Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

“You want me… to run?” Vox looked over the expanse of bayou that stretched from Alastor’s bedroom. It seemed to extend forever in front of him, still and quiet in a deeply unnatural way that creeped up his neck, made his shoulders hitch and his stomach turn in a way that screamed ‘warning’, ‘danger’, ‘death’.

Alastor hummed behind him.

“Okay. Right. And then you’re going to… chase me? 

Alastor hummed again. Vox could hear him getting closer, the sharp tap of his shoes against the hardwood. His hand settled around the front of Vox’s neck, over the collar. It tightened, pulling him a hair’s breadth from Alastor’s front. He wanted to lean back, press fully against him. He would, if he didn’t know that Alastor would literally demand a pound of flesh in apology if he tried that right now.

“You made the request, mon lapin.”

Vox let out an incredulous laugh that petered off into a groan. Laughing made his tag dig into his neck and fuck if that wasn’t hot.

“I did not ask to be chased through a bayou. I ‘requested’," He mimicked Alastor's affectation. "Another minute of getting to touch you as a reward.”

It had been over 6 months since Alastor last let him really touch him. He was so fucking mad about the whole ‘ ‘accidentally’ touching his cock without permission’ thing that he didn't let Vox in his lap for over a month. It was torture. Literally. He had to bargain his own torture to get the privilege back, and now half the shit Alastor got him to do and say haunted his fucking wet dreams. 

‘Yes, well. Tomato tomahto, as they say.” The hand around his neck squeezed. “I wasn’t going to give you such a grand prize for free. You know that, my dear. But if you are a good little rabbit and you run, or you hide, and you outlast me, you can do whatever you want.”

“...whatever I want?”

“Of course, darling! I’m a man of my word. If you outlast me,” He squeezed the hand around Vox’s neck again. He wasn’t sure if the sudden dizziness was lack of air to his head or the rush of blood to his cock. “I’ll let you touch me however you want.”

“However I want?” Vox confirmed again. Alastor sighed.

“Yes. Whatever ridiculous fantasy is running through that box head of yours right now. If you win.”

Vox swallowed. “And if you win?”

“If I win, and of course, that is an ‘if’ darling, you are quite fast. If I win, I get to take a few tiny, inconsequential bites out of you. Nothing that won’t heal up before the next Overlord meeting. Just a few,” He thumb brushed threateningly over Vox’s pulse point. “Small bites. And I won’t even demand compliance.” His tone suggested compromise, kindness that wasn’t real. “You can struggle and fight, and if you end up liking it more than you think you will, I won’t even withhold your treat. It would be cruel to do that to such a good boy, wouldn’t it?”

Vox could feel his pulse kick up in fear, arousal close behind it. He felt half hysterical about this already. “You think I can cum while you are literally eating me?”

“I do hate to see you doubt yourself so fundamentally, my dear. I’m sure you’ll do an excellent job evading me, but if you don’t, I’m sure you’ll find yourself pleasantly surprised.”

This was what Alastor excelled at. He could masterfully dangle any carrot in front of Vox’s face and coo that it was reachable, if only he was strong or smart enough, if only he tried just a little harder. No matter how much Vox knew it was bullshit. It was, verifiably, bullshit- there was no way Vox could possibly outrun a predator like Alastor in his own territory like this. It didn’t matter, he would always say yes, always be drawn back to Alastor to lose, over and over until Alastor devoured him. A dog chasing its own tail.

“How much of a head start do I get?”

Alastor hummed behind him, thoughtful. “Five minutes seems fair.”

“Okay… okay. F-five minutes. And if you catch me, just a few bites. No permanent damage, nothing I can’t repair. A-and I can fight back. And you have to be careful of my wiring.” Alastor made a considering noise, giving his throat one last squeeze before pulling back.

“Of course.” 

Vox stepped one foot into the bayou. Gone was the eerie silence, replaced by the hum of cicadas, unnaturally soft but present. Which implied the presence of other animals. Other things that might try to eat him. “What else is out there?” Of course Al would make a whole fucking ecosystem, dramatic ass bastard.

“You're stalling.” Vox heard the shuffling of fabric behind him and turned in time to see Alastor take off his coat. “There’s nothing out there you need to worry about.” He rolled up his sleeves. Vox's eyes locked on his forearms. He'd agree to anything if Alastor kept going.

“Okay, yeah, maybe. Five minutes, right? No tricks?” He was definitely stalling. He turned his attention back to the wetland.

Alastor sighed behind him, put upon. “A five minute head start. Starting from when you first step both feet into the bayou. Now.” Alastor’s voice was suddenly very close. “Run.”

Fear curled hot up his spine.

He ran. 

He ran straight ahead until his lungs started to burn and his fans kicked into high gear. Fuck. He needed to calm down or the noise would give him away before anything else. 

He slowed to a walk, finally taking in his surroundings. 

The moss was soft under his feet, bouncing back and near erasing his prints as he moved. The mud wasn't so forgiving. Not to his pants and shoes, and not to hide him from the predator chasing him. 

He could keep running, actually choose a direction instead of making himself Hell’s easiest catch, but his footprints would betray any direction he chose. He looked up at the expanse of cypress trees.

“...How hard could it be?” He muttered, pulling himself into one of the willowy trees. The branches creaked under his weight, protesting as he made his way up. He climbed until the ground felt distant. From his new vantage point, he could see out across the expanse of the bayou.

He was familiar with wetlands. Not familiar like Al was, but he grew up around them too. He knew how quickly you could get cornered, or stuck in mud, or pulled away by a current, or eaten by something in the water. He needed to avoid all of that, and also avoid a massive, sadistic predator that lived and breathed the terrain like he was a fucking character in The Most Dangerous Game. 

A large river ran through the wetland to his right, and he noticed other, smaller branches snaking off from it, sinking entire patches in water and mud. There were drier spots too, soft looking moss and grass. There were enormous exposed roots of tall, ancient looking cypress trees, some thin and reedy, while others sported wide breadths of weeping branches, some of their counterparts fallen and being reclaimed by the bayou. 

If he was actually lost out here, the smartest thing he could do would be to follow the main river. Which is why he had to go the opposite way. He had never spoken about his childhood to Alastor, so Al probably assumed this was his first time somewhere like this- which would make him more likely to follow the water to his right. So he needed to run left. But there was still the problem of his footprints. If he hopped down and ran away from the water, the evidence would be in the mud, and it was all mud between him and the next tree, but beyond that, forgiving moss. He had chosen his path like a fucking idiot. Some predator.

He stood up on his branch, unconsciously using his cables to stabilize himself when it wobbled. 

His cables. 

He pressed his forehead to the trunk of the tree.

“What am I? Fucking Tarzan?” He groused against the bark.

He pulled back from the trunk of the tree, looking down at the mud that had betrayed him so far, his footprints still clinging to the terrain in several spots. 

He only had one choice.

“Okay, alright. So I'm fucking Tarzan.” 

Vox jumped, looping his cables high in the neighboring tree. He slipped on the landing, branches creaked under the pressure of his cables, but he stayed in the tree instead of crashing to the ground. 

Vox chucked in disbelief. “Holy shit, I can't believe that worked.” 

He took a steadying breath. He retracted his cables and climbed down without their assistance. Using any of his powers took a toll on him and he got the feeling he was going to need them again soon.

He took off running, trying to keep himself to moss or wispy grass that had a better chance at hiding his footprints. He could hear Alastor out there, or, at least he thought he could. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed or if he was even being chased yet.

Still, it sounded like something else was out there, moving fast through the trees. 

Several times he tucked himself into the trunks or branches of trees because he heard footsteps. Sometimes slow and deliberate, sometimes a heavy footed run that had his heart pounding out of his chest. He was sure Alastor was out there now. 

He kept running, zig-zagging between trees and over sections of stream, trying to make his path hard to follow. 

He slowed when his fans started to kick up. He was far enough from the anticipated path that it felt like a safe gamble. Carefully, quietly, he found his way to a mostly dry patch of moss. The area was flanked by towering cypress trees, with a thin, slow moving section of river nearby. 

He hoped the sound of the water might cover up the sound of his fans as he caught his breath.

The spot was cozy, almost deliberately so. He wouldn't put that past Al, to have created purposeful little sections of relaxation throughout his swamp. 

Alastor was a deer sinner. Maybe he took naps out here. The image made a smile tug at his lips- the Big Bad Radio Demon curling up in a soft patch of moss and letting the unnaturally soft cicadas that made their home here lull him to sleep. 

There were massive swamp roses, and if Alastor had truly gone for a taste of home, he knew there were foragable peppers somewhere near. He could imagine Alastor waking up from a nap, still sweet with sleep to go gather ingredients for his dinner. 

A far fetched fantasy, but one he would tuck close to his heart all the same. 

Alastor was undeniably a predator under his prey traits, vicious and deadly despite the soft footed deer assumptions one might make based on his ears. Soft fantasies like Vox's didn't really suit him. 

Based on today, Alastor probably didn't have any of those ‘soft footed’ traits.

Deer move quietly to avoid predators. You could be two feet from a deer and hardly notice they were there if they didn't want you to. Alastor was running like he was announcing his place at the top of the food chain. 

Which was… weird, now that he was thinking about it. He'd seen Alastor sneak up on any number of victims. Alastor usually cornered them with a quiet finality when he was done playing. He liked to bask in their fear.

Vox looked around at the intentional, cozy little alcove he had found again.

The horror of the situation finally dawned on him.

He had been herded. 

Chapter Text

“T̵͙̍h̸̡͂e̶̷̪̻̾̆r̵̶̡̈́̾͜e̴̼̽ ̷̻̆y̶̌ô̶̙û̴̥ ̶̰̈́a̵͈̒r̵̈́e̶̪̾” Alastor’s distorted voice cooed above him. Vox shivered. The sound crawled up his back like nails on a chalkboard.

Slowly, he looked up. 

And up.

And… up.

Alastor’s monstrous form cast a shadow over the alcove, massive and looming. His smile, the great and terrible thing, seemed to stretch to his hairline. Green stitches glowed in the soft light of the bayou, stark and grotesque against Alastor’s skin. His neck was bent at an impossible angle, causing his sprawling antlers to catch in the branches of the trees as he leaned down. The air and ground rattled with the movement.

Vox knew this was about the dramatics. To show off how much raw power he had. More than Vox, or any other Overlord for that matter. 

It was meant to intimidate him, plain and simple. 

Vox didn't want to fall for such a cheap trick. Al didn't plan on doing the kind of damage this form would require, so it really was just for show. 

Vox found himself backing up toward the river anyway, hackles raised under the radio dial stare. Static prickled at his skin, his own power flooding to the surface in an instinctive response to the threat. 

Vox laughed, the sound stilted and forced. “Is this really necessary?” His heel slipped in the mud behind him and he stumbled to keep himself upright. He had backed himself fully to the water. “Excellent stage presence, really! Very…” His eyes trailed down one of Alastor’s arms, taking in the unnatural bend to it, “...macabre. But you can’t eat me when you’re that big, so you should just… shrink down and join me down here. C’mon Al, I’m not even running.” He offered, cajoling. 

He was absolutely going to start running, the moment Alastor started shrinking. 

One of Alastor’s enormous hands reached for him. Vox watched, transfixed. He should run. Get out of its path at least, not stand there like an idiot. The edge of one claw ran over the top of his casing, showing off the colossal size of his hand compared to Vox’s body.

“My̶̌͜ g̴͙̀ǒ̴̯o̵̶̡̦̐̾d̷͔̿ ḃ̵̜o̸̩̊y̴̟͠ w̷̯̕ö̵̝û̴̥ld̷͔̿n̶͚͝’t̶͙͝ li̸͎̋e̶̪̾ t̶͙͝o̵̶̡̦̐̾ ̶̦̓me̶̪̾, w̷̯̕ö̵̝û̴̥ld̷͔̿ h̸̡͂e̶̷̪̻̾̆?”

It was just showmanship, Vox reminded himself. He thought about those claws crushing him anyway. “N-no.”

Alastor hummed, pulling his hand back slowly. His form shrunk, each bone making a sickening crack as it settled back into place.

Vox had meant to run. Instead he stared, queasy at the sight. 

Alastor stalked closer, taking slow, deliberate steps toward him. He only looked a little malformed. He was taller than usual, joints set in a way Vox couldn’t place but recognized as wrong.

“You didn’t run. Good boy.” 

“Said I wouldn’t, Al.” Vox lied, smile strained.

Alastor stopped a few feet from him, away from the water. He pointed to the ground in front of him. “Kneel.”

Vox dropped to his knees before he even fully registered the command.

It wasn’t his fault, really. Alastor’s sleeves were still rolled up to his elbows, his dress shirt unbuttoned low enough from the chase for Vox to get a good eyeful of the chest fur and skin normally hidden from him. A weaker man wouldn’t have even run in the first place, just let Alastor tear him apart on his fancy hardwood floor. Vox crawled to him without being asked.

Alastor stayed where he was, quietly assessing Vox as he settled. The moment stretched taut between them, each watching the other.

Finally, Alastor patted the top of Vox’s head. “You really do subjugate yourself so well for me.”  

“Yeah, Al. Love being on my knees for you.” The words were even true this time. 

He did love it. He liked having to look up at Alastor. He liked getting his head and antennas stroked. He liked the way Alastor’s eyes went hungry when he tipped his head to show off his collar and vulnerable neck from this position. He liked the way Alastor trusted he wouldn’t fight him like this. 

Alastor trailed a claw along his neck, blood beading onto Vox’s skin in its wake. 

Right.

He should… actually probably be fighting him right now.

Alastor’s hand settled below his collar, the still oversized thing sprawling across both of his collar bones. Vox thought about that hand pinning him down while he jerked off.

Alastor’s hand pressed forward, pushing him onto his back. 

Letting this happen was probably fine.

“Hands above your head, pet.” Vox obeyed. 

Alastor leaned over him, one large hand pinning his wrists down with what Vox knew was only a fraction of his strength. Which was probably more about not crushing Vox’s bones to dust, not about fulfilling Vox’s ‘hot boyfriend pins me down and fucks me’ fantasty. 

Alastor’s hand squeezed his wrists with a look Vox could only interpret as leering. 

So pinning him down can be two things. Hopefully. 

Vox squirmed in the grip. Alastor hadn’t tried to take a bite out of him yet, so he was still playing.

Vox still had a very small chance of making a break for it. Something he needed to do.

Partly because he didn’t actually want Alastor to eat him, but mostly because if Alastor got bored of this game, he wouldn’t offer touching him as a reward again.

He could try hypnosis, but if it worked (unlikely) Alastor would never trust him again, and if it didn't (very likely) he would just be wearing himself down until he became limp and useless. 

He dug his heels into the dirt under him. Alastor had his hands pinned, but not much else. Al was mostly just leaning over him, in reach but not on top of him. 

Vox brought his foot up hard into Alastor’s stomach. Alastor exhaled sharply. He didn’t let go, but his grip loosened just enough for Vox to tear his arms free and shove him off.

Alastor grabbed him by the front of his sweater as he stood, yanking him back down to the ground face first. Vox twisted in his grip, shoving until he landed on top of Alastor. 

They blinked at each other for a moment in their new position. Alastor still had Vox’s sweater bunched in his fist. Vox had landed astride Alastor’s waist, one hand pressed against his throat, the other against his chest. “His bare chest,” Vox’s brain helpfully supplied. He buried his claws lightly into the patch of fur there. It was short and dense, unbelievably soft under his fingers. He wanted to bury his face in it, see if he could feel the plush warmth even with his screen. 

He let his other hand move from Alastor’s neck, dragging it down the exposed skin of Alastor's chest. He flicked open another button on Alastor’s shirt, intent on soaking in the feeling of Alastor's skin against his.

He heard the sharp snap of the shadow before the pain of it landing across his back reverberated up his spine.

“Ow-fuck! I thought we were having a moment here?!”

“You were having a moment. And now that moment has passed.” 

The shadow tentacle whipped its way around Vox’s waist, flinging him backwards into the trunk of a tree on the other side of the alcove. He dropped, unceremoniously, into the moss below with a pained wheeze. 

Vox got to his feet slowly, trying to reorient past the warning messages popping up on his screen.

“What the fuck was that for? I wasn’t even fighting you!”

“Well sussed, old pal!” Alastor’s canned laughter sounded as distorted as the rest of him, impossible to directionally pinpoint in the swamp. “Indeed. You weren’t fighting me. Remind me of our arrangement for today?”

Vox opened his mouth to speak, but Alastor continued, talking over him. “You could touch if you outran, outfought, or successfully hid from me. You failed at two and haven’t even attempted to fight me.”

“Then why’d you let me do it?”

“Hm, call it a motivator.” He tilted his head in a way that immediately drew Vox’s eyes to his exposed neck. Vox wanted to bite him again. He wanted to bury his face in his chest fluff and see if his nipples were sensitive. 

Alastor gave him a lingering, knowing look. “What do you think, dear? Are you feeling motivated?” 

Vox launched himself at Alastor, dodging shadows as he ran. He lunged when he was in range, aiming to grab onto the other. Alastor melted into the shadows, reappearing a few feet away while Vox careened toward the river. 

“You’ll have to be quicker than that, I’m afraid!” 

Vox latched himself onto a tree using his cables, barely preventing his head from making contact with the water. 

This wasn’t a fight he was going to win. He just needed to tire Alastor out too. Hopefully make the mauling a little less… thorough. 

He hurtled himself back toward Alastor, continuing to dodge as shadows appeared in front of him. He didn’t know how much energy it took to manipulate shadows, but he was quick footed enough that Alastor had to keep producing them. 

A cable shot out from him, wrapping itself around Alastor’s right arm. Alastor hummed, lifting his arm to nuzzle against the cable affectionately. Vox stopped running, dumbfounded. Electricity sparked between his antennas as the cable looped sweetly around Alastor’s wrist like a particularly affectionate snake. A shadow wrapped around his waist, throwing him toward another tree, tearing the cable free from him in the process.  

Vox landed with a painful crunch. His whole body was starting to feel like one bruise, throbbing and stretched too thin over his bones and wires. 

He staggered back to his feet, a high pitched whine emitting from somewhere in his circuitry. 

“That was a dirty fucking trick, Al!” Vox swayed where he stood, shaky smile gleaming across his too bright face. He needed to take a break and let his system cool off, but there was no room for retreat. 

Alastor laughed, “You look tired, darling. Are you sure you don’t want to try running again? How does five more minutes sound, hm?” 

Abjection twisted in his stomach. Humiliation knotted up with a perverse desire for Alastor’s cruelty somewhere dark in his heart he didn’t care to examine. 

“Why, Al? Scared you’ll lose?” He baited back, desperate to hold the bit of shaky ground he had gained during this encounter.

The fight blurred for Vox after that, an exchange of blows and bursts of power that had him light headed. Every second of using his powers weighed on him more heavily than the last. 

He sprinted toward Alastor again, charging up his electricity as he went. He hoped pumping a few hundred volts into the ground might tire out whatever method Alastor used to move his shadows, especially since it was probably going to be the last thing he managed before his powers were reduced to party tricks.

The electricity fizzled in his blood and heart, loud and alive. It felt out of control, consuming in a way it never had before. 

He hoped it would be enough. Vox wished he had the advantage of sneaking up behind Alastor instead of running full force toward him. The electricity coursing through him spiked, and-

Alastor looked just as surprised as he was when Vox barreled into him from behind, the momentum knocking them both to the ground. They both stilled for a moment. Vox was dazed at the turn of events. He couldn’t see Alastor’s face, didn’t know if he was too.

“Did I just… teleport?” He was still buzzing with electricity. It flared off of his skin in little bursts. “Holy shit, Al! I can teleport!” 

“That’s lovely, darling.” Alastor’s tone was bored, annoyed. Vox had almost forgotten he had landed on top of him, sitting high on the backs of Alastor’s thighs. 

Vox ran his hands over Alastor’s back. “What’s he going to do? Maul me?” He thought morosely. 

Electricity was still sparking off of his hands, discharging into Alastor with every touch. Alastor twitched but didn't make any real effort to move away. His eyes trailed down Alastor’s back alongside his hands, soaking in the moment. 

“Is that a fucking tail?” He rucked up the back of Alastor's shirt lightly, trying to get a better view of it.

“Don’t.” Alastor warned.

“What’s he going to do? Maul me?” He thought again, hysterically. 

He grabbed the tail. Residual electricity sparked into the appendage, and Alastor let out a surprised, high pitched bleat.

It was the cutest thing to ever happen. The cutest tail and reaction in all of Hell. Why didn’t he have the power to fucking record? Alastor was going to kill him after this. It didn’t matter because this was the pinnacle of his afterlife. 

He ran his claws through the fur, delivering another small, intentional shock at the base. Alastor shivered. 

He was definitely going to murder Vox after this. That he wasn’t murdering Vox now was nothing short of a miracle, and Vox wasn’t in the business of looking gift deers in the mouth. 

“Do you like that?” He spoke with a confidence he didn’t feel, hoping that Alastor liking this was actually the reason he was still being allowed to do it. He ran his claws through the fur again, mesmerized. He released another small shock of electricity as he did, watching in delight at the way the fur puffed up and the little muscle flicked. 

Alastor was breathing heavily under him, each huff of breath sounding distinctly annoyed, but he still wasn’t pushing Vox off. 

“V̵͉̎i̸͎̋n̵̨͒c̸̳̀e̶̪̾ń̴͙t̵͙̍.”

“Hm?” Vox didn’t stop his ministrations, alternating between combing his claws through the tail and scratching the base of it. There was a small tremor running through Alastor. He wasn’t sure if it was the shocks, or if the tail was sensitive, but that was all kind of irrelevant at the moment because Alastor had a fucking tail. 

“V̵͉̎i̸͎̋n̵̨͒c̸̳̀e̶̪̾ń̴͙t̵͙̍.” Alastor’s head whipped around 180 degrees with an obscene crack, his radio dial eyes boring into his prey. Vox screamed, falling back onto his ass in his reflex to get the fuck away.

“What the fuck you creepy bastard!” 

Alastor rammed Vox back into the dirt with his claws, forgoing the help of his shadows to re-pin Vox against the moss by his wrists himself. He kneeled on either side of Vox, sitting low on his stomach, lesson apparently learned about hovering. 

“Enough. Are you going to stay down and be good, or did you want to keep kicking up a fuss?” 

Vox flushed at the comment, bucking his hips in an attempt to throw him off, very maturely not thinking about how close Alastor's ass was to his cock. 

“Don’t call it that, you condescending dick.”

Alastor’s hands squeezed and the delicate bones in his wrists creaked in protest. “Then what should I call it? That's what you're doing, isn't it? Kicking up a fuss like a child not getting their way.” 

Vox’s eyes narrowed. 

“You're just mad because I found out that you have a cute little tail.” Vox grinned at the dusting of red his words brought to Alastor’s face. He’d seen Alastor’s flushed face before- from drink, or exertion after dancing or killing, but never from embarrassment. What a fucking treat. 

“There’s no need to be embarrassed, Al! I won't tell anyone about your extremely sensitive tail, or the adorable noise you made when I grabbed it.”

Vox screamed when Alastor’s hand on his left wrist tightened, trying to yank his now fractured wrist out of the grip. Alastor’s smile was distended into a terrifying grimace. 

Okay. So that flush was definitely embarrassment, but it may have also, maybe, been incandescent rage.

Fuck. 

“Oh, I am going to enjoy this, mon lapin. We haven't even begun to scratch the surface of the things I could do to you.”

Vox mustered up most of his remaining energy to quickly loop a cable around Alastor’s waist and yank while he was distracted with talking. 

Apparently the tail was a sensitive subject, because the lackluster attempt worked, pulling Alastor just far enough off of him that he could flip himself over. 

Vox clambered to his feet, making a break toward the river.

He barely made it a yard before Alastor’s shadows dragged him back. Alastor took back over once he was in reach, wrestling him back to the ground with embarrassing ease. 

Vox huffed out a few desperate breaths. His fans whirred loudly, hot air pushing out of his gills as he tried to catch his breath. He watched Alastor above him. There was a fine sheen of sweat on his forehead. Vox wanted to lick it off.

Vox tried to buck him off, wrapping his cables around Alastor’s waist to aid him. Alastor remained firmly planted on his stomach. Alastor tilted his head curiously, a solid weight on top of him. “I think I’ve indulged your little escape fantasies enough, don’t you?” His smile curled into a cruel little smirk, like the situation was an inside joke between them. “Or would you like me to keep pretending that you’re putting up a good fight?”

Humiliation pooled in his gut. He knew Alastor was lying. There was still sweat beaded on his forehead, and his breath was a little more strained than it had been when they started. He may not be using his full power, but he had needed to put in effort.

It didn’t stop the way shame squirmed in him.

Alastor lifted Vox’s left wrist to his mouth while Vox was still stewing on the comment, his sharp teeth- how did Vox not notice how razor sharp his teeth were before now- settling against his skin. 

“Wires, Al! Be fucking c-c-careful of my wires! T-that’s all wires.” Alastor huffed against the wrist he had held to his mouth. “So’s my hand!” 

“Fine. No wrist or hand. Where should I bite then?”

Vox eyed the trees above him, trying to decide if he could escape up. “Focus on me, dear, before my patience wanes.” 

Alastor’s teeth sunk threateningly into his wrist. Not breaking skin, just reminding him they could if Vox so much as twitched.

“M-my thighs. Um, upper arms, hips, by my collarbone, I guess? Anywhere where there’s a little more…” He swallowed, trying to force the words out around the fear of being pinned. “Meat.” He finished in a whisper.

Alastor made a noise that was mostly static above him.

He pressed Vox’s hand back to the ground, holding him down by the hand instead of his shattered wrist, which Vox was reluctantly grateful for.

He leaned forward, nosing his way down Vox’s throat. He briefly let go of Vox’s hand to tear at the shoulder of Vox’s sweater vest, making room for his teeth. Vox felt arousal stir in him, enticed by the unfamiliar intimacy.

Alastor’s breath was warm against his skin, hovering just below his neck. “Here?”

“Y-eah, that’s-OhfuckfuckfuckshittingHellfuckALASTORWHATTHEFUCK!” He thrashed against the hold of his wrist and hand, waves of nausea rolling through him at the feeling of flesh being torn from the bone. 

Alastor didn’t release him. He kept his mouth latched over the wound, drinking down the blood flowing there.

Nausea made way for panic when Alastor didn’t let go. “S-small bites! A-Alastor!” 

Alastor’s tongue ran along his exposed bone, intimate and horrible.

Vox gripped Alastor’s hand tighter, pushing as many volts of electricity into him as he could manage. Alastor’s teeth released with a stuttering gasp and Vox used the opportunity to shove him off. He scrambled his way back to his feet, just standing when his vision spun. 

The smell of singed meat hung between them. Vox wasn’t sure which one of them got the worst of the discharge. Alastor’s fur was standing on end. His ears were poofy and his hair had taken a slight curl to it. Vox wanted to see what his tail looked like, and what the fuck was wrong with him that he was thinking about that right now. 

Alastor took a step toward him, looking somewhere between murderous and hungry.

Fighting wasn’t an option anymore. He made another break for the treeline, no idea how fast he was actually moving.

He was barely to the trees when Alastor’s shadows wrapped around him. The momentum made him fall forward, narrowly avoiding cracking his screen open on the roots under him. The shadows dragged him back to the edge of the water. His collarbone felt like it was on fire. He tried to get a hold onto the ground below him, but it slipped through his bloody claws, soft and wet. 

Vox gave up on struggling when the world started to spin, letting himself be dragged back to his hands and knees.

He squeezed his eyes shut, resigning himself to his fate.

He couldn’t fucking believe Alastor thought he might be able to get off on this. Sure, the chase was hot. Even the initial manhandling was great- he didn’t even know Alastor had a tail before today, and the way Alastor’s demon form could pin both of his wrists with one hand would have been incredibly sexy, if he was sticking his cock in him and not his fucking teeth. 

“Look in the water.” Alastor had draped himself over Vox’s back, lazily lapping up the blood leaking out of his wound. He covered Vox’s left hand with his own, claws gripping his in a bizarre hand hold. It would seem sweet if Al wasn’t still actively eating him. “Your hypnotism, pet. Go on, it’ll help.”

Vox made a curious noise, still trying to breathe through the pain.

Alastor’s tongue curled under the back of his collar, cleaning the blood that had gathered under the material. Vox was going to have a fucking aneurysm about how good it felt. 

Maybe Alastor was right, he could get off on this if this was how cleanup went. The bite was agony while it was happening, still was, but it was healing already. Unless Alastor was actively digging his tongue into it, the pain was already starting to dull. The rest was almost nice so far. 

“You’ll like it better,” Alastor intoned. He ran his tongue over the wound. “If you hypnotize yourself before the next bite.”

Vox blinked at his reflection in the water. “The next bite?”

“Mhm.” Alastor hummed behind him, running his tongue over a new patch of skin on his shoulder blade. “I believe our agreement was a few bites, mon cher. You should have specified if you had only wanted me to take one.” 

“W-wait, Al, I d-dxon't think-” His skin parted like butter under a hot knife. It was somehow worse the second time. He couldn’t fucking breath, couldn’t move, couldn’t-

He caught his own hypnotic gaze in the water. His reflection looked wrecked, covered in blood and mud. Alastor’s ears were visible over his left shoulder, where he was still sucking coppery liquid directly from the wound. Vox went still. 

Alastor noticed. Of course he fucking noticed. “Oh, good boy, Vincent. Just perfect for me.”

Good.

Perfect.

Alastor’s bloody hand caressed his cheek, soft and indulgent.

“You like this. Being eaten feels good. It's the best thing you've ever felt. You love when I hurt you.” Vox gritted his teeth against the command, even as his pain smoothed into a pleasant warmth. “Say thank you.”

The words felt like bile coming out. “Yes, yes, yes. T-thank you for eating m-me, it f-f-fxeels good. I-I-I I love it.” He didn’t. It was agony like he had never felt before, a fear so primal he felt sick with it. 

Alastor bit into him again, an inch below his left shoulder. Fabric and skin tore delicately under his sharp teeth. Pleasure swept over Vox, sharp and static. 

He felt hysterical with it, the panic bubbling in him fizzing out to nothing but adrenaline under his hypnosis. He could hear Alastor chewing behind him, making pleased, static laden noises. The wound on his arm pulsed, waves of pleasure washing over him that he knew should be pain. 

“That's right, sweetheart. I know you love this. What part of you should I eat next?” His voice was breathless against Vox’s casing. 

Vox tried to get his mouth to work. Sweetheart. He wanted to fucking cry.

Vox panted against the wave of feeling. Eventually, too honestly, he breathed out- “My heart, Al. Eat my heart.”

Alastor groaned behind him, more radio static than sound. “You'd love that, wouldn't you, pet? Hm? For me to consume your heart? For me to keep it? For your heart to become a part of me?”

The words spilled out of him, humiliating and true. “Yes, yes, Al, please, I-I love you, take my heart, it's yours.” 

Alastor pressed closer behind him and oh God, he was hard. He was going to kill Vox. He was going to eat Vox’s heart with his dick hard and pressed against his ass. 

Fuck. What a fucking way to end his afterlife. 

“Next time, pet. I'll savor it. Peel back your skin,” He felt one of Alastor's claws run down his front, the fabric of his sweater vest tearing under the sharp appendage. Alastor's hand slipped under the remnants of his button down, settling over where his heart was pounding out of his chest. “I'll break your ribs, right here.” Vox could feel his skin splitting under the light pressure of the claws against his skin, right over two of his ribs. He might as well have been stroking Vox’s cock. “Don’t worry Vincent, I'll be careful with it. Treat it like the delicate thing it is and cut it out of you cleanly.”

“Don't.” Vox gasped, gripping fistfuls of the dirt under him. What the fuck was he saying. “I w-want you to t-tear it out, d-don't be gentle. I-i-t-tx-t belongs t-t-to you. I want you to t-t-take it.” 

Vox was shaking. He didn't look away from his own hypnosis, didn't try to run, didn't do anything that wasn't letting Alastor handle him, waiting for Alastor to tear out his fucking heart and kill him. 

Alastor moaned against his neck. It sounded inhuman, like gears grinding together. “T̶͙͝e̶̛̱ll ̶̦̓me̶̪̾ a̶͔͘g̴͙̀a̶͔͘i̸͎̋n̵̨͒ ̶̦̓mǒ̴̯ń̴͙ c̵̻̑h̸̡͂e̶̛̱r̵̈́͜”

“M-my heart. T-t-t-take it, pl-ease.p-p-p-please,” Vox dug his claws harder into the mud. He wanted to stop. He wanted to shut his fucking mouth, but the words were spilling out of him, pulled out of his chest without his consent. He hated his fucking treacherous cock, hard in the face of his humiliation, his stupid fucking heart that was over the moon about Alastor wanting to treat it delicately, his stupid fucking audio output refusing to put together a coherent sentence. He hated all of it.

“A̶͔͘g̴͙̀a̶͔͘i̸͎̋n̶͚͝ , V̵͉̎i̸͎̋n̵̨͒c̸̳̀e̶̪̾ń̴͙t̵͙̍. T̶͙͝e̶̛̱ll ̶̦̓me̶̪̾ a̶͔͘g̴͙̀a̶͔͘i̸͎̋n̵̨͒ w̶̙̍h̸̡͂a̶͔͘t̶͙͝ y̶̌͜ö̵̝û̴̥ w̷̯̕a̶͔͘n̶͚͝t̶͙͝ .” Alastor tongue was dipping into the wound on his arm, licking the blood straight from his torn muscle. It felt hardwired to his dick, pumping out endorphins with each wriggle of Alastor’s tongue against the flesh.

Alastor’s cock was still pressed against his ass, the hardness notable even through his pants and Alastor’s, and the fucking viel of pain and pleasure that was numbing out everything else. 

Alastor rocked his hips into him. Vox's face glitched on and off, static blurring the edges of his vision. He could vaguely hear his own fans kick up, quiet under the sound of blood rushing through his head, even though he was pretty sure he didn't even have blood in his actual head. 

He couldn't keep his face steady on his screen. His audio output warbled with the rest of his functions. 

“Please, please, I-I-I-I love you, my h-h-h-he-heart is yours, tear it o-o-out-t-t, let-t-t-t me lick the blood-d-d-d off-f-f-f your c-cxlaws while y-y-y-ou e-eat-t-t i-i-i-it.” If Alastor didn’t kill him he was going to drown himself in the fucking river over this. 

Alastor’s hips ground into him. He tried to press back from where he was pinned, tried to focus on how hard Alastor was, how hard he was. That was real. That was actual pleasure, not the manufactured shit his hypnosis was putting him through. He wanted more of it. 

“F-fuck me.” He choked out.

Alastor’s hips stilled behind him. Vox whined, trying his best to grind back against Alastor, the movement jerky and uncoordinated.

There was a long moment where the only thing Vox could hear was the cicadas and his own fans trying desperately to get all of his faculties functioning again in the reprieve.

When Alastor finally spoke again, it was all teeth. Condescension dripped off every word, cloying and cruel. 

“You're always begging me to fuck you, Vincent. Like you're in heat.”

Vox shuddered at the demeaning words. He shouldn’t love that idea. He really shouldn’t luxuriate in any fantasy that handed more power to the predator pinning him. His cock throbbed anyway. 

“Maybe you actually are a dog, I don't think sharks go into heat.” 

“Don't deer?” Vox spat back, humiliation clawing through him. Sharks did go into heat, not that it fucking mattered. 

Alastor hummed, yanking Vox’s head back by his bent antenna. The hypnotism weakened as his gaze was pulled away, dizzying pain flooding his senses.

“Doe̶̪̾s tha̶͔͘t me̶̪̾a̶͔͘n I ca̶͔͘n take more̶̪̾?” Alastor hissed into the sound input on the side of his head. “Since you've got enough pep left to be cute, another bite should be just fine.” 

“I wasn't fucking…being cute,” He grit out, trying, unsuccessfully, to pry Alastor’s grip off his antenna.

Alastor’s teeth set just shy of his shoulder when he finally managed to get his hand around Alastor’s on his antenna.

He used what little energy he had left to funnel an electrical charge into Alastor’s hand. Alastor let go with a surprised moan, and Vox was too busy reeling from his own electricity being pumped back into him to focus on it.

Vox’s screen landed in the mud with a wet thump. He tried to pull himself out of it on shaking arms, his left buckling under him immediately. He groaned into the ground. After a minute of struggling, Alastor’s hands settled around his waist, pulling him back up to his knees and elbows, his still hard cock slotted against Vox’s ass. “Now now, Vincent, let’s not get too worked up. We’re not done yet.” He directed Vox’s gaze back to the water. “Once̶̷̪̻̾̆ mo̸̩̊re, pe̶̷̪̻̾̆t.”

Vox let his gaze catch back on the hypnosis. The pulsing pain melted to pleasure, making everything feel hazy, slow and syrupy sweet. 

Alastor rolled his hips tight against Vox. Vox whined, trying ineffectually to tilt his hips back into the pressure.

“Te̶̷̪̻̾̆ll me̶̷̪̻̾̆ aga̶͔͘in. Abo̸̩̊ut yo̸̩̊ur he̶̷̪̻̾̆art.”

“Y-you sxhould t-take it.” Vox held his own eye contact in the water. Saying it didn’t feel quite so sickening anymore. Not with Alastor hard against him. Not when Alastor wanted to keep his heart. Not when every bruise, bite, and scratch was making his neglected cock twitch desperately against the confines of his pants.

“H̸̡͂ö̵̺́w̶̙̍ ?”

“T-tear it out-xt of me w-with your c-clawsz.”

Alastor’s right hand left his hip, slipping under the hem of his vest and shirt to settle on the small of his back. Vox shivered under the touch. It felt oddly intimate. More intimate than being eaten. Somehow. More intimate than the slow grind of Alastor’s cock against him. Skin on skin, holding instead of taking. “A̵͈̒n̵̬͑d̷̦̋ t̵͙̍h̸̡͂e̶̷̪̻̾̆n̶͚͝?” 

Vox’s words caught in his throat, breath forced out of him in painful little hiccups. Everything felt just shy of real. He couldn’t think, all his thoughts and considerations narrowing down to Alastor’s cock against him. 

Alastor’s thumb rubbed soothing little circles at the base of spine, like he was calming a particularly distressed animal. Vox hated that it was actually helping.

“T-then you s-should eatttit.” Alastor’s hand slid further up his back, rucking the shredded remains of his shirt and vest up under his armpits. He set his claws between Vox’s shoulder blades, not digging in, yet. Vox tensed in anticipation.

“A̶͔͘n̵̬͑d̷̦̋?”

“A-and you s-should let-t me licxk t-the blood o-offf your c-claws a-after.” 

Alastor raked his claws down Vox’s back. Vox screamed, the sound discordant through his speakers, electric and mostly feedback. Pain bled into white-hot pleasure under the thrum of his hypnosis.

“M-more, Al, more- I-I-I” Vox gasped at the first touch of Alastor’s tongue against the new wounds. His tongue was in him. He tried to press up into the feeling, desperate for more. 

Claws curled under his collar, yanking him back into the hard roll of Alastor’s hips. Alastor’s mouth was still on his back, tongue running along each scratch with dogged determination.

“T̶͙͝e̶̛̱ll ̶̦̓me̶̪̾ a̶͔͘g̴͙̀a̶͔͘i̸͎̋n̵̨͒”

“More, m-more, Al, please- I, my h-heart, dig i-it-t out of me, f-fuck me, please. Please, Al, e-eat it a-and fuck m-mme, I-I-I w-want to lickk the blood o-outt of your mouth, f-fucking anyt-thing.”

“A̶͔͘g̴͙̀a̶͔͘i̸͎̋n̶͚͝ ” 

“Al, please, k-keep it, it’zs yours. B-bite me, f-fuck me, e-eatt my fu-fucxking heart, I don’t care, j-just do s-something- oh fuuuuck-” Alastor’s teeth sunk into the muscle just below his left armpit. Vox’s vision blurred, warnings popping up onto his screen with an electric hiss.

It didn’t matter. Alastor was still grinding against him, his cock so close to where Vox actually wanted it. He was making these punched out little growls around Vox’s skin, teeth still clinging to the muscle without ripping it clean off. The ache of his hips and ass from the relentless pressure felt hardwired to his own dick, each roll jostling him against the soaked fabric of his own pants. 

“More. A-Al, k-keep going. F-fucking k-kill me, I d-don’t care, jusst e-eat my heart f-first, k-keep it, please.”

Alastor’s hips stilled behind him, the screech of radiostatic making his own signal pulse around him.  

“D-did you just…oh God, A-A-Al. Did you just cum?” Vox whined, trying to grind back against him. “It’s not fair, it’s not fair, I w-w-wanted to see, you’ve never… I never… Al, Al let me clean you up, please, pleasepleaseplease I want to taste, please, Al, let me, let me-” Alastor shoved two blood covered claws into his mouth. Vox whined, but wrapped his tongue around them, sucking his own coppery blood off of them the best he could. He tried to press back harder against Alastor, trying to get his dick closer. It wasn’t fair.

Alastor curled his hand, claws down Vox’s throat, palm cupping his casing. His other hand held tighter on Vox’s hip to hold him still. Alastor sounded calmer, back in control, when he spoke again. “That’s a good boy, Vincent.” He was so close, bent over Vox’s back. Alastor’s shadow wrapped around his chest, holding him up where his body threatened to collapse into the mud. 

Everything was spinning, his heartbeat was pulsing in his wounds and his fucking cock, he was going to die like this. He wanted to fucking cum before that. 

“Go on, pet. I have you. Take what you need.” Vox yanked his good arm out of the mud, shoving his hand down his pants. He barely got his hand around his cock before he was cumming. 

Pleasure locked up his muscles, his vision fizzing out with the rest of his screen. 

Alastor was still surrounding him when he came back online, still lapping blood off his ruined shoulder and back.

“Good boy, Vincent. Just perfect.”

Vox whimpered. 

Holy fucking shit.

It was so much.

It wasn't enough.

“A-Al, Al, please.”

“Please, what?” 

“I don’t know, I don’t know, Al. I need. I need-” A sob bubbled out of him. Crying was agony, it drew all of his attention to his still weeping wounds. He felt twitchy, muscles coiled too tight and too loose all at once. 

He was unmoored, numb and on fire in equal measure.

The warmth of Alastor behind him disappeared and he whined, panicked. That was worse. The shadows wrapped around his chest yanked him back into Alastor’s lap. One of Alastor’s arms wrapped around his waist, tugging him flush against him. The shock stilled his panic. Alastor hated most touch. He didn’t…cuddle. 

Alastor’s other hand wrapped around the front of his neck, above the collar, gently pressing Vox’s head back onto his shoulder. His claws brushed carefully over the collar, setting the bell chiming. 

“I wasn’t being careful, mon lapin. I scratched your collar.” Alastor muttered behind him, voice tinged with static.

“T-t-that’s okay.” Alastor used his grip on Vox’s neck to tip his head further to the side, granting him better access to Vox’s bloodied shoulder and neck. He shuddered as Alastor’s breath ghosted over his wounds. Alastor’s tongue followed soon after, lapping up the blood still sluggishly oozing out of him. Vox squirmed in his lap, the sharp sting of familiar pain grounding him in his body. It felt better, now that his brain wasn’t hypnotized and firing pleasure and pain signals wildly. “A-Alastor.”

“It looks like the bleeding has stopped.” Alastor hummed behind him, pulling back from his throat. “No damage to the wires either.” 

Vox tried to reach back to pull him back into place. He managed a full body twitch, one of his arms completely useless, the other trapped in his pants. “No, Al.” He whined, plaintive and needy.

“No?” 

“I need..” Fuck. What did he need? “A-Al, I need, I n-need-” He felt like he was out of air, drowning. Maybe he had fallen into the river after all and this was some sort of weird death hallucination. It would make more sense than Alastor holding him, treating like he’s delicate, like he’s worth something to him. It was a tempting fantasy, one he even believed from time to time. 

“What do you need, pet?” This was definitely some sort of weird double-death hallucination. Alastor sounded worried. 

“T-t-txighter.” Alastor’s arm around his waist tightened, pressing him closer to Alastor’s chest. The cuts on his back burned. The hand that had been at his throat let his head tip all the way back onto Alastor’s shoulder. It wrapped around his chest, hand pressed over his heart where it was still threatening to beat out of his chest. 

Alastor was being so indulgent with him. He wanted to ask for more, ask for everything, ask for anything that would fix what he was feeling- unsettled, out of his own skin, like Alastor was the only thing keeping him here. 

Worse, he was still turned on. His cock was still hard and he couldn't find the grip strength to do anything about it. 

“B-bite me.” He finally got out, before the tears started up again. 

“It won't heal before the next meeting.”

“I don't care,” He hiccuped, “I don't-t-t care, Al, more.” 

Silence hung in the air between them, still aside from the desperate heaving of Vox’s chest. Vox tried, unsuccessfully, to squirm in his grip. Why wasn't Alastor doing anything?

The moment stretched. 

“..Al?” Vox whispered. His tears had slowed, but the panic had started to set in again with Alastor’s silence.

“D-did I do something w-wrong?” The words sounded small and desperate, even to him. He hated it. Distantly, he knew his fans had kicked in, regulating his temperature and oxygen intake but it didn't matter, he couldn't breath. 

“No. I was just considering how I should give you more.” 

The hand around his chest ran down the plane of his stomach, sharp claws catching on the shredded remains of his shirt as it went. 

“You were very good today, so you should get more, shouldn't you?”

Alastor’s hand wrapped Vox’s, still trapped in his pants. 

The pressure against his cock felt disgusting. Wet with mud and blood and half dried cum he hadn't even fucking noticed before and he hated it, it was awful and it was perfect and everything he needed. He keened, tipping his head back further on Alastor’s shoulder despite the way it tore at his already damaged muscles. 

“Bite me. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Bite me, Al.” The hand around his waist shifted up, taking Vox’s wrist in a deceptively gentle grip. He raised Vox’s already mutilated arm to his mouth, biting carefully into his inner forearm. Vox squealed.

He expected Alastor to take another piece of him. Aastor let his teeth break the skin and graze the delicate wiring, latching his mouth over the wound to drink his blood.

The hand pressing his own to his cock squeezed and Vox jolted, the pleasure overwhelming as it coursed through him. 

Vox whimpered, trying to get his muscles to cooperate enough to press his hips into their combined hands. “Al, Al, m-more, pl-ease.”

Alastor unlatched his mouth from Vox’s arm, letting it drop uselessly back at Vox’s side. He wrapped his own arm low on Vox’s waist, pulling him close and still. “Stay. Be good.” 

“I w-will, I will, j-just more.” He had no idea what he was even agreeing to. The words sounded jumbled, wrong.

Alastor freely gave him more, dragging their hands up and down his cock indulgently. Vox wanted to bottle whatever madness had overcome Alastor so he could have this again. 

He closed his eyes, trying to sink into the feeling of their hands tugging at his cock. Pressed up against the other man like this, Vox didn't need to worry about anything other than Alastor. The panic ebbed until he was boneless, useless in Alastor’s lap. 

“...Al?” 

“Hm?” Alastor acknowledged him without stopping the movement of their joint hands. 

“Did I taste good?” The words warbled out of him, soft and unsure.

“Absolutely divine, darling.” 

Vox moaned. Divine. He wished he had a normal fucking head so he could bury his face in Alastor's neck. 

His eyes felt heavy, some sort of vestigial leftover from when he was alive wriggling through his circuitry. Snow glimmered across his screen, and he stopped trying to fight it. He’d either pass out or cum, or both, and he found he really didn’t care which as long as Alastor held him through it.

The arm Alastor had wrapped around his middle shifted, one cool claw running curiously along his overheated gills. Vox shivered, but didn’t protest. Alastor’s claw curled under the flap of skin, feeling his breath from the inside. A noise gurgled out of him. He was sure the terrible electric whining was coming from him, but couldn’t pinpoint how he was making it. Electricity prickled at his skin, itchy and sharp. Alastor didn’t let him go, kept stroking him, kept stroking in him. That thought pushed him over the edge, feeling cradled and consumed. Owned.

He was vaguely aware that his emergency overheating warning rolled across his screen. His limbs felt heavy as he tried to hang onto his consciousness.

“Next time you’ll eat my heart, right?” He muttered sleepily.

Somewhere under the whine of his own electricity, Alastor said something back. He was pretty sure.

His consciousness fizzled back to him in waves after that, little gleams of reality beyond the dark nothing. The feeling of being jostled. Something warm against his skin. The soft, droning hum of radiowaves.

At one point, he felt Alastor’s lips against his screen and flinched, expecting another bite. 

There was no bite, just a soft kiss pressed to his forehead. 

Weird.

Apparently he was unconscious long enough to start dreaming. 

The next time he came to, he was warm. There was a dull throb in his arm and throat, but it felt like nothing compared to how cozy he was, bundled in his soft pajamas and blankets, the sound of jazz pulling him back into sleep. 

That… wasn't right. 

His eyes shot open, panic flaring and smoothing over in one breath when he recognized his surroundings.

Alastor’s radio tower. 

He was in Alastor’s radio tower… laying in a bed that was in here for some reason. Wearing- he glanced down at himself- a shirt that definitely was not his. He also wasn't covered in mud, blood, and cum, which was a pretty nice way to wake up, all things considered. 

He flexed his fingers to take in the damage, surprised that he had any ability to move his left hand.

“Huh. Overlord power isn't something to scoff at I guess.” He muttered to himself, surprised by the rate of his healing. That was the worst mauling of his life or afterlife, but also his quickest healing. He'd be fine by the end of the week, if not sooner.

His eyes snapped to Alastor at the sound of his voice. He was mid-show, announcing the next record. 

Alastor’s ears were swiveled toward him, focused on Vox, even as he performed for Hell. That knowledge settled warmly over him.

Alastor released the unmute at the base of his microphone, silencing himself from the air as a new jazz record Vox couldn’t quite place played. He reorganized the papers in front of him, actively avoiding Vox’s gaze, even as his ears remained trained on him. 

“Good morning, mon lapin. There is water and some more pain killers on the bedside table, should you need them.” He paused the papers he was shuffling to make brief eye contact with Vox. “The painkillers, I mean. The water is non-negotiable.” 

Vox didn’t argue, he was too tired for any of that shit anyway. I downed the glass of water in one long sip. “Morning you said? One hell of a night. We started at like…. What? Noon, yesterday?”

Alastor’s ears were twitching and downturned. He looked anxious, a deeply unsettling look on the radio demon. “We started at 12PM. On…Monday. It is currently Thursday.”

“Thursday?!” Vox jolted to his feet at the news, crumbling back to the bed in a series of curses as the action ricocheted pain up his… everything. “Fuck, Al. Two whole days? We can’t ever fucking do that again. I can’t afford to be out of commission for days. Like. Literally, I cannot afford it, renting the studio space costs a small fucking fortune. All of my shows have to run on time.”

Alastor had appeared next to him, looking chastised. He helped Vox settle back onto the bed. “Yes, well. I must admit I am a tad bit embarrassed about how the whole thing went.”

“Oh yeah? Which part? The eating way more than you said you would? That you rubbed your dick against my ass like a highschooler until you came in your pants? Or was it that you actually got a hand around my cock this time?” 

Alastor’s ears were flat against his head, his smile tight and strained. He looked like he wanted to flee. Good. Fucking bastard deserved to be uncomfortable. “Well, I would say all of it, my dear. I must admit I didn’t expect the hunt to be so… invigorating.”

Vox scoffed from where he was laying on the bed, not bothering to fight gravity any more. He’d take pain killers in a minute. “You can just fuck me the next time you’re feeling horny, yeah? No need to fucking incapacitate me for a week.” 

The next time Alastor spoke, it sounded so much like he was pouting that Vox had to look at him. His ears were drooping sadly on his head. How he somehow managed to look sulky, even with his smile, even after fucking mauling Vox, was a true talent. “So I take it you are not amiable to a repeat performance?”

Vox groaned. Alastor was going to be the fucking death of him. “Not no.” Most of it really hadn’t been that bad. He could do it again. If he pre-recorded a week of programming and Alastor took it probably half as far. “Just… if we do this again, we would just need better rules. Maybe a deal in place so we don’t actually fucking kill me.”

Alastor nodded. “That seems fair.”

Huh. Might as well go all in if he was going to be so agreeable.

“And if you cum again, I want to do it. Like, actually be the one to make you cum. I didn’t even get to look at you and it fucking sucked.”

Alastor’s eyebrows drew in at that, uncomfortable and considering.  “We can discuss it.” He finally conceded. 

That was good enough for Vox. “Okay. Cool. I’ve got to get work done today, so I’ll just snag some painkillers and get out of your hair.”

Alastor’s hand landed on his chest, gently pressing him back into the mattress from where he had been trying to stand up. 

“I arranged with Valentino for him to play reruns for you this week while you recovered, so you have nothing to do today other than lay here and sleep. There’s food and water, and I’ll be right over there.”

“Wait. You… spoke to Val? And got my programming covered?”

“Yes.”

Holy fucking shit.

Alastor talked to Val.

Willingly.

On his behalf.

Alastor was taking care of him, making sure his things were taken care of in his absence. 

“I love you. Fuck, Al, I love you.” 

“I know you do, darling.” Alastor settled back into his chair, reclaiming his broadcast with an ease only he could manage. Vox closed his eyes and relaxed into the bed, letting his partner’s voice wash over him and lull him back to sleep.