Work Text:
The power is still out.
He shouldn’t be surprised. Vox threw a temper-tantrum of epic proportions, so why shouldn’t the result be equally substantial? Still the same despite the upgrades, his old pal; easily riled, easily provoked, his fast-talking, outwardly composed demeanor crumbling in the face of a few well-placed jabs and reminders of the past. So easy to overload him, overwhelm him, play on his emotions, his insecurities, his fears.
So mean of him to do so.
But so very, very enjoyable. To know he can still have such an effect. To know he still matters to …
So hot-headed, his picture box. Still.
So passionate. Still.
Although the residents of the hotel are grumbling (Angel in particular has complained about being unable to charge his phone), Alastor is glad that the hum of electricity is absent, that Pentagram City is dark. He has even shut down his radio tower after his broadcast. It’s … peaceful. It allows his mind to drift into sentimentality, thinking of old times …
Somehow, things are so much easier in the dark.
Especially for what he has planned.
It is easy to break into V Tower, with no cameras to track him, no alarms to go off, no lights to illuminate his approach. Loathe as he is to admit it, he might not have been able to enter if the power was still on. He would have thought there was a back-up generator or some such – but perhaps Vox has inadvertently taken that out, too.
Really, he shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t be doing this. It’s pointless to be here. It will accomplish nothing but pain.
He doesn’t even know which room Vox is in…
Until he does. It’s just as easy to track Vox’s static as it was decades ago.
Vox is sitting on his bed, hunched over a drink. He contemplates the half-empty glass, then downs the rest in one big gulp. Alastor can smell the whiskey. He can sense from his static that Vox is not drunk … not yet.
Vox coughs and mutters to himself. “Val is right. You’re an idiot. Why did you let him get to you like that?”
Alastor rankles at the mere mention of that disgusting insect’s name. How dare he insult Vox like that?!
That’s Alastor’s job, after all.
He waits another beat before materializing from out of the shadows. “Why *did* you let me get to you, old pal?”
Amusingly, Vox jumps, and the glass tumbles to the floor, though it does not break. His posture straightens and his eyes flash, his hypnotic one swirling menacingly.
“What the FUCK are you doing here, you smiling freak?!”
He throws a charge of electricity at Alastor, who easily dodges it and sends his shadows after him. Vox struggles to no avail. In seconds, his dark tendrils have pinned Vox to the wall, arms above his head, legs splayed out.
Vox looks at him with wide eyes full of defiance. Full of hate and fear. Full of…
Something else.
Vox pants wildly and strains against his bonds.
The memory takes them both by surprise.
The first time they …
*I want you to take me up against the wall, just like this …*
Alastor takes a sharp breath. He hadn’t expected this … or had he? Isn’t that why he came here after all? To prove that…
With slow, languid steps, exuding a calm and control he does not feel, Alastor draws closer to Vox, smiling viciously. His gaze trails over Vox’s body, from his scowling screen to his still-heaving chest, and when his gaze dips lower, his smile widens.
“Enjoying ourselves, are we?”
“Fuck you!” Vox snarls, and Alastor quirks a brow.
“Interesting choice of words, considering …” He moves closer, until their faces are practically touching, until they are sharing breath.
Vox’s screen has flushed red, and he is still scowling, but when Alastor caresses his hand across his screen, Vox leans into the touch, his eyes fluttering shut and a sigh escaping his lips.
“You’re still mine, you know.” Alastor says softly.
“Am not,” Vox says back, just as softly. Alastor chuckles.
“But you are.”
“I’m not.” Vox opens his eyes. They’ve turned into hearts. How ridiculous.
How adorable.
“But you are,” Alastor whispers, and kisses him.
Any token resistance left in Vox melts away. He moans into Alastor’s mouth and tries to get closer, straining against his bonds. Alastor decides to be merciful and release him, allowing Vox to wind his arms around his back and his legs around his waist.
It’s madness, what Vox makes him feel, makes him do, pure madness. He had not experienced this, this thing called lust, until Vox came into his afterlife. He had known about it, but had never trusted it, and considered himself lucky that he seemed immune to it. As far as he could tell, all it did was cause trouble and chaos to whoever was afflicted with it, and the only payoff was a few minutes of measly pleasure taken from the body of another. It led people to abandon all common sense and higher purposes to become slaves to their base, animal instincts. Horrendous. Undignified. Disgusting.
Not to be trusted, this thing called lust. A want masquerading as a need, an instinct masquerading as a feeling, a compulsion masquerading as a desire.
And yet …
And yet …
The feel of Vox’s tongue against his own. The tingle of Vox’s electricity in his mouth, through his whole system. The warm glow of his screen, the heat from his body, pressed flush against his own.
The delicious friction below the belt…
Alastor moved on from Vox’s lips to devour his neck.
“I hate you,” Vox gasped.
“I know,” Alastor murmured, undoing his tie, sliding off his jacket, unbuttoning his shirt, desperate to expose more of that beautiful, pliable flesh.
“I – I mean it, Alastor,” Vox continued, his voice unsteady. “I hate – oh shit.” He trembled as Alastor pressed more kisses to his overheated skin, kissing along his collarbones, making his way towards his nipples. “I hate – ah!” Alastor’s had pinched one of his nipples, hard, and Vox jolted, whimpering, rutting against him. “I mean I really …. Uh … oooh ….” Alastor was now sucking on said nipple greedily, toying with the other. Soon he switched to sucking the other nipple, and Vox fairly melted against him. When he was done, he looked up, grinning triumphantly.
“You were saying?”
“Bastard,” Vox whined, pulling him in for another kiss, and then breaking away, only to tug at his clothes. Vox was naked to the waist now, while Alastor was still fully dressed.
“Overdressed bastard...”
Alastor laughed, smooth as silk. “You may have a point.”
He allowed Vox to remove his jacket, and they kept going from there. When he too was bare to the waist, they pressed themselves against each other again. Alastor had almost forgotten how much he adored the feeling of Vox’s smooth skin against his bare fur. Vox was stroking his back so sweetly. Still so gentle, his Vox.
“Mon cher,” Alastor whispered, and began to undo Vox’s pants, then his own.
It had been years since they had seen each other like this, completely bare and raw. Exposed, vulnerable. Almost shyly now, Vox leaned in for another kiss, let one hand trail gently down Alastor’s stomach, looking up for silent permission before gently fondling his member. Alastor did his best to stifle a groan of pleasure, but was not entirely successful.
A small smile appeared on Vox’s face, and he looked just the teeniest bit smug. Alastor let himself thrust into Vox’s hand for a while, lost in the sensations. He reached for Vox’s member, just as hard and aching as his own. Vox was loud, and Alastor was delighted. Vox never could hold back his moans.
“I want you inside me now,” Vox whispered. “Just like…” Just like before. Just like back then. Just like nothing bad ever happened between us, like we never became enemies.
He didn’t say all that, but he didn’t need to. Alastor understood perfectly. Lube was quickly provided by Vox. Alastor retracted his claws and coated his fingers liberally. He held Vox up against the wall and pressed a single digit into his quivering hole, taking a minute before pressing in, letting Vox adjust and get used to the sensation. Another finger was added easily, and he gently thrust them in and out, savoring each new expression on his lover’s face as he opened him up. He added a third finger without much trouble, and when he hit Vox’s special spot, his picture box whimpered and bucked his hips.
“Now?”
“Now.”
Alastor slid into Vox so beautifully, so easily. It almost made him want to cry. Madness. Madness. Bliss.
Why did it have to feel so good?
“I missed you,” Vox whispered, as Alastor began with slow, almost teasing thrusts. “I missed you so much.”
“I missed you too, mon cher.”
It didn’t take long for their pace to become frantic, their rhythm to become erratic. With each thrust, the pleasure increased, the years fell away, the bitterness receded, until they were as they had been before, a pair, a team, a spark, the friendship and the lust and the affection and the love all coalescing until he couldn’t stand it, couldn’t contain it, couldn’t contain himself, letting go with a scream of pleasure, a roar of triumph and satisfaction, listening to Vox gasp his name as he spilled, hot and wet between them, and all he could say was
“Mine, mine, mine, MINE!”
When they came back to themselves, they were still clinging to each other, shaky and drenched in sweat. Alastor sighed as he kissed away the tears on Vox’s screen.
“Goddamn it, Al …”
“Hush.”
“You can’t just … come back … and act like…”
“Hush.” Alastor cleaned them up, carried Vox on unsteady legs towards the bed, and collapsed on it with him.
“Hush, mon cher. Je t’aimais alors et je t’aime toujours.”
Vox let out a shuddering breath, laying on his back. Alastor immediately cuddled to his side, butting his head under Vox’s screen. Vox huffed like he was annoyed, but immediately began scratching/petting Alastor’s ears, causing him to practically purr in contentment. He let his hands roam across Vox’s body, tracing imaginary patterns on his skin.
They could have fallen asleep, just like that. It would have been easy, in the dark. Content, curled up together like their falling out had never happened, like Alastor had never been gone.
Only …
It had been so long, after all. So many years of pent-up lust, and all those finer feelings which Alastor pretended not to have.
So when Vox stroked down his back, and when his hands inevitably drifted lower, petting and gently tugging on his tail, doing it delicately, expertly, just the way he used to …
Quite suddenly, sleep was the last thing on Alastor’s mind.
He writhed as he felt himself grow hard again. It was Vox’s turn to tease now, and he let him have his fun, even allowing a tiny whine to escape his throat for his lover’s benefit.
He nipped playfully at Vox’s chest and then licked it. Vox pulled his head up and captured his mouth in a kiss that left them both breathless. Alastor continued, rubbing against Vox shamelessly, and Vox pressed his palm flat against Alastor’s opening as his fingers continued to gently play with the soft tuft of fur above it.
“Can I?” Vox asked, almost shyly.
Alastor growled. “You had better.”
Vox grinned and retrieved the lubricant, sheathing his claws and coating his fingers liberally, as Alastor had done. He circled Alastor’s hole, gently breaching it with a finger, attending carefully to the signals of Alastor’s body and the changes in his expression. He went on like this for a while, teasing, exploring, and when Alastor moaned and growled,
“More,” he obeyed, adding two fingers at once, causing a jolt of pleasure to go through his lover, who relished at the stretch.
“Are you ready for me?”
“Hurry up already!”
It was Vox’s turn to laugh, but the laugh quickly faded to a moan as Alastor lowered himself onto him, taking him down to the root, a smooth slide, as if their bodies had been made to fit together. Just like this.
Vox began thrusting up into him, and Alastor met his thrusts, whining as Vox hit his prostate, gasping as their bodies slapped together. Vox gripped his hips, and Alastor raked his fingers down that smooth chest. As they neared the climax, he pulled Vox to him, and when Vox reached between them to stroke him to completion, they came together, their world exploding in a burst of pleasure so intense that it was almost pain.
They collapsed together, a sticky, sweaty pile of trembling limbs. This time it was Vox who cleaned them up. He even got a cool cloth and smoothed it over Alastor’s overheated skin. He had remembered. Of course he had.
Always so thoughtful, his Vox. So kind, so sweet.
How did this man ever end up Hell?
But Alastor was infinitely grateful he did.
“I love you.” Vox said it almost flatly, almost bitterly. But there was that hint of tenderness, as he wrapped his arms around Alastor again, and Alastor curled himself up close again, that allowed Alastor to cling to a shred of hope.
“Still?”
“Always.”
“Always. Je ne peux pas cesser de t’aimer, mon amour. You have captured my heart.”
“So you say. But you’ll be gone in the morning, won’t you?”
“Vox…”
“Will it be seven years, like last time? Will I have to wonder if you’re dead?”
“Vox…”
“It would have been so much easier if you’d stayed gone! We were together, and then we weren’t, and then we were fighting, but you were still there! Why? Why did you leave me?!”
“It wasn’t my choice!” Alastor shouted before he could stop himself.
Vox stared at him. “It wasn’t … what?”
“I … no, that’s not what I meant. Forget I said anything.”
“Forget you said … fuck no! You can’t just drop a bombshell like that and tell me to forget it, Al! What the FUCK that does mean, it wasn’t your choice?”
“Vox –”
“Wait – did you – did you make a deal with someone, are you on someone’s chain? I –”
“Vox, stop!” Alastor grabbed him. “You must not speak of this anymore!”
“Why?!”
“Because the less you know, the safer you are!”
Vox stared at him, eyes wide, anger fading. “So is that why you …? Wait. Do you mean to say you’ve been … protecting me … this whole time?”
“Well, if you insist on putting that way.”
“B-bullshit,” Vox said, but he was clearly shaken. “Bullshit, that doesn’t change anything. This doesn’t change anything. I’m still mad at you. I … I still hate you … and stuff.”
“And stuff? Articulate as ever, I see.”
“Shut up. I … I don’t know what to do with this.”
Alastor sighed and put his head on Vox’s chest. “Then don’t do anything. Just lie with me and forget the world. Just for the night. Just for a little while. You’re right, I’ll be gone in the morning. But I won’t be gone for seven years. Not again.”
Vox grumbled. “And I’m supposed to believe you?” But he kissed him, nuzzled him, kept him close, just the same, as they drifted off into sleep, into a world where the anger and the fear and the lies floated away and there were no barriers to them being together.
Soon enough, power would be restored, and what passed for day would dawn in Hell. Things would go on as they were, and no one would know that under cover of night, two souls had reconnected, and hope, however fragile, had sprung between them.
In the morning, Vox and Alastor would be enemies again.
But in the night, in the dark, with limbs and hearts and thoughts all intertwined, they are simply together, and still, hopelessly, in love.