voxfawn
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Summary
Alastor leans forward. “What do we say when we want something?”
“Please, sir?" Vox asks. "Please can I eat?”
“How would you do so with your hands tied? I don’t see a dog bowl for you to eat from, either.”
“Please let me eat from your hand, sir.”
“Oh, alright,” Alastor says. He’s smiling. “I suppose you’ve earned it.”
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Vox gets a reward, but it quickly turns sour when he forgets who's in charge.
Series
- Part 2 of lapdog vox
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"Thank you for hurting me, sir."
“Oh, you’re welcome, pet,” Alastor says. He pets over Vox’s head. “Aren’t you lucky? To have someone so dedicated to caring for you?”
Vox nods eagerly. Sometimes when he gets hurt it’s for correction. When he doesn’t listen or move quickly enough. When he fails to describe the pain properly, or when he doesn’t cry how Alastor wants. But other times it’s just for Alastor’s fun.
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Vox is such a lucky lapdog. He's so grateful Alastor owns his soul.
Series
- Part 1 of lapdog vox
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Summary
“So, tell me more. When you saw me at the bar — I mean, was it an instant thing? Like, did you look at me and just know?” Vincent stopped himself. “Or, wait! You had to observe me first, didn't you? That seems more like your style. And those police reports – pretty colourful execution methods! Really gives you a thrill, reading about them… Did you start flipping through your mental catalogue, when you saw me?”
“Don’t flatter yourself,” Alastor said. “I supposed I would kill you the same way I kill any other man.”
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It's not Alastor's first time holding a man hostage and threatening to murder him. He's just not sure why this one is so excited about it.
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Summary
Vox reaches over. Her movements are slow, hesitant. If Alastor were to wake up, she’d probably rip Vox’s head off by reflex without even opening her eyes. But Vox is greedy, and covetous. And she needs this. She needs it, alright?
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Vox and Allie have a sleepover.
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