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“You're really not going to tell me?”
Alastor huffed through his smile, rolling his eyes for the umpteenth time that night. “My answer has hardly changed in the five minutes between the last time you asked, Vox.” He brushed off the side of his coat as he recrossed his legs on the chair across from Vox. “Really, I can't understand why you'd be so inclined to find out all the tiny details.”
Vox, the man he is, lowers his eyebrows impossibly more- a signature pout, Alastor would call it- and manspreads just that little bit more, out of frustration, and nothing more, he's sure. “you cant understand? Alastor, babe, I've been like- embarrassingly obsessed with you for practically my entire undead life, this can't be a new revelation to you.”
Alastor lets out a real laugh at that- which does not make Vox flinch, it doesn't. “Vox my dear, it was never a question whether you were disgustingly grovelling to me this whole time, I just didnt quite realise your little… hobby expanded past finding out what was ‘in my pants’ as you so eloquently put it before.”
“Ughhh Alastor, just-” Vox hangs his head off the back of the couch and rubs between his eyes, a movement that Alastor finds fascinating considering there's nothing there for him to rub. “Is that what you're hung up on? That I only care if it gets my rocks off?” Vox leans forward then, elbows on his knees. “You could- don’t do this- but you could cut my dick clean off and I’d still ask-” he props his head on his fists, “are you mechanic?”
Alastor reaches his cane over to tap the end to the side of Vox’s leg, he does so simply so he can… well really so he can get himself together and formulate an actual thought because he hadn't thought Vox wouldn't let this go, that he really did want to know. “Oh, I don't know, what if I am? What if I'm not? Will either make you be quiet for more than a minute?”
“God you’re so touchy, it’s like I'm the only one to ever actually be interested in anything that goes on in your fucked up life, like- like has no one ever, fucking asked before? Vox scoffs.
Alastor blanches at that, stops his tapping that frankly, he forgot he was even doing- now that's an interesting observation. Interesting and just as much skin crawling, because no, no one had ever asked before, no one had been the slightest bit interested. Which tugs at some horrid meaty string in his chest, one he could name easily from experience but refuses to because it’s-
He grimaces over his smile, a quiet fanfare playing as he half-heartedly raises his arms in jazz hands. “Congratulations, my dear.”
“What? I- oh! Oh-ho-ho!” Vox leans forward impossibly more, “Oh, Alastor. What a treat.” Vox drawls, eyelids low like he's caught Alastor in his web. Alastor doesn't know why that makes his ear twitch, like Vox knows something he doesn't. “Cmon. Tell me.”
“No.”
“Tell me.”
Vox hasn't moved, hasn't so much as blinked, he's staring directly at Alastor, metaphorically pinning him in place, which is just ridiculous in and of itself because Vox could never do something so rash- knowing the consequences.
Sighing, Alastor offers, “Perhaps.”
Vox pauses, blinks, pouts again, “So you will tell me? You won't tell me?”
“I was under the impression I just did.”
Vox frowns and waves his hands in front of his face, somehow still keeping that unforgiving pin through Alastor's body. “You- so, perhaps, you have mechanics? What the fuck does that even mean?”
Alastor exasperatedly rolls his eyes, really if he has to do that one more time they may just fall right out of his skull. “Let me phrase it differently, have you or any other overlord for that matter, ever injured me proficiently enough to see inside?
“...Nnno?”
“Then do tell my friend,” Alastor finally manages to break his frozen stupor, leaning forward to mirror Vox's own position. “Who would have been lucky enough to see inside and answer your oh, so precious question, hm?” Alastor sits back up, folding his arms over his legs. "Apologies to disappoint but really, a silly question implying I've ever been torn open enough to stop and say ‘well that's a wonder!’, my friend.”
It's not entirely a lie, he really doesn't know the details of the ongoings of his innards, but he's also not about to metaphorically spill his guts about the injuries he has endured. Vox does not need to know that the all powerful Radio Demon has in fact come close to death on rare occasions, nearly holding himself together at times. Either way, no one of the likes of Vox and his level of power could inflict such damage on him, which Alastor smiles inwardly at, surely he could hold that above his head at some point, maybe.
Vox's demeanor changes halfway through Alastor's rant, leaning back against the couch once more, his hands landing on his upper thighs, his face… relaxed- too relaxed, he's thinking something. Sometimes Alastor wishes he could read minds solely so he could excuse himself as soon as possible from potentially uncomfortable situations- which he fears is what's coming. Something about Vox's dick, or being horny, or wanting to finger him, gosh the revolting things he's learned from Vox's vulgar mouth are just wrong.
Vox looks like he's rolling around a thought in his mind, debating the pros and cons of whatever he's about to say to the Radio Demon. Evidently, Alastor finds, the pros win.
“Can I find out?” Vox's hand twitches against his leg.
Now, that, that is a good question. With exquisite implications. And just enough risk factor that allows Alastor the full experience of dread mixed dirtily with adrenaline, and no real fear of dying. The organs he knows he has, heart, lungs, some other unremarkable things, really make little difference to Alastor's existence, he doesn't even breathe. So it's not like he poses much risk of dying, so to speak, but it does skim the line of ‘this is not good’, he rarely lets his guard down enough for the likes of Charlie to even walk behind him, let alone allow someone who ruthlessly gets under his skin, really get under his skin.
Alastor's eyebrows furrow through his smile, he huffs out an unbelieving laugh which even he isn't sure which of them its directed at. Because he's considering this, considering letting those walls down for someone who has spent the better part of a century trying to destroy him. But maybe that's the fun in it.
Vox reacts slightly to Alastor's tiny recognition of his words, eyes practically jumping to the miniscule movement of Alastor's brow and he huffs. He has a look of grief on him, his bright screen shining back at Alastor with downturned eyes and mouth just about open. Alastor can't tell if that means he's happy or sad, Vox can be insurmountably hard to understand sometimes.
“How?” Alastor still has a strange chill of untrust running through him, perhaps visible on his face.
There's a beat of silence, that horrid look on Vox’s face frozen for a time, before he sucks in a breath so hard you'd think he needed it, and out from his mouth tumbles the words, “Any way. Whichever way. Any.”
He says it like it was forcefully yanked from his throat, like the words were close enough to reach, Alastor thinks that he'll save that idea for later too, only to reciprocate the gesture, really.
Vox doesn't break eye contact with Alastor, but he does grasp for the staff that ended up tipped to the floor beside his leg, a tiny zap of electricity running in a visible squiggle from his hand all the way up to Alastor's hand, it trickles around his fingers before fizzling out, Alastor's pupils dilating being its only evidence it made its journey home.
Alastor flinches inwardly at the feeling of Vox’s electrocharge mixing with his own, he doesn't blame Vox for being confused about his biology when he too can very obviously feel Alastors electrocharge on the end of his own. And it’s very obvious, Alastor glances down.
“What do you expect to gain from it? And I'm not stupid Vox, I'll allow you the benefit of the doubt that you were unaware of the frankly, unwelcome bulge in your pants, but do tell, what are you expecting?”
“Ahh- oh- I. Didn't think I'd get this far, to be f-air-ly honest.” Nervous laughter trickles into his words, a little digital bead of sweat running down his screen. “I don’t- you don’t have to- touch me..?” Vox poses it as a question but means it as a statement, his own consciousness seeping into his current state it seems. “I mean- I just want to, learn? I think. You don't have to do anything, unless you want to, I- hahaha do you? Want to do anything?”
“Not particularly.”
Vox drags his hands down his face, pulling at his eyelids. “Yeah, saw that coming okay. So, okay before I answer your question, are you saying ‘yes Vox, you can cut me open and- holy shit- play with my insides’?” He stares, waiting. Alastor would almost call it hungry.
“In not so many… undignified words, yes.”
“Oh fuck- okay fuck. Okay. so yes- I’m hard. If I cut you open, Jesus christ, can I do.. Anything? That doesn't involve you having to touch me?”
Alastor huffs. “Say what you mean, my dear.”
“Fuuuuck. Alastor, Bambi, can I touch you?” Vox slides from his leaning position straight onto his knees on the floor. “Not fuck you. I know that's- not, just- can I do other shit to you? While you're cut open? Please?”
Alastor would usually, and usually is not usual at all, say no, but Vox is being very sweet, he's even on his knees. How could Alastor say no to such desperation?
“Oh, I suppose so,” Alastor unfurls his legs, leaning over his elbows to be close to Vox’s level, “I do so enjoy the other little aspects of such depravity.” And it's not a lie, while he doesn't care much for the act of sex itself, the rest is… enjoyable. Pleasurable without really having to be oh, so intimate.
Vox's screen almost crashes from Alastor's words, fans immediately kicking into overdrive. “Haahh, okay. Okay. Cool, cool, cool. Fuck- okay. Come here.” Vox grabs Alastor's hand from his lap and drags him, unceremoniously to the ground, pushing his shoulder till he's flat on his back. Alastor's hair has fanned out behind him, damsel-like.
Alastor turns his head away, muttering under his breath, “Really, darling.” He zones out for approximately one minute, distracted by the gaudy rug someone seems to have placed in the corner of his parlour by the cabinets. It's not even the correct shade to match.. well, anything in the room. He'll blame someone.. at some point. Alastor refocuses when he feels a sharp scratch on his chest, looking back towards Vox. “Ah. Such a gentleman, and you didn't even tear my coat.”
“I could fuck up your insides Star, but I know fucking up your coat would really piss you off.’ A smug smile plays on Vox's lips as he says it, Alastor would make a snide comeback if it weren't so infuriatingly true, he really has lost his edge.
“A smart move, my friend.” Alastor reaches onto his own chest for Vox's hand, moving it slightly to the left so Vox can feel the pump of his heart. “Organic or nonorganic?” He questions.
Vox stares, and stares, and grips a little harder between Alastor's ribs so he can really feel it, and looks up at Alastor's face. “Perfect- organic I think- perfect, can I see it?”
Alastor's facade cracks a little, he is quite fond of Vox, moreso than he likes to admit, as annoying and self righteous as he is, Alastor thinks given the right context he'd be just as horribly desperate as Vox is. (Alastor ignores the voice in his head telling him he is just as desperate.) Alastor lets go of Vox's hand to reach for the edge of his screen, “Well, it's yours, isn't it, darling?”
Vox kisses him then, pushing him harder against the solid wood floor, his claws break pinholes by his ribs. Vox kisses him like he's never going to again, maybe that's the play that Vox is going for, one last ride of his dying damsel. Not Alastor's preferred position to be in, but the tearing in his side that's radiating sharp pain up to his cranium makes up for it. He does like kissing Vox, it makes his mouth tingle, Vox tastes like iron, and battery acid, and danger, and Alastor swallows it down greedily.
Vox has moved his other arm next to Alastor's head, leaning on his elbow, his hand grips lightly around Alastor's ear, nipping his tongue with his teeth as he does so, and that's good, marvelous, and Alastor needs more.
“Don't be messy, keep it clean and precise.” Alastor's breath is ragged as he whispers between kisses.
“Anything. Anything for you.”
And Vox kisses him, and Alastor feels mind rushing pain run down his torso, clavicle to pelvis, he pushes harder into the kiss, squeezing his eyes shut as hard as he can. His chest feels warm, and cold and itchy, there's blood running down his- ah. Alastor barely has time to register the feeling before Vox is slithering away from the kiss to swipe up the long trails of blood with his tongue. He's muttering to himself now, petting Alastor's ear, licking up his fresh blood. Alastor realises this might be significantly more intimate than sex. He finds he quite likes that. He finds he is ridiculously pleased with how things turned out to get to this point.
“What are you whispering down there, darling?”
Vox doesn't acknowledge Alastor, but he raises his voice to a more audible level. “Gorgeous- so gorgeous, you are a work of art, Alastor, oh, Alastor.”
Alastor pushes his hand against the top of Vox's screen, forcing him to stop his movements and look up to Alastor. “You really needn't with the praise, as flattering as it is, I've already allowed you your wish.”
Vox hums through his light panting, glancing up at Alastor's hand, “I can't control it. It just is, Bambi.”
Alastor waves him off with a laugh, dropping his hand next to his head. “You're an interesting creature, Vox.”
“You like interesting?”
“Is the grass green in the overworld?”
Vox laughs at that, repositioning himself to straddle Alastor's lap. “Interesting might hurt.”
“I'd be remiss if it didn't.”
So Vox, hurts. Alastor doesn’t think he's ever felt pain like this, he's been stabbed and broken bones before but this- this is an entire new level of pain, it’s ice cold- it’s burning him and the sounds, if he forgets it's him that's being ravished he'd think a meal was in front of him. His ribs are breathing air they've never seen, fanning outside his chest like he's a cuckoo-clock chiming just on time. It hurts- and the pain breaks the shield of his fear, it’s fight or flight for most but Alastor, being cursed with the wretched prey body he has, only knows flight. Or freeze. Or God, God, God.
It can’t kill him, it’s an injury- a horrific one, but it can’t kill him- not permanently. He feels dizzy and can't focus on the movement of Vox in his blurred vision, but he feels something- feels it gripping around bones to keep them taught, feels the pain slowly fade when it seems much too fast for him to be regenerating already. When he finally can see without stars in his eyes, he sees Vox sitting over him, wires running from his spine tugging Alastors ribs down and open so they can't heal, there's pink liquid running from his mouth, and ah, he supposes it’s not entirely outside the Vee’s realm to make pain killers.
“Hey. Over here.” Vox snaps his fingers in front of Alastors face. “You okay?”
“Mm. Peachy, m’dear.”
“No really, are you okay? because - not that it's your fault, really it'd be mine- but if you die and regen in some random place I'll be pissed off and really blue balled-” Vox scratches at the side of his screen, fascinating. “Pissed off because you died… I mean. Well, and the blue balling- just- are you good? Don't die on me?”
Alastor sits up on his elbows, head lolling to the side slightly. His insides squish an awful sound and he'd really rather not look down and see it for himself- yet. “Alive and well. Now get to ‘playing with my insides.’”
Voxs fans burst an energy of hot air, rather against his wishes, it seems. “Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Okay. Fuck.”
Vox takes approximately ten seconds to reach down and clumsily move any left over muscle to the side, leaving the grand prize right on display.
“Your- hahh, your ..heart. Is organic, but- your arteries.. Are mechanic, Alastor- Alastor your blood’s encased by wire.” Vox looks up at Alastor, something in his eyes. “Your blood is encased by wire.”
Alastor finally looks down, he really is in a grotesque state- but he quite likes the mingling of their energy. “I suppose it is.” He looks at Vox. “I suppose it always has been.”
Voxs hips stutter over Alastors, he's holding himself back, and his hands are hanging in the air, bloody and twitching slightly. “I-” He shifts again. “My- mechanisms.. are encased by flesh. Alastor.”
“Hm. shall we swap?”
Vox rushes in to kiss him again, hand sneaking into Alastor's chest cavity to hold his heart. “Never. Never, I want our opposites, I want you- to be my match. You are my flesh.”
Alastor reaches down to pat at Vox's thigh, a small signal they had previously found worked when Alastor hadn't wanted to use his words for such a vulgar thing. It boils down to this; keep going.
Vox groans in the kiss, reaching both hands down to fumble with the buckle of his belt, and then promptly his zipper. He barely even has time to pull his dick out of his boxers before his hands are grasping Alastor’s collar bones and leaning his hips down until his (dark navy, with glowing lines, this time) dick slides effortlessly against the remaining section of Alastor's torso that's not been sliced open, yet still has blood on it.
Alastor doesn't get much from Vox's dick itself but, his domineering behaviour is something else, he gasps from the pressure on his collar bones and quickly grabs Vox's hands to put them around his own throat. He has always liked the struggle.
“Fuck- ohh fuck, fuck- say- say the thing.” Vox punctuates his words with long thrusts along the soft patch of fur that rests by Alastor's waistband. “Want to hear it.” he whines.
“Well I don't believe you’ve earned it yet- urgh- come now, follow my wires, my dear.” Alastor grunts against the hands around his throat.
“Aghh, fuck! Okay okay, uhm-” Vox looks down at Alastor’s chest once more, his lungs are a pale black, right now- stuttering to get any air in, but otherwise dead, pure flesh. His stomach is- fuck. His stomach is mechanical, there's a ribbing that runs along the curves, in a toothed pattern, Vox thinks it looks like zippers winding around each other. “Mechanic, stomach.” He mutters.
It's hard to see specifically- well, anything, considering the environment Alastor keeps himself in, it's too dark. Vox turns on a small light by his screen without so much as lifting a finger and oh, there are few views nicer than Alastor sprawled out, panting and covered in blood and broken ribs. Vox gets in deep, sticking his hands right into the squishy gaps between the organs he can tell are organic, and uses the backs of his hands to spread them to each side.
Alastor, feels this. Like he's been winded, kicked right in the gut. (Like he's been torn open.)
“Alastor, Bambi.” Vox almost coos, he's staring again, something his mother obviously never taught him was a rude gesture. “Alastor your spine is entirely metal. You've got hinges, there isn't even any rubber or elastic or silicone, you're so old school, fuck-” Vox whines his words again, he doesnt know it, but he resumed a small thrusting quite a while ago, the tip of his dick just about tapping the flaps of skin at the end of Alastors wound.
“Peculiar. Do that again.”
And Vox, who hadn't stopped, continues his thrusts, this time, nearly half his dick ends up in Alastor's gut.
“Ah. Hm.”
“Holy shit. Holy shit! You're getting off on my dick touching your guts! Mr. ‘I hate Voxs penis’!” Vox laughs lightheartedly, reaching his left hand up to mindlessly lick Alastor's blood off his fingers.
Alastor raises his eyebrows, “I could never hate such a small innocent thing.”
Both of them pretend it doesn't happen, but Vox's dick jumps at that. “Hey! So cruel! Vox Jr. is not small.”
A raised eyebrow.
“Fuck you.”
Alastor hums, “You know, organs rearrange themselves. When a surgeon does a big job, they rather unceremoniously stuff everything back in, and it's all fine and dandy.”
Vox licks his pinkie finger clean, “Okay? What does that have to do with- oh. Ohhh fuck. Okay. I have an idea.”
“Do tell.”
“Your thighs?” Vox smiles nervously, hand now resting on his knee, fingers drumming.
“Hm. Fine.” Alastor supposes he can withstand Vox's activity if he gets to see his own organs splayed out, it is rather interesting- he has to give that to Vox. “But, my darling, I don't see how we’ll do that when you have me quite so.. On display, and tangled.”
“Just let me do all the hard work, hm?” Vox stands himself up, wires slowly rising to help Alastor sit up. It is agonising, even through the numbing. Agonising, and exactly what he wanted.
Once the wires have him just about dangling, Vox takes a minute to just- look, uses a wire to snag Alastor's jacket away from beneath them and onto the couch, before turning Alastor away from him and slowly lowering him vertically, and rather nonchalantly gripping his hips and dropping him forward, like he wasn't split entirely open. Alastor's cheek hits the floor first, followed by his arms around his head, and finally his knees. Well, finally, Alastor hears with a wet splat and a slightly tinny ring, his organs… it seems.
Vox reaches around Alastor, face hugging his thigh, and fumbles blindly with his belt. “Have you ever- hah- seen your other bones?”
Alastors voice is semi-muffled from the floor, opting not to use his radio as it helps the experience, he thinks. “My arm once, during a rather uncomely dinner in an old shack. My dinner got away.” He huffs. He had seen his bones before, in fact that was almost 40 years ago, his wrist had splintered in two when the wooden slats of the roof beneath him had come undone. And there was not much bone at all, really. Just old silver metal flat poles, with small cranks and springs at the joints. He found it an oddity no one would be privy to.
Finally, getting Alastors pants down around his hips, Vox breathes in the fur on his hip. “Tell me, tell me.”
Alastor laughs once, “Metal, darling.”
Vox groans, loud and reverberating off of Alastor's leg, “Why? Why didn't you say that before? Thats so fucking hot.”
Alastor weakly waves him off. “Old history, pal.”
“Old history, he says.” Vox pats around Alastor's torso, looking for the empty hole remiss of any organs and finding a small box, hidden by his spine just above his pelvis. “What is this?”
Alastor hums.
Vox runs his fingers along the edge, it’s smooth? But there's little divots, a- “Button. There's a button here, Alastor.”
Alastor furrows his brows ahead of him, leans up on his elbows to look back at Vox in possibly, the most pornographic pose Vox has ever seen in his life. “Well that's quiet… strange. I think.”
Vox feels around on the divots again, there's a ring around them, they're almost, cagey? Like they’re- “Ohhh fuck.” Vox presses the button, and freed from its plush surroundings, a radio station turns on. “Alastor. Alastor. Hey Star, Star, you’ve got a tiny fucking radio inside you. It has speakers.”
“Magnificient.” Alastor leans his head on his hand, his other drawing shapes in the blood pooling on the floor around, his organs, he smiles at that, they really are beautiful.
Vox uses that as an opening to slide his, very, very, bloody dick in between Alastor's thighs, it accidentally hits Alastor's own, which makes the other flinch. “I- got it, Bambi, sorry.” Vox quickly puts his left hand under Alastor's dick, completely flat as to not touch, but create a barrier.
Alastor pinches his thumb and index together and watches his blood string together. “Considerate, darling.” By now his ears have upturned all the way, he is quite invested in half of this ordeal, not wanting much to join Vox's side of activities but he's happy Vox is having fun, regardless.
“Yeah? What else?” Vox pants, head now resting on Alastor’s upper back.
“Hm. Smart, ambitious.’ He looks back to Vox.
“Say it.” Vox has sped up his thrusts, just a miniscule amount, but enough for Alastor to notice.
“Charismatic. Very charming.” Alastor smiles.
“Please, please-” Vox grips Alastor’s side, and spine with his hand still inside Alastor.
“Handsome.”
“Fuuuuck, fuck, Bambi come on, please, please, please-”
Alastor gives it a minute or two, waits for Vox to really get worked up, he’s able to time it now, know how long Vox lasts. And this time, well this time he just wants Vox To writhe in it. Vox is jack-rabbiting now, chasing a release both of them know he can’t achieve unless Alastor says one, tiny, little, word.
“Inspiring.” Alastor whispers.
Vox groans hard when he cums, grasping Alastor so hard one hand draws blood and the other creaks around his spine. “I love you, I love you, I love you, I love-”
Vox pushes Alastor down on his back, just about dodging his own organs, once again sitting on his lap. He squeezes out the last few drops of cum into the hollow of Alastor's torso. “Fuck, fuck.” he grabs Alastor’s assorted organs, which he realises now, Alastor’s intestines are the same zipper-like metal, flimsy and boneless. He stuffs it all back in place in a frenzy, Alastor watches, entertained by the whole ordeal.
he looks nervous, like he forgot what was happening, like he really did hurt Alastor. It’s sweet.
“I- I just-” Vox pauses, picks up Alastor’s heart, careful of its wiry arteries, he's got faint tears in his eyes and his screen is a faded blue now. “Fuck.” he furrows his brows and breathes hard, looking at Alastor.
“This, this is mine.” Vox looks at Alastor with one of the most serious faces Alastor’s probably ever seen, and Alastor has a look in his eyes Vox knows the name of. Familiar. So Vox licks straight across Alastor's heart. “Forever. You know that?”
Vox's wires slowly let go on Alastor's ribcage. He's still holding Alastor's heart, and his gaze. But he knows the wound is already healing. He holds out till the last he can before putting Alastor's heart back in its designated spot, as careful as he can. He sniffs. Clears his throat.
Alastor reaches up to hold Vox’s screen, he can’t help but feel a different pain in his heart, Vox looks so wounded for someone who is very much not the actually wounded one. “As long as I'm undead, darling.” Alastor smiles, a real, real smile. Oh, he does dote so on Vox. He's sweet on him. Sue him.
Vox hums a garbled noise, mouth a small squiggle. His vents, which were so loud the entire time he moreso drowned them out, are finally cooling. “You're very.. Mechanic. You’re old mech. I could worship you.”
Alastor pulls up and buckles Vox’s pants for him while he speaks, he can't exactly.. Reach his own currently, so.
“You're flesh on the inside, correct?”
Vox hums. “Uhh, basically? I bleed, and shit, and I have like, a mixed spine and bones, the joints are mechanic, the casing is all, silicone or metal plating. But my insides- actual insides are- yeah, flesh.”
Alastor chuckles, pulls Vox’s head closer to his own and flicks his eyes between Vox’s, “Then I suppose I could worship you, too.”
Vox smiles, “It’s a deal.”
And that night, if Vox spends extra time tidying Alastor up and apologising for making quite a mess, holding his face in his hands and just staring, and kissing him over and over, then ah, it's hardly a new revelation, is it?