Chapter Text
Vox startled badly, reeling back several steps. “A-A-A-Alastor!” Fuck, fuck, fuck, what was he supposed to say? What was he supposed to do? Were they still enemies? Were they—they weren’t friends, but what were they?
Your Alastor.
Alastor’s face was as unreadable as ever, wide smile hiding his true thoughts as surely as the Cheshire Cat. “Hello, Vox,” he said.
His voice was tight and too careful. Vox relaxed by degrees; even if it wasn’t obvious, Alastor was off-balance too. He could work with that. They could figure this out.
“May I walk with you?” Alastor asked.
Vox frowned. “I don’t know. I guess. Something to say?”
“Perhaps.” Alastor turned in place and gestured for Vox to lead. “In truth, I thought you might have something to say.”
“Oh, fuck you.” But it didn’t have half the heat Vox would normally put behind it.
He continued walking, matching pace with Alastor with the ease of muscle memory. More than thirty years since he last walked in step with the demon, and still his body remembered what to do.
“I can’t fucking believe you watched my Logs. That was so fucking uncalled for.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “What even possessed you to do it?”
“Truth be told, I was there to figure out what you and your… friends were planning.” Alastor tipped his head back. “Angel overheard something he didn’t like the sound of.”
“And did you find what you were looking for?”
Alastor laughed. “Nope! I watched your videos instead!”
Vox shot him a look, but Alastor was genuinely amused by it. “I can guess what he heard; it probably had nothing to do with you guys. Our most recent business shouldn’t affect your hotel.”
Alastor nodded.
Vox’s temperature rose with his temper. He stopped walking, hands shaking where they were hidden in his pockets. “Are we seriously just pretending like none of it fucking happened? Like we’re friends again, just like that?”
Alastor faced him, stance relaxed but alert. “That’s up to you, old friend.”
“And what if I still want to kill you?” Vox demanded. “I fucking hate you! You—You’re the worst person I’ve ever met, and I live in fucking Hell!”
Alastor’s smile held fast, tight but no less mocking. Vox wanted to cut it open and tear it to pieces. Alastor’s eyes darkened as the tension between them built.
“Then try to kill me, darling.” Alastor took a step closer. “I will never let you get over me. I will never let you move on or leave me. You can be my friend, my enemy, my love—but you are mine.”
Vox’s heart stumbled in his chest, anger forgotten. He could feel electricity arc off his antenna. “You bastard,” he whispered. “I thought you—I thought you didn’t care. I thought I didn’t matter to you.”
Alastor took another step. “My self-control is the only reason that whoremonger of yours is still alive. I have long considered the merits of introducing a new voice to my broadcast.” The shadows gathered in tight around him, green flame flickering through the dark.
Vox flushed hot and staticky. “You, um. What would you have done after he was gone?”
“Simple, my dear.” He caught Vox’s chin with his hand, tilting his screen up. “I would have taken you back to my radio tower and reminded you just how good a team we make.”
Vox shivered. “And if I tried to leave?”
“You wouldn’t dare.” Alastor’s eyes flashed with green fire.
“Fuck.” His eyes shut tight. “I-I’m still mad at you,” he tried to insist.
“I know. That isn’t a problem.”
“I don’t want to give up all my hard work. I’ve accomplished a lot since you rejected me.”
“I don’t expect you to give up your work.” Alastor’s thumb stroked the bottom edge of his screen, raising static to the surface.
“You just expect me to betray my business partners.”
Alastor chuckled. “It does not need to be a betrayal. I will wait as long as it takes.” He let Vox’s face go. “The place at my side is and will remain yours until we’re both ‘double dead,’ as they say.”
Vox opened his eyes. Alastor was serious, deadly serious. “You’re fucking crazy.”
“I simply know exactly what I want.” Alastor smirked. “And I don’t share my things. If Valentino ever touches you again, I’ll feed him to you.”
Vox flushed. “Fuck.” Why was that so hot? What was wrong with him?
“Now, I’m sure you had business to get to, and I believe I’ve made my position clear.” Alastor gave a polite little bow. “I’ll see you soon, my dear.”
Vox watched him walk away, too stunned to stop him. He pressed a shaking hand to his face.
Alastor… It really was mutual, this madness woven between them. Alastor felt it too, maybe even more acutely than Vox himself.
He could barely hear anything over his heart shouting ‘love’ with every too quick beat until it was all he was aware of. Love, love, love, love, love, love, love!
“I fucking love him. I still fucking love him.”
Vox flipped idly through his screens, mind wandering. If Alastor was serious about working together again, there was no reason he couldn’t continue running his media empire with Alastor. He might lose the porn studio and the fashion industry, but he could adapt.
On the other hand, Alastor hated television. He thought it was a waste of time, and he hated anything more advanced than radio.
Vox frowned.
“Wait,” he muttered. “How did he even access…?”
Vox flipped through to his folder of Daily Logs with a few quick gestures, and the significance of that caught up to him. His monitor was controlled with radio waves, and wifi was sent out over radio waves, and…
“Fuck.” Vox covered his mouth. Alastor always held the means to destroy him. Alastor’s domain was one he relied upon for everything he did. Even analog television was broadcast through radio waves.
Maybe Alastor was telling him the truth.
He closed the folder again and resumed his aimless channel flipping. With Alastor on his side, they would both be unstoppable. None of the other Overlords would stand a chance against them.
And in exchange, what, he let the princess do whatever the fuck she wanted and let other Sinners try futilely to escape their fate? Why the fuck should he care what they do with themselves?
Fuck, why was he even still here?
Vox shook his head, refocusing on work. He had a few programs that needed a last pass before they could go live, and then he needed to make sure Val’s newest production was ready to air at prime time.
But as he worked, his thoughts continued wandering. Working with Alastor had never been this stressful. They’d always shut down their broadcasts when they were done for the night, and that had been it.
He still remembered relaxing after a long work day, the jazz on the air, Alastor’s hand curled around his own as he was pulled through the steps of a dance his mother once taught him. One she’d danced with a much younger Vox before she grew to hate him as much as his father did.
Vox closed his eyes, an old jazz song, a favorite of Alastor’s, winding through his thoughts. Alastor’s voice, low and intimate, crooning the words so only Vox could hear them. And to think, that one memory could be any of dozens, hundreds of identical nights, drinking and dancing to unwind at the end of a long day.
Vox sighed. Why was he here?
Valentino was constantly getting on his last nerve, always out drinking and partying instead of getting any of his fucking work done, leaving almost all of the logistics to his assistants and Vox. Velvette at least worked hard at what she did, but she could be an absolute bitch when she wanted to be, and he knew for a fact that if she thought she could go it alone, she’d leave without hesitation.
Alastor hated television, but he didn’t have to like it to acknowledge the effect it had on people. Vox could more than handle the television side of things on his own, leaving Alastor free to maintain his radio work. Between the two of them, they could have a full broadcast monopoly. Who else was there who could even compete?
And when they were done for the day, they could go dancing again. Maybe this time, Alastor might kiss him while the jazz filled the air around them. Vox almost laughed, heart aching and bruised.
And here he thought he’d killed off the naïve dreamer he used to be. Fuck, but Alastor worked fast. Two conversations, and Vox was already considering it.
Would Alastor let him run his studio out of his tower, or would Vox need to find a new building to repurpose? What would their new broadcast company look like? Which of his programs would he be able to convince to follow him to the new venture, and which of his contracts would he be able to keep a hold of?
A hand grabbed his shoulder painfully hard.
“Ow, what the fuck?” Vox snapped.
“Have you been sleeping? What the fuck is wrong with you?” Valentino demanded in return, looming over him. Velvette was standing just behind him, scrolling on her phone. “Did I piss you off or something? You didn’t air my latest and greatest. I’m hurt.”
“What? What are you talking about?” Vox frowned and turned back to his—“Fuck! An hour of dead air, and you’re only just coming to me now? Why the fuck didn’t you authorize the broadcast your-fucking-self?” Vox scrambled into action to rectify his monumental fuck up, hands flying over the keyboard he manifested.
“What? That’s your job, baby, not mine.”
“How the fuck are we supposed to authorize a broadcast?” Velvette asked.
Vox couldn’t stop, but he shot her a withering glare. “It’s in your fucking contracts. We all have equal authority over what goes out over the fucking air, or did you not bother to fucking read them since your souls weren’t on the line?”
“How were we supposed to know you were serious?” Velvette scoffed. “This is your fucking job, Vox.”
“Then get the fuck out unless either of you plan to actually help me fix this instead of gawking and getting in my fucking way.”
“Jeez,” Val drawled, blowing out smoke. “Touchy. Let’s go, baby doll. Leave the fuck-up to his work.”
Vox didn’t have time to retort, too busy sending out message after message, shifting around his usually flawless schedule until he could make up for dead fucking air. How the fuck had they let it go on this long?
His employees could be excused for not chasing him down—no doubt afraid for their lives should they be the ones to question him or deliver the message—but the other Vees? What the fuck were they even working together for? How many times had he helped either of them make up for some mistake or another?
Fuck, he was constantly doing extra work for Val, and he couldn’t do one thing for his own fucking program?
Vox gave himself exactly one second to slam a fist against his desk, before he began a slew of messages to advertisers and performers and producers, carefully worded to avoid claiming any guilt or failing.
Technical difficulties down the line, the demons involved had of course been appropriately punished, and so on and so forth. And as soon as one task was done, he had twelve more to take their place, programs to approve, edits to make, schedules to prepare, reruns to reorganize, and by the time he was done, it was a brand new hellish fucking morning.
Vox triple-checked that everything could run without him for the next twelve hours before he dared leave his console.
“I need a fucking drink,” Vox muttered.
He skimmed through the security cameras and flung himself into their common area. Usually he’d call for a servant or robot to make his drink for him, but the pretension wasn’t worth the time or energy it would require.
He dropped a few ice cubes into a glass and poured a generous few fingers of rye. They were very thick fingers, but he figured he’d more than earned them.
“Whoa, why the fuck are you making your own drink?” Val asked from behind him. “Also, a little early for that, isn’t it?”
“Fuck you,” Vox said flatly. He took a sip of his drink, savoring the familiar flavor. “It’s only early if you’ve slept, and I haven’t.”
Val laughed. “Too bad for you, baby. I slept like a fucking rock. I just got up.”
“You…” Vox turned. “It’s almost eleven.”
“What can I say? I was out all night partying with my newest whores.” Val smirked, and it was the last fucking straw.
“Un-fucking-believable. Just as irresponsible and fucking useless as ever.” Vox laughed, sharp and cruel. “The only people willing to party with you are still your whores, eh? The ones contractually obligated to do what you say?”
“What the fuck crawled up your ass and died?” Valentino snapped. “What, did I miss our anniversary or something?”
“As if we could even have one! You’ve never taken a single relationship seriously, and your eye is constantly fucking wandering.” He laughed again, unable to stop. “The fact that any of your whores can pretend to love you is proof enough that their acting talents are wasted on your fucking garbage scripts and amateurish directing.”
“What the fuck, Vox?” Valentino crossed his arms.
Vox waved a hand and pushed past him. “I’m going the fuck to bed. Don’t fucking follow me.”
“Don’t bother visiting the studio until you’re ready to fucking grovel,” Val called after him.
Vox flipped him off without looking, disappearing through the cameras and back into his locked apartment. He took another drink, savoring the nostalgic burn.
If he was leaving, he had a contract to check his next moves against. And he couldn’t stay here another day. Alastor would never have let there be dead air, no matter his feelings about the television. Alastor understood the business they were both in better than any other demon in Hell.
Vox took a long bracing drink before getting back to work. Even another day here was too long.
Shouting and arguing carried up the stairs, music to Alastor’s ears. He hummed happily and slipped through the shadows to see what all the fuss was about.
Vaggie had her spear out and Angel was pointing two tommy guns at…
“Like I said and like I keep saying, I have business with Alastor, and that’s all you people need to know.” Vox had his hands raised, but his expression was one of familiar impatience.
Charlie had a hand on Vaggie’s arm, lips pursed. “Come on, we can at least hear him out!”
“Hear him out?” Vaggie scoffed. “He’s an Overlord, Charlie. We can’t trust them. Who knows what he could want with us.”
“Nothing with you,” Vox insisted, his tone making clear exactly how foolish the very idea of it was. “With Alastor. Like I said.”
“He’s not lying,” Alastor said brightly as he materialized. “We do have business to take care of, though I didn’t realize you meant today. I thought you’d call ahead.”
Vox smirked. “You don’t have a working phone.”
“So we don’t!” Alastor laughed brightly. “Come, we can speak more in my tower, hm?” He linked their arms together without hesitation, leading him up the stairs.
“What the fuck, Alastor?” Vaggie demanded.
“Terribly sorry, but I don’t believe our business dealings are any of yours,” Alastor chirped. “Don’t wait up, and don’t worry. There’ll be no bloodshed today.”
“Damn. I wanted to kill him,” Angel complained.
Alastor could feel the heavy weight of Charlie’s stare on his back. Whatever came of this, she would no doubt be the first to know.
From the top of the stairs, Alastor pulled Vox into the shadows and deposited them both inside his radio tower. Vox’s screen cleared of its static slowly.
“Fuck, I forgot how weird that feels.”
“Terribly sorry, my dear. I do hate to climb all those stairs, and I don’t have a camera handy for you here.” Alastor turned and leaned against the wall. “Now then, what business do we have?”
“I quit the Vees. My empire is crumbling to pieces, but I’m a free operative for the first time in thirty years.” Vox grinned, wide and lopsided, relief practically radiating off of him. “I forgot how fucking good that feels.”
Alastor blinked. “You quit?” He laughed a little, unable to help himself. “Already? We only spoke a week ago.”
Vox shrugged. “Once I knew there was a greener pasture, the thought of working with those selfish assholes started driving me crazy.” His eyes grew wild. “Each of us three had equal control over the broadcast for our networks, right?”
“I assumed as much.”
“I dropped the ball the other day, and they let there be one whole fucking hour of dead air.”
Alastor flinched. “An hour? That should have been resolved in moments. Neither of them did anything?”
“No. And they only came to see me after the hour had already elapsed.” Vox laughed, sharp and angry. “I stayed up all night fixing it by myself, and do you know, all I could think was that you would have done something. You would never have let it get that far.”
“Never,” Alastor agreed. “And here I thought the purpose of the trio was keeping you all afloat.”
“I thought so too.” Vox let out a breath, shoulders relaxing. “So now I’m done. They can clean up their own messes. I’m not going back.”
Alastor looked him over, but there was no hesitation or doubt either in his body or in his ever expressive face. “Well then. I suppose we have a contract to draw up, hm? And then we can move on to discussing more personal matters.”
Vox licked his lips. “We can’t start with the personal?”
“No, no, I must insist. Business always comes before pleasure.” Alastor tilted his head. “But don’t worry. There will be pleasure.”
Vox sighed, teasing amusement shining through his screen. “Fine, fine. Let’s get to work then. I’ve got my old contract with me if we wanna use it as a base.”
“Perhaps. Let me read it first.”
They settled in to work, sitting side by side. Alastor began with reading Vox’s contract in full, and Vox began work on a new slate of programming for their new station, drawing up endless ways to tie television and radio together more symbiotically than ever before.
“Cheers,” Alastor said, “to a promising new partnership.”
Vox clinked their glasses together. “And cheers to the birth of a new media empire.”
They both drank, matching smiles on their faces.
It had taken all day, but they’d finally gotten a contract drafted that they could both agree on, one difficult to leave and that would last until they were both double-dead. Alastor refused to sign it until they’d slept on it, but there was no reason not to celebrate anyway.
Vox couldn’t think of a single moment he’d been happier than right now. The culmination of all his desires at once: Alastor working together with him, no dead weight dragging him down, no more of Valentino’s messes to clean up, and finally securing the right to stand by Alastor’s side.
“When was the last time you had a night off, old friend?” Alastor asked. He waved a hand at his radio, pulling out the familiar stirrings of an upbeat jazz melody.
“Easily more than a month ago,” Vox said lightly. “I took the night off to watch your fight against the angels.”
Alastor smirked. “Then you’re long overdue.”
Vox closed his eyes, letting the music wash through him. “This is why I dozed off during work,” he admitted. “I got distracted daydreaming about this. Sharing a drink with you, dancing to that old jazz number you always loved. I lost track of time, and then it had been more than an hour.”
Alastor shook his head. “There will be none of that in our new venture, you understand.” He set his drink down and held out a hand. “I won’t tolerate any mistakes.”
“There won’t be any.” Vox set his own aside and took his hand, heart flipping as Alastor pulled him in and began to lead him in their old dance. He laughed when Alastor gave him a playful twirl.
“Good. Then our business is done for the night.” Alastor threw them both into the dance, singing along as he led them through the room.
They made it through three fast-paced swing numbers before Alastor played a slower romantic number, heavy on the piano as the woman sang sweetly about love. Alastor’s palm was warm on Vox’s waist, and his shoulder was steady beneath his hand. Their chests brushed with every step, and Alastor’s hooded eyes never left his own.
“I’m still mad at you,” Vox admitted, voice low.
“How mad?”
“Less and less by the minute.” Vox let his eyes drop to Alastor’s mouth. “I’ve missed you. So much. I can’t believe I wasted all that time when I—when we—could’ve had this.”
Alastor hummed. “It’s not so bad. I’ve had time to set some interesting plans in motion, and I did enjoy our games. You never fail to entertain, my dear.” He turned Vox under his arm again. “Of course, this is a vast improvement.”
“Of course.”
“And you recognize that I won’t be sharing you again?”
Vox shivered. “I do.”
“Good boy.” Alastor pulled him down and sealed their mouths together. The kiss was lingering, but otherwise chaste, simply lips against lips in a maddening press.
Vox’s fans began to work overtime as his circuits heated up and up and up. He held on tighter, eyes shut tight as Alastor granted his final daydreamed wish. Could he get any happier than he was right now?
Vox swayed further into Alastor’s space, head spinning and heart racing. Alastor licked into his open mouth, slow and methodical and curious.
“I love you,” Vox said against his mouth. “I love you so fucking much.”
Alastor stroked his cheek, drawing static in his wake. His eyes crinkled with the force of his smile before he pulled Vox in for another toe-curling kiss. Alastor walked him back against the wall, and for a long time, that was all they did, kiss and kiss and kiss to sweetly romantic jazz.
When they paused to catch their breath, Vox yawned, the length of the day finally catching up to him. Thirty-six hours without sleep was just a few too many. He leaned against the wall, gazing at Alastor with a happy sigh.
“I know I should probably move into my own room here,” Vox said, letting his hand trace the line of Alastor’s lapel, “but would it be alright—that is, if you don’t mind—could I sleep here with you tonight? I want to stay close.”
Alastor hummed. “Quite the bold request.” He winked. “But one I’m more than happy to grant. You seem tired.”
“I am.” Vox let Alastor pull him away from the wall, linking their arms as he led them back through the bayou and into the bedroom that lay beyond.
By the time they were dressed for bed and tucked under the covers, Vox was already beginning to doze off, his eyes heavy. Alastor watched him, and it should be unnerving, but it only made Vox feel safer, cared for.
“Thank you,” he murmured. And then, he fell asleep, Alastor still watching him closely.
In all his decades in Hell, Vox had never once had a better night’s sleep.
Vox felt strangely like he was floating as he wandered downstairs in search of food. Alastor was still sleeping soundly, and Vox couldn’t bear to wake him. He left a note explaining his absence on the nightstand.
He should have eaten more the day before so he could stay in bed cuddling, but it was too late for that now. He was starving. He sighed wistfully as he glanced through the kitchen cabinets.
“Whoa, what the fuck are you still doing here?”
Vox glanced over his shoulder. Angel had stopped in the doorway, eyes wide. His eyes trailed down to the pajamas Vox was borrowing.
“Oh,” Angel said, “I didn’t realize you meant that kind of ‘business.’” He made a vulgar hand gesture and waggled his eyebrows. “Didn’t realize Alastor had it in ‘im.”
Vox frowned. He meant sex. He thought Alastor and he had… Vox faltered badly. “We could have had sex, fuck.”
Angel’s eyebrows flew up. “Wait, you stayed the night and you didn’t fuck?”
“None of your business.” Vox turned back to the cabinet, focusing determinedly on food, even though his thoughts were now on much different appetites.
“I didn’t even know Alastor owned pajamas. Does he even sleep?” Angel asked. He squeezed past him to grab a box of cereal and a bowl before heading to the fridge.
Vox rolled his eyes. “Of course he owns pajamas.”
“So is this gonna be an ongoing thing? Are you, like, gonna be a fixture now or something?” Angel continued blithely. “Only I don’t know how well that’s going to go over with the collective.”
Vox found some bread that seemed decent enough and popped it into the toaster. “You’ll all just have to get used to it. Alastor and I are going into business together.”
Angel snorted. “Is that what we’re calling it?”
“That’s what it is.” Among other things, anyway. He found a jar of jam in the fridge and prepared his toast quickly. He ate it at the counter over a napkin, ignoring Angel’s further muttering, before heading back upstairs to Alastor.
Unfortunately, he was already out of bed when Vox got back. “Oh, there you are. Did you get something to eat?”
“I made some toast,” Vox said. He glanced past him toward the bayou and the bedroom beyond it, wistful and longing. “I hoped you might still be in bed.”
Alastor waved a hand. “When we have a contract to sign? Perish the thought. Now, get dressed, and we can go downstairs to sign it. As we discussed, I’d like witnesses.”
Vox smiled. Contracts like theirs hardly needed a witness, but it did make them much stronger and more deeply binding than they would otherwise be.
His contract with the Vees hadn’t been witnessed by any but the three of them.
Vox dressed quickly, grateful he’d let Alastor bully him into hanging up his suit instead of leaving it on the ground all night. Once he was all cleaned up, Alastor led their way back down to the common areas.
“Oh, good, just the people I’d hoped to see,” Alastor said brightly. “Charlie, Husker, come here a moment, would you?”
“Something wrong?” Charlie asked.
“What is it now?” Husk grumbled.
“Nothing strenuous or dangerous. I just need you to bear witness.” Alastor’s grin sharpened. “Vox and I are going into business together.” He summoned up the contract they’d perfected.
Charlie blinked. “I didn’t think most contracts needed a witness?”
“They don’t,” Vox said. “It makes them… stronger. Down here, something about the agreement is more binding when the contract has a witness to it.”
“Are you sure I should sign? It might make it too binding.” She winced. “I’m not sure how being the princess might affect it.”
“I’ve taken that into account, don’t you worry.” Alastor waved a hand. “So will you?”
Charlie shrugged. “If you’re sure, I’d be happy to.”
“Do I even have a choice?” Husk muttered, but he stepped out from behind the bar anyway.
Alastor spread out the signature page on the nearest flat surface and signed on the line with a flourish. Vox accepted the pen and signed with a steady hand. Husk signed on the first witness line, and when Charlie signed on the second, a shock of magic tore through him.
For a moment, it felt as though he’d been bound to Alastor, like their souls belonged one to the other, but then the feeling passed. Alastor’s cheeks were flushed when he grinned at him, eager and delighted both. He vanished the contract, likely back to the radio tower, before giving Husk and Charlie a short bow.
“Thank you for your cooperation. Now, Vox and I have much to discuss.” He offered Vox his arm and, without another word, whisked them away through the shadows.
Vox blinked his eyes back into focus and hesitated. “I thought you were taking us to the tower,” he admitted.
Instead, they were back in Alastor’s bedroom.
Alastor’s smile stretched wider. “I had a more… personal discussion in mind.”
“I like the sound of that.” Vox leaned against Alastor’s dresser, feeling warm down to his toes. “Did you feel that? When the princess signed?”
“That was exactly the effect I’d hoped for.” Alastor’s eyes grew lidded and dark. “I couldn’t have asked for a better officiant.”
Vox laughed. “What, like for a wedding?”
But Alastor wasn’t laughing. Instead, he had that same dark smile, rich and possessive and—
“Fuck, seriously?” He laughed again, nervous now, his stomach fluttering with excitement. “We don’t even have rings.”
“Don’t you worry about that,” Alastor said lightly. “I have an idea. But for now, I have a better course of action for us.”
Vox shivered and swallowed thickly. “O-Oh yeah?”
“Mm.” Alastor stepped into his space. “It’s hardly a marriage if it hasn’t been consummated, sweetheart.”
Vox’s eyes fluttered shut. “Fuck,” he murmured, sparks shooting from his antenna. “Alastor, I—I didn’t think—I never expected—”
Alastor’s hand landed on his chest. “I always wanted to get married someday. Of course, when I was alive, I thought it would be to a woman, but death has been full of surprises, hasn’t it?” He brushed his lips across Vox’s screen. “I never do anything I don’t want to, Vox. Don’t think too highly of yourself now.”
“Impossible,” Vox said, hands curling around Alastor’s hips. “If you thought my ego was bad before, you should see the me who knows the strongest, baddest demon in Hell wants me as much as I want him. And for keeps.” He laughed. “Oh, you are stuck with me now.”
“Yes,” Alastor agreed easily. “I am.”
Deft fingers unknotted Vox’s tie. “If you thought you’d marry a girl…” Vox started to ask.
Alastor rolled his eyes. “Was the way I kissed you last night unclear? I was led to believe that’s the way you kiss someone you intend to take to your bed.”
“Led to believe by who?” Vox demanded with a surge of jealousy.
“People I knew when I was alive,” Alastor dismissed. “Nobody who mattered in the long run, dear. Don’t worry. Now, I’ve done a lot of research on the various perversions and ‘kinks’ so prevalent here in Hell, but I’ve never actually applied any of it.” He began to unbutton Vox’s shirt. “Do let me know if I hurt you in a way you don’t enjoy.”
Vox flushed, fans whirring overtime as his screen overheated. “F-Fuck, whatever you want, Alastor. Anything. You can do anything you want to me.”
Alastor kissed him. “Be a dear and help me out of my clothes, hm?”
Vox hurried into action, but it was made much more difficult by the way his thoughts swam beneath the surge of desire and lust brought on by Alastor’s tongue in his mouth. He kept getting distracted, and he found himself thinking that even just kissing like this would probably be enough to get him off.
Alastor’s hands joined his, stroking his arms and chest as they both stripped, only separating briefly when they needed to step out of or drop one article or another.
Before too long, Vox was being walked backward to Alastor’s bed, helped up and into the center. Alastor looked down at him, eyes assessing and intent, taking in every detail and cataloging it. Vox shuddered.
“Alastor, if you keep looking at me like that, I’m not gonna last.” He lifted up on his elbows, but Alastor pushed him back down with a single finger to the center of his chest.
“I’ll keep that in mind.” Alastor’s eyes did not lose their heat. “Now then, be a dear and spread your legs for me.”
Vox obeyed, heart racing.
“Good boy.” Alastor knelt between his legs and pushed them wider, the points of his claws just digging into his thighs.
Vox had never felt so exposed or seen. That alone had his cock straining and aching, his hips shifting in a bid for attention.
Alastor drew a stinging line down his thigh with one of his claws, blood welling up. “Hold still, sweetheart.” Something blunt and slick rubbed up against his hole, insistent and inescapable.
“Oh, fuck, is that—?”
“I can’t exactly use my claws, now can I?” Alastor smirked. “Of course, I could always make you prepare yourself, if you’d rather?”
Vox groaned. “Whatever you want, love; I’m not complaining. But seriously, I am not going to last. Fuck, just kissing you—having you touch me—it’s more than I ever thought I’d get.”
Alastor hummed. “You want me to speed things up?” The tentacle breached him with a slight twinge of pain. “And what if I want to draw it out?”
The tentacle pressed in further, moving deep and slow, opening Vox up with every thrust and maddening twist. Whatever Vox meant to say next scattered in the face of the overwhelming pleasure.
Alastor had absolutely no right to be this good at sex.
“This,” Vox panted, “can’t be your first time.”
“And yet, it is.” Alastor leaned over him, eyes glowing with his interest. “Now stop squirming a moment, hm?”
The tentacle pulled back out; Vox’s hole clenched around nothing. “F-F-Fuck.”
One of Alastor’s hands held his hips down, while the other—oh, finally—guided his cock closer and closer to where Vox wanted him most.
His cock skimmed over his hole twice before sliding home with a delicious stretch. Vox glitched hard, unable to speak for how badly his circuits had shorted.
Alastor’s hands stroked up the sides of his screen, electricity arcing between them in a feedback loop the likes of which Vox had never experienced before. For a moment, that was all there was, electricity and connection and Alastor.
Vox broke from his glitch with a sharp cry, clutching at Alastor’s shoulders.
Alastor peeled Vox’s left hand off and held it in his own. When Vox forced his eyes open, Alastor’s lips brushed the knuckles in a gentlemanly kiss. “Vox,” he said, low and serious. His eyes were hooded as he leaned closer. “Do you trust me?”
Vox dug his right hand into Alastor’s shoulder. “Y-Yes, I—fuck me, but I really do.”
Alastor’s expression melted into the warmest smile Vox had ever seen. He brushed their lips together. “I love you, Vox. I’m going to give you everything.”
Before Vox could do more than process the words he thought he’d never hear spoken aloud, Alastor’s lips wrapped around his ring finger and sharp teeth bit down next to the final knuckle. The pain was startling, confusing, arousing, especially as Alastor licked at the wound.
“What the fuck,” he moaned.
Alastor pulled off his finger with a wide, blood-stained grin. “I promised you a ring, and this is one you won’t be able to remove.”
Vox pulled him down into another kiss, sparks passing between their lips and tongues as he shorted out again. “Gimme your hand,” he croaked, voice distorted through his overloaded speakers.
Alastor handed him his left hand and let Vox get his mouth around his ring finger. He wasn’t sure how hard it needed to be, so he started hard but without breaking skin.
“Such a tease,” Alastor scolded. “You’ll need to bite me harder than that, sweetheart.”
Vox increased the force until there was something like a pop and then his mouth filled with the metallic taste of blood. Alastor groaned, his right hand gripping the pillow beside Vox’s head.
With a final lick, Vox released the finger; Alastor sealed their lips together. “I’m keeping you,” he told Vox. “You’ll never be free of me.” He pulled back, and his eyes were dials, horns stretching outward as he said again: “I love you.”
Vox wrapped his legs around his waist, arching into every thrust. “I love you, too,” he panted. “I love you so fucking much. You’re never fucking disappearing on me again, husband mine.”
Alastor laughed, sharp and half-mad, as he renewed his pace. Their mouths met, and their fingers twined on either side of Vox’s head. His left hand stung where the bite still throbbed, and his right hand grew slick with Alastor’s blood.
As they kissed, and as Alastor fucked into him, the feedback loop began again, spiraling them higher and higher until Vox felt drunk with it, energy coursing through them both. Alastor broke the kiss, but not the loop, resting his forehead against Vox’s as they both panted for breath.
Vox lost himself in the rhythm between them, systems overheating and thoughts stuttering into little more than disjointed code and breathless static.
Alastor looked over him, his eyes taking in every movement, every microexpression, flickering between his normal eyes and the compelling tick of the dial. He released one of Vox’s hands to plant his hand on Vox’s chest, just over his heart. He curled his claws until they pricked at the skin on just the right side of too sharp.
“I would swallow your heart,” Alastor told him, voice low. His hand dragged lower, curling around Vox’s dick, claws careful around the sensitive flesh. “And in exchange, I would feed you mine.”
Vox arched, the shock of his orgasm one input too many; his systems crashed, but even insensible, Vox found himself aware of the pleasure echoing through his body, the satisfaction still building in his mind.
When he came back to himself, Alastor was draped across him, leisurely and lazy. One hand traced idle shapes across his chest.
“That was the best sex I’ve ever fucking had,” Vox said.
“So far,” Alastor drawled.
“Fuck.” Vox laughed, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. “I love you.”
“Don’t forget, we do still have work to do today, my dear husband.” Alastor smiled wider against his skin.
“Still can’t believe you married us, but you’re never taking it back now.” Vox held up his left hand. The wound was bleeding a lurid, electric blue. He hoped it would scar.
“Couldn’t if I wanted to, love. Why do you think I had Charlie sign it for us?” He pulled back to grin, sharp and feral. “You’re mine forever now.”
Vox sighed, happier than he had the words to describe, curling his left hand tight and holding it against his chest. “Yeah. I really fucking am.”
Vox leaned against the desk with his sleeves rolled up. Alastor watched him from behind, admiring the trim cut of his waist accentuated by his fitted vest. They probably shouldn’t have sex on their next break, more’s the pity.
Vox’s phone rang, distracting him from the new schedule he’d been working on so intently.
“What is it?” he answered.
There was a long pause as whoever it was spoke at length about whatever seemed to be the problem. Alastor stepped further into the room and sat down on Vox’s desk.
Vox shot him a fondly exasperated look.
The ongoing call icon appeared in the corner of his screen; it was Velvette.
Vox rolled his eyes. “Look, Velvette, I already told you both, I’m not coming back. I already signed an exclusive contract. I’m done. I left you guys what we agreed on in our contracts. You should have everything you need to keep the network running. I was more than fair.”
Alastor watched with building delight as Vox grew more and more visibly irritated. He was half tempted to end the call and see about taking that break early.
Vox pushed his face away with his hand, flushing cutely. Alastor caught his hand to admire the way his finger had scarred, bright and permanent. He pressed a lingering kiss against the scar.
Vox heaved a sigh. “It’s literally not that hard. I left you with some of my more capable staff members. They know how everything works.”
Another pause.
“Well ask Valentino for help, then. I’m not a Vee any more. You guys have everything you need. It’s more than I started with.” Vox shrugged. “Seriously, let my former staff do their jobs, give one of them authority to approve things, and it should run like clockwork.” He smiled. “Of course, that puts a non-Overlord in a position of power, doesn’t it?”
Whatever Velvette said next, Vox laughed. “If you wanna get drinks later, I wouldn’t say no, but you’re really on your own with this, Vel. Good luck!”
He hung up and turned a scolding look on Alastor.
“What?” Alastor asked.
“You trying to start something?” Vox asked. “The way you were looking at me, I was pretty sure you were thinking about bending me over.”
“Oh, I was. You looked so annoyed, I wanted to take advantage.” Alastor pulled Vox close, smirking up at him. “Of course, if your work isn’t done…” He dragged a finger down Vox’s chest.
Vox swallowed visibly. “Five minutes,” he begged. “And then, yes, please.”
Alastor let him go and hopped off the desk. “Five minutes, then. I’ll be waiting, dear husband.” He kissed his cheek before sauntering back out the door, pleased to feel Vox’s eyes follow his every step.
“Fuck,” he heard Vox say. “Five minutes, right.”
Alastor laughed.