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It might sound absurd to say that a few hundred feet made all the difference, but it did. When Alastor was fully transformed, Vox wasn't even the size of his pinkie. It might have been simply a matter of perspective, but he appeared so small, so fragile... So nonthreatening. Not that Alastor actually believed he'd try to hurt him now that they've finally mended their relationship. But what he believed in and what he felt were two different things. Which, when the matters at hand turned to the desires of flesh, tended to be disgust. Discomfort. Anxiety.
But right now, when he was looking at Vox, even though he was rocking his tiny body against Alastor’s finger, it wasn't disgust that brewed in his chest.
He gently coaxed Vox on his back and let a claw brush between his legs. Despite the fact he didn't press down, too worried he might accidentally break his lover, he was still rewarded with little moans and endearing mewls.
Endearing... Yes. His heart was warm with endearment. As carefully as he could, he rubbed the soft pad of his finger against Vox. The precious thing was covered in blush head to toes, with sparkles dancing all over his body. When he hugged Alastor's finger, falling apart with the most adorable expression of tightly shut eyes and mouth opened to whimper Alastor's name, Alastor nearly tossed him between his jaws.
Instead, he let a less destructive impulse take over, and began lovingly grooming Vox back to a presentable state. Although at this size difference all it did, was sticking Vox to his palm with thick strands of saliva. He ignored the grumpy protests — if Vox knew it was either this, or being devoured in a fit of overwhelming affection, he would surely stop complaining anyway.