Chapter Text
Today had been one of the longest days of Valentino’s afterlife. The little one-eyed bitch had got him good with her fucking knife. After some help from VoxTek’s medical team and his overlord powers, he was healing well, but even science and Hellish magic couldn’t help with exhaustion. He couldn’t wait to soak in his bathtub then get some sleep. From the way Velvette hunched over her phone with a scowl, she felt the same way.
Vox cackled to himself, which he’d been doing on and off ever since they took down the Radio Demon earlier today. Alastor sat tied in his chair, the frowning mask over his face, his ears drooping. He looked like a splash of fresh blood against the greys and blues of the penthouse hallway. So weird, to see the Vees’ greatest enemy in the heart of Vee Tower. Ethan, Vox’s assistant, stood near the chair, ready to push it whenever Vox wanted.
“Well, good night, Alastor—” Vox was saying.
Valentino rolled his eyes and tuned him out. To Velvette, he said, “So, want to celebrate capturing the Radio Demon tomorrow? I can book us the VIP lounge at Consent.”
“Love to, Val.” As he reserved the lounge, she yawned. “’Night, babes.”
“’Night, baby.”
As he turned to go down the hallway to his room, he was surprised to hear Vox say, “Val, wait a sec.”
Vox approached, cleared his throat and quietly said, “It occurs to me that we, ah, didn’t get to finish what we started this afternoon.”
Valentino squeaked, cheeks burning. They’d just gotten into it when Alastor had called Vox out. Valentino had gone from tied up, dick hard with two metal claws up his ass to tied up, dick hard, ass empty and being screamed at by a panicked Vox to get his guns and Velvette and meet him outside Vee Tower.
“I certainly didn’t get to finish,” Valentino grumbled. “I don’t know what was going on in your pants during that fight. Or when you struck that deal. Or when you took the Radio Demon out for smoothies. Or—”
Vox angled his body so the security camera above would only see his back and put his hand on Valentino’s left hip. “Let me make it up to you, babe.”
Valentino’s antennae perked up. Last month, while Alastor was licking his wounds after the fight against Adam and the exorcists, Vox had been explosive in bed. What would he be like now that he’d captured the Radio Demon?
Not that Valentino was going to fold for Vox like a lawn chair. As he lit one of his cigarettes, he glanced at Ethan and the Radio Demon, both waiting for the elevator to bring Alastor wherever they were putting him for the night. A sudden thought made him chuckle. “You know, the Radio Demon’s already derailed my entire day. Why not invite him to join us?”
Vox’s eyes widened, his mouth becoming a jagged line and his entire screen glowing cyan. Electricity danced along his monitor and between his antennae. “Wha—Alastor—hrrrrf—”
Valentino circled his business partner while Vox spluttered. “He’s in a cuck chair already. You couldn’t write a better porno.” He took a drag on his cigarette. “Years ago, you wanted him to join your team, right?” He blew the smoke out and manipulated it so Alastor was surrounded by a wreath of hearts. “Show him what he missed, baby.”
“Ahah...ahahah....” Vox’s chuckles suddenly became a loud, manic laugh pitch shifted down. “MUAHAHAHA!” Cables whipped out from his back and wrapped around Alastor’s chair as Ethan was pushing it into the open elevator.
One of Vox’s cables slammed into the nearby security camera, smashing it to pieces. Vox dipped Valentino and kissed him, and Valentino’s focus narrowed to Vox. His lower hands stroked Vox’s firm ass and his upper hands slid beneath Vox’s suit jacket and ran along his stomach and chest. Vox was frantic, his tongue invading Valentino’s mouth, digging his metallic claws into the buckles and buttons of Valentino’s clothes, not caring if he caught leather or skin.
Vox straightened Valentino from the dip. (He always had to lead whenever they danced, of course.) When Vox reached up, Valentino lifted him so he could wrap his legs around Valentino’s waist and they could kiss without their height difference getting in the way. He walked to Vox’s bedroom, kissing Vox every few steps. The wheels of Alastor’s rolling chair sounded behind them.
Usually, Vox tried to keep the fact that he wanted sex, the specifics of what he wanted and when he wanted it, as private as possible. He had no cameras in his bedroom, he refused to let Valentino make a sex tape, and he’d never invited anyone
except one time almost eight years ago
to join them.
Valentino couldn’t wait to see where tonight went.
A minute and a half later, he had his answer: the night had gone to absolute shit.
Valentino lit a cigarette and poured himself a glass of whiskey from a nearby bottle with his lower hands, as his upper ones were still tied by one of Vox’s cables.
Naturally, Vox had gotten what he wanted. He flipped onto his back with a loud groan. Above them, a graph of the night’s television ratings showed the ratings rising even higher.
“Today was perfect. Right, Val?”
“Uh huh, sure, babe.”
“And what do you think, Alastor?” Vox asked. If Vox noticed that Valentino hadn’t broken a sweat, that his dick wasn’t even hard, and that he wasn’t smiling, he didn’t care.
The Radio Demon didn’t say anything. Vox continued to taunt that red fucking deer demon. He offered Valentino his glasses, which Valentino appreciated, but took that moment to take Valentino’s cigarette. Asshole. The TV demon dressed himself and moved to his desk, talking to Alastor as he went.
Valentino stared into his drink.
He’d expected certain things: Vox would top him, tie him up or whip him, and probably only use spit for lube. He’d even expected that the sex wouldn’t last long. Valentino liked when Vox went feral. It was hot, seeing the man with all the plans and all the words reduced to a needy, humping thing, desperate as any addict for their next fix.
But he’d also expected Vox to pay attention to him, and Vox had barely looked his way. He’d been watching the Radio Demon, who just stared through the two of them as if the bed was empty.
(Vox had said “Val” while he was balls-deep in Valentino. He had. Even if maybe Vox didn’t emphasize the ‘V’ that hard, he’d said it. If Valentino hadn’t heard the ‘V’, that must have been on him.)
As Vox droned on, Valentino’s mind drifted.
He still remembered their first time. He had no idea why. He’d had a long mortal life and afterlife with a lot of fucking. But after more than 40 years in Hell, some things stuck after all this time.
The Vees hadn’t always had Vee Tower. In the old days, they’d worked out of a four-storey building on the north side of Pentagram City. The bottom two floors were for Valentino’s film studio, the third floor was for Vox’s newsroom, and the fourth was for their offices. Velvette hadn’t been with them then. (Crazy, to think she wasn’t with them from the start. But she wasn’t. She probably hadn’t even been born yet.)
One night, Valentino woke up from his afternoon nap later than usual. Yawning, he sat up, kicked the girls out of his office, and got dressed. It was after work, and most people had gone home. (Before the Vees had Vee Tower, they let their staff have homes to go back to. It was so much easier to keep their people safe from rival overlords and lava rain and random musical numbers if they lived where they worked.)
He didn’t feel like going to the clubs to scout for new talent. He’d found anyone interesting weeks ago. Only the posers and try-hards would come up to him now.
He hunted new arrivals, mostly. After death, so many sinners needed time to adjust. To question. To mourn. To find family, sometimes. They stumbled through Hell with haunted, vacant eyes. They were easy prey.
And they were pathetic. When Valentino had landed in Hell, he’d just continued doing what he’d done in life: pimping whores and selling drugs and making money. Except now, he didn’t have that lingering Catholic guilt, that flash of his mother’s tearful face after he beat someone to death, the memory of clicking rosary beads as he stared at the ceiling in a drugged-out stupor. He didn’t even remember what mami looked like anymore.
He was in Hell. The worst had already happened. And Hell wasn’t a torment unless you were a pussy.
Valentino stretched and yawned. As he entered the hallway, he saw some light beneath Vox’s office door. With nothing better to do, he checked in on his business partner.
When Valentino opened the door, Vox looked up from his expense reports. They were paper, not floating numbers on pale-blue screens like they’d become. Vox’s head was square and black. (Valentino had often joked about Vox’s head getting bigger as the years went on.) The TV demon wore a dark suit with a burnt orange turtleneck. Vox said it was fashionable now.
Vox was always changing with the times. Valentino hadn’t changed his style much since he arrived in Hell. Their fashions matched their jobs: Vox, the entertainer, always tried to stay current, but Valentino didn’t need to. Sex was the oldest profession. It was timeless, eternal.
The office itself was small, with one lone window letting in a dim rectangle of red sky. The strongest light in the room was a desk lamp and Vox’s square screen.
The TV demon sat back in his chair. “Good evening, Valentino. Anything I can help you with?”
“Don’t you ever take a night off?”
“My side of the job isn’t watching people fuck all day. It requires a lot of careful attention.”
“I worked hard!” Only after Valentino said that did he remember that he’d freebased coke, drank and fucked all day. “Recently.”
“I heard your morning was a two-hour orgy followed by lunch that was you eating off your actors.”
“It saves on plates.” Valentino walked into Vox’s office and sat sideways in one of the chairs in front of his desk. As he draped his legs over the armrest of the chair, Vox’s gaze flicked to them before returning to his expense reports.
Valentino ignored it like he ignored every drifting gaze or lingering touch. There was no way boring, stuffed-shirt Vox could handle him.
Valentino continued, “What’s the point of power if we can’t enjoy ourselves?”
“Because we don’t have enough of it. Not yet. Every move we make has to be carefully plotted and precise. We’re here forever, so we have to play the long game. We can’t afford mistakes.”
One of the downsides of being Vox’s business partner was the constant threat of one of Vox’s lectures. Valentino had to interrupt quickly. “Ugh, you don’t have an artistic bone in your body. Mistakes are part of creativity! Part of life!”
“Anyway, I need to get back to work. If you want to actually talk business, my door is always open. Goodnight, Valentino.”
Valentino tsked. “You’re going to work yourself to double-death. Your shoulders are practically touching your screen-head-thing.”
Valentino realized he could help with that. It might ease relations with his new business partner.
He got out of the chair, slipped around behind Vox and pressed his shoulders down, fighting the tension that kept them tight. Valentino hooked his fingers in and pressed deep into the muscles at the top of his shoulders that led to Vox’s neck.
Vox gasped. “Oh!” Valentino began to run his fingers along the muscles, digging deep into the knots he found there. “Ah. Mm.” Valentino’s lower pair of hands ran along the curve of his shoulder blades. “Shit, that’s...that’s good.” His eyes drifted half closed.
The TV demon’s neck, which had to support his large head, was rock-hard. Valentino didn’t want to waste his energy relaxing those muscles. (At Vee Tower, Vox had weekly massages to deal with neck strain.) He kept his focus on the shoulders and upper back.
Valentino pressed against a particularly stubborn knot. “Don’t say I don’t help out with your side of the business, Other than my busty weather girl.” Janey Jugs had filled in when Vox’s regular weather-girl was off sick, and she’d been so popular that Vox had fired his old weather-girl and made Janey his new one.
Vox chortled deeply, his screen flaring a bit brighter. “Janey is a big hit. Those tits cover half the screen, but viewers don’t give a shit. The ratings just keep going up! Heh. Ratings and other things.”
Valentino’s antennae twitched. He’d never seen Vox this horny before. Usually, the TV demon was all business.
This conversation suddenly became much more interesting.
As he massaged Vox’s shoulders, he said, “I could send Janey to you sometime if you want to give her a private performance review. Mami always taught me to share my toys.”
“Appreciate it, but getting involved with the staff makes things complicated. It’s...mmm...it’s not worth the risk. Oh, a little lower, to the right.”
“Do you have a dick?”
Vox pulled away from Valentino’s hands and frowned up at him. “Oh, so just because I don’t want to get my dick wet with the first porn star you throw my way, I don’t have one?”
Valentino shrugged. “You’re some kind of TV guy. You wouldn’t be the only sinner who didn’t have a dick or a pussy. I had an actor with an egg-beater dick once. He died in a kitchen. Or he was a chef when he was alive? I dunno.”
Vox blinked. “Uh....”
“There’s a market for pussy torture and shit. There’s a market for everything, here.” (The term ‘monsterfucker’ wouldn’t be in Valentino’s vocabulary until Velvette told him about it decades later. She’d also told him about the omegaverse, which had led to the discovery of a lucrative untapped market.) “You either get used to fisting pussies with teeth or being deepthroated by hyenaboys or stepped on by centipede people or you just don’t fuck, I guess.”
“Wait...teeth...?”
“You told me you’d watched my films.”
“Not the pussy-teeth stuff! Just, you know, the normal stuff.”
Ugh, of course he did. “God, Eggbeater-Dick made me a lot of money before I shot his dick off and traded him for a piece of real estate on the east side. He became such a mouthy bitch after a while.” When Vox opened his mouth, Valentino quickly said, “And before you ride my ass about ‘not killing my revenue sources’, his videos are exclusives that I charge hundreds of bucks for. You’re not the only business genius here.”
Valentino decided then that he was going to fuck Vox. Seeing him fall apart would be hilarious.
And to think, the evening had started so boring.
Valentino dropped into a crouch on the cheap, threadbare carpet. He was tall enough that he could look into Vox’s eyes while the TV demon was seated. “If you’ve got an electric plug dick, I can get you a socket. I can find something for everyone.”
“It’s—it’s not a plug.” Vox’s voice and screen got a little staticky as he stared at Valentino.
The sinner Vox would become could meet Val’s gaze and say “Val,” or snap his fingers, or pat his lap, and Valentino would be ready to fuck. Oh, Valentino wouldn’t go to him immediately. Where was the fun in that? Waiting drove Vox crazy, and Valentino liked him a little crazy. But a few minutes or a few hours later, Vox would get what he wanted.
But the sinner Vox had been was frozen, staring raptly at Valentino, breathing quickly. A horizontal line of pale blue lit up at the bottom of his eyes and the top of his mouth: a blush, Valentino would learn later. This sinner needed a helping hand.
“You should see Janey’s tits bounce as she rides you.” Valentino licked red saliva over his right lower hand. With his left lower hand, he undid Vox’s pants. His right hand slid beneath the waistband of tighty-whiteys. His fingers didn’t close around an electric plug, but a half-hard dick that felt disappointingly normal for a TV-headed sinner.
Vox gasped, his eyes closing, blue electricity arcing between his TV antennae. “Fuck, yes.”
As Valentino began pumping, spreading as much saliva as he could over Vox’s dick, he made sure his fingers twisted and played around the head of Vox’s cock on the upstroke.
For fun, he tried to guess what Vox liked. “Janey likes it rough. You could bite her tits until she bleeds, and she’d be begging for more.”
Vox’s eyes opened. “Um, o—okay?”
Not pain, then. “And her ass is perfect. You ever had a girl from behind?”
The muscles in Vox’s body tightened and he grunted loudly. His cock twitched in Valentino’s fist, the tip dribbling.
Really? Anal did it for him? Vox was so fucking lame. (Valentino would introduce him to much more deviancy in the decades to come, though Vox never got kinkier than some bondage and pain play.)
It wasn’t long before Vox’s dick sat hard and thick in his underwear. His breath came quickly, and his fingers tightened on the armrests of the big leather chair he sat in to feel important. But he was still so controlled.
Time to break that.
Without warning, Valentino took his saliva-covered hand from Vox’s pants, stood up and walked to the door. “I’ll call Janey right now, see if she’ll come in for some overtime.” He snickered. “Don’t worry—we won’t actually pay her.”
Valentino waited for Vox to lunge across the desk to get to him.
A second went by. Then another. And another. Vox just stared at him, confused.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Valentino snapped. Had he not licked his hand enough?
“Wrong with—?” Vox sputtered. “What the fuck....” Black lines suddenly spiralled in the red of his left eye. (Hypnosis, Valentino would later learn.) “Finish me off, fucker!”
All right, that was a little funny. But why wasn’t Vox more desperate?
“I said—” Vox tried to hypnotize him again “—get over here and jerk, uh....” He seemed to realize what he was saying and blushed again. Clearing his throat, he finished, “jerk me off. Um, now.”
Snorting, Valentino lit a cigarette. “Didn’t your mother teach you to say please?”
Vox spluttered. “But you should be—”
“No, you should be—”
At the same time, they both said, “Wait—it doesn’t work on you?”
Valentino tilted his head. “Hmm. Interesting.” He had to actually try. That was unusual. That was fun. He giggled.
Vox looked at him, frowning.
Valentino puffed on his cigarette, then said, “Say ‘please,’ partner.”
Vox looked pained, his metallic claws digging into the wood of his desk. “Mmmmmphhhh....”
Valentino waited.
Vox bared his blue teeth in a grimace. “rrrrrrRRRRrrrr....”
“See you tomorrow, Vox.” Valentino turned around and sauntered to the door, deliberately swaying his hips.
“...please.”
Valentino, his hand on the doorknob, grinned. He locked the door and turned around, telling Vox, “Up on the desk, papi,” as he crossed the room to his desk.
Looking confused, Vox did so. How obedient—Valentino’s heartbeat picked up, and warmth fluttered in his stomach. As Valentino approached, the TV-headed demon gulped and leaned forward eagerly.
Instinctively, Valentino leaned forward to kiss Vox on the mouth, but he stopped before making contact. He thought something he hadn’t thought before and would never think again: How the fuck do I make out with a screen?
Vox tilted his head to the side in a surprisingly human gesture for a sinner with a flat face and two people who didn’t have noses.
(Years later, Valentino would tease Vox about that moment.
“You fucked as a demon, right? Because you’re sooooo much older than me. It’d be so embarrassing if you hadn’t fucked in Hell before we met. I could never take you seriously again.”
“I’ve fucked plenty since I died, you brat. I just didn’t kiss much. My lips aren’t as sensitive as they were when I was alive. Fuck, I’m lucky I have a tongue and can still taste things.”)
With a soft huff, Vox pulled Valentino forward and pressed the lower part of his screen against Valentino’s lips. Good enough, Valentino supposed. As he and Vox kissed, his lower hands pulled Vox’s pants and underwear down to his knees, while his upper hands removed Vox’s suit jacket. Vox’s own hands couldn’t seem to settle. He would be stroking Valentino’s antennae (both full and feathery at the time) one second, then caressing Valentino’s shoulders then pawing at Valentino’s chest.
With no lips, sharp teeth and a tongue that was just kinda there, Vox sucked at kissing. Valentino didn’t mind. Every day at work, he dealt with fantasy. Reality was sweet, in a way. And it got Valentino’s dick twitching, which was the most important thing. Valentino licked at his left lower hand and undid his pants to help himself out.
At the sound of Valentino’s zipper and the rustle of clothes, Vox startled. “Oh! Uh.” A few lines of static flickered behind his eyes and mouth.
“Not gonna return the favour, partner?”
“Ha ha, it’s just—” Vox spread his hands “—I have these metallic claws, you see. Wouldn’t want to, um, scratch anything sensitive with them.”
“So, I’m fucking your ass, then?”
Vox’s eyes widened to fill almost his entire screen. “Uhhhhmmm....”
Valentino took a long drag from his cigarette and smirked. “Mm. Adventurous. I like it. I haven’t had virgin ass in a while.” Oh, that was good. Heat shot down his nerves, dried out his mouth, made his antennae twitch. He slid his pants and underpants off and began pumping his dick.
“What? Fuck no.” Vox’s gaze dropped to Valentino’s dick and he leaned forward slightly. “I’m...umm, I’m...not....” Vox trailed off, mouth hanging open, unable to look away. Valentino got that a lot. He was hung like a 10-foot-tall moth man should be.
“Your mouth, then.” Static washed over Vox’s screen; when his face reappeared, his mouth was shut. “You’re doing something for me, Vox.” Valentino’s upper arms slipped off his own jacket and shirt. “You can choose what. Or are we not equal partners?” His upper arms reached out to pull off Vox’s turtleneck, which stretched over his square head. Valentino quickly used that moment to pull off his own shoes. Maybe Vox wouldn’t say anything....
When Vox’s turtleneck was off, he spotted what Valentino wanted to hide immediately. “Sorry, but where are your fucking feet, man?”
Valentino sighed. Every fucking time. “Moth legs are sticky, I guess. The bottom part of my legs sticks to my shoes; that’s how I wear shoes when I don’t have feet. Are you done?”
“Uh, right.”
Valentino had to admit, Vox’s body was hotter than he’d expected. He had a sleek, navy-blue swimmer’s body with rectangular cyan nipples and…were those gills? He’d have to ask later.
Valentino pushed Vox’s papers off the desk with his lower hands while laying Vox down with his upper hands. Vox gulped, squirming at what was probably an unusual position. Valentino grabbed Vox’s hands and brought them to his thighs—Vox had always liked his legs.
Valentino relaxed his business partner with kisses, swirling his tongue over those weird nipples, and stroking his skin gently with 16 fingers. (Thank fuck Vox’s skin was hairless and shark-like, but not actually shark skin, which was like sandpaper.) Vox eventually relaxed enough to explore Valentino’s body gently, groping from legs to ass to hips and back. Not inside Valentino’s ass, unfortunately, but it was important to meet sexually repressed weirdos where they were at.
By the time Valentino returned to their dicks, Vox eagerly took Valentino’s, and Valentino returned the favour. The feel of cool metal claws and Vox’s fleshy fingers and palm certainly was interesting. (Over the years, he would become very familiar with Vox’s fingers. They could make him blush when they were out in public, moan until Vox slapped his other hand over his mouth to shut him up, scream himself hoarse on nights when Vox was feeling generous. Valentino would go on to do incredibly stupid things just for the feel of those fingers on his body.)
Vox got to experience what four hands could do to two balls and one dick.
“Shit shit shit shit shit,” Vox muttered and he twitched and shuddered. (Valentino had heard trillions of words from this stupid TV man during their business partnership. Those soft little whines were some of the sweetest Vox had ever said.)
With a strangled groan, Vox came. He dropped his hand from Valentino’s dick just in time, as a surge of electricity crackled along his head and hands, scorching his wooden desk. Ropes of jizz landed on his chest. Judging by the amount, he hadn’t come in a while.
Vox chuckled, then laughed, his eyes half-lidded and his screen pale blue. Now that he’d come, Vox didn’t immediately put his hand back on Valentino’s dick. At Valentino’s glare, he tried to pretend he was just scratching an itch before continuing to jerk Valentino off.
Valentino was so close. Vox had the basics down, so Valentino ran his fingers along the head of his dick, pressing until....
Fuck. There. Yes. Finally. This was the closest any sinner could get to Heaven. He soared through white clouds, warmed by the sunlight exploding inside him.
Valentino moaned loudly as he added to the wet, sweaty mess between them. After a few moments to catch his breath and come down from the high, he slipped off the desk, put on his glasses, fished a handkerchief from his back pocket and tossed it at Vox.
“Ugh, it’s crusty. You can have it.” Vox passed it back and took his own handkerchief from his suit pocket. Seeing the TV-shaped and hand-shaped scorch marks on his desk, he scowled.
Valentino lay back on the desk, blowing smoke rings up at the ceiling. “Mm. That was fun, partner.” Gesturing to the scorched desk, he smirked. “Especially since I can only assume this is your first time.”
“Fuck you—you’re not my fucking first.”
“First time with a man, then?” Vox loved talking about himself, and he never asked too many questions in return. Valentino didn’t want to talk about his first time with a man, and he was sure Vox would never think to ask.
“I...huh.” Vox looked out the small square of his office window thoughtfully. “You know, I’d almost forgotten. I had this college roommate, Danny.” He smiled at the memory. “Every now and then, a man needs a little stress relief during exams or when his girl’s not giving him any. It’s natural. Women can go without, but men are primal creatures.
“Danny and I got our journalism degrees together. Of course, he couldn’t compete with my grades. Not with how sick he kept getting, the poor bastard.” He chuckled at some private joke.
Shit, was he going to have to hear Vox’s entire life story? “Mmhmm. So, should I send you some of my girls?”
Vox’s smile grew broader, showing more of his pointy teeth. “You know, maybe I should make use of certain advantages of my position. I’ve worked hard. Why shouldn’t I enjoy myself? Sure. I’ll let you know when I have some free time.”
Vox squirmed, scowling at his dick, which was growing hard again. Valentino hadn’t understood or cared about Vox’s anger back then, but he knew why now: Vox hated his body doing something he didn’t tell it to do.
(Vox always scolded Valentino for not having self-control. But Vox wanted to fuck just as badly as Valentino did, he just hated himself for it. Valentino loved fucking Vox at the worst possible time, making him late for work, meetings, and even his own talk show, once or twice.
Vox was always late. Despite all his insults and lectures, the horny bitch was always late.)
Blushing, Vox couldn’t meet Valentino’s eyes as he asked, “Um, up for another round? Please?”
Valentino chuckled. “Since you asked so nicely....”
As Valentino left Vox’s office, he’d thought that would be the end of it.
His memory of their second time was fuzzy. He remembered how it started. Months after their first time, Vox hadn’t asked for that many girls. Certainly not as many as Valentino would have in Vox’s position.
Concerned about Vox’s lack of interest, Valentino had asked, “My girls are treating you well?”
To his surprise, Vox had shrugged. “They get the job done.”
“Um, they should be doing more than that. If there’s something else you want, I can get it. It’s a matter of professional pride.”
Vox had met his eyes with a big smile. “You can only eat so many appetizers before you get hungry for the main course.” He’d rested his hand on Valentino’s hip and squeezed.
Valentino had been flattered and intrigued. He had to actually try with Vox. His business partner could get his dick sucked by a girl beneath his desk anytime, but he wanted something different.
So he’d fucked the weird, short loser again. He just couldn’t remember how or where.
Had that been the time in that club bathroom, Vox on his knees bitching about getting his dress pants dirty? (If Valentino had known how rarely Vox would blow him, he would’ve savoured that moment.) Had that been that time they made out in the back of a taxi after Vox hypnotized the driver to poke out his ear drums and never look behind him? (The driver had cried the whole ride, like a bitch.) Had that been that time Valentino was editing ‘Mistledick: A Sinful Sinsmas’ and Vox slipped into the editing room? (Although critics called Mistledick “a barely-edited, jumbled mess”, Vox and Valentino watched it every year at Sinsmas.)
Their first time was still clear, though, even after all this time.
The Radio Demon was speaking though the speakers in Vox’s room, even though Vox had covered his mouth with cables. Valentino glanced over at the speaker near his side of the bed.
“What?” Alastor said. “Don’t want to be reminded how desperate you were for attention? Back then, you and I were as close to equals as I’d imagined down here....”
Valentino’s stomach felt hollow. He remembered a time Vox had called them equals. He’d had his gun to Vox’s head, and the TV demon had smiled up at him.
“Valentino, aren’t you tired of these silly little scuffles over a few blocks of the pentagram?” he’d said, so smooth and confident for someone who’d been losing their fight. “Sure, you could shoot me now, but it’s in your best interest to hear me out. How about instead of a turf war, we team up?”
Why had Valentino said, “What? Why?” instead of just shooting Vox? Even after all this time, Valentino didn’t know. Maybe because this was something new.
Vox had an answer ready, of course. “Just think about it: film and television! It’s such a natural fit.
“Your films are great—really inspiring—but where do even the best films find a new audience? Television, baby! I could make you a household name! With your creative genius and my massive reach, we would be unstoppable. Me and you—we could rule the entertainment district of Hell, together, as partners.”
(Vox had said ‘Val’ when they fucked. The Radio Demon hadn’t reacted. Who wouldn’t react to your mortal enemy shouting your name in the middle of sex? So, Vox had said ‘Val.’ It was the only explanation that made sense.)
Valentino took a long sip of his whiskey.
The Radio Demon was gloating about something. “And now you finally have me, but you still rely on others for your power, like always.”
Vox looked murderous, his screen cyan and teeth bared, electricity arcing around him. But he controlled himself and smirked at his captive.
“You think your little mockery is gonna make me cry?
That I’m bawling ‘bout the past that might’ve been?”
Screens lit up behind him, showing Vox, the Vees, and the plan to rule Heaven. “Look around you, Al.
I’ve been scheming this whole time.
I got a team,
I got a dream,
And all I’m gonna do is wiiiiin!”
It would’ve been nice if he’d sang ‘All me and my friends are gonna do is win’. Maybe Valentino should just be happy Vox had mentioned him and Velvette in the song at all. Sighing, he took another long sip.
The song continued, with Vox tossing Alastor around with his cables, leaving him in some positions that made Valentino’s antennae perk. Well, that was interesting. He wriggled his upper hands out of the cable Vox was holding them in and lay on his stomach, watching the two with his head in his hands.
This was hot. Valentino grinned. He’d always wanted to film Vox fucking someone. Maybe all he’d needed was the right demon to break down Vox’s usual walls. Maybe....
The Radio Demon joined the song. “You’re so obsessed with me.
I knew you’d need me here to be
Your unwilling audience
When you lose your marbles in act three.”
Wait, what the fuck? This was a duet? Valentino wracked his brain for the last time he and Vox had sung together, just the two of them.
“I’d do anything for you, you must know.
I’d do anything for you, I—”
He couldn’t think of anything.
But a duet didn’t mean shit. Velvette had sung a duet with Carmilla Carmine, and she hated that bitch. Sometimes it just meant you had important information to give someone. It didn’t mean anything.
Valentino puffed on his cigarette and Vox electrocuted the Radio Demon, rose in the air on his cables to gloat, and finally shoved Alastor’s chair against the wall and leaned in close.
The two stared at each other panting in each other’s faces.
Fuck, this was hot.
Valentino said, “Hey, you two should just fuck already.”
Vox’s head whipped to him, and even the Radio Demon looked his way. Vox was blushing heavily.
“What, am I wrong?” He grinned. “And can I film it?”
“I don’t show up on film.” Alastor’s smile grew, somehow, even bigger. “But I suppose I can’t stop you if you wanted to fuck me. I’m tied up, after all. Was that that subtext of your rivalry, Vincent? You wanted me to kiss you? Hold you?”
As Vox’s screen flickered on and off, the Radio Demon glanced at Valentino. The sheer power of his gaze made Valentino fight the urge to spread his wings defensively. “You did know his name was Vincent, didn’t you, pimp?”
“I did, thanks so much for asking!” Some of his favourite movie nights were Vox and Velvette showing off footage of their lives on Earth. In life, Valentino hadn’t been famous enough to be on TV, and he’d died long before people could film themselves on their phones.
Vox’s head and clenched fists crackled with electricity. His screen and face flickered with static behind wide blue eyes and a mouth that was a straight line.
Shit. Valentino had made Vox crash out. The man could do the gayest shit ever, but he couldn’t take someone calling him out on it the wrong way. A brief, private mention of “relieving stress” with an old college roommate back on Earth was one thing. Making Vox aware of how horny he was for his greatest rival in front of that rival was too much, it seemed.
Valentino didn’t care what Vox thought about their business partnership. When Valentino was alive, he’d fucked tons of men on the downlow. As long as he was getting fucked, he was
mostly
happy.
He had to step in and give Vox time to recover. He rose from the bed and draped his wings around him like a robe, suddenly uncomfortable being naked in front of the Radio Demon.
Fortunately, he had some history with Alastor to draw on. “You know, Radio Demon, I have to thank you.”
“Oh? Whatever for, pimp?”
He smoked his cigarette as he sauntered over, blowing a cloud of red hearts between Alastor and Vox, cutting off their view of each other. “When I was a starving artist, some of my pornos were about famous demons in Hell.” Valentino slid Alastor’s chair away from Vox and turned it away from the TV demon. “I made porn of you, of course. That’s the price of fame, baby—” he ran the fingers of his lower hands through Alastor’s hair and along his shoulders “—everyone wants to see you fuck.”
“Ah, so that was you!” Alastor acted like they were talking about a casual meeting on the street. “When I hunted down every degenerate who ever watched those movies, I probably cut off quite a source of revenue for you. But look how far you’ve come since then.”
“Every time you’ve worked against the Vees, you’ve helped me. You see, Velvette and I can make these things called deepfakes: my actors do a scene and then the computer makes them look like anyone in Hell I have an image of. You might not show up on film, but Voxxy still has that darling black-and-white photo of you....”
Alastor leaned back and laughed, loud and long. “He does? Shit, after all this time? Vincent, how sentimental of you!”
Electricity crackled dangerously behind the curtain of red smoke. Oops. He hadn’t meant to feed the Radio Demon any ammunition that’d hurt Vox.
“Awww,” Alastor continued, “were you in love, Vincent? Was that what you really meant by partners?”
A wave of tiredness almost made Valentino turn away, go back to his suite, and fall into bed. But Vox needed him.
More electricity flared and crackled, outlining Vox’s whole body. “You fucking—yeah, you wish, asshole—fucker—shithead—”
Valentino knew what Vox sounded like when he was ready to command the room, and this wasn’t it. He needed to give Vox more time.
He forced his way back into the conversation. “Colourizing your image is easy.” He stepped in front of the Radio Demon, twisting his head by the horns this way and that, like he was trying to memorize his face from different angles. “And, of course, there are more than enough samples of your voice out there. We can make you say anything. And now we have images of your little minions and samples of your screech.”
Valentino crouched in front of the Radio Demon, looking him up and down. “Your horns grow when you fight. Do they grow when you...oh, that’s right, I don’t have to ask. I can just snap my fingers and make it happen.” He brought his upper arms up behind Alastor, mimicking the look of his horns. “Hot.” He giggled.
To remind the Radio Demon how vulnerable he was, Valentino’s lower hands slid along the waistband of Alastor’s pants and played with the button above his crotch. He wasn’t stupid enough to actually touch his crotch, however. Vox would kill him if he pushed that far.
He was tempted, though. Red saliva flooded his mouth. The Radio Demon, one of the most powerful overlords in Hell, was tied up in front of him. What did his skin taste like? His dick? If Vox didn’t want to make a sex tape with Alastor, then maybe....
“Antlers, technically.” The Radio Demon’s smile and casual tone didn’t drop for a second.
“Mm? Oh, I don’t give a shit.” He leaned away and took his hands off Alastor, sipping his whiskey as he tried to remember what he was talking about. “Anyway, this time, if you want to kill and torture everyone who ever watched you fuck in one of my movies, you’d probably have to destroy the whole pentagram. That’s gonna be so much work!”
As Valentino stood, he breathed red smoke into Alastor’s face. Alastor inhaled the smoke then breathed it back out, only it was shadow, inky black and clawed and reaching for Valentino.
He couldn’t help himself: he jerked back, spreading his wings defensively. Before the shadows touched him, they greyed to ashy smoke that mingled harmlessly with his red smoke.
Alastor chuckled as Valentino squeaked, fists clenching as he brought his wings in front of him again. Valentino loved his demon body, but if he could change one thing, he’d change his squeaks. Vox could do his deep, pitch shifted voice when he got mad; Alastor could do that high-pitched screech; even that snake demon the Vees had used to spy on the hotel could hiss. But when Valentino was angry or upset, he made cute little squeaks.
“My, my,” Alastor said, “it seems like you and Vox are perfectly matched in terms of depravity and cruelty! How long have you been together?”
“A while.”
“They say couples who have been together for a long time—”
“Couples? Fucking isn’t dating, idiota. What are you, a 12-year-old girl?”
“Fair enough—you know your feelings for each other better than I. I’m just an unwilling observer, after all. But if it’s just sex, hmm, you seemed underwhelmed, pornographer.”
Years of loyalty made Valentino squeak and say, “Voxxy’s great.”
“Val, shut the fuck up!” Vox barged through the smoke and poked Valentino in the chest. He glanced at Alastor, who was smiling between the two Vees.
Vox finally joined the conversation just to scream at him? Valentino leaned down to get in Vox’s face. “I’m defending you, asshole!”
The TV demon glanced at Alastor again. “I don’t fucking need defending!”
“Not usually! You’re—”
“Ignore him,” Vox ordered Alastor. “He’s just...everything’s about sex with him.”
Valentino’s antennae pricked up. “Wait. I’m sorry, Vox, am I embarrassing you in front of the Radio Demon?”
Alastor cleared his throat. “Don’t worry, pornographer. He can’t embarrass himself more than he already has. What could be more embarrassing to all of us assembled than Vox saying my name while mounting you?”
The Radio Demon must’ve thought he was talking to another yapper. Valentino swung around and had his lower hands wrapped around Alastor’s throat in seconds. No matter how hard Valentino squeezed, the red fucker just kept smiling.
Cables whipped out from Vox’s back, electricity crackling along them. “Val!” he shouted. Suddenly, Valentino lost control of his muscles and dropped to the cool metal floor, his whiskey glass shattering.
Alastor laughed again. “Mm, things are clearly totally under control at Vee Tower.”
Vox snapped, “You—you think you can get out of our deal by having Val kill you? Pffbbt. Think again, bitch!”
A knock sounded at the door. Velvette said, “Right, who’s dead? I heard electricity, screaming, and a thud, and I know you’ve got the Radio Demon in there.”
“Er, the Radio Demon?” Vox said, blushing. “Why, I sent him downstairs with—”
“Our penthouse suites are on the same floor, arsehole! Val, mate, you okay?”
Alastor spoke, his tone as unbothered as ever. “Vox electrocuted the pornographer when he tried to strangle me. He’s still breathing. Could someone please see about my room for the evening? I’ve seen more of these two than I ever cared to.”
Vox brought up a screen and bellowed, “ETHAN!” Ethan must have been chilling in the hallway, because he was at the doorway in seconds. “Lock this fucker in one of the supply closets in the basement!”
With a cable, Vox tugged Valentino’s wings over his junk. Ethan had seen Valentino’s dick before, but Vox knew Valentino wouldn’t want to flash Velvette.
“Your interruption is deeply appreciated, dear,” Alastor said to Velvette as Ethan pushed him into the hallway.
She raised an eyebrow at the Radio Demon as Ethan pushed his rolling chair into the hallway. She was wearing a frilly rose-pink nightgown, her hair in a pink and white pixie cut.
Vox inhaled between clenched teeth, working his mouth into something close to a smile. “Sorry for the disruption, Velvette. Valentino and I had a minor...miscommunication. You know our fiery tempered friend by now. Hah hah.”
“I’m sending you a list, V.” Velvette typed something on her phone. “These are some of the things you can buy me to make up for the trauma of seeing you two dry humping and tearing each other’s clothes off.”
Valentino croaked out, “Not many people would complain about getting a free live show from me, girl.” He tried to sit up, but his body wouldn’t let him.
“Those people like shagging men. Glad you’re not dead, wanker.”
“No need for wild exaggerations, Velvette,” Vox grumbled. He paused. “Wait, you’re only sending this list to me? Not Val?”
“You disappoint me the most, V.”
Vox blinked a few times and said in a small voice, “I disappoint you?”
“Val can’t help himself! But you’re usually better than that.”
Vox facepalmed and muttered something under his breath. He looked between the two Vees and jabbed his finger in the air excitedly. “You know, since we’re all awake, we could do with a Vee meeting! Say in five?”
Valentino groaned in frustration. When Velvette said, “Sure, why not?”, he knew he was outvoted.
As Velvette left to get changed, Vox grabbed Valentino’s clothes with a cable and tossed them at him. Valentino awkwardly raised his hands, but the clothes bounced off them. He didn’t quite have feeling in his fingers yet.
“Val, shut the fuck up around Alastor. I don’t know what the fuck that display was, but it’s never gonna happen again. Got it?”
“Fine by me, Voxxy.” At this point, Valentino wished he’d never said anything about the stupid fucking Radio Demon.
Valentino stiffly tried to get to his feet. With a sigh, Vox lifted him up with his cables and dressed him quickly, so when Velvette returned, the two men were both sitting and ready to start the meeting.