Chapter Text
"I call on you, voices of the afterlife."
An explosion rang out inside of the tiny hut hidden deep in the bayou. The ground shook, sparks of hot pain ran through Alastor’s body and from now to the next moment a demon appeared in front of him. It was unmistakably inhuman - a glowing, rectangular thing as its head, a singular, red eye blazing down at him, unfamiliar, strange ropes ramming into the floor to keep it floating upright in the air. Even in that position it was clear how much taller it was than any normal human. The demon’s clothes were ripped and electricity sparked all over its form, jolts running towards Alastor before diverting at the last moment. It looked majestic, stunningly beautiful in its foreignness, and if Alastor were a lesser man he would have run away screaming.
A voice sounded from what was probably its head, masculine and with a slight static as if someone had managed to almost rid the radio of its compression. "What the fuck."
"Greetings," Alastor grinned and rose up. Excitement buzzed in his chest. After so many failed rituals, after all the effort, the fight against the uncertainty that someone would reply after the uncertainty that there actually was something after death - and somebody had answered his knock. And what a formidable demon it seemed to be, ready to fight but with enough wits to be prepared for an unknown situation. Alastor was entranced. He wanted to reach out and touch this otherworldly creature, to sink his teeth into its flesh and taste it. "I wish to make a deal with you!"
The demon spun around, the red eye flickering as it - he? - took in the messy place. Alastor was pleased when the demon barely even glanced at the corpses. It only affirmed what he already knew - a place like hell was made of suffering and torture and Alastor could not afford to be placed there, weak and powerless.
Finally the demon’s eye landed on him. Something was dripping off what looked like a face, something looking suspiciously like tears. The creature snarled and sharp teeth appeared on his rectangular head, glowing as strongly as his eye. Before Alastor could react, one of his bizarre ropes (or were they cables?) wrapped tightly around his throat and he was pulled forwards, up until he couldn’t reach the ground.
Choking, panic immediately settled in. He clawed at the cable, legs kicking out in a futile effort and shit, it hurt, it hurt, he couldn’t breathe-
With a trembling hand he reached into his vest, fingers tightening around his gun. Of course he had known any creature he would summon might be hostile, the demon had just been too quick for him to even brace himself. Growling, he aimed at what he assumed to be the demon’s head and shot.
It rang in his ears, again and again when he shot at the base of the cable currently wrapped around his throat. Nothing happened, not even a singular scratch appeared on the body. The cable tightened hard enough for Alastor to briefly see only black, a darkness overtaking his open eyes before he was pulled straight before the demon’s face. The gun clattered uselessly to the floor.
I want that, he thought with a giddy terror in him. Strength and power, all at his fingertips. If only he could simply reach out and take it.
"Who the fuck are you?"
Alastor coughed and tapped at the cable with his remaining strength. What an uncouth first impression he must make. At least the demon’s first instinct was not to eat him.
Instead of setting him on the ground, another cable circled around Alastor’s waist and raised him, only enough to give him a slight respite from the strangulation. He choked on his spit when he was finally allowed to breathe, cold air like a soothing balm. Then he started coughing and gasping and yeah, there went the first impression. Maybe Alastor should kill this demon simply for having witnessed such an embarrassing display. Still, he was nothing but a showman.
He widened his grin and stretched out his hand. "Alastor Lafleur. A pleasure, quite a pleasure!"
At once both cables tightened. Alastor choked, panic instincts activating as he thrashed, trying to claw the cables away. The demon was laughing, a static noise that hurt Alastor's ears and shit, this was not going at all how he had expected - or, rather hoped - this to go.
"No fucking way," the demon breathed. "No- haha! No fucking way! Our father who art in heaven, is this my reward?! Some fucked up punishment for destroying all of you assholes?!"
Alastor was gasping uselessly. His energy was drained and he wasn't even strong enough to kick at the demon. He was moved closer until there was only an inch separating them. Alastor could barely see him through the haze in his eyes.
"Oh, that's rich, that's fucking rich! They turned you into a human?! What fucking weird punishment is that?! Hey! Hey, fucker, answer me! Is this another one of your fucking schemes?!"
With his last strength Alastor spat into the demon's face. The cables released him. Alastor landed painfully onto his legs that gave away immediately and he crashed to the ground in a pathetic heap. The image alone was enough to make him gather himself, painfully sitting up through the agony in his throat, the sparks dancing in front of his eyes.
"Holy fuck," the demon muttered. "Holy fucking shit, this isn't a scheme, is it?"
"It appears you have me at a disadvantage." Alastor smiled up at him and cringed at how thin and scraped his voice sounded. He should kill this demon for making him unable to go to work the next days - he couldn't afford to take a break. He was talented but he wasn't invaluable. His producers, everyone in that wretched radio tower, was just waiting for him to slip up and replace him with someone who had the right skin color. At least the demon didn't seem to want to kill him again. And if Alastor was lucky and he could strike up a deal, he might even get healed. "May I inquire my esteemed guest's name?"
The demon stared at him and again broke out into laughter. The cables shifted as he curled into himself, arms wrapped around his stomach like he was at the world's funniest comedian show. Alastor was often called charming and witty, however he had never been able to make someone break into laughter at the mere sight of him.
"Oh - HAHA - oh fucking god, this isn't a joke! Holy fuck, Holy fucking shit, this is actually happening, what the fuck! You!" He pointed at Alastor who refused to show even the tiniest amount of fear. "You're making deals?! While you're still alive?!"
"That's why I called you here." Alastor smiled as he carefully stepped outside of the demon's reach, until his back was to his cabinet of last resort solutions. Salt, counter-spells, potions, wooden stakes, silver - his rituals had been diverse and countless and so were his counter-measures if he did manage to summon a demon that was antagonistic. Whatever this demon was, he seemed to possess enough intelligence to barter. "You see, I know what awaits a man like me after death, but I do not want to exist in hell a tortured soul."
"You-" the color of the demon's face changed rapidly, a high-pitched noise escaping his head. "You- you fucking made a deal for your power?! That's how you- you fucking asshole! You- you motherfucker, any time you made fun of me for relying on others- FUCK YOU!"
Ah. What a tragedy. Alastor had managed to summon an insane demon. He inched backwards, hand clasped behind him, until he could feel the knob of his cabinet. "You seem to confuse me with someone, my dear-?"
"I can't believe this! That fucking piece of shit- ohh Vox, you always rely on other people, you're weak without support, ohhhh Vox, look at me, I'm the mighty Radio Demon and I don't need any support!"
Alastor felt for his flask of holy water and a protective talisman. And, because he always preferred the more active approach, his revolver with the bullets in which he had added myrrh. This ritual had been one he had gotten from a Christian priest after claiming to be one of God's, studying how to protect the common folk from demons, but for all he knew he might have been summoned from one of his past rituals.
"I should just rip you apart where you're standing!" Vox screamed. His second eye appeared, red and black rotating in an almost hypnotic display. Alastor forced himself to look away, a feeling like being plunged into water, and he threw the holy water at the demon's feet, followed by several shots at his body. It only made Vox snarl, more cables rising from his back and Alastor knew it was time to run away. Fortunately he stood closer to the exit, the room intentionally set up for a quick escape. When the bullets ran out he threw the revolver at the demon and ran.
"Fucking piece of-" A cable wrapped around his ankle and he fell with a yelp, internally cursing. His nails scraped on the ground as he was pulled back, slowly like Vox was enjoying his panic. He was lifted in the air again, his glasses clattering to the floor, blood rushing to his head as he stared upside-down at the creature. There was something almost beautiful about his form, all humanity abandoned after death. What would await him after he died? He wasn't necessarily bothered by his body, however the thought of abandoning it completely to be pushed into a cursed, inhumane form was discomforting.
"I should just kill you where you stand."
"Oh, and here I thought demons were in the business of making deals!"
Vox laughed, hysterical and manic, high-pitched like feedback on a microphone. "You- you, aha ha, you think I'd make a deal with you?! How stupid do you think I am?! I have you now, I don't need a fucking deal!"
Out of every demon he could have summoned it had to be this one. Wonderful. However, this did confirm that demons indeed made deals. And this one specifically seemed to harbor hatred towards a man who might look familiar to Alastor. He was working with too many assumptions, but Alastor knew how to build a masterpiece out of scraps. His smile widened and the demon's face flashed again with bright colors. "If you had unfinished business up here, I could deal with it for you. For just one, little, small, itty-bitty favor."
The cable around his ankle wound tight enough to feel like he was about to get an unwanted and accidental amputation and he winced, his smile almost slipping off his face. Vox's face had frozen at his words, a dangerous stillness around it as electricity crackled in the air, grabbing at Alastor. Some sparks reached his skin and he winced, hissing at the burning sensation. For a moment all of time seemed to be still before a terrifying smile - or what Alastor assumed was one - grew on Vox's face.
"You know what," he purred, such a juxtaposition from his previous behavior. "You know, why not. I'll lend you my powers. And in exchange you'll do me a small favor."
Well, at least the demon seemed to be able to be reasoned with. Which only led to the question of what he wanted. Revenge? Unfinished business? Family? A loved one? "Name it."
"Obedience."
Alastor froze, his grin more a grimace held together by a desperate fury. "You must be joking."
"Nope!" A dangerous excitement took over his previous frazzled appearance. "Just this one, itty-bitty favour!"
A laugh escaped from Alastor's lips. Maybe it was the blood pooling in his head, maybe it was the pure anger that this demon thought he could just control him, something made him laugh freely despite Vox's increasing anger, made him shake and wrap his hands around his stomach, ignoring all his instincts telling him to be quiet, to sit still and wait. A man like him had to learn to simper and fawn, to appease and kiss up anyone refusing to see past his skin. But there was an afterlife and so life meant nothing.
"You're delusional!" he cackled. "You know what, I'll even visit you in hell! Then you can fight me one to one when the both of us are on equal footing!"
"Oh, you misunderstand, Al." Vox's smile was calm as cables wrapped around Alastor's legs, snaking over his torso, his chest, his arms until he was tightly bound in his grip. And with one snap of the demon's fingers, electricity ran through his body. It was unlike any pain he had ever experienced, and he choked on a scream, his abused throat piercing. The demon wasn't laughing, he was simply staring at him as if he was the most fascinating thing he had ever experienced. The electricity stopped as quickly as it had appeared, leaving behind the phantom pain lingering in his bones. A hand, no, a claw of metal with sharp fingers and hard edges, caressed his cheek and Alastor bared his teeth, fighting against the black spots dancing in front of his eyes. The claw stilled, almost retreating, before wrapping itself around his throat, not enough to cut off his air but to be a threat. A thumb pressed itself into the hollow of his collarbone, drawing blood. "You aren't the one in charge here. No plans, no schemes. This time you're mine."
Alastor smiled. It hurt, to keep it up through the spasms still coursing through him. "You'll die waiting then, my dear."
A strange expression appeared on Vox's face. "I could torture you," he said and the cable around his stomach tightened until Alastor gasped, holding himself very still. He would not give this demon the satisfaction of watching him scream. "I could tear your fingers off, one by one. Flay you alive. Drink all your blood dry. I will carve my initials into your skin until you consent, Alastor."
Father who art in heaven, Alastor silently prayed. Let my pain not exceed the suffering I have inflicted. "And yet you shall remain empty handed, I'm afraid."
"I will hunt you down when you die," Vox swore and Alastor knew he meant every word of it. "I will find you. And when I do, you will spend every single day of your afterlife wishing you had never met me."
This could be nothing else but divine punishment. Was it his murders? The fun he had while plunging his knife into his victims, again and again? Or was it a punishment for his hubris, for thinking he could mess with forces humanity wasn't meant to touch?
"Then it seems we shall meet in hell," Alastor rasped out.
"You can't be serious!" Vox shook him with his cables and Alastor's teeth clacked against each other, his spine deforming with the movement. At least that made Vox finally let go of his throat. "No way is getting tortured for eternity better than making a deal with me!"
"Why, what is eternal suffering but something we all sign up for when we sin? And I, my good sir, have sinned plenty."
Low curses escaped Vox's lips as he ran his claws over his flat face. "No fucking way- guy's fucking insane, what the fuck is wrong with- shit- god fucking-" He stared at Alastor from between his fingers. "You really would rather feel pain for the rest of your afterlife than to be bound to me?"
"You make it sound so personal," Alastor drawled. He wondered how long someone could stay upside-down until they got brain damage. "But yes, the thought of being bound to your obedience for the rest of my life makes me want to rip you apart."
At once the cables released him. Alastor landed on the ground bonelessly, right next to his gun. He rolled onto his back, broken breath audible to even himself, and he clenched his fists, trying to see how much strength was still in his body.
“What about this then,” Vox said as he used his cables to hover over Alastor. After all this time looking at him from the wrong direction, it was disconcerting to see his true face. Two eyes with different colors and one mouth with sharp teeth. He had made himself look friendly, eyes round instead of sharp as they had been before, the light inside his head lighter, more cyan instead of the dark night it had been before. “Your obedience until the day you die. And once you're in hell, you're free.”
Alastor squinted up at the demon. That sounded too good to be true. What was the rest of his life against all of eternity? “What stops you from hunting me down in my afterlife?”
Annoyed, Vox waved his hand in the air. “Fine! Your obedience until the day you die after which you are free, and you get one year in hell until I hunt you down.”
“Three years.”
“Two.”
Vox looked seconds away from wringing his throat again.
And on that note “- and you shall not lay your hands on me while I am under your command.”
Vox's face changed colors again before freezing. The soft look was gone, replaced by his normal, unhinged madness. “Oh no,” he growled, the static in his voice increasing. He grabbed Alastor's jaw, his large hand almost wrapping completely around his head, and forced their eyes to meet. “No more stipulations. No more fucking schemes. You seem to forget who's in power here!”
“One more stipulation-”
“NO!” Sharp fingers dug into his cheek and he glared up at the demon.
“One more! You won't hurt me-”
“I will hurt you as much as I fucking want to, you-”
“You won't torture me!” Alastor barked out, impatient. This demon was much too paranoid for his liking.
Vox paused, frowning. “That's all?”
Alastor huffed and grabbed Vox's wrist, futilely trying to dislodge his hand. It only made Vox’s claws dig in deeper. “Believe me or not, but this hasn't exactly been pleasant for me. I would much rather avoid getting electrocuted until our inevitable fight in hell.”
“Oh.” Vox genuinely seemed stupefied. “Sure. Yeah. You will obey my every command until the day you die after which you are free, you get two years in hell until I hunt you down and I won't physically torture you until the day you die.”
Ah, there was the implication he might psychologically torture Alastor. Well, this was probably the best he would get. “Alright,” he smiled and let go of Vox’s wrist to hold out his hand. “Do we have a deal then?”
Vox looked suspicious. As if Alastor in any way had the upper hand here. Hell, what a paranoid man - though, maybe hell was the exact place in which paranoia strived.
“I, uhm… you accepted that pretty easily.”
Alastor raised a hand to his mouth and wiped away blood from the corners of his lips. “It is as you said,” he said. “I am not the one in power here.”
The light on Vox's face grew bright enough to be blinding. His smile overtook half of it, excitement making him shake like an overexcited puppy. What a strange demon, for his mood to change so quickly. It was disconcerting.
Vox let go of Alastor's jaw to clasp their hands together. Light surrounded them, power, magic, a feeling unlike anything Alastor had ever experienced. It felt like it was surrounding his very being, deeper than blood and veins, and he wondered if that was what his soul felt like. The warm feeling disappeared, and instead got replaced by the cold metal of chains, wrapped around his wrists, his throat. It was surprising enough to make him gasp, clawing at an invisible force. It was around his soul, a bind that settled in the back of his mind, always present, always there, and Alastor already wanted to claw at his skin until it disappeared.
Vox stared at his own hand in awe, before his blue eyes settled back on Alastor who tenderly sat up, hissing in pain. His body must look like an artwork of bruises and scratches, more blue than brown.
“Raise your hand.”
Alastor raised his hand, rolling his eyes. How pathetic of this demon, to wish for this subsurface control.
“Stop smiling.”
The corners of his mouth fell and he grimaced slightly. It had become difficult to uphold it ever since he had summoned this demon.
“Shit that looks unsettling.” Vox's face was one of pure, stupefied disgust. “That was way more anticlimactic than I thought. You look so fucking weird. Shit, man. I take it back, you can do whatever the hell you want with your face.”
“Much obliged,” Alastor said and forced the smile back onto his face.
Vox shuffled closer.
“Tell me I'm stronger than you.”
“Obviously,” Alastor snarked and gesticulated down at his everything.
”Tell me.
Pathetic and insecure. Joy. “You are stronger than me.”
Vox's grin, if possible, grew even larger. “Say you ain't shit and that you'll always look up to me!”
Technically not a lie since the demon was much taller than him. Alastor grinned as he repeated the words, keeping the double meaning to himself.
“Say the only way you can win anything is to cheat!”
Whoever Alastor reminded him of must have done a real number on this guy. Experimentally he tried resisting the command, only to hiss when his mouth opened involuntarily, words spilling from his lungs like they were ripped out of his throat. “The only way I can win anything is to cheat.”
“You're mine,” Vox breathed. “You're- aha ha, you're actually mine! Fuck, this is better than sex!”
Alastor cringed away, shuddering in disgust. He should have added another stipulation about being kept away from any perverted desires this demon might possess.
“Say you're mine!”
“I'm yours,” Alastor grit out.
“Say I was your friend!”
This was getting tiring. “I was your friend.”
“Say you liked me!”
“I liked you.”
“Say- say you loved me.”
Pathetic. What a poor excuse for a demon. Alastor laughed, disbelief in his voice as he grinned up at Vox. “I loved you.”
Vox wasn't smiling victoriously. It was as if all his gloating joy had disappeared. He slowly raised his claws and laid them on Alastor's shoulders. Snarling, Alastor slapped them away, scooching backwards. His hand came to a rest beside his gun.
Vox looked like Alastor had shot him in the head. There was something lost in his expression, like he didn't even know where he was. “That- say it like you mean it.”
“I loved you,” Alastor said, his voice forced to take on a softer tone.
Vox looked increasingly more frantic. “No! No, say it like you mean it! Say that you love me!”
“I love you,” Alastor said and hated the way his face contorted into a gentle smile. He had no experience in loving someone, all his knowledge came from theatre plays and the lovebirds around him, and it felt foreign, to sound out these words in that tone. He imagined himself on a stage instead, an actor reading his lines.
“This isn't- fuck!” Vox scratched at his head, movements jerky. “Even now you're an annoying fucking bitch!”
Father who art in heaven, Alastor thought, I know I deserve punishment. I don't know if I deserve this.
Suddenly the cables jerked Vox forward. He caged Alastor against the ground, hands on each side of his head. Alastor kicked out, tried to push himself away when a simple “Stay” forced him to stay rooted on his spot. His heart beat frantically against his ribcage. No torture, he repeated in his mind. No torture, no torture, no torture. Would the deal adhere to what Alastor considered torture or what Vox did?
“Wrap your arms around my neck and keep them there. Don't even try to strangle me.”
It was much too loving of a gesture than Alastor liked. He was forced to lean up and he stretched his arms as far as they allowed him to while still following the command. Vox was watching him with an uncomfortable stillness, not smiling, not angry, simply blank. He leaned down until he was lying on top of Alastor, his body too heavy, the position much too constricting. It activated all the alarm bells in his mind. Arms wrapped around him, the demon’s head pushing against his neck and his breath hitched in disgust when he felt wet lips against his skin. The demon was cuddling him. Holding him like a lover would. Alastor wanted to scream.
When Vox leaned up again - and thank God for that - there was an almost reverent smile on his face, eyes sparking in a serene joy.
“Kiss me.”
“You can't be serious,” Alastor rasped out as he fought against the command. Pain bloomed in his head and he bared his teeth, fighting his body as he inched closer and closer towards the demon. Alastor gave him a bloody grin as he pressed a short kiss against the side of his head. Cold plastic, a shiny surface with small scratches all over.
Vox didn't move, only his eyes following his every move. “Very funny. Kiss me on the mouth. Like you mean it.”
Alastor cursed him to hell and back as his body forced him to move forward, to press his lips onto the surface of whatever Vox's head was. It wasn't flat like he had assumed. The surprise was almost enough to make him forget his disgust. It felt like cold skin, harder than human flesh with a constant buzz underneath. The command had been vague enough that Alastor immediately extracted himself.
Hell, Vox didn't even look like he had enjoyed it. Whatever it was. If anything he looked angry. “Kiss me until I tell you to stop.”
Fuck you, Alastor thought. He clashed their lips together in frustration, biting down harshly on Vox's lip, only to flinch away when Vox moaned against him. Vox grabbed his head, fingers twisting in his hair as he pressed back against Alastor, his other hand wrapping around Alastor's body as if trying to merge them together. A tongue, thick and fleshy, plunged into Alastor’s mouth, making small, weak zaps of electricity tickle him and he found himself trembling, breath hitching in panic at the intrusive feeling. He tried to loosen his hold around Vox's neck but they felt stuck in place, and there was nothing he could do. His mouth kissed back, forced to reciprocate the unwanted touch. Vox's tongue pushed deep, deeper than he expected, than he ever wanted to feel anyone and he almost gagged, involuntary tears gathering in his eyes that he desperately tried to suppress. It pushed against the back of his throat and he imagined how it would travel down further, further until it reached his vocal cords, ripping out his most powerful weapon.
Vox moaned into Alastor's mouth, hips stuttering against him as hands glided over Alastor's chest, surrounding his waist before dipping underneath his shirt. Alastor let out an involuntary, panicked noise and remembered that Vox hadn't given him a command not to move his legs. He kicked out in desperation, and maybe if he struggled and Vox reacted with pain their deal could categorise this as torture-
Vox retreated with a frown, finally, mercilessly, removing his tongue and his claws, but Alastor chased after him like he was a dog after a treat, pressing his lips against Vox's, noises he didn't want to admit were despairing whines escaping his throat. A migraine was splitting his head from the constant fight against the command.
“Okay, stop,” Vox muttered and Alastor fell back, chest heaving as he refused to look at the other. He was still made to keep his arms around Vox's neck, forcing him to get pulled down with Alastor. He heaved, lungs tight with a desperate panic, as if every breath had to be manually dragged out of him and he wanted to tear and claw at his skin until this feeling of pure wrongness disappeared. The previous command to stay kept him from pushing himself away. He hated the way his body trembled, humiliation and disgust burning red on his face. Vox frowned down at him. “It can't have been that bad, come on.”
“Fuck you,” Alastor choked out. He wanted to wipe over his mouth, the phantom feeling of electricity, of a foreign organ in him, making him nauseous. Usually, whenever he took part in these activities, it was a slight discomfort, when he wasn't able to let his thoughts wander away, however the shock, the sheer violation had made him unable to mentally disappear.
“Do you think I'm repulsive?” Vox asked as if that was in any way shape or form a priority. “Tell me the truth.”
“No,” Alastor spat out. “I find the act itself repulsive. Being forced to do it.”
“You never wanted to kiss anyone?!”
“No.” Alastor grit his teeth until they started hurting. Want meant desire. And for Alastor there had never been desire involved. Hell, he should have just gone with the eternity of torture.
“Did you- what, you were never interested?!”
“Interested, yes. Not in the act itself however. I was wondering why everybody seemed so manic about it.” Alastor glared at him. “I'm still wondering.”
“Explains why you're such a bad kisser,” Vox said, almost to himself. “Ahh- you don't have to keep your arms around me anymore.”
Alastor let go and punched him in the face.
“Ouch- hey! What the- fucking- shithead-!”
A cable wrapped around his wrists when he went for another punch and he snarled. His thoughts were racing a mile a minute. Whoever Alastor reminded Vox of, it must have been quite an obsession. Vox wanted to be admired by that person, to be loved, genuinely loved. Alastor wasn't completely powerless in this. If he spun this right, if he understood correctly, he might live through this cursed deal without another tongue shoved down his throat.
“If you do that again,” he said, voice much thinner than the confidence he had tried to project, “I won't ever forgive you.”
Vox laughed. A mocking, halting laugh as his eyes kept flying away and towards Alastor as if to garner his reaction. “You- think I care if you forgive me?! I own you, I can make you do whatever I want! I could make you suck my dick right here and there's nothing you can do about it!”
Maybe there was no god in heaven. Alastor wanted to reply, to spit back, but the words were stuck in his throat. Fear, he realized with a start. Stronger than he had felt in such a long time. He was terrified. Alastor had never done it because he wanted to, but at least in those instances he could tell himself there was some modicum of choice involved. With a soul command even that got stripped away.
“Holy fuck, dude, relax,” Vox said and Alastor's body was forced to loosen, slumping to the ground. The cables released his wrists. “I won't. Fuck, that was the most unsatisfying kiss in the world.”
Thank God, Alastor thought and found himself genuinely slump in relief past the forced relaxedness. His breath was still too quick, his heartbeat too painful and he wondered how pathetic he must look. Maybe Vox liked that, he seemed like the kind of person who would be tantalized by that. In that case, maybe the right way to act was to put down his walls and act pitiful - though, by now it wouldn't be much of an act. However, the thought alone, of letting this demon even think he had some kind of power over him, made his skin crawl yet again like an orchestra of bugs scuttling in his flesh. “I would like to add a stipulation to our contract.”
Vox snorted. “Nah. You'll just have to deal with it.”
“Then promise me at least. As far as the promises of a demon are worth.”
“What, that I won't make you suck my dick?”
“Must you be so crude,” Alastor muttered underneath his breath. Then, louder, “I need you to promise me you won't make me do anything… sexual with you. It's obvious neither of us particularly enjoyed it.”
“No shit,” Vox said. “Sure. Whatever. Fuck. Like I need the worst blow job in existence anyway.” His gaze was strange as he looked down at Alastor, still leaning over him. “You're… actually terrified, aren't you?”
“Yes,” Alastor hissed out, still underneath the truth command. Curse this. Curse Vox. Curse his rituals. Curse hell. And curse God.
“And not just ‘cause I'm a terrifying demon from hell who has your soul?”
“That is only part of it.”
“Huh,” Vox said. “What, does that got to do anything with your weirdass hatred of touch?”
“I don't hate touch,” Alastor grit out.
“Hah?!” Vox placed his hands on his shoulders again, patting them, and Alastor desperately wanted to stick a knife into his neck. “You don't- you don't hate this?!”
“I hate it because it's you and I can't get away.” He should have taken the torture. It was wildly preferable over this. Maybe he had died and this was his hell.
“I'll never understand you!” Vox yelled.
“Same goes for me.”
They glared at each other. Vox lifted himself off Alastor with a shouted curse, kicking away a corpse when it was in his path.
“Release me from my command!” Alastor yelled after him, forced to stay lying on the ground.
“No,” Vox yelled back petulantly. “You know what, why don't I just make you stay there until you die of hunger?!”
“Because you'd have to wait two years before you can hunt me down,” Alastor said. “Release me.”
“Fucking ask nicely!”
“Please, my dear, release me,” Alastor said, saccharine sweet as he glared daggers at Vox.
“Can't even give me the fucking satisfaction of-” Vox made several crude gestures towards the sky, static rising, before he threw his hands in the air. “Whatever! Fine! All previous commands are lifted!"
Thank god. The chains of command around his body and his tongue lifted like physical weight and he gingerly sat up. He was exhausted and spent, shivers still wrecking his limbs. He refused the need to wrap his arms around himself, to curl into a ball and let his mind wander far away, to disappear. Instead he forced his smile to widen, his hands to settle, his body to stand tall.
With careful fingers he grabbed the gun beside him.
Vox snorted. “Those things have no effect on me. You already tried that, remember?”
“Oh, I am aware,” he smiled as he pointed the gun at his own temple. Alastor pulled the trigger.