Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Alastor has been honest-to-god pouting whenever Vox kisses him these days. Brief, close-mouthed kisses only, because Vox is a good boyfriend who listens to his deer—and yet he’s still fucking up, apparently.

He can only think of one possible explanation for Alastor’s grumpiness. “Do you want me to still fuck your mouth with my tongue?”

A whack to his head. “Don’t be so vulgar!”

Vox ignores that. “You’re the one who said ‘no sex’ until the heatwave passes! I was just trying to… You know making out with you works me up!”

“Boohoo, how tragic for y—”

Vox cups the back of Alastor’s head and brings him forward to capture his mouth, tongue sliding behind lips that instantly open for him. Alastor bites his tongue—asshole—but then immediately starts sucking on it, his whole body relaxing into the kiss. When Vox’s arms encircle his tiny waist, he can feel his tail wagging.

“Bitch,” Vox breathes between kisses. “Would it kill you to just ask for the things you want?”

“It might. Better not risk it.” Alastor presses himself flush against Vox; a lapful of damp, fluffy deer for Vox’s delight. “Now shut up and kiss me properly, moron.”

Chapter Text

“You’re—You’re fucking with me. I—Really? You have feelings for me? But you always… I swear to god, Al, if this is just a tri—”

“Hypnotize me,” Alastor snarls. “Make me answer truthfully.”

Vox doesn’t hesitate. “You will answer my questions truthfully for the next minute. Do you love me?”

“I do.”

Vox’s face glitches out momentarily, antennae sparking. It would be endearing, were Alastor not so stiff with nerves. “B-but you’re not in love with me?”

“I… don’t think so, no.”

“Why did you keep sharing your ruts with me?”

Alastor is grateful for the command pulling the truth from his mouth, because he doesn’t think he could articulate it otherwise. “I wanted to remain close to you. This seemed to be the only feasible way. Sex in exchange for…” The word makes his cheeks burn. “…intimacy.”

Vox’s hand hovers uncertainly around Alastor’s face. “You hated having sex with me, huh?”

“Yes. No. I—” He bites his lips. “It’s complicated. I find sex repulsive. I didn’t hate all of it, with you. But it’s not what I want from you.”

Vox’s voice goes very quiet. “...But you want me?”

Alastor leans into Vox’s palm, quivering. “I want you.”

Chapter Text

Vox thought he had discovered every shade of red possessed by his exquisite new prize… but then their bodies part, and he’s never been more delighted to be proven wrong.

Storms and seas, but that is almost as pretty as Alastor’s eyes! Vox’s nostrils flare as he grabs the fae’s ass and spreads him wider, ignoring his high-pitched protests.

Alastor’s abused entrance is a pretty cherry color, puffy and soft; and inside, it’s the deep red of garnet. Vox’s spend is still gushing out of him—the sight makes his chest rumble in pleasure—and he can see all the bumps that were embracing his cock so wonderfully just a minute ago. He prods at the swollen ring, gently, but it still earns him a pained hiss.

“L-let go of me, you beast!”

Vox has no wish to upset his new husband so quickly again. He lets go.

Alastor collapses. He closes his legs—but no matter how much it twitches, his pretty gaping hole remains open.

“Oh gods,” Alastor gasps. “Why can’t I…” His cheeks darken to a most fetching red. “I will murder you!”

Chuckling, Vox nuzzles against his mate’s head. “Rest, my jewel. You will need it.”

Chapter Text

“Tell me how you feel”, Vox says, staring intently into Alastor’s eyes.

“Sick. Disgusted.”

Oops. Rookie mistake. “Tell me how what I’m doing to you feels.”

Alastor bites his lips bloody in an attempt to hold back his answer—cute—but ultimately, the command is too strong. “Feels good.”

“Aw, you can do better than that. Be more precise. Descri—oh no, baby, no. Do not bite off your tongue.”

“H-hot and—slick,” Alastor pants. “Like I’m on… fire. It’s good, it’s too much, it’s not enough, I—fuck!”

“Attaboy.” Vox tightens his grip on Alastor’s hard cock and pumps faster, earning darling little whimpers. “It feels even better when I’m rough, doesn’t it? Answer me.”

“It—ah!—feels better.”

Vox’s free hand wanders lower. “How about your balls? Does it feel good when I touch them?”

“N-no.”

Vox pauses.

With some reluctance, he lets go of the soft and fuzzy sack and goes back to gripping Alastor’s waist—the way he likes it, with the tips of his claws digging into the skin.

He doesn’t want to make this miserable for Alastor. He cares! That’s why he’s so attentive, wanting to learn exactly what makes the deer’s body hot.

Chapter Text

“Vox. Vox.” Alastor shakes the man’s shoulders until his eyes flicker open. “Vox!”

“Mmmwuuuhh?”

“I’m hard,” he whispers, quite loudly.

“Co—haaaaahnnnn—congratulations.” After the poorly-timed yawn, Vox feels around for his whiskey glass. Then pauses. “Yuhh hard?” His gaze drops down to Alastor’s tented pants. “Ooooooh!”

Alastor giggles. “Wanna suck me off?”

“Fuck yeah!”

Alastor doesn’t like sex, but being delightfully sloshed in delightful company gets him in the mood, sometimes.

Vox works the opposite way. Even with Alastor having been draped over him for hours and now sitting in his lap with an erection, he can’t work up more than a half-chub.

He doesn’t seem bothered. His eyes are huge and fuzzy around the edges as Alastor pushes him lower in the armchair so he can line up his cock with Vox’s screen. It’s sloppy and uncoordinated, but scratches that insistent itch.

That is, until Vox passes out mid-blowjob.

Alastor growls. He’d keep going anyway, but tragically, Vox’s mouth has turned back into a projection. He ends up grinding his dick into Vox’s chest until he achieves the most lackluster orgasm of the decade.

“Remind me to bite you tomorrow,” he sniffs—and then he passes out, too.

Chapter Text

Vox has been leisurely feasting on Alastor’s pussy for some time, but it’s when he starts properly sucking on his clit that Alastor jolts. “W-wait, that’s—unsanitary.”

“I promise you it isn’t,” Vox mumbles happily into the deliciously wet cunt.

“No, it’s—dirty, it’s going to taste of urine!

Vox stops moving his mouth and glances up. He shelves the comment about how that would be the opposite of a problem for him—it’s too early to scandalize the deer—and instead addresses the more pressing issue. “You… think that’s where piss comes from?”

He knows Alastor is a virgin, and he knows he’s only had a cunt since arriving in Hell. But he’s lived with one for decades now! Surely, he knows…?

“What do you mean, I ‘think’?” Alastor’s flushed face scrunches up adorably. “The anatomy is rather clear, I should think!”

Vox tries, so hard, not to laugh. But it was always doomed to fail: he ends up snorting into Alastor’s pussy.

…with enough force that the deer gasps, back arching off the bed and legs tightening around Vox’s boxy head as he comes with a static-laden moan.

Oh god. Oh god, Vox is going to eat him.

Chapter Text

“Ewwwww, get your filthy mouth off me!”

“Vel! Don’t be rude! And you. You promised you’d behave!”

Alastor tilts his head innocently.

“I don’t want him to give me a disease!”

“That’s a myth! A cannibal’s mouth isn't any dirtier than ours. Cleaner, in fact! Think about it: they’d contaminate their own meat if it was full of bacteria.”

Patently untrue.

“No kiss for me?” Valentino purrs while Vox and Velvette continue bickering. “It’s not like I’m unfamiliar with your nasty ass taste.”

“If I have to put up with tasting your disgusting saliva on him sometimes, you can do the same.”

“Hmm. So you’re saying we should cut the middleman and just swap spit directly?”

Alastor shudders.

“I don’t want him sitting next to me. He stinks.”

“You’re exaggerating.”

“Babe, I can smell the swamp on him! He probably hasn’t showered in a month!”

Correct.

“He does bathe regularly! We always take baths together when I’m over, c’mon, Vel.”

Yes. Unfortunately, Vox enjoys activities that leave Alastor’s body filthy.

He sips from his cup and says nothing.

“You were right: this was fun,” Alastor tells a tired-looking Vox at the end of the day. “We must do it again!”

Chapter Text

"Vox, don’t you dare—”

Vox zaps into the electric lines.

Vel doesn’t get it—it’s okay, Vox will fix the company finances, but this was an EMERGENCY! He needed to win the Vbay auction, and now he needs to get there asap.

Hopping out of a light fixture, he immediately curses.

The place has been completely torn down. There’s a mangled corpse on the floor, and behind it, the blood-soaked figure of Alastor.

In his hand is a survivor of the ’92 Lovely Radio Demon custom plush line: they were on the market only for thirty minutes before Alastor descended upon the creator. The guy was a parrot sinner who could mimic voices, and he made the dolls say two lines: I love you! and You are SO sexy!

“Oh? Why am I not surprised to see you here.”

“Alastor!” Vox growls, eyes zeroed in on the doll. (It’s got blush spots on its cheeks, fuck, it’s even cuter in real life.) “That’s mine, I paid for it! Give it—”

Alastor squeezes to doll. It starts to speak—but the words distort into garbled nonsense as green flames go up around its shape and start melting it into nothing.

“NOOOOOOOOO!”

Chapter Text

“Have you ever fucked Vox?”

Angel sputters. Before he can do more than open his mouth, Husk hisses, “Don’t answer him.”

There’s no safe answer. And Alastor’s reactions are even more unpredictable when he’s high as a kite.

“Why?” the man asks petulantly. “It’s reasonable to wonder! And it’s not like Angel’s a gentleman who never tells. He’s been going on and on about his—hic—paramours!”

Husk shouldn’t be surprised that this is where Alastor’s thoughts apparently went. Three sort-of-friends drinking late into the night, playing card games, doing drugs… He was reminded of the old days, too.

“Have you?” Angel asks instead.

Alastor giggles. “Ha! He wishes!” But his laugh drops within a minute. He turns on the couch, facing away. When he next speaks, his voice is surprisingly quiet. “He made the funniest sounds. Greedy, greedy, greedy.”

Shit. Alastor in this mood is dangerous. Not in the moment—but when he sobers up and remembers.

Just as he’s trying to come up with a topic to distract him, the demon sits up with such abruptness Angel and Husk both jolt.

“Why are we talking about that insufferable scrap metal? Angel, I don’t care. Give me more weed!”

Chapter Text

“You should have let me stay dead.”

“Don’t say that,” Vox says roughly.

Why? Alastor doesn’t feel alive in this artificial body that might look the part but feels wrong in every manner. He wants to scream.

“Your survivor instincts have always been so strong. And… And you’re free! Alastor—the body, I mean; the soul that was owned—is gone. As a copy, you haven’t inherited the debt. Have you thought of that?”

Alastor stops breathing.

He’s a mere copy. A copy. Can he even call himself Alastor?

“Also.” Vox suddenly looks sheepish. “I made it so you’re more like me. No genitals, that is—unless you choose to attach something. Thought you’d like that.”

Alastor’s hand shoots between his legs. Indeed, he cannot feel anything beneath his fingers.

Despite his trepidation, there’s a small burst of gratitude in his chest. He’s always envied Vox for this.

Vox pulls him into a careful hug. Alastor lets him. “Look, I… I know it’s awful. But… give it time? Please?”

“Promise me,” Alastor whispers. “Promise me that you’ll destroy me or let me destroy myself if I can’t get used to it.”

Vox hesitates. “…I promise.”

Alastor pretends to believe him.

Chapter Text

Alastor whines beautifully when Vox zaps him, fat cock drooling precome against his belly. Vox’s cunt throbs at the sight.

“Say you want me to ride you.”

“I—I want you to—” Alastor chokes when Vox starts rubbing his pussy against him. “Fuck. R-ride me, please!”

“You are so fucking perfect,” Vox growls, and sinks down on Alastor’s cock.

He really is. All his afterlife, Vox had been told he was too mouthy, too independent, too ambitious. A bad omega.

Then he met Alastor.

He mistook him for a fellow omega at first. Alastor is unlike all the sex-crazed alphas Vox’s had the misfortune of knowing; hell, he doesn’t even like sex! But when they do fuck, he lets Vox have complete control. He has no desire to overpower Vox outside of his yearly ruts, and even those feel more like a concession on Vox’s part than true submission.

He comes twice before his control slips. “Knot me, baby,” he pants. “You’ve been such a good boy, holding back for me. Now give it to me!”

Alastor sobs as he spills, and the near-painful swell inside him makes Vox shudder through his third orgasm.

“Perfect,” he repeats against Alastor’s lips.

Chapter Text

“Why don’t we continue this elsewhere, sweetcheeks? I’m really feline a connection here.”

Vox giggles. Alastor considers if he can get away with murdering the other overlord without appearing jealous. Which he isn’t.

“What, no ‘cat got your tongue’?”

Husk leans so disgustingly close his whiskers brush Vox’s screen. “I mean… yours does look very enticing.”

“As I was saying,” Alastor forces out through a stiff smile, “Vox and I are busy!”

“Hey, if you don’t want me to flirt, don’t bring such a cutie to my establishment. Everyone knows your guests are never dates.”

“Contrary to what the majority of Hell’s population seems to think, the world does not revolve around fucking,” Alastor growls. “We’re having a night out, Husker, and you are intruding!”

Husk’s casino is a wonderful resource for finding people drunk or desperate enough to risk their souls. It’d have been such fun to show Vox around! But this mangy stray had to ruin it.

“Al is right,” Vox says, sobering up. “He’s my friend; I’d be the biggest asshole if I left now. Sorry.”

Some sense at last! Alastor’s smile turns pleased and smug.

Until Vox adds, “Why don’t we raincheck tomorrow?”

What? ABSOLUTELY NOT!

Chapter Text

When Vox finally notices that Val has entered his gooner cave, he yelps and collapses the windows—but not fast enough.

“Has he never heard of a razor?” Val muses, mouth curling in distaste.

Vox gasps in outrage. “SHUT YOUR WHORE MOUTH!”

“You can’t see anything under that rainforest! Watching a bitch’s clit and hole twitch is half the fun!”

“I see enough. And don’t talk about Alastor’s pussy, oh my god.”

“I’m not saying go completely bald,” Val continues, ignoring the interjection, “some fuzz is nice. But you gotta put more effort into it! Trim it down, free the lips at least. Shape a nice V into the mound.” He shudders, suddenly remembering some truly nauseating clients from the past. “That much hair is neither sexy, nor hygienic. You can’t eat their cunt without choking on stray hair, and I bet it smells all funky from sweat and piss.”

Vox is suspiciously quiet. Val glances down—and rolls his eyes when he sees the giant tent in his slacks.

“Ugh.” He pushes himself away from the console and starts for the door. He no longer wants a quicky from Vox. “Remind me never to kiss you after deer dates.”

Chapter Text

The Shadow giggles as it watches its Master drag Vox’s pajama pants down. The Radio Demon’s eyes are open, but his expression is completely vacant.

Most people just wander in their homes when sleepwalking.

The Master goes to fuck their Lightbox.

(Granted, most people don’t have a sentient shadow they share sensation with masturbating for hours to facilitate this exact outcome, but that’s irrelevant.)

Their Lightbox is a heavy sleeper when powered down: he sleeps through the Master blowing him, jolting awake only when the Master sinks down onto his cock and starts bouncing on it. The Shadow’s been expecting this: it slithers to the bed and covers Vox’s mouth to stop him from waking up the Master with his yelps.

Wide eyes stare up at him, and the Shadow grins, letting go only when Vox calms down. This isn’t the first time this has happened; it won’t be the last.

Vox is gawking at the Master, teeth worrying his lower lip in an attempt to muffle his sounds. Taking pity on him, the Shadow manifests a cock and guides it into Vox’s mouth.

The Shadow caused this—it might as well be responsible and help their Lightbox keep quiet.

Chapter Text

Vox could watch Alastor choke on his fingers all day.

The man’s sex repulsion is tricky to work around. He’s fine with indulging Vox sometimes, but he rarely tolerates touch, and never completely naked.

Fortunately, he’s got the biggest oral fixation Vox has ever seen.

The needy whine Alastor lets out when Vox removes his fingers is nothing short of electrifying. Vox laps at the frothy spit covering his claws and drinks in the sight: red eyes hazy, cheeks flushed, lips swollen… God, Vox wants to fuck him SO badly, but what he wants the most is Alastor’s lust—and this is the way to get him there.

He pushes his fingers back into that slick, welcoming heat. “Suck.”

Alastor rushes to obey with a moan. Vox lets him slobber like that for a few minutes, then adds a third finger and starts fucking his mouth, fast and brutal, like he’s intending on shoving his whole fist in there. Alastor whimpers, gazing up at Vox with pretty, tear-filled eyes, and it takes him no time at all to shudder through an orgasm.

Even when Alastor’s mouth falls open on wet gasps, Vox keeps pressing down on his tongue.

“Good boy.”

Chapter Text

A soft “Oh, baby” coming from the bathroom signals when Vox notices the blood-soaked sheets in the laundry. A moment later, the bedroom door opens. The mattress dips as Vox sits down beside him.

“Bad day, huh?”

Nodding, Alastor presses closer. Vox gets the memo: he lies down and pulls Alastor in, petting his ears, his back, pressing kisses into his hair. Eventually, he dips a hand between Alastor’s naked thighs and gingerly feels around.

“Really bad day,” he observes as he gently—so gently—brushes his fingertips over the fresh stitches.

Yes. Alastor purged everything today.

Soon, Vox has his head between Alastor’s spread legs, kissing and licking at the burning incisions, the intact yet sensitive skin around them. In the past, he refused to touch him when Alastor got like this, but he knows better now: Alastor craves this sort of affection on bad days.

“I wish I could make it so you’re more like me,” Vox murmurs. “Simply take everything off whenever you feel like this.”

Wouldn’t that be nice.

He eats Alastor out, careful but undeterred, and Alastor doesn’t quite come—the throbbing pain is too intense even for him—but it does make him settle.

Chapter Text

Alastor has never been in love. Didn’t think himself capable. Deep friendships, absolutely—but romantic love? Never.

Then Vox happened.

He’s aware of Vox’s promiscuous nature. The man is a natural flirt—though he hasn’t pressed Alastor for anything since being rejected early on, even when Alastor knows he still desires him. Vox’s need for sexual pleasure could pose a problem, but… maybe if they kept their relationship open? Alastor has no qualms about Vox continuing to satisfy his sexual urges with his myriad of casual partners. He doesn’t want Vox’s body; he wants his heart.

So he gathers up his courage and tells him.

“Oh, Al,” Vox says after an uncomfortably long pause, his expression as pained as his voice. “Look, I don’t… You are SO important to me. But… I can’t really. Do romance.”

Alastor lets out a wet laugh. Vox can’t return his love, and Alastor can’t stomach the idea of sleeping with him. How tragically fitting.

After a moment of hesitation, Vox puts an arm around him—and even though he’s horrifically embarrassed and heartbroken, Alastor lets himself be pulled in.

“What a pair we are,” he whispers.

“Yeah,” Vox breathes—and he sounds regretful, too.

Chapter Text

Vox knew he was going to regret the deal even before he shook Alastor’s hand.

But he wanted it too much. Even if he’s contractually obligated to delete all his memories of the encounter and forbidden from creating backups, there was no chance of him rejecting the opportunity to finally have Alastor.

It feels like coming home.

Vox is good at sex: it’s no wonder he can make Alastor’s body flush with heat.

Alastor isn’t supposed to be good at sex, though. At least, not with him. And yet he strokes Vox’s cock with the precise strength and speed he enjoys; dips his fingers into Vox’s vents just right; shows no reaction to the static in his bodily fluids.

The feeling of wrongness grows and grows, until—

“How many times have we fucked?”

Alastor freezes.

“How many times,” Vox snarls, “have we indulged your curiosity?”

Can he really feel betrayed? If he apparently agreed to it every single time?

Clearly.

When no response comes, Vox growls and resumes slamming himself into the man—as mean and punishing as he can make it. “You’re a fucking coward, Alastor.”

A choked sound, claws digging into his back… and still, Alastor says nothing.

Chapter Text

“Are you fucking pissing on me?!” Vox growls in outrage and arousal.

He is. Vox shudders as the hot stream splatters against his bared ass and thighs, coating him in Alastor’s pheromones. His instincts have been demanding that he tear apart the alpha who dared to mount him, and being filthily scent marked like some omega just pushes him further into alpha rage.

Unsurprisingly, his dick is rock hard.

The second Alastor is done pissing, Vox turns around, electrocutes him, and tackles him to the ground. Alastor snarls, but doesn’t bite off the cock Vox shoves into his mouth.

An omega would never be able take the brutal skullfucking Vox subjects Alastor to—not without a dislocated jaw, at least—but hey, that’s why they’re both here. Alastor’s claws shred his thighs into ribbons, but Vox’s dominance feels sufficiently reasserted when he floods the man’s throat with so much come it spurts out of his nostrils.

If only he could knot that always-grinning mouth! It sucks that alphas can’t pop knots without omega pheromones.

“Fuck, I needed that,” Vox gasps as he collapses next to his spluttering rival.

Glaring, Alastor kicks him in the kidney—which tells Vox he agrees.

Chapter Text

Alastor’s smile stiffens. “What?”

“Are you such a fossil you’ve gone deaf? No, I’m not interested.”

Fuck. He was banking on Vox accepting. Why wouldn’t he? The only condition was that he not kill Alastor permanently!

“May I inquire why?” he asks, swallowing back his rising panic.

“I know it’s not sex that you really want,” Vox scoffs. “I dunno what your game is, but I’m not playing.”

Sex is precisely what Alastor wants! Or rather: he wants it on his own terms. Every time She touches him, a part of him dies, and he knows, he knows it’s only a matter of time before She takes things further. Before She follows through Her promise and has one of her guards—

“Don’t act like you haven’t always wanted me,” Alastor hisses.

Vox’s expression darkens. “Fuck you! Newsflash, asshole: the world doesn’t revolve around you! I’ve moved on—”

“Not from me.”

“Yes, from you!” Vox bellows. “Does a part of me still want you? Sure. But I don’t NEED you.” He takes a step back and smooths down his shirt. “My answer is no, Alastor. If you want to fuck that bad, go pick someone up at a bar. Good day.”

Chapter Text

Vox isn’t entirely surprised when three days later, he spots Alastor’s distorted form at a bar located in the entertainment district, chatting with someone.

He’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. For Alastor to drop the act and reveal what he’s really after. But as Vox follows the pair through various feeds, it never happens. Alastor lets the man take him home. And undress him. And push him down the bed. And press his dick to his ass. And—

Vox bursts out of the man’s laptop, drags him off Alastor and slices his throat.

Alastor reeks of booze. His eyes are glassy, antlers elongated, limbs shaking. (Vox glances at his reddened ass and soft dick, and his chest does weird things.)

“V-Vox? I thought… Is it done? It was so qui—”

“What the fuck do you want? Truly?”

Silence.

“Alastor!” he snaps.

Alastor curls up. “I just. Don’t want her to take more from me.”

“What? Who?”

“…It doesn’t matter.”

It does; Vox knows that with absolute certainty.

Shrugging off his jacket, he drapes it over Alastor’s shivering form before carefully gathering him up. “Try not to throw up,” he mutters—and jumps into the electric lines with him.

Chapter Text

Vox’s heart somersaults pathetically when Alastor comes out of the bathroom wearing his baby blue PJs, hair damp and some color finally back on his cheeks. He pauses when he sees Vox sitting on the bed, but gets in anyway.

“Are you going to fuck me?”

“No.”

Alastor’s lips fucking wobble. “Right. You don’t want me anymore.”

Oh, for— “I do, idiot. But I’m not gonna let you use me.” Alastor doesn’t react, so Vox presses. “Who is ‘she’? You said she’s been taking things from you. Based on your behavior, I assume… sexually?”

Alastor’s ears flatten completely. And that’s… Okay. Okay.

There’s really only one explanation for why he’d let the perpetrator live, let alone allow it to keep happening—and it’s so insane, so earth-shattering that Vox finds he cannot entertain it right now. “Scoot over.”

Alastor blinks. “Are you going to—”

“No.” Then, softer: “We’ll discuss it tomorrow. If you’re willing to actually talk to me.”

His breath catches when Alastor shifts closer. His fingers curl into Vox’s nightshirt, and even without skin-to-skin contact, Vox gets ridiculously warm from it. “It’s… hard. Opening up.”

Vox exhales, hope and fear mingling in his chest. “Yeah. It really is.”

Chapter Text

Two gorgeous overlords lying on their backs and presenting their wet cunts to him has to be the sexiest thing Angel’s ever seen.

Al’s been floating for a while. He likes consistency, so Angel keeps a reliable rhythm with his smacks.

Vox needs more. He whines like a petulant child when Angel ‘misses’ his pussy for the fourth time, hitting his inner thigh instead. “Come onnnn!”

Oh, he’s delicious like this. “Yes, sweetcheeks?” He waits until Vox opens his mouth, then gives his swollen clit a mean pinch.

The sound Vox lets out stirs Alastor. “Vox…?”

“T-tell Angel to spank me properly!”

“…He knows what he’s doing.”

“Aw,” Angel coos. “I do!”

He starts fingering Alastor with his bottom left hand while continuing the steady smacks with his top left, earning an adorable bleat; at the same time, he shifts to the right and shoves his cock into Vox’s slick hole.

“Oh! I—I wanted—oh fuck!”

“I know what ya need, baby.”

Three rough thrusts followed by one hard slap to his plump pussy; rinse and repeat. Soon, Vox is scrambling to hold Alastor’s hand—cute—and Angel grins, eager to see how long he can drag this out.

Chapter Text

“Sir, your presence is required for the—oh! Um…”

“No,” Vox says without lifting his face from Alastor’s cunt. “I had my afternoon cleared.”

“But it’s an urge—”

“Is it urgent? Really? Needing my immediate attention?” Vox licks a broad stripe over puffy folds; Alastor whimpers.

“…No.”

“Then get the fuck out.”

The door closes, and Alastor makes a miserable sound when Vox immediately goes back to fervently eating his cunt.

They’ve been at this for hours. Every orgasm Vox coaxes from him hurts more than the preceding one. He didn’t stop even when Alastor warned him that he had to piss: just leered, doubled his efforts, and eventually licked him through that mess, too.

He wishes Vox would just fuck him. That’d be less overwhelming than this.

“V-Vox, please,” he begs. Vox likes him begging. “It h-hurts.”

“Sorry, baby,” Vox mumbles into him. “I haven’t seen you for three days—I’ll eat my fill of your pussy whether you like it or not.”

Fuck. Alastor knew his short-lived peace granted by the conference wouldn’t be worth it.

Vox gives his swollen clit a wet kiss, then pushes his tongue inside him—and Alastor sobs, hoping he’ll pass out soon.

Chapter Text

Vox refills their glasses (spilling a truly appalling amount onto the counter, oops) then makes his way back to the living room, very proud of himself when he only runs into the wall twice.

He finds Alastor on the floor, half sprawled out on top of the television he’s somehow managed to topple over, both of his arms wound around it… and pressing loud smacking kisses to its screen.

“A-Alastor?!” Vox shrieks, dropping the glasses.

“Don’t yell,” Alastor slurs in-between pecks. “I know you’ve been—hic!—kissing this.” He frowns. “Wanting this, I mean. Kisses!” Giggling, he plants another loud one on the TV.

Holy shit. Holy shit, Alastor is—he finally decided to—but he—?!

“THAT’S NOT ME!” Vox drags Alastor off the device and turns him around. “Kiss ME, you asshole!”

“Hmm? Oh, hello!” Alastor nuzzles into Vox’s neck—cute!—and smooches the side of his casing.

“Not there,” Vox whines. “Al, please, you can’t be fucking with me like this.”

“Why are you complaining? You got so—hic!—so many already.”

“Kiss me!”

“Hmm. No, I’ve had enough.” He pushes Vox off, sits up, then slowly blinks at him with foggy eyes. “Did you get more booze?”

Chapter Text

Vox’s shark cunt does taste fishy.

Alastor decides he likes it.

He licks at the tiny opening nestled between two adorable claspers, and soon, Vox is a blabbering mess, pelvic fins fluttering rapidly. “Al, please, fuck me! I need—”

Alastor glances at the tiny, twitching hole. “I don’t think my cock would fit in here.” He’s not a large man; it’s just a really tiny hole.

Vox gulps. “Yeah, it’s—not really meant for dicks. Fucking Hell punishments, right? Claspers too small to fuck, cloaca too small to be fucked… But it’s not so bad nowadays! I’m used to tearing, it won’t be that bad if you go slow. And I’m not a pussy, I can take some pain for—”

Alastor’s eyes darken at the implications. “I have no wish to hurt you, darling.”

“But—I don’t want to stop,” Vox mutters. “Please?”

“I didn’t say anything about stopping.”

He summons a small tentacle, thinner than two fingers, and Vox gasps when he carefully slides it into him. “Oh, that’s—! That’s perfect. But—But you…?”

His Picture Box is so sweet. “I can feel it. Don’t worry, dear.”

Only faintly, but that’s fine. Alastor isn’t doing this for physical pleasure.