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Vox knocks again, this time with an urgency that demands attention, a threat that the door was coming down if he wasn't being let in. It's been half a year into this partnership, and Valentino has proven time and time again to be more trouble than he's worth; late for their meetings, flaky on his promises, unreliable, hard to get in touch with, and above all a fucking pain in the neck to work with. He was supposed to meet Vox two hours ago to discuss the next stage of siphoning clients off of Grimshaw, and the man was completely MIA.
"Valentino!" Vox shouts, his voice warping from frustration.
"I'll give you to the count of five."
Static discharges off his antennae, his CRT only able to hold so much energy before it felt like a bulb was going to burst.
"One...dos....tres-"
He doesn't get further, mostly because he realizes his condescending, poorly pronounced use of Spanish is going unheard, and goes to slam into the door only to find himself nearly toppling right over at how easily it opened. It apparently wasn't even locked. His screen glitches as he finds his footing, managing to not fall right forward with his top-heavy load, though he was taking a quick look around to make sure no one saw his stumble.
The room is dimly lit, corner-to-corner string lights giving it the ‘inviting’ glow of a red light district. The wafting smell of cherry liqueur and cigarette smoke would be lost on Vox, but he could see the haze of it. In the center of the room was a chaise lounge, stitched in various places along the upholstery, with an armrest that was covered in cigarette burns. Upon it was a dark figure, draped in red velvet with legs nearly too long to lay fully against the considerably large piece of furniture.
Vox approaches with a grimace, glowering at the mess on the floor. Dozens of empty containers of booze, an overflowing ashtray, unlabelled pill bottles, and conspicuous wrappers scattered haphazardly across the stained zebra-print shag rig. The ornate, but seemingly secondhand, coffee table was turned over, broken glass scattered and refracting the red light in the room in different directions.
Looks like Valentino had been out on another bender, something that Vox was learning was a common occurrence. He groans and pushes his hands over his screen to silently scream, then mentally counts down from ten so as not to rip the man from the couch and violently shake him.
Why the fuck was he trying so hard to make this work when this bastard didn't seem to give a shit about anything they were trying to do? It's like he was perfectly fine rotting in this cesspool! If his powers weren't so valuable to his plans...
Vox sighs.
Might as well make sure he was still alive.
"Valentino." He says the name like a disappointed parent, going to shove the heel of his dress shoe against the unmoving lump. He yields under the pressure and shifts right back into place. Vox feels a start in his chest. Well, shit.
Was he dead?
"Valentino!" He grabs his broad shoulder now, pulling him towards himself and forcing him to flip from his side and onto his back.
Valentino's face comes into view, completely unconscious with his mouth open. Potent, pink venom was dripping down his chin, his fluffy antennae flowing backwards from where they'd been shielding Val's eyes from the gentle light in the room. There was a grumble and then a soft snore which left Vox exhaling in relief.
Alright. Not dead, at least.
Reviewing the mess here, Vox tries to assess what the fuck he was supposed to do. Maybe he could just throw the oversized insect into an ice cold bath, that might work. His eyes fall on a couple of needles on the side table, sitting on top of some dirty magazines and next to a bedazzled handgun, which has Vox express a breathy laugh.
And for a minute he finds himself asking why Val was drugging himself into a coma.
He looks back to his partner and finds his wings had unfurled in the shift, now draping like a blanket over the front of the couch towards the floor and revealing his lilac frame. He is wearing a pearly sheer open button-up, stained with sweat and dried blood, his impressive torso on full display with his jewelry glinting just enough to draw Vox’s eyes to dark colored heart-shaped nipples. Vox frowns and turns towards him, not necessarily intending to stare...
Valentino isn't exactly modest. Or possesses any sort of shame. Or dignity, for that matter. Vox supposes he couldn't blame him; not everyone hit the Hell jackpot of having a body that wasn't completely fucking disgusting or a curse to tote around. It took him years to figure out how to properly pilot this one.
Slack-jawed, streaked with sweat, drooling, the luxurious fur-like setae around his collar sticking up and out of place. Valentino didn't currently possess the stunning centerfold pinup energy he usually did and it left Vox wondering how many demons had the opportunity to see him in such a state and get to live. The thought prompts a smile to his screen, carefully approaching to take in the slope of his stomach dipping from his broad chest, following the natural line from his sternum to the white fluff dusting his lower abdomen above the waistline of his tight black panties.
No pants. But Valentino is still wearing his boots. Always wearing his boots. Even during the late nights in Vox's office, or after a battle that left him soaked in viscera. Valentino presents himself like an open book, but Vox notices so many reservations that maybe Val himself isn't aware of.
Cyan triangular pupils wander further in quiet admiration as Vox realizes he can get away with as much ogling as he wants. His line of vision falls across the man's groin and he can't help but focus on the lack of a rise there. No visible bulge, nothing but feather soft scales poking out from the scant amount of fabric he had on. It left Vox perplexed...all of Valentino's bragging about his massive dick couldn't be a lie. Not when Vox had seen plenty of men and women leaving his quarters with their thighs streaked and their gait unstable.
And Vox couldn’t fathom the idea that Valentino just carries a strap on him.
Curiosity gnawed at his circuits and he took another look around the room, just in case there was some whore or errant pool boy hiding somewhere in the flat. Vox moves closer, shooting a look at Val's face to make sure the man is still unconscious and is assured by the heavy breaths of deep sleep that are difficult to fake.
He stands right beside the couch and slowly crouches, one knee pressing into the cushion next to Valentino's hip, being mindful not to crease his wing.
At this distance, Vox can better see the sculpt of his front, his narrow waist,and those long legs that went on for miles. It's funny how your perception of what's attractive warps when you're surrounded by monsters. Vox himself was considered highly attractive as a human...all he could see when coming to Hell was a freak in the mirror. It was a bit annoying how natural it seems to be for Valentino to exude his new body's sex appeal. Vox would argue it was all in the pheromones he put out, but here he was, completely immune to the man's power and yet stunned by his visage.
He is pretty sure this was the exact kind of image that sparked inspiration in renaissance artists, back in times when you couldn't capture a moment with a snapshot or a recording. It made Vox reel with desire to steal the image away to keep for himself because he could, but maybe he should follow Val's own advice and try living in the moment for once.
Claw tips gently graze across Valentino's low belly, sliding over the thin stretch of fabric that formed the gusset of his underwear before settling between his thighs and pressing. Instantly Vox feels pressure behind his screen and warmth spreads to heat up the glass.
"Fuck." He mutters, gliding investigative claws up to make sure he's really registering the folds of flesh just under the surface of this thin barrier. It's absolutely a pussy, with a specific dip that maybe starts a little further up Val's pelvis than what would be considered normal. Vox's heart is hammering in his chest and all he can think is that he needs to see it right now.
One more assuring glance to make sure Valentino is still out cold before Vox moves to get a better position. He raises one of Valentino's legs, holding it up so he can duck underneath it as if he were trespassing onto a chained-off lot. Nestling between the two spindly limbs and settling on the couch, somehow managing even with Valentino taking up ninety percent of the space. He pushes the man’s other leg up to have either of Val's knees on his shoulders. It gives him a perfect view of his coveted inseam and causes Vox’s blood pressure to skyrocket, suddenly far too warm in his turtleneck and coat.
Val is as limp as a rag doll as Vox slips one claw under the elastic band, carefully making the long passage across his thighs. He has to raise his legs above his head to successfully remove them. Once off, Vox lets one of Val's legs rest on the back of the couch and the other fall to the floor so he could get a decent spread, and wow, it does not disappoint.
Vox's monitor brightens to illuminate the sight, glowing to highlight a perfect slit between Valentino's thighs, covered in soft, downy scales. The position of his legs causes the folds to stretch and Vox receives a view of flushed inner flesh, wet and shiny, and far too inviting.
The sinner’s powers did not work on him. He was sent to Hell with no ability to smell or taste, confined to the restraints of whatever this bulky head allowed. But more than ever did the curse burn at his core as he desperately yearns to inhale him and partake in that high that he sees even iron-willed demons succumb to. He leans forward, mouth slightly open with his ghostly tongue just barely visible, as if maybe he could imitate a flehmen response and get the feedback he so desired. It feels like it is just beyond his reach. So frustratingly close, like so many things in his afterlife. Everything around him is beyond this cage of leaded glass that he’s trapped behind.
Swallowing, Vox moves his hand again, claws gently tapping just outside his labia and sliding from the bottom up to watch the muscle slowly react. Valentino is still motionless and useless, gone from this world, no longer in control of this body. Vox is sure he wouldn't mind if he just borrowed it while he's out. He seems content to put it out on loan for the masses, why shouldn’t he get to partake?
Uncomfortably hard in his slacks, Vox lets himself rub against the inseam of them as he begins to slide one finger inside of his blacked out partner. Valentino runs hot, his body a warm bath he's dipping into and despite the lack of foreplay or evidence of arousal, he takes his digit so easily, swallowing him up even and leaving Vox panting as he is effortlessly up to the knuckle inside of him. It was almost like he didn’t even need to push.
Just like that.
That easily.
Vox vibrates in his seat, his fans revving and whirring at top speed as all of the blood in his body rushes to pool between his legs.
"Ohhhfuck" Vox strains, knowing he was getting way ahead of himself, able to feel the sun threatening to melt his candle wax wings. "Fuck. Shit. Fuuuuuuuck"
He doesn't stop though, rocking the digit back and forth as slow as he can go and listening for the subtle changes in Val's breathing patterns. The deep slumbering exhales become a little higher pitched, a tad shorter, mingling with a hum. Vox wonders what he's invoking in his dream. His own breath gets ragged. He wonders if he could make him dream of him.
"Valentino..." He speaks as smoothly as he can manage while trying not to come in his pants. "I knew you were a whore. But– haha. I mean, fuck, you took my entire claw without a fuss. You're not even horny, but you were ready for me.”
Vox tugs at his collar, swearing he could feel steam rising from the cable-knit fabric.
He pulls his finger loose, streaking with translucent rose colored fluids that cling to Valentino's cunt. Vox is panting harder than Valentino is, probably getting too into the dirty talk as he watches the other's chest rise and fall with more fervor.
By Lucifer’s wings. He really was beautiful.
Vox brings his sullied finger to his screen, making a frustrated noise as, yet again, he is met with no smell at all. Just when he thought he was over the loss of the sense. It truly felt like fucking Hell right now as he didn't even get a hint of what it was that drove sinners insane for the man.
With a look of concentration and his tongue gradually poking out, Vox deeply considers this a moment before breaking through his reservations to shove the filthy finger into his mouth in hopes that maybe he could at least taste him. Alas, the poison only fizzles out on his plasmic tongue, burning up and filtering into his CRT, leaving him snarling.
His hatred for his existence was broken by a soft whine, causing his eyes to go huge and his pupils nearly dilate into full circles as they flit down to see Valentino arching beneath with a pouting look. He freezes in place, finger still in his mouth and a stupid dumbstruck, deer-in-headlights, look about him as the man writhes and shifts to only sigh and flop back into deep sleep.
Vox cautiously moves his hand to grip Val's thigh and watches him shudder. When his line of vision casts back down, he is greeted with something long, wet, and decidedly phallic spilling forth from between Valentino's legs.
"Whatthefuck."
At the start of Valentino's slit was now protruding a dark rosy ovipositor that Vox could only presume was his cock, twitching in the cold air beaded with precum that was the same color as his venom. It was roughly five inches and pointed slightly downward from the vent that it was usually tucked inside, blossoming out like the stamen of an exotic flower, dripping sweet nectar.
"H...hah...hah...so is that why your torso is so long?" Vox tries to joke into the quiet, his hand hovering just above the other.
"You look so needy."
He grimaces at himself.
Valentino had come onto him countless times. Vox never really took it seriously, inferring it as more like the man was being an asshole, trying to fluster him or take him off guard. Vox rejected him, obviously, not about to be made a fool of or mocked. It was easy to just call Valentino a faggot and flip him off for it as Val laughed his way out the door while Vox watched his ass sway on the way out.
'I know you're curious.' He could hear him, his body too close, wrinkling the important papers on his desk, messing with his signal by twiddling with his sensitive antenna. It was so ingrained in his memory he was pretty much just playing it back in his mind like a recording.
'I'd be slow and gentle. Make you feel things you didn't know existed. Make you forget every worry you have. Empty that pretty head of yours of all that static until you can't think of anything except how incredible you feel. I can bring you as close as you'll ever get to heaven.'
Adrenaline charges Vox, revving him up as he draws on the masturbation fantasy he had that night. He undoes the buckle of his belt, urgently following it up by undoing his pants and groaning low in his throat at the relief of his cock finally springing forth from the confines of his pants, the silicone tip a bright blue and casting an aquarium-like glow across Valentino's wet pussy and ruby red dick.
"You've been practically begging me to fuck you since the day we met." Vox grunts, lining himself up with fervency, getting somewhat careless in his own desire.
Valentino owed him for all the transgressions. The missed deadlines, his failure to secure payloads, his smart mouth when they were trying to make deals with other overlords, the way he would lean on his desk and get close enough to blow smoke in his eyes or sit too close to him when they go for a drink, bumping his heel against his and taking sips off his scotch glass to leave the ghost of his kiss where Vox would not even get to taste what was left behind.
If the repaid debt was to be a place to take out his frustrations for him, then so be it.
"Maybe I need to finally just give in. The least you can do is be a warm place for me to pump my cum into when all you do is fuck up everything I'm trying to pull together. It's all anyone else sees you as: a whore. Not sure why I thought you were anything more!"
Vox drives his dick into him and the pleasure is instant, ratcheting up his body and giving him an insane head rush. He goes to grab the couch, clawing into Valentino's wings in the process as he fucks into him, every single push forward feeling like he was on the cusp of an orgasm which results in him having to agonizingly force himself into slow, steady motions.
Valentino moans beneath him now, drawn out but still quiet, held just under the surface of lucidity by the weight of a drug-induced stupor that kept him mostly comatose. While his mind is unable to properly react, his body is more than capable. Valentino's swelling cock edges out more with each thrust, spurting bits of cum until he is fully erect at over a foot long, taut and bouncing against his belly towards his chest.
Vox grabs hold of it, stroking the middle as he indulges in the sinner's cunt, feeling those muscles tense and contract around him. Valentino envelops him so sweetly, his body squeezing as he pulls out and opening up for him when he pushes.
Vox wonders if he could condition him like this and the thought makes his dick jump inside of the man.
"I think...I finally figured out...a method you respond to. Fhh.....God, you take my cock so well." Vox's breath hitches, tuned in to the sounds Valentino was making, wishing he could peer into his mind and see what he could be fantasizing in his subconscious. It better be him. It had to be him.
"Passing out like this....practically naked. I think you wanted me to find you and take you. Isn't that right?”
Vox feels emboldened, speeding up and feeling that sensation heighten, threatening to plateau and it really is incredible. He didn't even realize how pent up he had been.
Valentino moans louder, mumbling something that Vox doesn't catch. His heart jumps in his chest over it, panting like an animal and leaning forward to cast light on Val's chest and face.
"SSHhh sh...you're still dreaming, baby, don't wake up just yet." He cups the man's face, willing him to go back under. At least until he could finish.
Valentino leans all of his weight into Vox's hand and reaches out for him, black fingers gripping the breast of Vox's jacket.
"Papi..." His voice is barely audible, crackly and languid, but clearly wanting, over another sleepy moan-
And it's over for Vox. He comes and feels like he's been struck by lightning at the same time, buckling over with the pet name on repeat in his mind. All the breath leaves him, his hips slap against the other’s thighs and he's balls deep in Valentino, spilling every last drop into him as he nearly short-circuits.
His screen glitches, color bars flashing before grainy static consumes the entirety of his monitor.
He's still locked into Val, still coming.
A channel search function starts to flash, switching through various screens of static with a number in the corner going from channel 65, 66, 67, 68, and then Vox's face reappears.
He's flushed, trying to express heat as his hardware tries to melt.
He barely manages to pull out of Valentino, splattering fluids everywhere, his own thighs streaked with a mixture of pink and white while Valentino drains his ejaculate.
"Oh fuck" He looks over his partner, who still seems dazed, with thick, pink cum clumping on his chest that was covered in short-pile peach fuzz and his snow-white fluffy collar, apparently having orgasmed too, which meant Vox completely missed it while this awful body of his malfunctioned.
What a mess.
A really damning mess.
Post-nut clarity never hit faster. Vox sprang up from the couch, tripping over his pants and falling backwards in an utterly humiliating display, feet up and head slamming into the carpet. He curses and scrambles, trying to get his pants back around his waist and tuck his cock back into his underwear.
He was in a panic to leave and escape the would-be consequences of his actions. He'd seen what Valentino has done to sinners for far lesser crimes. Making a beeline to the door, Vox stops just outside the threshold to safety when his eye catches a piece of fabric on the floor.
He cringes and backtracks before he can stop himself, reaching down at top speed to pick up the discarded article of clothing. Valentino's panties. He tucks it into his coat pocket on impulse and immediately after hears a voice croak from the lounge.
"...Vox?"
The television demon's heart is in his chest, subconsciously covering his wet crotch before making eye contact with the slitted red orbs glowing across from him in the dim light.
It’s a good thing Vox is quick on his feet.
It’s how he got this far anyway.
"Valentino?? Holy shit--what happened??" He comes forward, putting all his acting prowess to work as he pretends he wasn't just violating the man's unconscious body.
"I came looking for you when you didn't show for our meeting, but- uh-"
Valentino groaned a miserable sound, still looking like he was half out of it. He tries to sit up but keeps losing his leverage from where he’s bearing his weight onto his forearms, slipping back down into the cushions. He is even less successful when he tries to find his footing on the flooring.
"Ugh. That fucker's gonna pay for this-he thinks he can just- pull one over on ME." Valentino's voice is hoarse and warbled, trying to project with a bite but overall sounding pathetic as he talks nonsense. He goes to fully sit up but just goes tumbling right onto the floor in a loud, comedic thump, his wings billowing up and then over him like a fluttering blanket.
"Whoa! Hold on, hold on-" Vox rushes over, feigning the role of savior as he leans down to help Val off the floor before he rolls into the loose pieces of broken glass.
"Come on, let's get you cleaned up, yeah?"
"I'll fucking kill him." Val tries to retch, just making a dry heaving sound instead. Vox gives a nervous laugh, feeling proverbial sweat drip down his screen.
"We'll get the bastard later, okay? Focus on me for right now." He hoists him up from the floor and finds him surprisingly light for his size, encouraging him to lift him bridal style. Valentino's head sinks against his shoulder, causing a chill to run through Vox in stark contrast to how warm the moth's body is.
Mutters and slurred speech made whatever it was Valentino was babbling unintelligible. Thankfully he seemed way too disoriented to notice anything amiss, like Vox's soiled pants or the smell of Val's cunt on his fingers.
As he carries him in search of the bathroom, he picks up on the sound of pitiful little squeaks coming from the other and is taken with this overwhelming level of cute aggression that has him holding the man closer while he grins.
"Shhhh, it's alright. Good thing I came looking, huh?"
He finds the bathroom and flicks the light on, revealing a messy little room with a sink covered in toiletries, drug paraphernalia, bullet shells, vibrators, and an array of perfume.
The claw bathtub looked like it needed a wash, but it would do. He set Valentino on the toilet, letting him flop uselessly there as he got warm water running to start filling the basin. Good opportunity to get rid of the evidence while Valentino was delirious.
Vox went through the motions of getting him bare, peeling off his already open shirt and quelling the excitement he felt to pull off those long boots.
"You still with me?" He asks, getting the black leather about halfway down Valentino's shin. He responds with a noncommittal grunt which Vox takes as a signal of enough lucidity for him to work with. He peels the boot the rest of the way off, getting another private look at the anatomy of his partner. Somehow this felt far more significant than learning how his genitalia worked. One dark fluffy foot is revealed, which Vox couldn't even think to stop himself from molesting. Two large claws from two toes with little padding just underneath which left him grinning.
If he wasn't getting away with something before...
Vox relieves Valentino of his other boot and sets him into the bathwater, watching him sigh and flutter his lashes in apparent relief.
"There you goooo." Vox coos, scooping his wings to drape outside the tub behind him, not wanting to get the delicate things wet. As he ran his claws across the delicate makeup of them, he noticed tears from his claws that left him cringing. Not easy evidence to hide, especially with how much pride Val took in them. It’s best to just blame his ‘attacker’ that took advantage of Valentino in his inebriated state.
Vox begins picking up bottles of floral scented soap and conditioner to start the process of cleaning him of the mess he had caused. He didn’t know the difference between the products and could imagine Valentino yelling at him for using the wrong thing on the wrong body part. The guy probably has something for his antennae to stay shiny and something to condition his collar and something else to keep his face soft. For now he just needs something that lathers.
"Better, right?"
Valentino leans into his touch, trilling in appreciation as his body slumps into the bath, those long legs sticking out over the edge of porcelain and leaving Vox watching with a pensive expression. It was really too small for him. It made him wish he had a bigger tub for him to relax in. After shrugging off his jacket and pushing up his sleeves, he reaches into the soapy water to help work his cum out from his cunt, feeling Val twitching and hearing him whine.
"It's okay, it's just me." Vox says, petting his head and getting far too much satisfaction out of this. "I'm not going to hurt you."
Valentino nuzzles against him and Vox's breath hitches.
"Lo siento.." Valentino mutters.
Vox freezes.
An apology?
From fucking Valentino???
Sure, he was beyond blasted as he was saying it but Vox was going to take it.
"H..haha...for what?? The meeting??" Vox's grin becomes strained. "Don't worry about it. We can reschedule. I just need to know you're serious about this. We both want better things, right? I can get you there. I can get us both there."
Vox's claws push inside Valentino unnecessarily under the guise of making sure he was working out all the filth. Valentino whines at the ache, water sloshing as he curls towards the side of the tub where Vox is sitting.
"I just need you to work with me. And do as I say when I say it. Just do that, and I'll clean up alllll the messes. That sound fair?"
Valentino nods with quick, repetitive bobs of his head, like a scolded child wanting the punishment to be over.
Vox’s chest swells with the promise of progress.
And here he thought this was all becoming a sunk-cost fallacy.
"Great! Then we can still make this work."
He rinses Valentino's fluffy scales, watching everything cling flat to his frame. He looked extra pathetic, so vulnerable and somehow small. Already he's starting to drift back into unconsciousness, teetering towards the twilight in the warm embrace of the water and under Vox's watchful eye. He feels a turning point, a glimpse of someone who was desperate to get out of this pit despite the ruse he put on that he was beyond all the insecurities your average sinner possessed.
Vox wanted him the first day they met. He found himself regretting finally getting him to agree to a partnership when Valentino proved time and time again to be so unreliable. It was now occurring to him that he just wasn't using him to his strengths.
And Vox never stopped wanting more of him.
Maybe wanting him more now than he had before.
"Now spread your legs." Vox directs, his voice dropping an octave as his spent cock starts to stir. "I need to make sure it's all out."
And Valentino obeys.