hands, Vox kissed him, sweet, deep, and tender, stealing the air from him for a few precious seconds.

"And. And. The reason I feel comfortable with you," Alastor pulled back to add breezily, "is because I know I can do anything to you, and you’ll just come crawling back."

Vox frowned. "That makes me sound pathetic."

"You are pathetic." Alastor said, pleased.

"I think you have a very incorrect idea of me," Vox muttered.

Alastor grinned. "You too."

Before Vox could think of something clever to say back, his hands had already slid beneath Alastor’s shirt, fingers brushing over his warm skin. But he barely had time to enjoy the contact before Alastor leaned in to press a quick kiss on his screen while  slipping out of his grasp.

"Anyway," Alastor said happily, already reaching for his wine glass, "I think I'll go and record that part two after all."

Vox stared at him, stunned. "Seriously?"

Alastor was already heading toward the elevator, the flickering candlelight dancing over his retreating form.
"I'm afraid so." The elevator doors slid open with a cheerful ding, and just like that, he was gone, off to monologue into his microphone once again while Vox was left sprawled on the couch, rumpled, kissed breathless, with certain parts of him very unhappy about the abrupt intermission.

This had been cute, once.
But he didn’t find it funny anymore.

Later that night, Alastor was fully cocooned under the covers, his face buried in a pillow and the blankets pulled up to his ears, trying to keep the world blissfully silent.

That is, until the mattress shifted beside him. Then came Vox’s hand trailing across his body, his fingers tracing the curve of his spine, slow and tender. 

He stayed perfectly still. Playing dead worked on Vox more often than it should. Thankfully, Vox, for all his bluster, was understanding when he wanted to be. But tonight, the touches didn’t stop. Instead, they got bolder.

Alastor let out a muffled sigh against the pillow. A headache had already been crawling up the back of his skull, the wine from earlier doing him no favours.

The hand slid further, lowering the blanket, creeping down to his thigh.

"You’re so warm," Vox whispered, low and affectionate. It would’ve been sweet if the affection didn’t come with a strategically placed thigh and the clear implication behind it.

"Vox..."

"Hm?"

"Can’t this wait until morning?" Alastor asked, voice full of exhaustion.

"Just for a bit, then I’ll let you sleep," Vox promised as his touch grew bolder, carrying no shame, just confidence.

Alastor shoved his face deeper into the pillow, briefly considering death by suffocation. 

"Get your hands off me." he snapped, voice muffled but still sharp enough.

The hand froze, and Vox pulled back. His voice, when it came, was cold and clipped. "Fine."

He reached for his nightstand, pulled open the drawer with unnecessary aggression, and yanked out a cigarette case as he slammed the drawer shut with a bang. Alastor winced but stubbornly refused to react and reward Vox for throwing a fit.

A click and a hissing sound later the familiar acrid scent of cigarette smoke began filling the air, making Alastor roll over.

Vox was already mid-drag, leaning against the headboard with a hand over his chest. "Can I ask why you’re being like this?"

Alastor stared at him for a while as the smell of smoke got more intense. "I’m not in the mood."

"Right. Of course," Vox muttered dryly, taking another drag.

The headache pulsed harder behind Alastor’s eyes. "I'm trying to sleep, and you’ve been pawing at me for the past five minutes."

"So what, I’m not allowed to touch you now?" Vox asked, not bothering to hide his frustration. "You were all over me today, but God forbid I get handsy?"

"That was hours ago," Alastor said, his trademark sarcasm spilling in. "And I’m not feeling like it anymore. Shocking, I know, but unlike you, I have a concept of timing." He knew this wasn’t the time to be sharp, but Vox’s attitude was scratching every last nerve he had.

Vox scoffed, exhaling some smoke.
"So it’s only okay when you’re in the mood?"

"Excuse me," Alastor blinked through the tension. "Do you think you're entitled to do this with me?"

"I never said that," Vox jabbed the cigarette in his direction. "Stop putting words in my mouth."

"You don’t have to say it," Alastor said evenly. "It’s how you act."

"How I act. Okay," Vox muttered. "I’m the one constantly walking on eggshells here, Alastor. And I shouldn't have to. We’ve been doing this for almost a year now, aren’t you used to it by now?"

Ash dropped to the blanket, and Alastor stared at it, annoyed it wasn’t setting anything on fire.

"If this is such a struggle for you, you’re free to end it anytime."

"Oh, I love that," Vox whined. "Love how I can’t even say anything to you."

"And I love how you expect a round of applause for showing basic decency," Alastor said, sitting up with his back against the headboard. "Congratulations, Vox. For not forcing yourself on me."

"Are you serious right now?"

"Yes," Alastor said. "Because every time I tell you no, you act like I’m punishing you, like you’re some kind of martyr for putting up with me."

"Because you act like I’m doing something wrong!" Vox shouted, stubbing the cigarette into the nightstand.

"Then maybe you should ask yourself why that keeps happening."

"You know what? How about instead of playing these games with me, you just tell me what the fuck is going on in that head of yours? Because I’m not a fucking mind reader."

"I have been telling you," Alastor said, pressing his fingers into his temples. "I’ve told you over and over again, I’m not interested in sex as much as you are."

"I know you’re not," Vox said, voice more controlled now. "But you agreed to try. You said you’d try to meet me halfway. And I’m just trying to understand, is it me? Is it something I’m doing? Because I’m not asking for anything crazy over here."

"You don’t ask, Vox," Alastor said. "You expect. That’s the difference."

"You want to talk about expectations?" Vox asked, frustrated. "I haven’t got laid in weeks."

"And that’s my problem?"

"Kind of, yeah. You don’t get to act like a roommate just because you’re not feeling like it again."

"You agreed to a schedule." Alastor reminded him, voice tight.

"You mean the one you get to break whenever you feel like it?"

Alastor considered death by suffocation once again.

"Want me to list all the times you sucked my dick when it wasn’t on schedule, Al? Because I can."

Alastor’s ears pinned back slightly.
"You don’t have to be so crude."

Vox pressed his hands together, trying to keep calm. "I’m just trying to make you understand that this doesn’t make any sense."

Now normally, Alastor found Vox’s dramatics mildly amusing, part of the charm, even. But tonight, none of it was funny, and Vox's voice was starting to become a background hum, getting buried under the pounding in his head.

"Maybe you should find someone who fucks you on command then," Alastor said, fingers now pressing on that spot between his eyes that never quite stopped hurting.

"You know what? Maybe I should!"

"By all means!"

They stared each other down. Vox’s chest rose and fell with uneven breaths, and Alastor’s ears stayed back, eyes narrowed.

"Holy fuck," Vox said, breaking the silence. "You’re so fucking ungrateful."

"Me?" Alastor’s voice cracked with disbelief. "I’m ungrateful? I didn’t ask you to do any of this."

Vox held his stare. 

Maybe Velvette and Valentino had been right all along.

Maybe Alastor was never going to come around, no matter how much time Vox gave him. He’d convinced himself Alastor just needed stability, something reliable, a rhythm he could fall into. A reason to stop running.

But maybe Alastor was never going to let anyone in.

"Do you even take this seriously?" Vox asked. "Do you even want this?"

Alastor softened slightly, recognizing the edge in Vox’s voice.
"Yes," he said. "I take this seriously."

"Then act like it." Sparks crackled faintly at Vox’s fingertips, lighting up the room for a moment.

"I can’t give you anything more than this," Alastor said, using that diplomatic calmness that had served him well for decades.

But that calm only seemed to enrage Vox further. "What are you giving, exactly?"

They locked eyes again. That question made it clear, Vox didn’t see it. He hadn’t noticed how far out of his comfort zone Alastor had stepped, how much effort it took just to live inside the world Vox had built for them, hoping it’d eventually feel natural. 

Alastor opened his mouth, as if to explain, then closed it again.

Instead, he stood without a word, crossed the room, pulled a half-packed suitcase from the closet, and began adding to it.

Vox just stared. Since when had that bag been sitting there? How long had Alastor been planning this? "What are you doing?" he asked but got no answer. 

"Can you answer me?" Vox snapped, stepping between him and the closet.

"There’s nothing to talk about," Alastor said calmly. "I’m not going to keep pushing past my limits, or change my boundaries for you."

He clicked the suitcase shut just as Vox shoved it onto the floor with one violent motion, sending it toppling over, and jabbed a finger in Alastor’s face.

"I changed everything for you. My whole fucking life. For you."

Alastor met his gaze evenly.
"I didn’t. Ask you to."

Vox, once again, could only stare at him. This was not the time for Alastor to get stingy with his words.
"You don’t even trust me, do you? Not really. Even after everything I’ve done for you? After everything I let go to make this work?"

Alastor's arms remained crossed over his chest, his head slightly tilted to the side.

"I broke up for you. Do you even know what that did to me?"

Alastor rolled his eyes, already tired of the spiral. "And it was such a terrible loss."

Without thinking, Vox's hand went up. The slap came fast, landing hard. Alastor staggered back, completely stunned. His hand went to his cheek, feeling the buzzing imprint.
And just like that, whatever lingering doubt he had about walking away died on the spot.

But not before teaching Vox a lesson.

He reached for his staff, but Vox grabbed his arm before he could even turn around.

"What are you doing?" Alastor yelled, wrenching it back.

"You think you can just walk out on me again?" Vox shouted, grabbing him again, shoving him back hard enough to knock him to the floor. 

"You come back and fuck everything up and now you want to leave? What makes you think you can do this to me again?" Vox didn’t even realize he was shaking him with every question until Alastor started struggling beneath him.

"You know how hard it was to get you here? You think Velvette and Valentino wanted you around? They wanted you dead."

Alastor struggled harder, kicking and twisting, so Vox’s grip slipped.

"You put me through hell for months, and now you’re done? You're bored?"

Fingers locked tightly around his throat, squeezing.

"What more do you want from me?"

And then came the stillness. Alastor’s pulse slowing down under his hand. That rigid freeze. He had seen it before, a full shutdown.

Good.

No. Fuck. Nothing about this was good.

He let go of his throat. And only now, with the heat of it gone, did he notice the sharp pain on his arms, scratched raw from Alastor clawing at them.

Then Alastor looked at the corner of the room.

His staff.

That snapped Vox out of whatever thoughts he’d slipped into. He moved quickly, reaching for it just as Alastor’s frozen state began to thaw. Cold rolled through the room, Alastor’s power still potent even without the staff in hand. Vox clutched it and vanished, reappearing just outside his bedroom, hoping his own magic would be enough to keep Alastor locked in there, at least until he could think of what to do.

He barely had time to breathe before the screaming began. The door shook under pounding fists and he stumbled back, panic kicking in, his mind scrambling for what to do next.

He fled downstairs, nearly tripping over the steps in his haste, Alastor's yells echoing relentlessly from above

He burst into the kitchen, rummaging through drawers in the dark. Silverware clattered. Things shattered. But none of it mattered at the moment, he was looking for one thing only.

And there it was. A tiny, half-empty vial filled with glowing pink liquid. Velvette’s good batch. Just a few carefully measured drops in a drink or a coffee, was all it took. The standard chill out mix for the Hell elite. Everyone did it, even himself.

His hand trembled as he took it out of the drawer.

He’d been giving it to Alastor for a while now, just microdoses whenever he'd get moody. Just enough to take the edge off. To fix that sex drive a bit.

But now, he needed way more than a few drops.

He tried to calculate how much he’d already given him today. He was aiming for the side effects, yes, but he should probably still dilute it. He should think about weight, dosage, memory effects, recovery time, but if he thought too hard, he’d realize just how wrong this was.

When he noticed the screaming had completely stopped, he panicked further and climbed back up the stairs, vial in one hand, Alastor’s staff in the other.

He stood outside the door, trying to understand if Alastor was still in there.

When he gathered enough courage to go back inside, Alastor stood by the window with his back straight, dressed in his old suit.

His eyes immediately went to the staff in Vox’s hands.

"If you don't mind," he rasped, extending his hand. His voice was wrecked, strained from shouting and from Vox’s hands that had been where they shouldn’t have.

Vox took a step back, just in case.
"Can we at least talk about this?" he said quietly.

"There’s nothing to talk about." Alastor said slowly, like it hurt to speak. Then he added, almost politely, "Let’s end this civilly this time."

"I just want us to talk." Vox pleaded, but Alastor’s eyes held nothing but rejection.

This couldn’t be how it ended. Not after everything he’d built for them. For him. He opened his eyes wide, and the soft buzz of his powers began. He was hoping he wouldn't have to use them, but he had nothing else left.

"Sit down. Over there," Vox said, motioning to one of the chairs by the window, the same ones they’d shared that first night.

Alastor’s body stiffened once again. Not freezing up this time, but desperately resisting the hypnosis.

"I just want us to talk." Vox repeated. 

"No," Alastor’s mouth twitched. "You want me to talk."

Vox didn’t answer, not with words. He just stood there, hoping they could somehow talk this out.

Alastor let out a breath, slow and ragged. If Vox wanted words, he’d get them.

"Can't you see I don’t belong here?"

He paused, swallowing.

"I can feel you all breathing down my neck, you're all waiting for me to do something wrong."

Each word broke in his throat, strained and raw.

"You think you are saving me?" His voice cracked again, static buzzing beneath it. "You're killing me."

Vox stayed silent. Every word made something in him ache.

"I can’t. I can't breathe in here."

His voice dropped, hoarse and thin.

"You can paint this whole tower gold. It’s still a cage."

Vox didn’t want to hear another word. Couldn't hear another word. He set the vial on the table beside Alastor, pouring every last shred of hope into its side effects.

"Drink this." He ordered.

Alastor’s eyes drifted to the vial, but the rest of him hesitated. His body refusing to obey. Vox could feel the resistance, that one final push against the inevitable.

A better man would’ve stopped. A better man would’ve let him walk away.

"Drink it." 

And Alastor obeyed. He lifted it, tilted it back and swallowed the honey-sweet liquid down to the last drop. His eyes met Vox’s again, vision blurry and pupils already gone wide. He started blinking like he couldn’t quite keep his eyes open and he tried to stand, to reach for Vox or perhaps his staff, but his body was already failing him. He crumpled to the floor, the potion working exactly as it was meant to.

Vox stayed pressed to the wall, not daring to move just yet. He even kept the hypnosis up, just in case Alastor was somehow faking it. But minutes passed, and Alastor still didn’t move. He didn’t even breathe loud enough to be reassuring.

Eventually, Vox allowed himself to relax again. He held the staff tightly as he moved across the room, just in case. From the nightstand, he picked up his his phone and opened the camera feed. He went through the footage in silence, frame by frame, using it like a blueprint to put the room back together.

He picked up the half-packed suitcase and put everything neatly back into the closet, just like Alastor had left it himself before this started. And lastly, the suitcase itself, carefully shoved to the back. Half-made and hidden, for who knows how long.

When he was finally finished, he took a closer look down at his hands again. The scratches were already fading, healing fast. By morning, there’d be nothing left and he could blissfully pretend like none of this had happened.

He turned around, eyes falling back on the unmoving figure crumpled on the floor, his chest tightening at the sight. He knelt beside him, rolled him carefully onto his back, and winced at how lifeless he felt in his arms.

He undressed him slowly, trying not to let the guilt creep in any deeper, then carried him to the bed. He slid the blankets up and over his body, brushed his hair back into place, and adjusted the pillow beneath his head.

He laid down beside him and didn’t move for the rest of the night. He kept one arm around Alastor, with his hand on his chest, counting every shallow breath, making sure they didn’t stop.

At some point, the adrenaline wore off fully and his own eyes finally shut from an exhaustion that was too heavy to fight. But when he woke again,

Alastor was gone.