Work Text:
“Come on, Al, it’ll be so much fun.”
This was the sentence that heralded many of Alastor’s predicaments.
Out of all the ludicrous things Vox came up with – and he really came up with a lot – this was one of his more volatile ones, believe it or not.
Even though Vox typically avoided physical fights, unlike Alastor who was always in the mood for a good scuffle, a recent development had revealed the cleverest new ability his dear picture box possessed.
Vox usually relied on his charm, or for more severe cases when honeyed words and false promises didn’t work, his hypnotic capabilities. Of course, once his inevitable, and in Alastor’s opinion infuriatingly attractive, hunger for violence surfaced, Vox could also use the electricity that always ran beneath his skin to effectively fry his opponent into obedience.
And while that particular ability had been limited to shocks delivered by his large and cruel hands, recently Vox had become able to make wires act in his stead.
It was fascinating to watch as they unfurled and wrapped around his victims like snakes, coiling tighter and tighter, until the unlucky wretch caught within them quite literally popped like a balloon.
And aside from it being oddly stimulating for Alastor to watch his partner torment sinners so cruelly, it was also rather thoughtful of the idiot box to provide his cannibal partner with such an easy snack – Alastor never missed the chance to feast on the loose eyeballs that would inevitably pop out of their victims under the pressure of Vox’s constriction.
Hence, it was a shame that the TV sinner and media Overlord didn’t fight often. And it became even rarer in the past few years, now that his face was plastered over half the pentagram thanks to the growing success of their media empire.
Vox’s strategy in that regard didn’t make sense to Alastor.
The other man’s curated image of perfection apparently didn’t exclude his, quite literally, explosive rants and rages he subjected his employees to. But then again, Vox was still an Overlord, and one couldn’t expect temperance, or Satan forbid, mercy from him.
Still, he didn’t care to secure his position in Hell’s hierarchy with terror and mystery like Alastor did. Vox wanted to dominate through his likeness and the trust people would foolishly place in him.
Megalomaniacal tendencies notwithstanding, the fact remained that Vox’s new abilities didn’t just include commanding loose wires lying around, but a recent upgrade also meant they could unfurl from his very body.
Oh, and that really piqued Alastor’s interest.
More often than not these days, the Radio Demon was daydreaming about what it would be like to dissect his partner. And not just his endlessly fascinating, boxy head, but to also sink his hands into the other man’s stomach cavity, crack open his ribs and see the inner workings of the sinner whom he didn’t quite understand if he was either machine or man, or perhaps neither.
Was Vox all wires and electricity now, did he have none of those precious tasty organs left that Alastor so loved to consume?
The thought almost made him panic, if he weren’t certain that Vox, at the very least, still possessed a beating heart. And he knew so for a fact because whenever he pressed an ear to the other man’s chest at night – as being sprawled atop the other man as though he was nothing more than his own personal mattress had become Alastor’s favorite sleeping position lately – he could hear the pounding of said heart beneath.
And besides, Vox couldn’t just be a machine, considering some other, very organic parts of his.
The same ones which had gotten them into the position they were in right now.
They were in the bedroom – because of course they were.
Alastor sat astride the cursed idiot box, who leaned against the headboard with excited sparks dancing between his antennae. They were both undressed already, and although Alastor had no qualms or false insecurities about his own nudity, it was always a delight to see the smitten expression on Vox’s screen whenever Alastor chose to reward him with the sight.
Even if his hellish form was gaunt and gangly, Vox only ever leered at him as though he wanted to eat Alastor alive.
And although it was not the same hunger Alastor could relate to, such devotion was a marvelous thing for his pride.
Aside from their unambiguous position on Vox’s bed, Alastor could entertain no doubts about what was about to happen because the other man’s cock was already nestled inside him.
Vox’s wires bound his arms behind his back, and more of those same coiling wires looped around his thighs as they straddled either side of the TV sinner’s hips.
Alastor would’ve preferred to test Vox’s new powers during a fight, an invigorating and friendly round of sparring, or at the very least, during a dance, preferably when they were already a few rounds deep into a bottle of whiskey.
It would’ve been a delight to feel those wires scramble to twirl him around while they danced the Jitterbug. Vox was a good dancer, but he wasn’t nearly as nimble-footed as Alastor, considering his large and unwieldy head. Additionally, the TV sinner didn’t have bones that could break and rearrange themselves as easily as Alastor’s, so he was, in every way, markedly superior to his picture box.
But alas, this was Vox’s idea of fun instead.
Things weren’t so bad, however, even if Alastor was always inclined to be cynical.
No matter how great Vox’s need was, he never rushed Alastor, and always took meticulous care in preparing him before they joined as intimately as they did now.
And it was touching, really, that for all his brutishness and the manhandling he subjected Alastor to later on, flipping him onto all fours to pound him into the mattress as soon as his patience ran dry and his greed took over, Vox was, at his core, a considerate lover.
It was a delicious contrast that made Alastor’s mouth water.
“This is nice, isn’t it, baby?” Vox cooed, gaze appreciatively traveling down Alastor’s restrained body on top of him.
The wires around his arms strained the Radio Demon’s shoulders. Constricted as he was, he tried to roll them back to alleviate the pressure, though it did little to help. Nevertheless, the pain was bearable.
“Well, it’s certainly tight… and different.”
Alastor didn’t try to move any other way, He made no effort to roll his hips or set a rhythm to build friction. This had been Vox’s idea after all. If he wanted their usual bedroom activities to take place this way, then he’d have to work for it.
What else were those wires for if not to move Alastor around on his cock as he pleased?
“Oh, I know exactly what you mean,” the idiot box grinned, wagging his eyebrows at him.
Greedy as he was, he ran his hands over Alastor’s torso, first caressing his shoulders, then settling at his chest to flick at the other man’s nipples, which drew an involuntary shudder from Alastor, before finally gripping the Radio Demon’s slim waist, encircling it fully with both hands.
A crease appeared between Alastor’s brows as he forced himself to breathe through his nose.
Vox was already inside him, he had been sufficiently prepared and with every passing second of that hard flesh nestled within him, his insides adjusting to that pulsating girth, Alastor was at the risk of losing his composure, which he simply couldn’t allow. Not yet anyway.
Why wasn’t Vox moving?
“So, what now? As nice as it is to just sit here, I’m afraid this isn’t doing much for either of us, dear thing,” Alastor mocked.
He couldn’t shrug, so instead he leveled an unimpressed look at Vox, hoping to provoke him into action. If the idiot box thought Alastor was about to bounce on his lap of his own volition, he was sorely mistaken.
The other man’s hands tightened around his waist, and the metallic tips of his claws digging into the sensitive skin of Alastor’s stomach made him shudder again. The deer sinner forced his eyes to remain open and his smile placid, however much he wanted to melt into the sensation.
“Hold on, let me concentrate,” Vox murmured, narrowing his eyes as more sparks jumped from one antenna to the other.
A crease appeared on his screen, right between his brows, and Alastor wondered how Vox could stay hard inside him while focusing so intently on his powers.
The wires around his arms and thighs shifted.
Endlessly entranced by the machinations of his strange partner, Alastor’s pulse quickened, and his own abdomen coiled tight with knots that had nothing to do with the wires wrapped around him.
The round tips of Vox’s antennae glowed, and Alastor was suddenly overcome with the urge to lick them, drawn to them as though they were two tiny lamps, and he was truly nothing more than the animal he was cursed to resemble.
But before he could act on his intrusive thoughts and lean forward to take one into his mouth, both men gasped when Alastor’s hips started moving – and not by his own doing.
It was Vox moving him around with his fascinating new powers. The wires around Alastor’s thighs, which previously only held him in place, began to rock him back and forth like a ragdoll.
His arms remained bound and useless behind him while Vox’s hands gripped his waist, but it was the wires that dragged him along, sliding him over the other man's lap, pulling that delicious, antagonizing friction from where their bodies joined.
Vox groaned as his head fell back against the headboard.
“Oh fuck, that’s so hot. Do you feel it too, baby? You’re so….ah, tight. Do you like it? Do you like how my cock feels inside you? God, I could do this all day. And you don’t even have to do anything. Isn’t that so great? Now I can fuck you even better. Aren’t I the best?”
Oh jeez, there went his idiot box, babbling nonsense. His heated gaze had gone half-lidded, drunk on lust as he was. And although the sensation was by no means unpleasant, it was not yet enough to fully awaken Alastor’s own arousal that still lay in hopelessly tangled knots inside his abdomen.
Why was Vox so gentle?
Alastor had seen him use those wires to strangle others or electrocute them. He was capable of such delicious violence but now he only used them to gently rock his partner back and forth on his lap?
Alastor flexed his hands behind his back, unwilling to break free just yet. It took a considerable effort not to roll his eyes in visible boredom, even as the slick glide of Vox’s cock inside him remained undeniably pleasant. Still, that alone wouldn’t be enough to push him into the same ecstatic frenzy his partner was currently spiraling into.
“Vox, this is–“
“Amazing? I know, baby, I know. Do you like being at my mercy?” Vox interjected, insufferably smug.
If only he was at Vox’s mercy, rather than just the recipient of his tenderness.
The longer it went on, the more that pleasant warmth in Alastor’s chest he usually felt when Vox lavished him with such devoted attention curdled into hot ire instead.
Alastor was so generous to grant the picture box access to his body like that, to let him have the Radio Demon in ways no one else ever had. It was only fair to remind him of that truth.
Alastor’s grin grew wide and sharp, skin tingling now in the way it always did when he was about to put Vox in his place.
“Huh, you call this a performance? You promised me entertainment, and yet you disappoint me–“
His verbal torment was abruptly cut off by an undignified bleat torn from his own throat, chased by a grunt.
A sharp electrical zap shot through him, starting from the wires wrapped around his arms, racing up his back and rattling through his skull as his vision went momentarily blank and his body seized on top of Vox.
More pain lanced up Alastor’s spine as he involuntarily clenched with all his might around the cock inside him.
The sensation was so sudden and sharp, it forced all the air out of his lungs and every single thought from his mind.
“Oh shit, Alastor, I’m so sorry!”
Vox stopped moving at once and reached up to smooth down Alastor’s hair sticking out in all directions, as though that would somehow undo his lapse of control.
Alastor blinked to clear his vision and soon saw the wide-eyed, worried stare of Vox. His teeth were clenched tight, and he forced his jaw open, making it pop as he did so.
“Do that again.”
“What?”
“Zap me.”
Vox’s eyes grew hilariously large and quivered on his screen, his mouth flattening into a thin line while his hands still fussed over Alastor’s hair and ears.
“Are-are you sure about that?”
But Alastor couldn’t explain it any better, didn’t want to anyway. His head still swam, and his mind grew foggy with rising need. Any coherency finally gave way for aching and throbbing arousal. He canted his hips forward, drawing more of Vox’s cock inside him, welcoming him into his wanting, waiting heat.
He knew his beloved idiot box well and he knew how deep his degeneracy ran. Whereas Alastor liked to tease and prod at his partner in a manner that was almost predictable, he also knew that Vox liked to – needed to – enact the kind of cruel dominance that Alastor so loved to see him wield.
The Radio Demon chuckled dismissively, watching as Vox’s screen fuzzed.
“You can’t even manage this one simple favor? Oh, how you bore me.”
His words were barbed, though the edges were dulled with affection. Alastor knew the added humiliation would only spur Vox on - he was so easy to read that way, desperate for Alastor’s approval as always.
Vox narrowed his eyes at him, hands dropping from Alastor’s head as the embarrassed and familiar flush of humiliation tinted his screen a light blue color.
“Fine then! Insufferable brat.”
His hands shot up to grasp Alastor’s narrow shoulders, dragging him down until he lay flat against him, while the wires around his thighs spread them further apart.
Alastor buried his face in the space between Vox’s bulky head and shoulder, uncaring when his antlers knocked against the casing as the other demon set a relentless pace.
Vox’s hands slid down, squeezing Alastor’s ass before spreading him, thrusting up into his heat, his balls slapping against slick skin with sordid smacks. The wires tightened around Alastor’s arms and thighs, cutting off circulation, rendering him immobile as he was forced to take it, bouncing and rocking solely from the desperate snap of Vox’s hips.
“Is this better? Exactly what you wanted, huh?”
Hot sparks ran down his casing, nipping at Alastor’s ears, adding to the delicious pain as the wires around him unleashed another round of shocks, some feeling like nothing more than a light singe, others crackling violently in the air before they tore up his spine.
He couldn’t keep his eyes open anymore, hopelessly lost to both the pain and pleasure.
Oddly enough, the steady stream of electricity running through his body made his muscles seize in a way that Alastor was sure would leave him sore by the time they were done, but it also loosened the edge of his rim where Vox glided in and out.
Even if he had wanted to keep his composure earlier, he now let out broken whines and moans that were so desperate, he would otherwise not allow them to escape.
And yet, his partner always had this uncanny talent for reducing him to nothing more than a trembling mess by the end of their encounters.
“Vox, Vox… Vincent… hurts–mhm, hah– s-so good,” Alastor slurred, unsure if the words even reached him as he mumbled into his shoulder.
But apparently, they did, because while one of those clawed hands remained at his ass, keeping him spread as he drove into that sweet spot, the other trailed up his back, briefly passing over his tail, then up his restrained and numb arms until it finally reached his head to gently brush through his hair with a softness that belied the otherwise painful strokes of the other man’s power buzzing through him.
He tried to muster up some of his usual snark but fell short. Vox beat him to it though, smug idiot that he was.
“Ah, who knew you’d be into this so much? Told you, my idea was great,” he rasped close to Alastor’s ears, skin growing slick with sweat as his hips simply wouldn’t still.
Some of the pain that crept into Alastor’s nerves came also from the humiliation that prickled at the back of his neck now.
Here he was, the great and terrifying Radio Demon, bound by wires that almost crushed his bones, being used like a common harlot. And worst of all, he enjoyed it, moaning and trembling as his partner ravished him.
But Alastor certainly wasn’t about to give the TV sinner the satisfaction of admitting it aloud, even though he felt every pass of that cock through his raw-rubbed channel. His own prick, which had previously been flaccid with disinterest now wept a steady trickle of fluid onto their stomachs as it was trapped between them, hopelessly ignored.
He knew Vox liked to keep it that way, found some sort of satisfaction in making Alastor come untouched. For as much as he craved to satisfy Alastor, coax reluctant pleasure out of him, he also always wanted to appease his own immense pride.
“Fuck, I love you so much, you know that, right? Love when you’re sweet like this, love when you let me touch you like this. You’re the best partner I could’ve asked for,” Vox babbled on, running his mouth like he usually did when he was overwhelmed.
It was astounding how he could be a brute one minute, no better than a dog in heat, and the next moment he was a sentimental wet wipe, as if someone constantly was flipping a switch inside that boxy head of his.
And yet, it was precisely that kind of groveling that had allowed Alastor to grow comfortable with this strangely physical hobby of theirs in the first place.
He could have done without it all: the heat, the grunting, the fluids and the vulnerability. But the fact that Vox – his Vincent – was so unreservedly willing to cast aside his staggering pride, just to prove himself to Alastor, to prove how capable and clever and devoted he was to their partnership, in turn also unfurled a fierce possessiveness in Alastor’s chest.
Vox was his, and Alastor was free to toy, tease, torment and play with him as he liked.
Alastor’s skin burned, its surface licked with tremors so light he started to think he was floating, even after Vox stopped the onslaught of shocks to his system.
Still, the snaps of his hips made the flared head of his cock push in and retreat over and over again, spreading and stretching Alastor, the heat hollowing him out so that nothing else remained but the singular urge for it to be over.
Alastor would’ve liked to rake his claws down the other man’s chest, inflict some of that same pain right back, but his arms were still bound behind his back.
He hissed through clenched teeth, ears pinned back tight.
“Never forget who you belong to, Vincent.”
“I won’t, I swear, I will never forget. I’m yours, Al.”
And with that assurance, Alastor let his head fall back just as Vox’s hips slammed up into his own and ground in like he just couldn’t be deep enough.
At last, Alastor’s cock spilled between them, and he was freed from the unbearable tension inside his own body as the tight knot in his stomach snapped at once, unfurling its heat as the release sent his thoughts reeling into nothingness.
Alastor wasn’t sure how much time had passed before he finally lifted his head, once his thoughts cleared somewhat and his lids no longer felt so unbearably heavy. He peeled himself away from the bottom of Vox’s casing, only briefly noting that he had drooled all over the other man’s shoulder.
His own shoulders ached when he realized Vox’s wires were still wrapped around him, just as before.
And, oh. There was something else.
“What happened?” Alastor huffed, his tail flicking irritably behind him as he became acutely aware of the still-hard cock inside him, now an unwelcome intrusion that made his hole flutter to adjust to it.
Vox blinked up at him, hands still raised where they had been apparently fussing over his hair.
“Uh, you came?”
“Yes, but why didn’t you?”
It was odd to still be so full of the other man when his own need was now sticky and cooling between their stomachs. Surely the idiot box wouldn’t dare imply this hadn’t been pleasurable, after all the trouble Alastor had gone through indulging his little experiment with those wires.
Maybe Vox deserved to be dissected after all. If he was ungrateful, Alastor would have no qualms about carving him up for a bit of post-coital maiming.
The thought actually made him rather hungry.
Vox grinned sheepishly up at him, screen still fuzzy around the edges with obvious pent-up desire.
“I was… well, kinda concentrating on not blowing you up with my electricity.”
Alastor’s smile turned close-lipped and thoughtful. He couldn’t decide whether that had been considerate or deeply inconvenient, given that he was now left to deal with Vox’s arousal while his own had already fizzled out.
Not that he had to deal with it, of course. He could simply melt into his shadows and leave Vox to sort himself out. But considering how well-behaved he had been up until now, that option was far less appealing than it ought to have been.
“Hm. So now what?”
The wires loosened around his arms and thighs, and if not for Vox’s hands immediately catching his shoulders as he maneuvered himself out from beneath his partner, Alastor would have landed face first into the mattress.
As it was, his face still met the pillows, and he turned his head aside with an irritated huff as Vox shifted behind him.
The wires returned too, this time curling around his wrists, prying his arms above his head to fasten them to the headboard, while another pair coiled around his hips to lift them to Vox’s preferred height, settling him into a position he knew all too well.
There he was, on all fours again.
“What do you mean, now what? It’s my turn,” Vox grumbled behind him, as though the implication that Alastor could leave him high and dry like this was insulting.
Which, to him, it probably was.
“Alright then, but make it quick,” Alastor sighed, turning his head forward and resting his chin on the pillow as he arched his back, presenting himself to what was no doubt a thoroughly lewd stare.
His fingers absentmindedly played with the wires around his wrists, and he had to admit, it was endearing how they twitched and curled tighter in response, as eager and needy as the demon they belonged to.
Alastor flinched, then melted into the touch when Vox’s boxy head dipped down and pressed an unexpected kiss to his sweat-slick lower back. The fuzzy static from his screen tingled pleasantly against the Radio Demon’s sore skin.
“You’re such a romantic, Al,” Vox teased, the grin obvious in his voice.
Alastor grumbled something unintelligible in return, far too relaxed and far too warm to properly bite back at the jab.
Instead, he focused on the cables looped around his wrists, as he tried to ignore the fresh wave of anticipation twisting his stomach into knots as the blunt head of Vox’s cock nudged against his rim once more.
Vox, predictably, slipped right back into one of his rambling tirades, groaning about how good and tight and gorgeous Alastor looked spread out for him like that, and so on.
And now that Vox couldn’t see him, Alastor could finally roll his eyes.
He would never understand his partner's incessant need to voice every vulgar thought that passed through that ridiculous, boxy head of his.
But maybe they were simply wired differently that way.