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“That’s it, slut, swallow for Daddy.”
Valentino couldn’t understand the response from Vox but it was safe to say it was a positive one because soon the Overlord’s digital eyes took on a glazed, cyan hue as he sunk his face towards Val’s hips and eagerly pushed him deeper into his throat.
With a low grunt, Val buried himself to the hilt, holding himself there as Vox swallowed.
“Pathetic.” Pulling out he left a trail across Vox’s screen, wiping off the residue on what passed for his face and tucking himself back in.
“Thank you…” Vox looked happy beyond words. Val clicked his fingers and the smoke binding Vox’s wrists tightly behind his back dissipated, freeing him once more.
“Whatever.” Val lit up a cigarette from his coat pocket and dropped the packet onto the floor in front of Vox. Reaching down with his lower hands, he pulled down the zipper on his boots and kicked them off. Blindly, he groped behind himself for the laces on his corset, fumbling with the tie until Vox obediently got up from his knees to help.
“I love you,” Vox whispered, hugging him from behind once the corset was off and Val was sitting in just his panties. It was brief, hardly anything, but Val felt the possessiveness of the other’s embrace before he drew away to light up a cigarette as well. Val watched as Vox rubbed his finger tips together to make a spark, the blue jolt lighting his smoke in seconds.
“I know you do,” Val replied, taking a drag.
“Can I stay the night?” Vox asked, relaxing back on the pillows. His screen was still muted and soft, none of the sharp, vibrant colours that normally made up his intimidating features. Val sometimes thought of this as a sort of powering down mode that usually happened after their time together. The media Overlord would let loose and relax, shutting off all the background junk in his systems and simply existing after their romps. It often struck Val how he never saw Vox doing the same anywhere else. Not even at the club.
“I’m not stopping you,” Val replied.
"Got a big meeting at 9, so I can order breakfast if you want?" Vox suggested. Whilst his screen might still look muted and calm, his voice was rising back to its regular tempo. Gone was the sweet, almost whispering voice ladened with simpering static and unrestrained lust and back was the measured tone that offered little in the way of emotion.
"I won't be up that early," Val snapped. "What are you, stupid?"
"I was just offering, jeez," Vox rolled his eyes. "We can have lunch together instead."
"I don't-" Val sighed and rubbed a hand across his face. He could feel a tightness in his temples, a headache brewing below the surface. "Just fucking go to sleep, okay? I gotta take a piss."
Val stubbed out his barely-smoked cigarette and made his way to the bathroom. After he finished, he stood staring at the mirror over the sink. He still had the remains of his make-up from the club earlier painting his skin. Thick, smokey eyeliner rimmed his bright red eyes with sweeping wings as sharp as daggers. He started to rub at them with a pad, sneering at the palid, bruise-coloured skin underneath.
Vox wouldn't give him the time of day if he saw him without his face all done up, he told himself as he scrubbed away the layers of foundation and highlighter.
Boring. Flat. Unremarkable.
Why did Vox keep asking to sleep over, anyway? It was becoming irritatingly routine that they'd meet up at the club, do a few lines and dance together then head up to the Penthouse. They'd fuck, Vox would tell him he loved him in the throes of orgasm, and they'd fall asleep together.
Valentino had kicked him out in the night a few times. He liked his space and Vox still being there for breakfast felt too…close. Too domestic. Vox never argued, never told him he was being a jerk for sending him off on a walk of shame at Satan-only-knew what time in the morning.
When that happened,Val would go back to bed and lay there feeling like shit until he took enough blow to blot out the urge to call Vox back to the penthouse. Still staring at his reflection in the mirror, he pinched at the bags under his eyes. He looked crap, he knew that. Too much coke and too little sleep, that was his problem. Once his painted mask was taken away, it was painfully obvious to see. a hacking cough punched its way up his chest as he reached for the tub of cold cream. His throat stung as he cleared it, spitting into the sink and blasting the taps to wash away the junk that coated his lungs from an eternity of smoking. As the water swirled away, he spotted a loose petal sticking to the porcelain.
“Loser.” He rolled his eyes. Vox had left a trail of petals from the bathroom to the bedroom last week, so it must be left over from that. Weird, though- he’d been certain those had been red. The one in the sink was an unnatural blue.
Scrunching it up, he dropped it into the trash bin and knuckled at his chest to clear another small cough. Damn, he needed another cigarette to help with this.
“You still awake?” he asked, returning to the master bedroom and spotting Vox still sitting on the bed with his phone out in his hand.
“Yeah, just coordinating something for tomorrow,” Vox told him, patting the space next to him. “I’ve got to finalise some things for the presentation and the intern sent some stuff over for me to proof. Still a no to breakfast?”
“Do what you want. I’m going to sleep.”
“Suit yourself.”
o0o
Valentino hit the snooze button on his alarm about fifty times before he actually staggered out of bed the next morning. Or was it afternoon? A quick glance at his phone told him he could still claim he’d been out of bed before lunch. He swiped past the mass of notifications on Voxtagram.
Simps later, coffee first.
Taking his robe from the hook on the door, he stifled a yawn and made his way into the kitchen area of the vast penthouse. His head absolutely raged from the indulgences the night before, and he was pleasantly surprised to see a glass of water with a packet of aspirin already sitting out on the counter top.
Thought you’d need this.
V
The note, on Vogitech stationary no less, made him smile until he thought better of himself. He dumped half the packet of pills into the glass and downed the fizzy concoction in one, coughing as the rough, powdery residue stuck in his throat.
Urgh, those stupid petals were still hanging around in the kitchen too? Just how many had Vox laid out and why hadn’t the maid caught them all the times she’d been in since? Clearly he had to stop hiring hookers to do his housework for him.
Valentino
> Thanks for the pills…
Fucktoy
No worries <
What you up to? <
Valentino
> Nothing much. You?
Fucktoy
Bored out of my mind in this meeting. It’s been 3 hours <
Missing your fat cock <
Valentino
> Bet you are. Lol. Focus on your meeting, slut.
Fucktoy
Yes, Daddy ;p <
Val was midway through a reply when the intercom for his apartment rang. Leaving his phone on the worktop by the now-empty glass, he went to the door and jabbed the button on the wall speaker.
“Who are you and what do you want?” He asked shortly. People didn’t just turn up at his apartment without permission so this had better be damn good.
“HellDash delivery,” came the reply, crystal clear through the top of the range speakers Vox had installed for him. “Can you buzz me in, Sir?”
“Christ…”
When the trembling delivery imp had been and gone, Val glared down at the neatly folded paper bag in his hands. A cream cheese everything-bagel and an almond croissant. Plus, if he wasn’t mistaken, a coffee with a shot of cherry brandy.
That goddamn asshole simp had only gone and ordered his favourite breakfast to be delivered right as he’d gotten out of bed. He could scream at the thoughtfulness of it all.
Val
> I hate you.
Fucktoy
You’re welcome <
o0o
He couldn’t stop coughing and for some reason cigarettes weren’t helping in the slightest.
Putting down his makeup brush for what felt like the tenth time in five minutes, Valentino covered his mouth to stifle the rattling cough that forced its way up. When the spasms stopped his hand felt sticky and wet as he pulled it away. He was about to reach for some tissues when the sight of vivid blue in the sputum caught his eye. Opening up his clenched fist, he stared in confusion at the chewed up mass of petals congealing in his pink-tinged spit.
“What the f-” another cough cut him off and he had to grip the dressing table with his lower arms to support himself, pressing his other hands over his mouth as the painful coughs took hold once more. Flinching at a sudden, sharp sting in his tongue, he dared to pull his hands away.
Valentino retched at the sight of blood pooling amongst the petals and felt a tightening in his throat, like it was being constricted from within. Mindless of the bloody slime on his hands, he stumbled to his feet and made a run for the bathroom.
Dropping to his knees to the cold tiled floor, he bent over the bowl and retched, spitting out a pathetically small clump of petals and a dribble of wet, bloody spittle. Whatever was blocking his throat was still there with a vengeance.
“Here goes nothin’,” he rasped to himself, tilting his head forward more and opening his mouth as wide as he could. With a skill honed by many years of practice, he delicately stuck two fingers down his throat and winced at the convulsion in his stomach. It never got easier, no matter how many times he did it, and today was no exception.
It worked, though.
He vomited into the toilet bowl, bringing up more petals and a whole flowerhead. The cyan blue rose floated tauntingly in the soiled water and he recoiled in disgust.
Scrambling back up to standing, he ran back to the dressing room and grabbed his phone from the vanity table, hitting the speed dial for Velvet. The little witchling would know what was going on, he knew it.
“Hey, wassup?” Velvet answered on the second ring and turned on her camera, gracing him with the image of her reclining on her bed in a bathrobe with her hair piled up in a towel. “Make it quick, Rosie’s downstairs…”
“Vel, I need your help,” Val said quickly. “I think I’ve-... Satan, this sounds so stupid… I think I’ve been cursed.”
Velvet said up at that, her eyes gleaming with interest. “Really?” In Val’s opinion, she sounded far too excited. “Why?”
“It’s hard to explain.” Val went back into the bathroom and angled the camera towards the toilet.
“I do not need to see what came out of your ass, Val!” Velvet interrupted in horror, putting her free hand over her eyes.
“It’s not that!” Valentino snapped. “You think I’m that gross? Fuck’s sake.” He fished around in the water and pulled the dripping blue rose out, holding it up to the camera for Velvet to see. “I’ve been… I don’t know. These have been coming out of me since this morning. No, wait,” he thought back to the night before, finding the petals in the sink and how he’d dismissed them. “Since last night,” he completed.
“Hanahaki,” Velvet said firmly and without hesitation. “Absolutely.”
“What the hell is that?”
“Weeb disease,” Vel laughed. “Ask your boyfriend.”
“Vel! Please!” Val hissed, crushing up the flower and hurling it back into the bowl. It landed with a splash and he angrily depressed the flush to swirl it all away. “I don’t know what’s happening to me!”
“Urgh, princess,” Velvet rolled her eyes. “It’s not a curse, not really. It’s more like something that you catch. It’s actually not even real, it’s from manga and anime, but then again who ever said the rules down here were fair?”
“A disease?” Val clarified. “Like VD? So, I can cure it?” He felt another cough bubbling up and spat straight into the sink, grimacing again at the bloody taste on his tongue. This time there had been thorns in with the flowers.
“Yeah, you can cure it if you know what caused it,” Vel nodded. “Or, who caused it. Hanahaki is caused by unrequited love. When the one you love returns your feelings then it’ll go away. Simples.”
“Get real, Velvet, I don’t love anyone,” Valentino scoffed. “I’m the Overlord of Lust, not some goddamn cherub with a bow and arrow.”
“Are you sure about that?” Velvet asked mischievously. “You sure do spend a lot of time with Vox…”
“Go fuck yourself. Besides, even if I did love Vox- which I don’t” he added, seeing Velvet’s smirk, “-even if I did love Vox, it’s not unrequited or whatever bullshit fancyass word you used for it. He tells me he loves me every time I stick my cock in him.”
“Hmm…” Velvet pondered for a moment. “There is another version of the disease. It’s very rare though, like, so rare I don’t think anyone has ever actually caught it. It’s just been theorised about. There are rumours that some forms of the disease occur when the victim is the one who is unable to confess their feelings to the object of their affections.”
“Come again?” Val frowned. He could feel another cough trying to break free.
“Clearly you’ve caught the feels and are trying to deny it, babe,” Velvet shrugged. “Sorry, can’t help you anymore than that.”
“Vel, that doesn’t make any-”
“Sorry, gotta go. Rosie’s calling for me,” Velvet interrupted. “Take care of yourself. Call me later if you think of anything!” With a cheerful wave she disconnected the call, leaving Val standing in the bathroom more confused than ever.
“Mister Valentino?” A timid voice sounded through the main door and he hurled his phone onto the vanity table in annoyance on his way back into the dressing room.
“What?” He snapped, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth one last time and reaching for some lipstick.
“We’re ready for you on stage.”
“Tell those simps to wait,” Val hissed. “I’m worth it.”
o0o
The beat of the music in the club calmed his agitation no end when he finally stepped out onto the stage. Demons and imps chanting his name as he took to the pole was the best medicine in the world whenever something was ailing him and tonight felt no different. The polished chrome of the pole was warm to the touch from the last dancer and he swung himself up it with ease, dropping into a back hook and letting his body flow to the music.
“Humidity’s rising…barometer’s gettin’ low…”’
It was just a fluke, what Velvet had said, it must be. Unrequited love and confessions was the type of drivel that the poets over in the Pride district liked to wax on about, not sinners like him who were born to live for lust and desire.
Love . How pathetic.
“Cos’ tonight for the first time…”
He completed the spin with a drop down to the floor, the toe of his stiletto shoes smacking down hard on the stage and letting out a pleasing ring which earned a whoop of approval from several members of the audience and a showering of notes. He didn’t dance for singles anymore, but that didn’t mean he was about to say no.
“It’s rainin’ men, hallelujah, it’s rainin’ men…”
Scooping up the notes in his fist, he let them rain down on him as he gyrated on the floor, flexing his hips before pulling back up to his knees and snaking his tongue suggestively between his spread fingers. Cameras flashed around him and he basked in the adoration.
A sudden tug clawed at his stomach.
Valentino was just about to sweep back up to standing and take to the pole again as the chorus started up once more when he felt the familiar wave of nausea overcome him.
He didn’t think he’d ever seen a crowd move so fast.
The music ground to a halt and he heard a ripple of nervous laughter filtering through the crowd. Petals were dripping from between his splayed fingers, blood and vomit congealing amongst the cyan blue blossoms and splashing onto the mirrored stage floor.
“Get out…”
There was a shuffle of feet, the clubbers and staff alike both unsure who was being addressed.
With a snarl of anger, Val clenched his fists and stood up, grabbing the pole for support when his feet threatened to skid under him.
“Everybody… GET OUT!”
The venom in his tone was palpable and the sudden rush of bodies towards the single exit cleared the floor in seconds. Breathing heavily, he stormed down the steps from the stage, punching out at one of the bar staff who dared to come to address him. The incubus went flying and the other staff took that as their dismissal as well, joining the flood of guests in the rush to escape the Overlord’s anger.
Val slammed the door to his dressing room, ignoring the rattle of the hinges and the sound of splintering wood.
What the fuck was happening to him?
He dropped down onto the stool at his vanity and stared at his reflection. His eyeliner was running down his cheeks in tracks and blood stained his bottom lip. A single, lone petal clung to it and he ripped it away, glaring at the offending article. He flicked it away in disgust and reached into the bottom drawer for his stash, twisting the cap off of the top shelf vodka and necking a huge gulp in one go. He wanted to retch again, but he determinedly took another drink and forced it back down.
No. Scratch that. Petals flooded out of his mouth and he couldn’t fight back against the next wave of coughing, leaving a layer of the blooms carpeting the vanity top.
“What the hell is wrong with you?”
The static-laced voice at the doorway asked him the very question he had been asking himself since he’d gotten out of bed. The sigh of relief at the sight of Vox standing in the doorway to the dressing room surprised even himself but he got up and ran to the media Overlord, dragging him towards him in a hug.
“Get off me.” Vox’s voice was cold as he pushed him away. “I asked you a question.”
“I don’t know!” Val admitted. “It just started happening last night. Velvet… Velvet said that-” he was cut off by another outburst of petals, spilling onto Vox’s polished shoes as he covered his mouth to try and stop them. “She called it Hanahaki. It’s-”
“I know what it is,” Vox replied, nudging some of the petals with his toe tip. “I’m Japanese, you idiot.”
“It’s not normal, though,” Val said desperately, taking Vox’s hands in his in a tight, earnest grip. “Velvet said this is different. She said I had to tell you how I feel to make it stop.” He swept his upper hands up to take hold of Vox’s screen, pressing a kiss against the glass and gazing into his eyes when they parted. “I’ve been so stupid. I think about you all the time, it’s maddening. Little bits of you are all around my apartment, dumb stuff reminds me of you, like songs you put on my Voxify playlists for the club, and anytime I see something with a shark on I want to buy it for you.”
He took a deep breath, fighting through the bubbling feeling in the pit of his stomach. “Completely against my better judgement I’m head-over-Louboutin-heels in love with you.”
“Val…”
Valentino pressed a finger to his screen. “Ssh, I know it’s weird and it’s not the most romantic way to say it, but Satan be damned, I love you, Vox.”
He wasn’t expecting the shove when it came, so when Vox’s hands landed on his chest and pushed him away he wasn’t braced for it and landed hard on the floor.
“You’re pathetic.” Vox’s pixelated grin was twisted into an ugly, disgusted sneer. He folded his arms and glared down at him on the floor. “You’d better be drunk or high right now because this-” he gestured to him lying prone in front of him “-is disgusting.”
“What are you talking about?” Val sat up, rolling onto his knees to try to stand but stopped by Vox aiming a kick right into his stomach. He rolled to the side and heaved, petals spilling out onto the floor as he hacked and coughed. “I just told you I loved you! Isn’t that what you want?”
“What I want?” Vox laughed cruelly. He took his phone out of his jacket pocket and held it up to for the moth to see, showing him a video auto playing on Voxtagram. “You think I want some gross, love sick puppy chucking his guts on stage because he’s so obsessed with me?” With a crackle of static ripping down the Overlord’s fingers, the video disappeared from the feed.
“I’ll get rid of all of it,” he promised, clicking off the screen and putting his phone away. “But only because a gif set of the man I allow to fuck me trending on all platforms spewing up is bad for business.”
“Velvet said loving you back would make it stop…” Val hated the pitiful edge to his voice when he spoke, dragging himself back up to kneeling. “She said…” he trailed off uselessly.
“Aw, did the moth pimp think he was special?” Vox scoffed, crouching down in front of him. He tilted Val’s downcast face up to look at him. “It’s adorable, really, you falling in love with me. It’s irritating as fuck, obviously, and not what I intended but, well, here we are.”
“I don’t understand,” Val whispered. “You love me, why didn’t telling you I loved you too make it stop?”
“I don’t love you Val,” Vox shook his head. “I don’t know where you got that idea from.” He laughed again and patted his cheek. “You’re hot, don’t get me wrong, and I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone quite like you, but love? Val, babe, just no.”
“But you tell me all the time!” Val insisted, batting Vox’s hand away from his face and glaring at him with a mixture of hurt and confusion. “You told me last night! You tell me every time we have sex.”
“Well, duh,” Vox snorted. “Every guy says he loves the one making him cum, right? You’re a hooker, Valentino, how did you not know that?” He straightened up, looking down in annoyance when Val grabbed a hold of his ankle.
“You left flowers! You sent breakfast!” Val pointed out desperately, his claws digging into the fabric of Vox’s pants. Another flood of flowers spilled out as he spoke, his words clouded by the gurgling sounds of him choking on a full flower as it forced its way out, stem and all. “You do so much for me.”
“Because I know it pisses you off!” Vox laughed. “When I covered your bedroom in roses you stamped on my balls so hard I needed to replace the ball joint in my hip! It was fucking awesome. The venn diagram of people who want to have sex with me and aren’t scared shitless of me is few and far between, Val, and you fit the bill perfectly for what I needed.” He shook his leg free from Val, pressing his foot down hard on his fingers when the other demon’s hand dropped impotently to the floor.
“But this?” He scoffed in disgust. “This is not what I want.”
“Vox, please!”
Vox looked back at the demon helpless on the floor and surrounded by dozens of vivid blue roses, desperate for the media demon's attention and love.
“Call me when you grow a spine again, Valentino,” he said coldly. “We’re done.”
The click of the door closing was deafening. Valentino would have ran after him if he could even stand. His legs were leaden and all the air had been pulled from his lungs. Wheezing, he coughed up more of the offensive roses, adding to the growing piles on the floor around him. This time, however, it didn’t stop. Gripping his throat, he coughed as more and more of them started to work their way out. There were no more single loose petals anymore- these were full flowers, thorned and unforgiving.
Dragging himself over to the vanity, he struggled to reach for his phone, swiping the speed dial for Velvet the second his fingers closed around it.
“Velvet! You gotta help me,” he stuttered through the flowers, breaking off after each word to cough up another mouthful. “It didn’t work.”
“It didn’t?” Velvet sounded surprisingly calm on the other end of the line. “Huh, that's weird. Well, I guess you do have the regular type after all. Sucks to be you.”
“Tell me how to make it stop!”
“Oh, Val… you can’t now.”
Val ended the call, bringing up Vox’s name instead. He shakily jabbed at the screen, missing several times before he managed to hit the call button.
“The number you have called is unavailable. Please leave a message or try again later.”
“Vox! Vox please- pick up! Vox, pl-”