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Vox was fuming, barely containing his rage enough for his screen not to glitch as he stalked back towards his office. No one dared approaching him, even if he took note of the e-mails Ethan was forwarding him.
It wasn’t a big deal — he was in his—the Vee's Tower. It was his moment, his plan was going smoothly, the Overlords were easily convinced, dancing to his tunes and provocations alike. A minor set back in the production of VoxTek Angelic Security wasn’t going to be an issue, they could still sell crap and make bank as usual, even if Velvette had been slightly more curt with him than usual, and Valentino less patient the longer Vox spent time in his office, with the Radio Demon always close by.
It wasn’t as if it was his fault! It was just gloating to his enemy — even if just thinking of Alastor’s infuriating smirk had his screen glitch and electricity spark at his fingertips.
He needed to focus and destress.
Coming back to his office, finding a very bored specimen of Radio Demon spinning around in the chair he'd been bound to, as if it were a toy.
Pretending not to be looking at him, Vox calmly walked up to his desk, using one of his cable to snatch the spinning chair and stop Alastor from keeping up his tomfoolery.
“Hm? Already having setbacks?” Alastor’s voice was dripping with amusement, his laugh track echoing around them as if they were on his broadcast.
It was infuriating, and so nostalgic in equal measure of times when Vox had thought Alastor’s cutting remarks weren't meant to hurt him. “My, my… you really are pathetic!”
Vox let his body slump in his chair, pulling Alastor’s chair forward with the help of his cables. “Oh shut it, you prickly bastard!” Vox wasn’t proud of how his voice glitched, coming out in a stuttering mess, which only seemed to spark the flames of amusement in Alastor. “Soon, you’ll see what you could’ve had all along, if only you didn’t play precious.”
Alastor simply raised an eyebrow. “The only thing I’m seeing is your pent-up frustration,” he said, mockingly, “is your partner that disappointed in you?” he asked, eyes glancing briefly at Vox’s lap, before jumping back up to grin smugly at his glitching screen.
“W-you—” Vox nearly jumped from his chair, sparks flying around him. He restrained himself only to dampen Alastor’s glee. “So what if I’m hard, I’m stressed!”
“Hmm. Creep,” Alastor said, eyes half-lidded and head tilted to the side, bone cracking.
“Oh, fuck you!” Vox braced his hands on the armrests of his chair, his claws digging in, as he jumped to his feet to stare down at Alastor.
His cables had loosened up enough that Alastor easily spun his chair away, his radio filter cracking as he laughed at him. “Ha! Never going to happen!”
Electricity crackled around Vox, which only prompted Alastor to swing his chair back forward to laugh louder in his face.
Such an insufferable bastard. The hold his cables had around Alastor’s torso tightened, and more were summoned in his anger, going to wrap around Alastor’s insufferable sharp smile. Vox should’ve kept that frowning mask on him at all times.
“You prick—just w-watch it!” Vox hated how he stuttered, how he couldn’t hide how Alastor always, inevitably provoked a reaction out of him.
“Or what?” Alastor sneered, unsurprisingly using his speakers to mock him. “Developing some original ideas for once, old pal?” Alastor truly never shut up.
Vox turned around his desk, his cables pushing Alastor’s chair around to make sure it followed after him. Like this, he could stare down at those ever-mocking crimson eyes of Alastor, his creepy smile visible even under the cable wrapped tightly around his head.
Taking a deep breath, Vox forced his shoulders to relax, his smile wide enough to practically cover his screen, projecting a sense of confidence that Alastor was all too used to easily strip away. Vox leant back against his desk, never breaking eye contact with Alastor. “You sure talk big for someone in your position.”
Alastor rolled his eyes, swinging his right leg in his face, as if it were his arm. Vox groaned, raising his arm to grab Alastor’s leg by his ankle, smirking as Alastor hissed at him, radio static screeching at the contact.
“Ha! A comedian!” Alastor growled, voice thick with his filter — his antlers started to shift, before he composed himself. Instead, to drive his point home, Alastor readied his free leg and spread it outwards to poke Vox’s thigh with his foot.
Alastor didn’t even bat an eye as one of Vox’s cables trapped his left leg, pushing his foot away from his new tailored pants.
“Oh, of course you’d be into this,” Alastor said, shrugging his shoulders to pretend indifference, even if his crimson eyes were trained on Vox.
“W-what—you—” he bit off his words, annoyed at his own stutter. “Fuck you!”
Alastor raised both eyebrows at the lackluster response, maintaining eye contact even as the cable wrapped around his left leg eased his shoe off, before doing the same to his other shoe as well.
With the cable loosened around his left leg, Alastor easily lowered it, until his cloven hoof poked the problem Vox had been trying to ignore, since Alastor had so ungraciously pointed it out.
Reflexively, Vox’s free hand swatted his hoof away, before grasping back for it and raising both of Alastor’s legs up, forcing him closer. That prompted a laugh track broadcasted through his speakers, but it soon screeched to silence as Vox didn’t look away — gaze focused on Alastor’s reaction, he forced his legs to bend, then guided one of his hoof towards the bulge in his pants, rolling his hips into it.
Alastor’s body visibly tensed, smile frozen behind the cable silencing him and ears perked up — a low buzz emanating from the speakers he was controlling.
“Oh, so you can dish it, but you can’t take it?” It was a poor provocation, but it riled Alastor up so easily. He hissed back at Vox, ears lowered, as he pressed the hoof back into Vox’s bulge.
That was all the invitation Vox wanted to take both ankles in one hand, and open his fly with his now freed hand. As it’d happened the day before, Alastor showed no reaction at seeing his cock, already hard and leaking — this time, however, he’ll take Alastor’s rare silence as flattery.
Alastor’s ankles were thin, easily held together in just one hand. The sight alone had Vox salivating, static buzzing between them. He held them in place, his gaze traveling up Alastor’s body — past his awkwardly bent legs, past his claws digging into the seat of his chair, even past his smile, still present even as a shaky little line. Those bright crimson eyes didn’t look away from Vox's, his pupils blown out, his fluffy ears twitching, as if uncertain whether to perk up or lie pressed down against his hair.
Vox rolled his hips forward, thrusting his cock against Alastor’s hooves once more, eyes trained on catching each and every single one of Alastor’s reactions, the way his shoulders tensed, his speakers broadcasting a shrill bleat.
“So worked up over this?” Alastor mocked him through his speakers, voice cracking, his radio filter failing him mid-sentence. “Ha! I didn’t know you wished for me to step on you this badly!”
Vox’s grin sharpened, he was certain he was drooling on his screen. He tightened his hold around Alastor’s thin ankles, sharp claws digging into his skin until they cut. As blood sprouted, Alastor’s badly concealed bleat reverberated through Vox’s office via his speakers, once more.
“Oh? You like this?” Vox couldn’t believe it. He dug deeper with his claws, spreading his fingers to widen the freshly made cuts, just as he let a crack of electricity run down his fingers into those same wounds.
Alastor’s reaction would forever be imprinted in his memory — his cheeks deeply flushed around his twisted smile, body slumped down his chair, caught only by Vox’s cables, just as one of his speakers exploded from how high-pitched Alastor’s bleating cry was. Then, tentatively, as if his legs barely had any strength in them, Alastor used his hooves to press back against Vox’s cock, rubbing one of his soles against his length, from the tip of his cloven hooves to his dewclaws, coating his fur and hooves alike in Vox’s pre-come.
Alastor’s pleasure, his pain were all Vox could think of.
Vox’s next thrust was rougher, his rhythm growing reckless. He reached forward with his free hand, grabbing Alastor by one of his antlers, forcing him to fold in half, his bent legs pushed up until his knees nearly bumped into his smile. If Alastor wanted to protest, he didn’t, not with the last remaining speaker broadcasting his bleating moans and wet sighs. Vox couldn’t just stop, nor slow down, not until he had Alastor’s hooves fully coated with thick ropes of his come.
When he stepped back, freeing Alastor’s antler, he was tempted to let his cables go, see Alastor tumble to the floor in a graceless heap of limbs — he didn’t, not when Alastor’s usually pristine hair had been rumpled by his hands, his legs still shaky from being folded in half, now pressed together to hide a wet patch over his crotch.
Vox was very aware of how glowing his screen was at the sight — if only the Radio Demon wasn’t such an ass, this moment would've been perfect to commemorate with a photo.
Alastor didn’t give him time to enjoy his afterglow any longer, dialing up his mocking, even when he couldn’t hide the effects his own orgasm had on his body. “Hm. Oh, well… that was dreadfully boring.”
This fucking prick—
“What!” Vox bit out. “Oh, you fucking asshole! As if you didn’t break most of my speakers, bitch!”
Alastor hissed back at him, radio static screeching from the last remaining speaker, until that too joined its companions. Before Vox could even react to such petty mischief, however, Alastor’s Shadow was already spinning his chair away, towards Vox’s private bathroom.
Vox’s fingers itched to reach out, sent off-kilter by Alastor’s sudden dismissal. He could follow, barge into his bathroom — “My, my… you really are pathetic!” — No. He didn’t need Alastor nor his attention. Yet, as he noticed Alastor’s blood staining his claws, Vox couldn’t help but giving them a lick.