ch.2, ch.3, ch.4, ch.5
Summary: A/lastor finds himself in a bit of a sticky situation. Normally he'd have the patience to play the long game, but his enemy (aka ex) brings something to the table that he didn't expect.
Or
A/lastor can't be normal about his kink clashing with V/ox's honeymoon rhinitis.
Set a little bit in season two, the rest post season two.
Rating: Explicit
Pairing: A/lastor x V/ox aka R/adios/tatic (Third Person A/lastor POV)
Tags: kink!A/lastor, trans/Alastor, demisexual A/l, S/taticm/oth sex in this chapter but not endgame pairing (top V/ox, bottom V/al), pet names, sneezing during sex ofc, fellas is it gay to make eye contact with your ex while fucking your lover, A/l is very Horny Grip, arguing is the R/adios/tatic love language
Alastor supposes he should’ve guessed that the other man would go this far. Everything about him has become so over the top and ridiculous. Hell, he’s been parading him around the entire Pride ring for the past few hours, so why not end the day with this last cherry on top? This final dose of humiliation?
It wouldn’t be Vox without a grand finale; one final flourish of unnecessary showmanship.
In the confines of his office chair, Alastor shifts, trying to get comfortable. The bright blue glare of Vox’s bedroom is beginning to hurt his eyes, and to say that he’s become cranky is an understatement. Alastor honestly doesn’t know how Vox puts up with all of this fluorescent light, day in and day out. It only reminds him yet again of the hustle and bustle of modern nonsense shoving electronics in the world’s face, always hurrying to replace itself with the next best thing.
Exhausting.
“Don’t tell me you’re getting bored, Alastor. We’ve been having so much fun together – haven't we?”
Vox’s voice brings him back from dissociation, and it’s a struggle not to growl behind the childish mask he’s wearing.
Oh, it’s definitely been fun for Vox. Vox, in all his rush to claim that he’s won, hadn’t even stopped to think about why Alastor would offer a deal between them with so few caveats. Though that was what Alastor had been hoping for, he’d be lying if he said a part of him wasn’t also disappointed in the man. Unfortunately, that’s how low Vox has fallen. He doesn’t pause to think anymore, doesn’t try to dream. Alastor supposes he has people to do that for him, now.
“What was your favorite part?” Vox continues cheerfully, stalking around from behind his desk to circle Alastor’s chair with his hands behind his back. Still, Alastor says nothing, only watches him walk. “The parade? The interviews? Oh, how about when we got smoothies at our old spot? Well, I guess I was the only one who got to have one.”
Alastor cuts him an are you finished look that Vox understands perfectly.
“But you must be tired from all the excitement. Don’t worry, I’m about to turn in for the night, too.”
His voice dips lower, suggestive. He shrugs off his coat first, tossing it on the bed, followed shortly by his hat. Free from confinement, Vox’s antennae bounce around more loosely, reminding Alastor of a time when they were far more telling of his emotional state. Next, he loosens his bowtie and cravat, steps out of his shoes.
“Bringing back any memories, Bambi?” Vox purrs, his expression a little too close to hopeful to be truly seductive.
Of course it is, but Alastor gives him nothing. He actually is tired of playing along, and being quiet is easier than acting, for now. There are a million things he could say, none of them helpful – half of which would only worsen his chances of succeeding with his plan. So he says nothing, watching Vox’s face drop, then sour. Alastor tries to tell himself that he doesn’t care.
“Stuck-up old prick,” Vox mutters. (It’s an effort not to fire back with takes one to know one.) “Fine.”
He pulls up a floating screen and jabs a few buttons before dismissing it, complaining to himself before sitting on the edge of the bed to pout. An awkward handful of minutes pass where Alastor watches the city through the massive windows. Vox may or may not be watching him.
Then, the beeping of the private elevator before the doors come whooshing open. (Must everything in this wretched tower make a sound?) And through them walks someone who might step on his nerves more than Vox, or even Lucifer.
Ah, Valentino. He hasn’t even opened his mouth yet, and Alastor already knows that whatever he has to say is going to be grating. His towering height does little to make up for his lack of contribution to any conversation Alastor’s ever had with the man. He doesn’t exactly feel like it was a coincidence that Vox went running straight into his arms after he and Alastor had their – their fallout. And gaining his power and influence from the porn industry? Really?
But perhaps he’s being a bit too harsh.
“Val, there you are,” Vox says brightly, jumping up to his feet like a puppy that’s just seen its master.
Val is dressed down from his usual sweeping robe, wearing only a pair of tight blue shorts that leave little to the imagination.
“Papí, I thought you’d never call,” Val answers, his voice just as sugary sweet.
He lets Vox run his hands up and down his bare sides, making an exaggerated little noise of want. Vox leans up to kiss him, and the embrace lingers. His eyes are open to catch the look on Alastor’s face; Val’s are closed.
Never mind. He hates both of them. Alastor can see an angle of his own reflection in the tower window, a muscle jumping somewhere near his eye. He feels his lip curl underneath the mask and tries to calm his breathing.
This is exactly what Vox wants.
Well, Alastor isn’t going to let him have it. He isn’t even going to entertain this anymore.
Pointedly, he plants one hoof on the floor and spins his chair fully so that it’s facing the window, facing away from the two of them and their little show. He could see them behind him if he tried, but Alastor has no interest in watching. If they want to be…intimate, fine. It’s not like he can go anywhere, for the time being. But he’s not going to sit here and have it rubbed in his face. Alastor stares bitterly at his own reflection, trying to tell himself that this will all be worth it. The long game is all that matters.
After a few seconds, he hears the two of them break apart. Vox’s familiar chuckle. There’s a pause as if both of them are looking at Alastor, and it makes the back of his neck crawl.
“Ohh, I think we’ve upset him, Voxxy.” Val sounds less than bothered by the idea. In fact, he sounds like he delights in it.
When I get out of this chair.
“He’ll get over it,” Vox says easily. “Now, let’s get you out of those cute little shorts.”
Alastor sighs, turning his attention back to all the lights far below them in Pentagram City. He supposes it’s sort of like people-watching, letting his eyes follow all the little dots of the sinners down below. It’s something he likes to do in his spare time, when he’s actually free and out and about. Guessing at what they’re doing, where they’re going at this hour. Of course, Hell never really sleeps.
At this rate, he’s not sure he’s going to get any rest, either.
Try as he might, it’s rather…difficult to drown out the noises that Vox and Val are making behind him. Alastor has no clue if they’re always this loud with their lovemaking or if they’re just hamming it up for his sake, but either way, they’re making quite a racket. His ears have always been sensitive, and Alastor feels them twitch and jerk at every sound the pair of them see fit to make.
Vox moaning at the edge of a kiss. Val prompting to be tied up tighter. Shared, intimate laughter that trails into something else as bodies no doubt meet. Wet sounds. Breathy gasps from Valentino, quiet Spanish that Alastor doesn’t catch. Rhythmic panting. The bed squeaking as they – move. (For Hell’s sake, Vox has how much money? One would think he’d buy a bed that didn’t make so much noise.)
And of course, through it all, their continued jabbering at one another. The yeah babys and you like thats and more papís that pepper through the sounds of bodies on bodies.
Then. A sort of sound that normally lives tucked in the very back of Alastor’s memory, something he’s never forgotten about but only touches with gloved fingers when he’s feeling particularly pent-up or lonely.
Vox’s breath hitching in a delicate, familiar way. A way that Alastor would know anywhere. All at once, Alastor finds himself sitting up straight – paying far too much attention. His ears twitch and hone in on the sound like they’ve been waiting for it. Maybe they have.
But apparently, Valentino knows it too.
“Oh, poor baby,” he simpers. “You starting up already?”
Alastor feels his face burn, though he’s not really sure why. Is it jealousy? Embarrassment? Both? Fuck, he doesn’t know, all his mind can do is laser focus on the sweet little hitching noises Vox is still making. He always did have to be dramatic.
Subtly, Alastor glances in the window to look at the reflection of the two behind him. As he’d assumed, Vox is inside Valentino, the latter spread out on the bed with one pair of his hands tied above his head. It frustrates Alastor that he can’t see Vox’s expression from here, but the way he’s paused everything also leaves him breathless with anticipation. Annoyingly, he can see Val’s – smirking a little, gazing up at the light of Vox’s screen.
“Y-yeah,” Vox manages to answer. “S-ohh-rry, Val, I just – hih-! Hzzt-tschu!”
Fuck. He might not be able to catch Vox’s expression, but the way his body lurches into that sneeze is very telling.
Alastor’s glad there’s something covering his own face. He isn’t certain that the look spread across it is anywhere close to normal anymore. He remains perfectly still, facing forward, but his vision is starting to strain from how desperately he’s watching this whole scene from the corner of his eye.
Vox's body is…different. Watching it change over the years as the man's learned to ‘upgrade’ himself has been strange to watch, to say the least. Sure, he's sporting the latest tech – he's taller, more powerful and deadly – everything that an Overlord should be.
But something in Alastor deflates a little to see every inch of him defined in lithe muscle. He truly isn't his sweet Vincent anymore, without that baby fat Alastor always loved squeezing onto.
And what the Hell was that sneeze? Vox never used to sneeze like that. Soft and – and polite, carefully contained. (Cute, Alastor's mind supplies, and he violently dismisses it.) The Vincent he knew couldn't hold back to save his life. Said it made his head hurt.
“Aw, salud, baby,” Val says in the same sweet tone, rolling his hips and drawing a soft whine out of Vox. “You must really love fucking me with that deer in the room, huh?”
Vox only laughs a little in answer, sounding shy, but then. Then he turns his head to look at Alastor, and Alastor isn’t quite quick enough to pretend he isn’t watching the other man’s reflection.
Their eyes meet in the glass, and whatever Vox sees there must be like adding gasoline to the fire. He keeps his head turned just long enough for Alastor to see that delicious pre-sneeze expression he knows so well, before turning back to Valentino and stifling hard into his elbow. Alastor watches as Vox drives into the moth demon with a needy thrust, the whole bed shrieking for mercy, and he’s a goner from there. What had once been annoying to overhear now becomes more than bearable, peppered with Vox’s desperate little hitches and sneezes.
It seems that not much has changed in this regard, at least, since he and Alastor have parted ways. Alastor had never met someone who sneezed during sex, and it’s safe to say that Vox had never met someone who had an interest in sneezing. Just two peculiar people who thought that there was no one else who’d be willing to put up with them, until they found one another.
That, and their similar personalities meant they’d gotten along quite nicely, and for some time.
Until they didn’t.
And now he’s tied to a fucking office chair, squirming in his seat as he listens to his ex-partner fuck some other man senseless.
Vox really has grown powerful, because Alastor can feel the electricity shift in the air as the other man loses control of himself. Powerful enough, even, to breach the tight control Alastor always keeps over his own radio frequency – for the first time in decades, he can feel Vox brush up against him. Just the lightest touch, like the grazing of fingertips, but it’s there.
Alastor doesn’t bother looking for his eyes in the glass this time; he already knows Vox is watching. And though he doesn’t know what Vox might have read from him in the brief moment they touched, he knows it can’t be anything that does him any favors.
Behind him, there’s the light sound of breathing as Vox and Val cool down from their escapades. He hears kisses on skin and the sound of something knocking against the wall – the rope, perhaps. Affectionate laughter.
He's never wished more, before now, that his hearing weren’t quite so sensitive.
“You hit the shower, babe,” Vox tells Val. “I’m right behind you.”
“Mmm, don't take too long torturing your little friend. I might get bored all alone in there.”
Valentino saunters his way into the bathroom, turning on the shower and blasting some upbeat music Alastor doesn't recognize.
After a few moments, he risks scooting around in his chair, too curious to know what Vox is doing to just rely on a reflection anymore.
As it turns out, Vox is holding his screen in his hands, eyes screwed shut. When he senses Alastor's eyes on him, he quickly straightens, folding his arms across his chest with a blush.
“What're you staring at.” It’s not a question so much as an accusation.
A note of triumph races through Alastor's chest. So he had been right, after all.
“What's the matter, Voxxy?” he says at last, his voice seeping through the speakers in the room. “It looks like your head hurts. Wonder why that could be. Does Valentino not enjoy your little…quirks?”
Vox blinks, a brief glitch of static flitting over his screen before he can collect himself.
“Not that it's any of your business –”
“None of my business?” Alastor cuts in, approaching his limit. “You kept me in the room while the two of you – while the two of you fornicated –”
“You're my prisoner, jackass!”
“And I suppose that means you're forfeiting all my rights, is that it?” Alastor’s antlers sprout, long and angry, shadows extending from where he sits bound to the chair. “Losing every scrap of humanity you ever had, just to brag about the things you could force me to do? Hell, you might as well have forced me to watch while you were at it –”
“Oh, but I didn't need to, did I?”
Fuck.
Alastor bites his lip hard enough to taste blood, furious that he'd let himself be backed into this particular corner.
“Yeahhh, that's what I thought.” Vox laughs. He gets to his feet, thankfully now wearing boxers at least, and strolls over to the chair. Not bothered by Alastor’s show of power in the slightest. He runs his fingertips up and down the back of the damned thing, teasing. “Somebody got a little hot and bothered over here, didn't they?”
“I'm sure that's what you want to believe,” Alastor says tersely.
He’s hoping he can still talk his way out of this…but it doesn’t seem likely. Vox may not have all the charm and innovation he had when they were together all those years ago, but Alastor still doesn’t like the man’s tone. There’s something too cocky about it, like Vox knows something he doesn’t. Alastor’s always loathed not having every detail – and Vox is well aware. Neither one of them do well with not being in control, but Alastor’s the worst of the two, so no doubt having information that Alastor doesn’t is a real delight.
The other demon leans in close, infuriatingly smug. Alastor can smell the sweat and the sex on him, the barest hint of a cologne he doesn’t recognize.
“No, sweetheart, I think it's the truth. See, I saw your pretty little head turn so fast from abouuut…three different angles. Saw you watching and squirming for the whole show after I…got your attention.”
Vox directs his gaze to the cameras mounted high in the room, and a flush of embarrassment so deep it almost feels like nausea hits Alastor like a tidal wave. Of course Vox would have cameras, even in a place as private as his bedroom. Why hadn't he stopped to think about that? Stupid. Stupid!!
Frozen with the humiliation of being caught, Alastor again says nothing, only moving his eyes to glance up as Vox leans his weight deeper onto the chair. Looking so smug, his screen only inches from Alastor's face.
“And to answer your question; no. He's not into it like you are. He'll tolerate it, but he thinks it's annoying after a while.”
Vox's eyes slide to the side, as if he's being nonchalant about that little statement and any feelings he may have about it.
“So. Yeah. You were right, holding them back still makes my head hurt.” He chuckles a bit, a self deprecating sound. “But…it’s fine.”
There are so many things Alastor wants to say. This time, none of them at all would work in his favor to free him from his deal. More than anything, they'd likely bind him tighter, and set him back further than ever from loosening his chains.
But he so desperately wishes he could say what was really on his mind.
“Good to know you still think about me, Al,” Vox says cheerfully, giving him one last glance before disappearing into the bathroom to join his lover. Their voices echo off of ceramic tile over the music, low and sultry as they greet one another again.
Leaving Alastor alone, tied to his chair, trying to shut out all the sounds of their second round.
so, as resident Notekeeper/Lorekeeper for our campaigns, I have recordings of all of our sessions, which I convert into transcripts and then detailed notes/summaries for everyone else's benefit
I WOULD *NEVER* upload the audio anywhere without my friends' permission, let alone here. but. if y'all were interested in reading a little snippet of the transcript or an editorialized retelling, scrubbed of any and all identifying information, that would probably be fine.
Robot who sneezes so much that it overwhelms/overheats their processing system or sensors to the point of crashing...they reboot, only to resume sneezing, and the cycle starts all over again
robot who's sneezes sound glitchy/clipped/ staticky (bonus: if they have a screen/facial display, that glitches out as well)
robot getting "sick" and displaying symptoms because they got infected with malware or a computer virus. (Bonus if "I didn't know you could get sick" human caretaker is paired with "I...didn't know either" robot.)
robot sneezing because their fans haven't been cleaned in a while and are coated in dust or cobwebs
Did you know holy shit. You can take the sub who always hides their face or has people look away when they need to sneeze and induce them and then hold their chin and force them to make eye contact the entire time
someone getting ready with or just arriving somewhere with their dolled-up partner, sneezing, and then in response to being offered their pocket square, stuffily commanding them between sniffles to “put it back, it completes your look”
Okay hear me out... I know pepper and feather dusters are usually the go-to for cartoonish sneezes, but can we talk about dandelions?? I was obsessed with the idea as a kid, and you have the added bonus of the built-in destruction, and I *JUST* 🤤🤧❤️🔥
> You have arrived at a strange place. @carelesskinks - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
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