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Reforming - or in Vox’s case, regenerating - was always a slow process. It took time for a body to reform and that was just as true when there was already a head in place for a body to grow from. It was after a week of bitching, threatening to bite Valentino for not reconnecting his head to his body (which, even if Val was going to agree to, would be impossible because some adventurous cannibal had dragged it off because free food!), and wallowing in self pity because of the problems he made for himself. So finding himself dumped on the hotel’s doorstep was a shock to Vox and Vox alone.
He was just lucky that the princess took pity on him and didn’t dump him into the closest dumpster and had instead given him a proposal: put in some real effort to grow as a person and she would help him get back on his feet. So her stopping by the room that had been assigned to him (Charlie’s pet former exorcist constantly reminded him that he was lucky he got a room and wasn’t chucked into a closet like she had recommended after the shit he pulled) was becoming a normal occurrence.
A normal occurrence that, no matter how much he bitched, he appreciated. So he thought nothing of it when Charlie popped her head in with a chipper “We’re watching a movie in the lobby if you want to join us!”
“Watching a movie with the most pathetic sinners in Hell? I think I’d rather stare at the ceiling for the rest of the day, thanks,” despite his words, there was no venom there, just exhaustion and maybe some frustration.
She gave him a long look and for a moment he was sure she was going to push back about the importance of friendship and rainbows or some shit like that. Instead she came back with “Baxter found a movie with some reeeeeally bad science about sharks, but if you don’t want t-”
“Would I be allowed to pick it apart?”
“I wouldn’t expect anything less.”
“I’m in.” Except that meant the demeaning part of leaving his room, being carried around like a piece of (very expensive, very handsome, thank you very much) luggage. Which…okay he was getting used to after a month and change of his totally-not-imprisonment. “Give me a lift, Princess?”
Charlie beamed at him, entering his room and scooping him off the chair where he had been deposited the day before (thank whatever power still cared enough about him that he hadn’t been in there for days). He was secured in her arms when one of her hands drifted, not far from where his neck had once been attached and some wires had started growing in the slow attempt for his body to rebuild, and suddenly he felt something and let out, despite himself, a moan.
Vox couldn’t see the look on Charlie’s face, but he could tell from the way she had stopped short while walking to his bedroom door, that she probably had that confused, mortified expression she got sometimes, the one that made him laugh because who would have thought that the Princess of Hell, a woman raised around sin, could be such a prude? Except this time…well, he couldn’t blame her. Because he knew that that felt like to him.
It felt something like being groped through his pants, not like a full stroke or a thumb over his non-existent cock’s head or the warm wet feeling of a mouth, but after the longest dry spell since he met Val with nerves (or something nerve-like) that had never been touched before? It was overwhelming.
And he desperately wanted her to do it again.
“Fuuuck,” he finally let out, hearing the distortion in his own voice.
“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to, I promis-”
“Do it again.”
“What??” Vox was so grateful that he couldn’t get too dizzy in his current state because he was heavily jostled as Charlie rearranged him in her arms so she could hold him out to face him and oh, the sight he got was more than he could have dreamed up. Charlie Morningstar was blushing, hard, and it was obvious that this whole foray had flustered her.
“You heard me, Princess, do it again. Touch me.” There was the briefest temptation to try to use his hypnotism on her (even if he doubted if it would even work with how weak he was at present), before he let the feeling pass before going from commanding to needy. “Please? I haven’t felt…anything in over a month.”
Charlie had to think long and hard about whether to give in. What would Vaggi say if she walked in and found her girlfriend’s fingers tangled up in the short wires coming out of Vox’s head, making him moan? Would that count as cheating? Or was this just helping him get relief as a form of physical therapy?
She was going to go with that and ignore the fact that there was something about the sound he had let out that made something in her gut twist. “Okay, um…I’m going to put you down so my hands are free and…you’ll tell me if it’s too much, right?”
“Charlie,” he practically purred her name, “I can assure you, if it’s too much, you’ll know.”
She placed him down on the as of yet unused bed, his screen facing up as she settled down next to him, letting her feet dangle off so she didn’t have to remove her shoes, as if her staying fully dressed with her shoes on would make this professional and not…whatever it felt like she was doing. “So…I’m going to start, so if you need me to stop, say something, please.”
Charlie was painfully aware of his red eyes fixed on her, on how large his cyan pupils looked compared to usual. She had to keep reminding herself that this wasn’t about something sexual, this was about letting him feel, actually feel, for the first time since he tried to…well, kill her, everyone she loved, and destroy her home in an attempt to soothe his ego. But he wasn’t well that day, he wasn’t in his right mind. Today…today he was and he needed her to touch him.
With a level of resolve that, yes, this was okay, Charlie leaned in, her hand sliding to the back of his - head? self? form? - and her fingers found the stubby wires she had touched earlier, square in the middle. No flesh or muscles or plastic plating in her way, just bare, wound together wires that seemed to react slightly to her touch, almost as if they grasped around her fingers.
Oh, this? This she could figure out how to work with. It may not have felt like…well, anything that she had fingered previously, but the wires reacted nonetheless. And Vox? Vox’s breathing was unsteady, as if he was trying not to be too verbal.
“Does this feel good?” Charlie asked as she thumbed at the bottoms of his wires, realizing how she was turning the (former?) Overlord into putty with her fingers as red lines dripped down his screen from the corner of his mouth and he bit his lip just enough not to puncture, but that his lip still had a little bit of a bite mark.
She switched the way her fingers moved, using them to separate the wires and ran her fingers through them, drawing out a shuddering gasp and a distorted “Fuu-uu-ccck.” as a burst of static replaced his face for a moment.
Charlie could feel the wires - could feel Vox - react to her touch as they moved against her fingers, as if he were chasing some form of release as her fingers stilled and he whimpered. “Nonono, keep going.”
“Say please,” Charlie didn’t mean to sound dominating, it just came out as if she was naturally reacting to his poor manners.
“Princess! C’mon! Please, I’m so close!” Charlie couldn’t help but wonder if he was always this whiny - this needy - when he was about to go over the edge, or if this was just from the dry spell and the new sensations. Either way, he said please and that was all she wanted as she disentangled her fingers and he let out another sound, about to start begging again, when she wrapped her fingers around full tangle of wires. It wasn’t long, but it was enough that she could slide her hand over them if not fully stroke them. “You’re going-” he cut off into a burst of something staticky as she thumbed at the exposed ends, “-to be the double death of me, Morningstar.”
“Well, maybe just a little one,” she responded, not even realizing how flirtatious her words were until they had left her mouth.
Except her words got a laugh out of him, not the smug laugh, but something real and surprisingly unfiltered that broke off into something more breathy as she applied just a little more pressure before sliding the wires between her fingers, stroking chunks now.
And then something she didn’t expect happened: his head moved, tilting backwards slightly as little sparks started jumping between his antennae and he let out a sound that was both digital and painfully human, shocking her fingertips as they brushed the bottom of his wires before his screen went to static, then a rainbow of colors before finally shutting down.
The slight sting on her fingers was forgotten in her frantic concern that this had been too much and she fried his brain. “Vox?? Vox! Are you okay?? Can you speak to me??” She tried nudging his screen, tempted to try the buttons on the edge, but resisted out of a fear that she would make things worse.
It took thirty seconds, but felt like an eternity, as she waited for him to come back online. Finally, his screen clicked back on and the look in his eyes was a dazed, if happy stare at the ceiling followed by a “Holy shit.”
“So…I’m guessing it was good for you?”
“Yeah, you could say that,” he responded, as if trying to play it off like she hadn’t just given him the greatest gift he could have asked for, given his current circumstances.