Chapter Text
Of all the things he expected from captivity, Alastor really hadn't thought it would be so boring. Vox is quite unimaginative when it comes to keeping a prisoner. Apparently the worst torments he can come up with are humiliation parades and forced voyeurism. At this point, Alastor's greatest fear is that he's miscalculated. Perhaps all his time leaning on his goons has made Vox too soft to achieve real power. This morning is no exception - Vox had woken bright and early, stepped into a sharp suit, and sat himself at a desk to stare at a veritable wall of holographic screens. Perhaps Alastor should be trying to snoop on what Vox is working on, but after four days of sleeping tied to a chair in the same room Vox and Valentino fight and fuck in every night, he’s attempting to catch up on some well needed shut eye instead.
Valentino left some time ago, shooting Vox a promisingly disgruntled glare when his back was turned. Whatever Vox is working on is enough to keep him from running his mouth, leaving the penthouse room Vox uses as both a bedroom and office eerily silent. There’s none of the creaking floorboards or groaning pipes of the hotel, the overwrought complaints of residents and staff alike. Even the little apartment Alastor kept in Cannibal Town before Rosie had unceremoniously thrown him out for her grand plans allowed for the pleasant sounds of street life to drift in through an open window. V Tower offers only the eerie buzzing of industrial lighting, the overbearing whir of servers somewhere below them. They’re too far up to hear the streets of hell below, and too secluded from the rest of the building to hear Vox’s various employees wasting their afterlives producing meaningless garbage. While Alastor can’t say he prefers the company of others, he’s spent his entire life and afterlife in bustling cities where you cannot help but hear your neighbors. Being trapped in this steel and glass tomb will drive him mad if he has to stay too long - perhaps that’s contributing to whatever is wrong with Vox and his terrible associates.
In addition to the silence keeping him awake, he is also still stuck to a fucking chair. His spine is never going to recover from this treatment. He could ask Vox for a bed, but knowing him, he might offer his own. Alastor knows that he’s getting too tired when even that sounds appealing. He’s hardly going to give in and ask Vox for anything, though. So instead of getting any good rest, Alastor spends the morning slipping in and out of consciousness. Every time he opens his eyes, Vox is still studiously focused on some business nonsense. He isn't even giving Alastor anything to mock him about! Alastor tries to shift his position slightly, not wanting to alert Vox to his discomfort. God, his back itches. Is it getting hotter in here? Living in hell, and Louisiana before that, he has a very high heat tolerance, but even he’s starting to sweat. Honestly, if Vox had been genuine in his offer for a partnership, this was proof that Alastor had been right to refuse him. Who would willingly spend their afterlife doing so much busywork in a stuffy office? Being an overlord should not be this boring. Now that’s a good angle!
"Is this really how you spend your days? Crouching over your desk like a common paper pusher while your partners are off showboating for the public? Isn't dear Velvette doing a show today?" Alastor knows she is, she'd yelled at Vox about it when Alastor had pumped static through every speaker in the building when Vox and Valentino's moaning had gotten too irritating. Over the past few days Alastor has found himself getting more and more aggravated by the noise, despite his hopes that he would get used to it over time. Waking up everyone in the building seemed like reasonable revenge for Vox's insistence on being a degenerate.
Vox tries to ignore him, squinting at a screen like that will help him focus. His eyes are no longer tracing over what he’s reading, though, and it only takes a couple seconds more for him to look Alastor's way. Alastor widens his smirk as Vox meets his eyes, "We run a successful media empire, Al, we all do paperwork. Not like you wold know anything about that. You don't even have any employees."
"Shouldn't all these employees be doing the paperwork for you? A real Overlord wouldn't waste their time on such mundane work." Alastor kicks off one leg of the chair to send himself spinning.
"Or maybe you just don't know anything about running a business. There's some things you can't trust the underlings for, alright? Voxtek has a lot more going on than your hokey little radio show, someone has to keep the machine running properly!" Vox thumps himself on the chest proudly.
Alastor chuckles, noting with satisfaction how a burst of electricity sparks between Vox's antenna, "I just know how to focus my time on what's important! Do you think I gained all of my power by sitting around in an office all day? Real power comes to those who seek it out, not those sitting around pushing paper and ordering others to do their dirty work."
Vox stands up, and Alastor forces himself to relax even as his instincts coil with anticipation. Make him angry, make him stupid, that'll get him right where Alastor needs him. He looks good when he's angry, too.
"I have power! I captured you! I own actual territory, while you have a shitty radio tower on the side of a run down hotel! I mean, what are you even talking about right now!" Vox rants as he rounds his desk, prowling to where he'd set Alastor's chair up in the middle of the room. Yesterday Alastor had occupied himself by knocking things off of Vox's desk with his feet, and had thus lost the privilege of sitting near the desk.
"You share power with your partners, just as you share territory, and you needed their help to capture me! Come now, Vox, do you really think you would've won that fight by yourself? Obviously you didn't, since you brought them along!"
There's a faint blush on Vox's face, which he tries to hide with bluster. Cute. "I didn't fucking ask them to come! I could've taken you by myself easily."
"Really?" Alastor purrs, leaning back as Vox grabs onto the arms of the chair in a move he seems quite fond of, "You keep telling yourself that, dear. One day maybe you'll be brave enough to prove it."
Vox snarls, shoving his face a few inches from his. Alastor feels an odd shivering in his guts, the heat he's been trying to ignore suddenly boiling over. It's so distracting he misses most of what Vox says next, though it’s surely not that important. More insipid bragging that Alastor will believe when he sees it. Alastor has a more pressing issue he needs to address, "Is your air conditioner broken? It's so fucking hot in here."
A spark of electricity flirts from Vox's screen to Alastor's ear, making it twitch. Vox pulls back slightly, getting a better look at Alastor. He's standing right between Alastor's legs, and Alastor is possessed by a bizarre impulse to wrap his thighs around Vox and hold him there. He resists, breathing out slowly through his teeth to try and calm himself. Really, why is his heart racing, it's just Vox!
Vox kisses him. In the moment, Alastor isn't expecting it, and makes a surprised little noise before he can stop himself. In a broader sense, though, Alastor isn't surprised. Given the company Vox keeps, and the open endedness of the deal he’d offered, he knew it was a possibility that Vox might get a bit handsy. What was a little physical discomfort in the face of freedom? And really, this is rather tame. Vox presses their lips together like he's worried about getting bitten. Kissing a television screen feels a bit odd, a static buzzing against his lips that almost makes it more pleasant. Alastor had kissed a few dames in speakeasies during his life, because it was something one did, but he never found it very pleasant. Too wet, too close.
When he doesn't immediately try to break Vox's face open, Vox pushes closer, snakes a hand into Alastor's hair and gives the tiniest of tugs. Alastor opens his mouth to berate him, and Vox slips his tongue past his lips. He knew Vox had one, but the logistics of it being in Alastor's mouth distract him long enough he doesn't think to bite it off right away. So Vox pushes deeper, curls himself around Alastor's own tongue and rubs the muscles together. His tongue is wet, more reminiscent of the disgusting feeling that Alastor recalls from previous dalliances. Electricity buzzes from every part of Vox, though, prickling at the inside of his mouth in an interesting way. Then Vox pulls a bit harder on Alastor's hair, angling his head up, and Alastor makes a sound. He's always thought the breathy, drawn out noises Angel Dust makes when playing porn star had to be exaggerated. Certainly the sound that comes out of Alastor isn't quite as theatrical, but if he did that without even trying... Maybe Angel's acting skills are more realistic than he's been giving him credit for.
The sound seems to drive Vox to a frenzy. He grips Alastor tight, shoves one knee up onto the seat of the damn office chair, dangerously close to the place between Alastor's legs. Then he breaks the kiss, pulling away to squint at Alastor suspiciously. "What are you doing?" He demands.
"Getting groped by an idiot, apparently!" Alastor retorts, amping up the radio filter over his voice to hide how breathless he feels.
Vox looks angry, yes, but also thoughtful, which Alastor doesn't like at all, "Oh sure, and you were what, seriously asking me to turn down the AC?"
Alastor squints at him, "Of course I was. How on earth is asking about the state of your air conditioner equivalent to asking you to maul me?"
Vox just looks exasperated, "Al, it's sixty degrees in here."
The hotel could only dream of maintaining such a temperature. Very odd that Alastor can feel the sweat beading on his back, then, isn't it? There's only one time of the year when such a thing might happen, but that was nearly a month away! How odd. "How impressive! I suppose I'll give credit to one piece of modern technology."
"Alastor, we are not talking about the fucking AC right now. You keep trying to rile me up, you tell me it's getting fucking hot in here while our faces are inches apart. If you want something from me, you can just as for it, you know." He raises an eyebrow suggestively.
Does he seriously think Alastor has been flirting with him this whole time? Good grief. "Are you implying that I got myself captured so that you'd have sex with me? As if you wouldn't come running if I asked?" he doesn't know why he says that. It's true, but openly talking about sex in front of Vox is a double edged sword. He might get so excited about Alastor even saying the word he doesn't notice he's being insulted. Making the implication that he’d ever ask for it is... definitely a mistake.
At least Vox looks like he knows he's being mocked, cyan blush spreading across the center of his screen, "I don't need you! I have a partner who asks for sex like a normal person now."
"I highly doubt Valentino does anything like a normal person." Alastor points out.
Vox waves his comment off, "I would have sex with you, though, if you asked. Nicely." He drops his voice low, leans in close. The display is absolutely hilarious, the male lead in a bodice-ripper romance trying a bit too hard. Instead of laughing, though, Alastor finds himself swallowing thickly. There is something seriously wrong. He really is reacting like he’s in heat. For nearly a century now he’s been getting the damned things, and they've always come on a regular schedule. He’s always had a few days of warning before his mind becomes a stupid puddle of instincts. The onset is too rapid, the timing all wrong.
"You and your fucking partner have been drugging me." Alastor hisses out his realization, static buzzing thickly on his words. That's the only explanation he can think of. The Vees manufacture that glorified date rape drug, modeled after Valentino's venom. The smoke Vox had blown in Alastor's face that first night certainly wasn't any substance Alastor was familiar with, and every night since the moth has slept in the same room, puffing that horrible smoke all over the place.
Vox leans away, looking shocked, "What? No I haven't!"
The added distance is a relief, and Alastor takes a moment to sit up properly in the chair, planting both feet firmly on the floor. He’s sure his hair is a mess and there’s nothing he can do about that, but he’s done better work in worse circumstances. "Please, Vox. There’s no point in denying it. It’s not as if I’m surprised that you would stoop to something so pathetic.”
Hilariously distraught, Vox releases Alastor completely. What an impressive act! "That shouldn't work on you, though." he sounds uncertain. Then he immediately slips into frustration, dragging both hands down his screen, "Fuck. Fuck! You have to ruin everything, don’t you?" And then he leaves.
In the immediate aftermath Alastor feels oddly bereft, the fire that was building in his core smothered with ice water. He's shivery and uncomfortable. He wants Vox to come back, and that thought is so horrifying he forcefully shakes his head to be rid of it. Without Vox breathing into his face, he wills his misbehaving body to settle. But even sitting alone in this cold, silent office, he aches. He can almost smell the wetness oozing from his core, and he crosses his legs to mask it, resisting the urge to squeeze his thighs together as he does. Truly, what a nightmare. It’s one thing to be trapped with a man who is deeply obsessed with him while he has all his faculties together. It’s another thing entirely for that to be the case while he’s rapidly going into heat. Could he use this to his advantage, somehow? He'll have to think of something quickly. Soon, he’s going to be too distracted by his instincts to even string a coherent thought together.
Typically his heats come on slowly, a faint trickle of distraction and stickiness that takes several days to crest into an unbearable desire for touch that Alastor denies himself at all costs. In the past he’s always spent his heats in complete privacy. It wouldn’t do for hell to know that the Radio Demon has such a glaring weakness. The lack of a partner seemed to make things go smoother, and he was usually back to normal within a couple weeks. Being in the constant company of Vox and his train of sycophants must be making things worse, nevermind whatever influence Valentino’s pheromones are having.
Vox is gone long enough that Alastor begins to believe he'll actually be left alone for the rest of the day. He suppresses the part of himself that quails at that idea. Honestly, one kiss and he's slavering for sex like a common whore? He's above these kinds of distractions. He never experienced them in life, and now as a sinner he receives them yearly as what can only be a divine punishment. Perhaps that's his comeuppance for trying to escape other forms of torture through his deal with Rosie. Voices echoing down the hall heralds Vox’s return. Of course it was too much to hope that he'd been scared off. He rolls his eyes as Vox enters, Valentino huffing in just behind.
"Look at him!" Vox snaps, waving a hand at Alastor like he's a misbehaving puppy. Rude!
Valentino looks, the irritation on his face slowly melting into bafflement, "He looks the same as he always does."
"No he doesn't!" Vox insists, and marches closer, grabbing Alastor by the chin, "His eyes are dilated."
"It's kinda dark in here." Valentino points out, "Vel and I aren't selling weak shit. If I was drugging him he'd be showing a lot more signs that dilated pupils and some blushing."
"Okay, but it's Alastor, he didn't even react when we fucked right in front of him. You were there!"
The moth lets out an odd little squeak of irritation and drifts lazily into Alastor's space, shoving Vox out of the way to give him a more careful look-over, "Some people just don't get off on watching, Voxxy, even if they're watching me. Or maybe you're just that good, to get the Radio Demon horny. I've taught you well." He wiggles his hips suggestively, bent at the waist as he is to look into Alastor's face.
Obligingly, Alastor laughs into it. "You're the one who taught him to shove himself on unwilling captives? I shouldn't be surprised."
Valentino sneers back at him, then looks pointedly down at Alastor's crossed legs, "Unwilling, huh?" He asks darkly, grabbing Alastor's knee with one hand, shoving it aside as he pins the leg beneath to the chair with another. As he forcefully uncrosses Alastor's legs, a third hand presses down where his legs meet, presumably looking for an erection and instead pressing deeper, shoving Alastor's undergarments into the wet heat of his core.
Both of them freeze, whatever retort Alastor had planned flying from his mind at the unexpected touch. Briefly, their eyes meet and Alastor hopes that his expression is threat enough despite the humiliation of his current position to keep the moth quiet.
It isn't.
"Voxxy holy shit come here!" His voice is abruptly high pitched, a child discovering a new favorite toy.
Vox approaches them warily. Impatient, Valentino uses his fourth hand - Alastor has never hated insectoid sinners and their extra limbs more - to grab Vox by the wrist and shove his hand into the crevice his own is currently occupying. Vox's entire screen turns vibrant blue, white script appearing for a moment as his body goes rigid. When his face blinks back on a moment later he's blushing so brightly it makes Alastor squint.
"Since when do you have a pussy?" He manages to force out, his voice painfully distorted.
"The entire time you've known me, you imbecile." Alastor informs him, clinging to his condescension by the claw tips with two perverts shoving their hands in his groin.
Almost without thinking, Vox's hand begins to stroke, tiny distracting motions up and down his slit, "You're so fucking wet." He comments with awe.
"A natural function, yes!" Alastor sneers, "Is this your first time experiencing it?"
Valentino chuckles, bracketing Vox's probing fingers with two of his own, slowly dragging on the outside of Alastor's vulva, "Don't worry, ciervo. I've taught him everything he knows, he'll treat you well. No need to keep playing hard to get."
Abruptly, Vox jerks away, "Val, I'm serious about this. No love potion."
"I already told you, I didn't give him any! It doesn't even work on Overlords. He's just being a stuck up prude like always. But he’s yours now. If he was that scared of what you’d do to him, he should’ve been more clear about the terms of your deal.” He follows after Vox, curling an arm around his waist, “This will be good for you amorcito. Get him out of your system.”
Vox waffles, and Alastor dares to hope he can talk his way out of any more groping, "You're always trying to prove you're the strongest. Will anyone believe that knowing you can only have me as a prisoner? I used to think you were capable of more than that, you know."
Vox groans, "I don't understand why you have to make everything so difficult! You're not drugged, and you’ve been teasing me this entire fucking time." He presses his index finger as deep as he can into Alastor's crotch, getting his clothes disgusting and damp. "If you didn't want to go back to what we had before, then what is it you want?"
Suddenly Alastor finds himself incandescently angry. Part of him acknowledges that this, too, is a side effect of the heat making him emotional. He needs to be careful, or he'll give too much away, "What we had before did not involve you shoving your hand in my crotch, Vox." he snarls.
"It could've!" Vox argues, as if that would've made anything better, "We could've been together, as partners, without all of this fighting, all of these weird games you keep playing! You're soaking wet right now and still pretending like you don't want me for some reason!"
"Just because you’ve triggered a natural reaction doesn’t mean I want you to touch me! I have never had interest in you, Vox. You're the one who keeps clinging to this ridiculous fantasy of partnership despite all evidence to the contrary. It's never going to happen!"
Vox hesitates, but Valentino is right behind him, caging him in. "He already has a partner. You missed your chance at that, ciervo. He just needs to get some closure." He presses Vox's hand more firmly into Alastor's crotch, then slips out of Alastor's sight, looming behind him. Large hands curl over his shoulders and across his chest, flicking open the top buttons of his coat. "Let's put this ratty old thing to rest, Voxxy."
His coat opens, exposing the ragged wound in his chest to the cool air. Valentino spares another hand to ruffle through the sparse fur on his chest, until he locates one of Alastor's nipples and begins to rub at it lazily. It sends a bolt of electricity down Alastor's spine, and he can't help the elk-screech of static he emits. Vox is watching them with an absolutely hang-dog expression on his face, as if he's the one being mistreated. Alastor wants to reprimand him, tell him to get this gigantic idiot off of him, but outright asking for assistance from Vox of all people is repulsive. That, and he's not sure he can speak without moaning, as Valentino's hands continue their ministrations. Here he’d thought it was bad to be going into heat around Vox! Now the fucking porn overlord is involved too, splendid!
Valentino reaches around to the front of Alastor's pants, the cables binding him to his seat shuffling out of the way as he undoes his fly. One hand sneaks in, teasing the waistband of his boxers, another pushing the hem of his undershirt up so it can pet along his stomach. Alastor's bones feel like they’re turning to liquid inside of him, a knot of shivery arousal pulsing in his guts. He locks his teeth in place, desperately holding at bay any other humiliating noises he might make as Valentino's hand slides further down, stroking along the edge of his vulva, fingers moving in lazy strokes that grow gradually closer and closer to where Alastor knows he's leaking an obscene amount of slick into his boxers. When Valentino finally presses against his slit, he can hear how wet he is, and his ears pin to the back of his head despite his best efforts to hold them still. "Damn, baby, you really are desperate for it, aren't you? Voxxy must’ve left you high and dry earlier."
Vox finally stops staring like a moron at Valentino's accusation, "I just kissed him!" he protests, gaping down at where Valentino's hand is making a bulge in Alastor’s pants. Alastor can see there's also a significant bulge in Vox's pants. He should think of something scathing to say, deflate the idiot's cock with a well placed insult so he can recover from this disgusting mistreatment in peace. He can't seem to come up with anything, though, too busy shivering at the press of too many hands on him. Always eager to make things worse, Vox leans in to kiss him again. As he does, Valentino pushes his thumb up into the hood at the top of Alastor's entrance. Sharp pleasure rushes through him at the touch, making him squirm. Vox sneaks his tongue into his mouth while he's recovering from that sensation, and Valentino starts bullying his clitoris in earnest, until his hand is replaced by a thicker one, pressing with insistent force while Valentino retreats, hands rubbing lazy circles along Alastor's sides.
There's too much happening, his vision blurring as he tries to keep track of where all the hands are on his body. Every point of contact is a burning coal against his skin, but for once it doesn't irritate him, it just stokes the fire already burning in his core to a fever pitch, until suddenly his whole body is clenching. He feels it in his vagina especially, clenching down around nothing, so good but he's so fucking empty he could weep. His legs tremble, skidding helplessly as he tries to find purchase on the tile floor. Boneless, he lets his head fall against Valentino's chest, and Vox pulls away from their kiss. Alastor's eyes aren't very interested in focusing, especially not on his ridiculously bright screen, so all he can really see is the contrast of his wide, red eyes against the blue of the rest of his face.
He feels satisfied for perhaps a minute, before his body lights up with heat more vengeful than he's ever felt. The ache of emptiness in his cunt is a void of agony. His skin buzzes at the few points of contact he still has with the men, the back of his head warm on Valentino, Vox's hand on his shoulder because of fucking course it is... He can't even be that annoyed right now, because despite himself he wants it there. He wants Vox's hands fucking everywhere right now.
"What do you think, ciervo? Did he do a good job?" Valentino purrs in his ear.
Alastor snarls, bites down on his tongue to keep himself from begging for more. Blood wells in his mouth, a welcome distraction. With a contemplative hum, Valentino flicks one of his nipples. Alastor keens, back arching. The movement presses his core into the seat of the chair, and he rocks his hips again, unthinking, at the sensation.
"Oooh, look how pent up you are! Poor thing, you really need this.” Valentino murmurs.
Alastor dredges up a somewhat coherent thought, "I don't need sex to function, unlike you perverts." The words come out far too breathy for his liking.
Vox slides a knee between Alastor's legs to press his thigh against his cunt. Alastor groans in frustration. "Yeah, you really seem to be functioning so much better than us, Al. Maybe if you weren't such a prude you wouldn't be getting off on a little fondling." As if to prove a point, he pulls his thigh away. The loss of pressure is nearly enough to make Alastor want to cry, but he settles on a scoff at Vox's words instead. Being a terrible captor indeed, Vox relents after watching him squirm for only a moment, grabbing Alastor's hips and angling them up so he can grind against Vox's thigh more easily.
"Fucking is good for you, ciervito! Helps relieve stress," Valentino informs him, like the nuisance he is. "Maybe this will help you be less of a bitch. Damn, I should be a couple's counselor or something."
"Val," Vox sounds pained. Alastor wonders if the word counselor brought to mind Charlie's happy go lucky hotel for him as well. It's not something to be thinking about at a time like this!
"What, am I not helping? I have great ideas! Like, you should get some fingers in that pussy, Vox." The moth’s grin is vile.
Vox doesn't argue with him, pulling Alastor's hips to the very edge of the seat. At this point the cords holding him down are decoration, draping uselessly as Vox tugs Alastor's pants down to his ankles. The position strains his back and hips, but he doesn't even complain because Vox slides two fingers through his folds and his cunt flutters hungrily in response. High pitched static escapes him in place of a whine, and Vox stares down at him with eager puppy eyes.
Valentino leans over to get his own look and hums with interest, "All natural, huh. I guess that’s not surprising. You're gonna love this ciervito. Vox is real good with his hands."
Vox dips the tip of one finger just barely inside, dragging it around his opening and pulling away. He rotates his wrist so he can ghost his thumb over Alastor's clit at the same time. Each careful probe inside is enhanced with a gentle stimulation to his clit, and Alastor is already mad, but somehow he's managing to lose his mind even more. By the time Vox sinks in past the first knuckle Alastor is practically panting, breath wheezing past his gritted teeth.
Vox whistles low, "Damn, you're so tight."
Alastor doesn't bother responding, jerking his hips forward to try and get Vox deeper. Instead, the bastard moves his hand away, a sinister grin spreading across his screen.
"Hey now, none of that. You've gotta ask for what you want, Al."
He's going to kill Vox. Not now, when he's so close to scratching this new, terrible itch that's been awakened in him. But when his heat is over, he's going to make Vox fucking suffer for this. "Fuck me, you FUCKING idiot, before I rip your stupid hand off and do it myself!"
Valentino lets out a delighted coo. Vox thrusts his finger in deep, until his palm is pressed against Alastor's crotch. Alastor tenses at the sudden intrusion, a feeling of pressure that could be pain if pushed a little further. Once inside Vox moves slowly, the tip of his blunted claw probing at Alastor's insides like he's looking for something. And he must find it, because he brushes against something that makes Alastor clench around him with a moan, nerves alight. Looking obscenely smug, Vox continues mapping out Alastor's cunt with his fingertip, resuming that gentle on and off pressure against his clit. The second finger slides in with little resistance, joining the first in its exploration. Relief floods his system, body eagerly squeezing around the added girth. Vox probes both fingers into the sensitive area he found earlier, fingers curling. He begins a relentless pressure on his clit at the same time, quickly ratcheting the knot of pleasure in Alastor's middle to an intolerable level. He throws his head back, hips canting forward desperately to meet the thrusts of Vox's fingers, and the chair surely would've fallen if Valentino wasn't holding onto it from behind. He crashes into another orgasm, riding Vox's hand through it, ignoring the surprised grunt from Vox as he revels in the cresting wave of pleasure. His mind feels syrupy smooth after, little aftershocks twitching through his cunt, making him aware of Vox's fingers still inside. When he bothers to open his eyes, he realizes he wrapped both legs around Vox's waist, pulling him in close and pinning his hand inside.
Streams of red are drooling from the side of Vox's mouth. "Shit, Al, that was so hot," he's rambling, a stream of compliments that reminds Alastor of days long past. He tunes him out, keeping his legs around Vox's waist so he can't remove his hand. The position can't be comfortable, but Vox doesn't complain, and Alastor finds the feeling of them inside far too satisfying to let him go. Valentino draws Vox into a heated kiss above his head, silencing him.
While they moan into each other's mouths, Alastor thinks he may be experiencing that disgusting turn of phrase "post nut clarity." None of this is furthering his goals. He may be undoing his progress, even, as Valentino seems to be enjoying the show more than anything. He's supposed to be dividing Vox from his hangers on, not bonding them over molesting him! He should put a stop to this before he does anything more counterproductive.
It's a good thought that is rapidly slipping away as Vox, distracted by Valentino, starts wriggling his fingers absentmindedly in his cunt. Infuriating, how easily distracted estrus makes him! How does anyone operate when they give so much consideration to their genitals? His body makes wet, sucking sounds around Vox's fingers, and Alastor allows himself to groan in frustration as his hips start shifting again, craving more friction. Vox breaks his kiss to look down at him in surprise. Val laughs, "Damn, better add another finger papi."
"Still kinda tight," Vox huffs, and then spreads his two fingers wide, scissoring them open and closed as if that will magically open Alastor's cunt. Wetness leaks out of him, and he fears there will be a puddle under his ass on this damn office chair when he gets up.
Valentino leans in to touch Alastor again, tweaking his nipples, caressing his chest. Fingers tilt his chin upwards, and then he's kissing Valentino. Wetter than Vox, but with a similarly dextrous tongue. His lips aren't as strange as Vox's, more like what he remembers human lips to feel like. The skin of his face is covered in a thin fur, though, which tickles against Alastor's nose. He resists parting his lips for a moment, but his reasoning slips away under yet another swell of hot pleasure through his body. Everything feels good even though he knows it shouldn't, and he just wants to feel more of it, all of it. When he parts his lips, Val's tongue presses in eagerly, sweeping against the back of his teeth, over his own tongue, pressing very near to the back of his throat. There's a taste to him that Vox lacks, sweet with a slightly bitter aftertaste. Immediately, he feels insatiable. As every nerve ending in his body begins to buzz hungrily, Alastor supposes he can agree that Valentino was definitely not drugging him before this very moment.
As Alastor struggles to regain his thoughts under the deluge of sensation, Vox eases in a third finger. Alastor savors the slight ache of it, the fullness that he desperately wants more of. Valentino eases back, a strand of pinkish saliva shivering between their lips before electric blue fills Alastor's vision. Vox presses into his mouth possessively, like he's trying to erase every taste of Valentino. Three fingers in his cunt plunging in and out, four long fingered hands pinching and stroking and petting, and all Alastor wants is more. He clenches down hard on Vox's fingers, grinds his hips down against every thrust in, arches up into Valentino's touch. His body shivers between release and desperation. He whines openly into Vox's mouth, and he would beg if he could. More more more please I need more! He thinks he orgasms again, though it feels more distant, a dull rush in his ears followed by a drifty moment of almost-satisfaction. Vox has stopped kissing him, but his stupid screen is still in his face. Alastor glares into the bright red dinner plates of Vox's eyes. His mouth is hanging half off the screen, open in shock. Valentino looks down from above, devious.
"Still need more, huh?"
Was he broadcasting that?
"You have to have done something Val he's completely fucked up." Vox accuses.
What did he say? More? Was that all? Please let that be all.
"Will you stop with that? If anyone drugged him, it was you! Puffing into his face that first day, I know you've done it since. That stuff actually works on people who aren't half machine!"
"You told me he wasn't drugged!"
What did he broadcast to? This room, the entire tower, half the city?
"I said I didn't drug him!"
"Seriously? Don’t play fucking word games with me. That doesn't make sense! The aerosolized stuff doesn't have this much of an effect, even at way higher doses."
"Stop talking like a nerd in the bedroom, Voxxy."
"Val this is serious! What if he O.D.s or something?"
This conversation is stupid, and distracting. Alastor interrupts their aimless bickering, "I'm in heat you idiots!”
Vox's screen goes dark. As does the entire room, although a neon glow through the window indicates that Vox didn't kill the entire power grid this time. Regardless, it’s much easier on Alastor's eyes.
Valentino is smirking down at him knowingly, "Interesting choice to hand yourself over to Voxxy right before your heat, ciervo. Was he right, then, you wanted to get some but were too embarrassed to ask? Bold move, for sure, but under negotiated can get a little rough between overlords, better to make clear terms, yeah?"
Some of those words he understands. Not all of them, unfortunately! At least not in the context, "I wasn't supposed to go into heat. This is your fault."
Valentino's expression sharpens, "I do have that effect. Did your cute little deer instincts decide you wanted a real stud to knock you up? Want me to breed you, baby?" He's surely doing something inappropriate with his hips, the way he's jostling the chair.
"Of course not! The bodily fluids you sling everywhere obviously triggered it, you filthy degenerate."
"Hey now, watch yourself ciervo. Vox has a few more minutes before he comes online. Think I can fuck my kid into you before he wakes up? God, he'd be sooooo pissed but it might be worth it." His ability to go from threatening to petulant in an instant is truly impressive.
Valentino’s words are nonsensical - Sinners can’t have children - but his body flushes hot at the insinuation regardless. Alastor musters as much fury as he can, "I'd like to see you try," he snarls, antlers branching.
Valentino watches him with amusement, “You’re probably right. He’ll be so annoying about it if I ruin his first time with the Radio Demon.”
Alastor shudders at the thought. He’s shaky and restless, getting worse the longer he goes untouched. Valentino has pulled away completely, watching him with both sets of arms crossed. Alastor hisses in frustration, but before he can do anything foolish, Vox wakes up with a blurt of static.
"You're in heat?" The last word is almost incomprehensibly distorted. "Is that why you used to fuck off all the time?"
"Once a year, you mean." Alastor retorts drily, recalling the sad little looks Vox used to give him when Alastor would tell him he was taking some time away.
Valentino laughs, "Papi, how did you not figure that one out?"
"Wha- I didn't know he was a-" he snaps his mouth closed at Alastor's warning hiss of static, "that he had a cunt." Crude, but better than whatever nonsense he'd been about to say. "I just figured he was doing weird magic shit or something."
That surprises a laugh out of Alastor, "Magic? Really?"
"You always left in the fall. Isn't that when people do weird magic rituals and shit?" he glances helplessly between Alastor and Valentino. Unfortunately for Vox, his partner seems just as amused.
"Sex rituals, maybe," Valentino suggests salaciously. From the look on his face, Vox is getting carried away imagining what that might involve.
"Oh please, I just take some time to myself. It's a good time to get caught up on my reading list!" Alastor scoffs.
For some reason, this information leaves the other two horrified. Vox looks over Alastor's head to Valentino, who claps both hands onto his shoulders so abruptly he can't help but jump. His antlers don't grow fast enough to gore him, sadly, but he releases Alastor when he sees them spreading.
"You just sit around and read during your heat? At least tell me some of it's porn." Valentino gasps.
"Of course not! That would make it worse."
“Worse? What the hell does that mean?” Vox wheezes.
Really, this seems like quite an overreaction, “It’s just a few weeks of discomfort, hardly anything to get excited about. I just distract myself until it’s over.”
Valentino says, "That's the saddest thing I've ever heard. Aren’t heats supposed to be like, super awful if you don’t fuck through them?”
Alastor shakes his head, “I’ve certainly experienced worse. Perhaps you’re thinking of the plot of one of your movies.”
With incredible seriousness, Valentino says, “Ciervito, you’re about to have the best sex of your life.”
"The messiest, certainly," Alastor concedes, against all better judgement.
Vox blinks, "Wait, are you like, actually up for this?"
Alastor rolls his eyes, “At this point I hardly think a good drink and some jazz will be suitable distraction. Since you caused this, you might as well take care of it.” Once his heat is over he’s going to have his work cut out for him getting his plan back on track, but he doesn’t have the capacity to worry about that now. The best he can do is make sure he makes it through his heat with minimal catastrophes. Who knows? This might make Vox easier to manipulate in the long run.
Vox looks like he's won the lottery, "Oh I'll take such good care of you, baby, I'll blow your fucking mind."
Alastor holds up a hand, “Terms, before we begin.” Vox nods, so Alastor continues, “You are permitted to have intercourse with me only as long as it is fulfilling the desires of my heat, and neither you nor your associates can form any binding deals with me while I am in heat.”
Vox blinks, “Oh, that’s it?” Alastor tilts his head, truly baffled by the lack of finesse. Vox manages thousands of contracts, and he’s questioning why Alastor isn’t putting more restrictions on him?
“I mean, you don’t have any preferences? Any limits?”
“If I don’t like something, you will know.” He informs Vox, “Do we have an agreement?”
Vox has the gall to look surprised by the hand Alastor offers. Then he looks suspicious, “You just said we can’t make deals while you’re in heat.”
Which is a fair point! “My, look at you finally paying attention!” Alastor mocks, “Excluding this agreement, then. Is that acceptable, dear?”
“Fine, it’s a deal,” he shakes Alastor’s hand with a roll of his eyes. Electricity crackles where their hands meet. The remaining cables clinging loosely to him fall away, and Alastor makes to get up only to realize that his legs are embarrassingly wobbly. He does tend to be less coordinated during his heats, but never to this level. Suddenly, the few feet between Vox’s office area and his bed are looking quite daunting. Vox solves this problem by slinging his knees over one arm, the other supporting his back as he scoops him up like a bride to her wedding bed. It’s humiliating, but attractive in a way that Alastor has never considered such displays to be before.
Vox is incongruously gentlemanly about settling Alastor on the bed, even kneeling down to remove his boots. While he does, Alastor undoes the last few buttons of his coat and shirt, slipping them off and folding them neatly beside him. Freeing himself from his clothing does ease some of the heat building against his skin, and he shivers as his sweaty shoulders and back are exposed to the air. Now he can believe that Vox's room is as cold as he says it is.
Vox tugs open his own shirt with far less care, tossing it to the side and ridding himself of his pants and boxers with equal speed. Alastor watches the way his gills flare and flatten, trying not to let his gaze stray lower. He knows what Vox's cocks look like, after all. Apparently sharks have two. Prior to this moment, that fact meant very little to Alastor. Now he's buzzing with eagerness and nerves in equal measure. His estrus addled mind is elated at the concept of being doubly full, but the rest of him is unsure of how that could possibly work. Vox's fingers were almost too big for him, and even all three of them aren't quite as thick as one of his penises. He's going to split me in half. Alastor thinks, a line he's surely overheard in one of Angel's performances before, and cringes internally. How cliche.
Vox gets to his feet and gently pushes Alastor’s knees apart so he can loom above him. Alastor begins to lie down without even thinking, and catches himself on his forearms before his back hits the mattress. He's indulging his body in this, but that doesn't mean he's going to completely leave himself at Vox's mercy.
Instead of getting immediately to the sex, Vox leans down to press their lips together. The kiss is lazy at first, Vox's tongue gradually pressing into his mouth. Claws tickle down Alastor's sides, a faint touch that makes his skin twitch. Then Vox wraps one clawed hand around his waist and moves him backwards, prowling onto the bed after him. He lets Alastor drop onto the pillows at the head of the bed, grinning down at him with a manic hunger that makes Alastor’s cunt clench with desire. Then Vox slides back down Alastor’s body, until his broad shoulders are fighting for space between Alastor’s thighs. This seems counterproductive to getting fucked the way Alastor wants, and an annoyed buzz of static fills the air.
"I just need to open you up more. You're so tight, it won't feel good if I just shove in there. I'm going to help you relax, okay?" Vox explains, voice disgustingly tender.
Valentino perches on the bed next to Vox and they kiss, deep. This does not improve Alastor’s mood for two reasons: the stupid one being his mate is paying attention to someone else, and the real one is that this is further evidence of how much of a mess he’s making for himself. Just this morning he’d been driving an effective wedge between Vox and his partner, and now they’re kissing over him.
When Vox pulls away, his tongue is coated in pink saliva. He lifts Alastor's legs up and ducks beneath them, settling Alastor's knees on top of the casing of his giant head. There's something tantalizing about being unable to see exactly what Vox is doing past his own thighs. He licks a stripe up Alastor's pussy, and he moans, back arching hard off the bed. The tip presses against Alastor's hole, slithering in just past the lips of his vulva, and he clenches hungrily around it. Tortuously slow, Vox tries to press in deeper against his constricting muscles.
"Relax," Valentino instructs, now sitting on the edge of the bed near Alastor's chest, leaning over one arm so he can capture Alastor in another kiss, more pink ichor coating Alastor's tongue. He feels his muscles loosen, not just is cunt but his entire body, "Very good," the man croons, sending an involuntary shudder of pleasure through him. Then Vox's tongue slips in deep, and Alastor can't help the wail he releases as he arches his neck back, hips desperately pushing into Vox's unyielding screen. Above him Valentino chuckles condescendingly, but Alastor can't begin to care. His entire world has narrowed down to the sensations in his cunt - Vox inside of him, wet and hunting, narrow, dextrous muscle able to probe deeper than his fingers ever could. The base of his tongue is slowly stretching his opening wider, the skin at the edges sending pings of pleasure up Alastor's spine at the constant stimulation. Vox finally reaches the end of his exploration, the tip of his tongue pressing against the firm surface of Alastor's cervix and staying there, lapping at the ring of muscle like he can convince it to open. Alastor's insides clench around him, inviting him to go even deeper than is possible.
"Feels nice, doesn't it? Having papi so deep in you. Imagine how his cock will feel in that tight pussy. Are you ready for him to breed you?" Valentino purrs.
Alastor whines, hips rocking desperately against Vox’s screen. Above him Valentino is just watching, eyes wide and luminous and seeing far too much while Vox continues to worry at his insides. Alastor presses his face into the pillows, catching the strange human sweat-computer oils smell of Vox on it.
"Come on baby, don't hide. Let yourself feel good. Make sure Voxxy knows what you want. And you want his cock, don't you?"
Vox's tongue flexes up, pressing hard along the top of his insides all the way through. It puts pressure on the most sensitive parts of him, but Vox’s tongue has flattened, taking up less space. It feels like a void opening up inside of him. "Fuck!" Alastor squirms in frustration. Valentino presses a hand hard on his belly, right above his womb, holding him in place. "Yes! I want it! Fucking breed me!"
Vox groans, vibration buzzing against Alastor's cunt. He slowly retracts his tongue, Alastor’s vagina clenching hard on empty air. Valentino slips away as Vox climbs up his body, pressing kisses along his stomach and chest as he goes. Breath ghosts across the wound there. Vox's thighs shuffle between his, pushing him open, vulnerable. There's an instinct to snap defensively, buried beneath a desire to turn boneless and allow Vox to press him down into the mattress.
Vox grinds his hips down, rubbing his cocks along Alastor’s hole. They’re hot and firm against him, sliding through his slick and then up along his belly before rocking back again. Each press up runs tantalizingly against his clit, and Alastor finds himself shuddering with anticipation each time. Finally, Vox presses in with intention, the fat head of one of his cocks pushing the edges of Alastor's cunt. Alastor digs his claws into the bed, holding himself still and open, panting with hunger as Vox eases in inch by inch. He starts to roll his hips as he moves, a tiny retreat before each thrust brings him in closer to Alastor's waiting uterus. Part of him wants to wrap himself around Vox's hips and force him in fully, but his desire has turned lazy and weak limbed with his mate on top of him. Finally, Vox's pelvis is pressed against him, and Vox moans extravagantly, "Fuck, Alastor, you feel so good baby,"
Alastor refuses to engage in this boring bedroom talk, instead forcing one leg up to knock against Vox's thigh, "Move!"
"Come on, give me a fucking second!" Vox practically whines. How annoying, even in the middle of fucking. How does anyone take this man seriously?
Laughter. Alastor remembers abruptly that there's a third body in the room. Valentino is lounging in Vox's office chair, which he's pulled closer to the bed. The one tarnished by Alastor's bodily fluids is nowhere to be seen. Hopefully someone burns it.
"Val, come on," Vox groans, though Alastor has no idea what that's supposed to accomplish.
"You're the one who needs to get moving papi. Or should I take over?" Valentino taunts.
"Fuck off!" Vox snarls, teeth flashing, the possessive display making Alastor shiver. Valentino only laughs more, but Vox's ire has been invoked enough to get him moving, and that's all Alastor really cares about. Vox sets a sudden vicious pace, bracing on his forearms above Alastor, eyes glued to his face as if to memorize every expression he makes. Frankly Alastor can only imagine what his face is doing, his mind too scrambled with endorphins at finally getting the fucking he's been waiting for. Each thrust forces the breath from his lungs. Vox seems unable to run his mouth while maintaining the brutal pace, which is another perk. Alastor closes his eyes, reveling in how full he feels. Nearly loses himself in the sensation, if it weren't for the sudden itchy feeling of a camera watching him. Vox's bedroom is one of the few places in the tower that doesn't have hundreds of the things, so the feeling of it scraping against his skin is all the more obvious. He would say something scathing as he focuses his power on it, but he's otherwise occupied.
Valentino's startled yelp when whatever digital device he was recording on explodes is gratifying regardless.
"Oh come on! I was just trying to record your special moment ciervito." There's a clatter as Valentino discards his camera in favor of approaching the bed. One hand slips between where he and Vox are pressed against each other, tickling along Alastor's belly. "First time getting creampied in heat! Don't you want to remember the moment you become a mommy?"
Vox moans, leaning back so he can grab Alastor's hips and angle them up, pressing himself in even deeper than before. Alastor will credit this, and not Valentino's atrocious dirty talk, for sending him careening into another orgasm. As he arches into it, he feels Vox press in deep, hips grinding to a halt as he spills inside. Then he all but collapses on top of Alastor, pressing their lips together in a heated kiss. Despite how disgustingly warm he is, Alastor wraps his arms around Vox's neck, holding him there as he feels his cock soften. Well, one of them softens. There's still one standing at attention against Alastor's thigh, and as soon as he realizes this it's all he can think of.
"Vox," he says, and rocks his hips. Vox winces at the stimulation and pulls himself free. When he doesn't immediately refill the hungry space inside of him, Alastor growls and flips onto all fours. Face pressed into the mattress, back arched to make himself as enticing as possible. An image straight from one of Valentino's films. The director himself hums in appreciation, and Vox moans like he's just been offered the key to heaven. Alastor’s heat-addled mind preens to have two overlords drooling over him.
Vox's hands find his hips again like they belong there, and he inserts himself with little fanfare. Rocking back into each thrust, he imagines the seed already inside being pushed even deeper. A weight settles over his spine, Vox laying over his back, one hand pressed into the mattress by Alastor's shoulder, the other wrapping around to play with his nipples. Alastor can feel his body crying out for another release, unsure how he'll manage it. From the way Vox has begun stuttering in his rhythm, he's close to finishing as well.
"Come in me, Vox, I need more!" He begs.
"Fuck, yes, gonna fill you up so good-"
"Not like that you aren't," Valentino purrs.
Vox practically wails his name as Valentino grabs the base of his cock and holds. Alastor snarls, his shadow writhing against the sheets.
Valentino reaches down to pat Alastor's side, "Easy, baby. I'm just trying to help you. He's promising to fill you up, but he's only got one cock in you. Don't you want them both?"
Alastor clenches down hard, forcing another tortured groan from Vox. "Yes, yes, more!" He feels rabid, claws shredding the sheets as he practically pants. He needs to be so full he’ll never be empty again. Needs Vox to put out this burning under his skin for good.
"Are you going to be good and give it to him, papi? Look how desperate he is for you."
Vox's voice is nearly drowned out by the desperate whirring of his cooling fans, "I will, I will, fuck Alastor, Val-"
Alastor buries his face in the mattress as Vox groans like he's in agony. It feels like an eternity of waiting for Vox to get hard again. To keep from going insane he imagines it, how good it will feel to be full to bursting. How well he'll be inseminated by the end.
Valentino’s slender hands brush against his inner thighs, dancing up to his cunt and sliding in alongside Vox’s cock. Carefully, he works Alastor open, pulling his cunt apart until it burns deliciously. Then Vox lines his second cock up, struggling into the meager space Valentino has created.
"Nice and slow, papi. Let him feel every inch."
And Vox obeys, stretching Alastor’s body to accommodate him with more patience than Alastor has ever seen from him. Pinned beneath Vox, all Alastor can do is wait. He writhes ineffectually, relishing the way his stretched out cunt strains against each tiny shift in angle. Vox places one hand on Alastor's lower belly, and groans hungrily, "Fuck, I can feel myself in you."
Valentino takes one of his hands and brings it up alongside Vox's, until all three of them are caressing the bulge Vox's cocks are making in him. "How's that feel, ciervo. Perfect, yeah?"
"Ugh, nmm, yes!" Alastor cringes at the mindless sounds he's making, submitting to animal pleasure, "Fill me, Vox, Vox!"
"God, yes, you're so good for me," Vox starts moving and it rubs and presses unbearably. Everything is slick pleasure, a burning pain in him he knows will only be satisfied when it's filled with young. Decades of resisting his instincts feels like a baffling waste of time as each thrust threatens to fulfill him.
Vox makes a punched out sound, and his next thrust is strong enough to shove Alastor's entire body forward, one eye losing vision as the side of his face is crushed into the mattress. His spine compresses uncomfortably, but before he can complain Vox pulls out and thrusts again. He picks up pace, and Alastor adds a few vertebra to his neck so he can look back to where he and Vox are joined. There's his own belly, bulging pleasingly. He can barely see Vox's balls behind that, and then Valentino buried in Vox, setting the vicious new pace. A greedy part of him is jealous - he could have three cocks? Instead seed is being wasted in Vox's ass? Nevermind that there's no room left in his cunt, that the constant friction is turning from a dull ache to a sharp burn. He's a frayed pile of nerves and need. Attempting to rock back into Vox's thrusts proves difficult, his legs are getting shaky. He's lost in the tide, horrified and overwhelmingly aroused by how weak he is. That thought, combined with the possessive claws grasping at him from above, send him into an orgasm that feels more like death throes. His legs give out entirely, and he lets himself be held up by the arms around him. Vox follows him in release moments later, heat flooding Alastor's insides. His vision wavers. He knows Vox is speaking, rubbing his hands up and down Alastor's well used body, but he finds that far less pressing than then desire to succumb to exhaustion. Satisfied and bone tired, he sinks into sleep.
-------
"Talk about fucking him into submission," Valentino leers.
Vox can't take his eyes off of Alastor, his limp body cradled in his and Valentino's hands. Vox has gone soft inside of him, but his abdomen is still slightly swollen with Vox's semen. Lazy, Valentino continues to fuck into him. He's going to get overstimulated very soon, but he can't fathom pulling out yet. It feels so perfect inside Alastor, and he wants to keep every drop of his cum inside. It’s insanely rare for sinners to have children, but he can't help but fantasize about it taking against all odds, of Alastor realizing that he needs Vox, letting Vox take care of him and their child...
He's wrung dry, but he likes to imagine the thought forces just a little more out of him. He presses a kiss to the back of Alastor's neck, before pushing back against Valentino. "Let me pull out, then I'll make sure to repay you for this, babe." He promises. This deal is already working out so much better than he could’ve imagined.