a little detail i like to sprinkle into my sparksduo fics is that when i'm writing from alastor's perspective, the name vincent is used in the narration; when i'm writing from vox's perspective, it's vox
we're going to disneyland for my birthday :3 my plan is to get there early and immediately beeline to new orleans square to have beignets for breakfast
CHAPTER SUMMARY: Alastor and Vincent have dinner. Nothing else of note, really. Don't worry about the warning in the chapter notes.
Read the entire chapter on Ao3 here!
By quarter to six, the evening crowd had already begun loitering around the sidewalks and filing into the bars around Bourbon Street. Alastor’s gaze scanned over the many faces, some tourists he’d never seen before, others locals he’d been seeing around for decades.
He’d arrived a little earlier than their agreed upon time because he wanted to be on the corner of Canal and Bourbon before Vincent. He’d learned to be a step ahead, a few minutes early, settled in and smiling while whoever he was meeting with caught their breath. He didn’t necessarily expect Vincent to beat him to the chase, but when he spotted the other entertainer looking around impatiently under a streetlight, he supposed he wasn’t surprised.
If there was one thing he could assume about this man, it was that he was a little overly eager.
“Good evening, Vincent,” Alastor started with an easy smile as he closed the distance between them; he continued walking, and the television personality was quick to fall into step alongside him. “What were you waiting to tell me? You’ve kept me in suspense for hours.”
“Right down to business, huh? I can respect it!” Vincent gave him a grin that almost made him uneasy. He looked like the cat that got the cream. “Why don’t we relax a little first. First round of drinks is on me.” He threw an arm around Alastor’s shoulders, who immediately tensed under his touch.
SUMMARY: Another mating cycle finds Alastor and Vox seeking one another's company to get through it once more. Some communication is required before they can continue their arrangement; unfortunately, at least one of them is terrible at putting feelings into words, but fortunately Vox is better at reading Alastor than he'd care to admit.
Also available on Ao3 here!
It was a relatively quiet Thursday evening, and Alastor was enjoying a laid back drink at his favorite bar, humming along to the jazz tune playing softly from an old radio. It had been a long, productive day, and he was quite enjoying the chance to unwind.
The key word being was.
It took even less time than usual for his peace to be interrupted; he could hear the frequencies of his drinking buddy before Vincent could even round the street corner. The television demon had always had something of a noisy presence, but for the last month, Alastor had been more tuned in, so to speak; he could pick the other up from much farther away.
Hearing wasn’t the only sense that was different, either. His nose twitched a little as the door to the bar swung open and Vincent’s stupid goofy smile appeared. He struggled to ignore the itching in his antlers and the light twitch in his scent gland.
His mind recognized Vincent as the same friend he’d been for months; intelligent, creative, and just a bit pathetic, exactly as Alastor liked him. His body, however, was already calling out for its alpha, and therein lied the issue.
“I was just about to leave,” he announced as Vincent approached the bar, getting to his feet.
The other’s digital smile faltered, and a brief look of hurt appeared in his eyes before he quickly waved it off with a laugh. “Come on, I just got here!” he replied cheerfully, grabbing Alastor by the shoulders and forcing him back down onto the barstool. If he noticed the way the radio demon tensed, he didn’t say anything about it. “You’re not in heat already, are you?”
“Shut up,” Alastor hissed, glancing around the bar. “Someone’s going to hear you.”
Vincent scoffed. “What, you think I’m the only one who can smell you?”
Alastor’s cheeks turned bright red; admittedly, he wasn’t very aware of his own scent, so he’d never considered it. The idea that he’d just been wandering around smelling mountable was mortifying. He quickly put his hands on the other’s shoulders to push him away, relieved when he backed off a couple steps with very little force, and got to his feet again. This time, though, he grabbed Vincent by the tie in order to drag him out of the bar. If they were going to have this conversation, they were going to have it in private, thank you very much.
The alpha whined momentarily about not even getting to have one drink, but when Alastor shot him a glare he quickly shut up and fell in line. Thankfully, their favorite bar wasn’t very far from Cannibal Town, and that meant they were within quick walking distance of the radio tower. Within fifteen minutes, the omega was shoving his partner past the entryway and locking the door behind them.
“I’ve had such a long week,” Vincent complained, pouting. “I was looking forward to getting a little tipsy. Did we really have to go right away?”
“The alcohol cabinet’s in the kitchen,” Alastor replied, voice flat, and gestured to the doorway in question. “Get a bottle of whatever you want and come back. You wanted to discuss the details of our arrangement, and if I’m apparently so close to heat that anybody could tell, we are having it today.” With that, he practically collapsed onto the couch, crossing one leg over the other.
Vincent’s eyes widened, and Alastor swore he could hear a moment of static over their shared frequency as his brain caught up with the radio demon’s words. As soon as it did, he kicked into action, giving an enthusiastic nod and hurrying into the other room.
Only once he disappeared through the doorway did Alastor realize that Vincent was the first person other than his mother he’d ever allowed in his kitchen; to him, cooking was a comfort, and therefore the room where he did it was his safe place.
Then again, he’d also been the first person Alastor willingly slept with. They were probably doing things a little out of order, he supposed.
After a couple of minutes, Vincent came back into the main room with a bottle of whiskey (the most expensive one he owned, Alastor noted with a slight twitch of his eye) and two shot glasses in hand. “Okay!” he started, sitting beside the radio demon and pouring them each a glass. “So, uh… ball’s in your court here, Al. What… terms are you proposing?”
In a way, Alastor appreciated the pragmatic phrasing. Business was a more comfortable subject than intimacy. He took a sip of his whiskey, and watched Vincent closely as he finally responded. “I’ve decided not to get the claiming bite removed,” he started, gracefully ignoring as Vincent promptly began choking on his own mouthful of alcohol. “You may continue coming here to spend our mating cycles together until further notice.”
Vincent pounded his chest with his fist as he struggled through a coughing fit, and Alastor had to wonder how the hell that worked. Did he breathe through his mouth and his gills? That wasn’t important right now, though, and one benefit of an extended arrangement was that he’d have plenty of time to investigate over however many years they spent as a pair.
“Why?” he choked out as soon as he’d cleared his throat enough. His face glowed a little brighter, a cyan blush across his cheeks. “I mean-- I’m thrilled, of course! Fuck. But you-- you’re such an individual type, I thought you’d hate being owned.”
“You do not own me,” Alastor growled, gripping his staff tightly. He had no interest in losing any more of his freedom. “That is the most important term. You may act like my alpha when I am in heat, and only when I am in heat. We are equals. Is that understood?”
Vincent nodded immediately. “Of course. I have too much respect for you for anything else.”
Alastor’s smile relaxed; he was sufficiently reassured. “My other term is that discretion is necessary,” he continued. “I like the extra security that having your smell all over me gives me in the event of an unexpected early heat, but I would prefer to keep my dynamic a secret. And our relationship. I quite like my privacy and require personal details hidden.”
The expression on the other’s face fell a little, and his shoulders sagged. If Alastor knew Vincent, he’d probably been hoping to do some big press conference and announcement, making it clear to the entire Pride Ring that he’d convinced the Radio Demon to be domesticated. Perhaps he was being a little paranoid, but he’d never seen the appeal of turning one’s sensitive affairs into content; it would be a dealbreaker for him if Vincent pushed back on it.
Thankfully, he didn’t, just giving Alastor a firm nod; he hesitated a moment before gently closing one of his hands around Alastor’s much smaller one. Only now that they were making physical contact again did he realize that the alpha smell coming from Vincent had gotten stronger; he must have been getting closer to his rut by the minute.
Now that he had his alpha’s agreement, the omega couldn’t help but relate. Vincent had trouble with boundaries at the best of times, but his mind was very quickly losing the battle with his instincts, and Alastor would have to trust that his word was good.
“I love you,” Vincent admitted, and for a moment Alastor froze. “I want you to be comfortable and happy, even if that means loving you in private.”
There was no time to dwell on it. It was a sweet sentiment, certainly, but it was not one Alastor was confident he could reciprocate. “I’m fond of you,” was what he eventually settled on.
A frown twitched onto Vincent’s face, but Alastor gave him no time to think about it. He simply climbed into the other demon’s lap, tugging him close and pressing his mouth against the screen. There was a spark between Vincent’s antennae, and he quickly moaned into the kiss, swiping a staticky tongue against Alastor’s lips.
It was intoxicating. He needed more.
He straddled Vincent’s hips and ground down into his lap, feeling the bulge of his twin cocks through his slacks. The pressure against his cunt, already wet and waiting, was enough to make him bite his lip to hold down a moan; Vincent wasn’t as inclined to subtlety, groaning wantonly into the radio demon’s mouth. Alastor wished he had a lip to bite.
The heat was thoroughly taking him over now, his whole body was shivering and trying desperately to get closer. He pressed his chest against Vincent’s, struggling to adjust his position so that he could unbuckle his belt. The younger demon was eager to help; he gripped the belt with his claws and… proceeded to tear it directly off, ripping his pants and underwear to shreds in the process.
“I need those,” he growled, irritated.
Vincent let out a brief, breathy laugh. “I’ll buy you new ones.”
Alastor opened his mouth to complain again, but before he could get a word out, the alpha had pressed his thumb against the omega’s clit. He gasped sharply, squirming at the sudden contact to his most sensitive spot; he made a move to pull away, but before he could, Vincent had grabbed his hips and yanked him right back down against his bulge.
The more direct contact, only Vincent’s slacks separating them, made Alastor hiss and writhe. “You’re soaked,” the younger murmured, rubbing Alastor’s clit lazily. The shockwaves of pleasure it sent up his spine made him let out an awful, mewling little moan, which made another spark pass between his antennae. His claw grazed down to gently poke against Alastor’s entrance.
This teasing would not stand. Alastor growled, gripping one of those antennae in his hand and yanking Vincent’s head back; the alpha let out a startled yelp. “Behave yourself,” he snapped, tugging on the antenna hard enough that he almost worried he’d yank it right out on accident. “If you torment me with incessant teasing, I swear I’ll--”
Vincent growled at him and lunged, knocking him hard backward; he hit his head on the arm of the couch with a yelp. Before he could react, the other was on top of him, pinning his arms; his eyes widened and his body stiffened, heart pounding.
The alpha glared at him for a moment, teeth bared, before letting go of Alastor’s arms to shove his own pants down. “Be a little gentler,” he snapped. “They’re sensitive.”
Alastor stared back at him; Vincent gripped one of his wrists again once he’d removed his pants, but was using his other hand to pump his already mostly hard cock and get it lined up with the omega’s entrance. The radio demon used his free hand to reach up and carefully pinch the antenna he’d pulled between his thumb and forefinger; Vincent tensed at first, but when the pinch turned into a light rub that was almost a massage, he melted and nudged his head into Alastor’s touch.
It was downright endearing.
“Good boy,” he breathed, gently rubbing a kink out of the antenna; Vincent hummed and thrust his cock against Alastor’s clit, drawing a moan from the omega. The emptiness was torture. “Fuck, Vince. Please. I need you.”
The admission made the cock between his folds twitch, leaking pre over his entrance; he keened softly, no longer caring about his pride, tilting his head to the side to allow the other to see the claiming bite still standing out starkly against his skin. “You’re so sweet suddenly,” Vincent murmured, brows furrowed. “What’s gotten into you?”
“I’m in heat, you idiot,” Alastor hissed. “Now hurry up and--”
Before he could even finish his demand, the alpha had bitten down on the side of his neck, sending a jolt of electricity across his scent gland and down his spine. He cried out, feeling his fur standing on end; normally, he imagined it would have hurt, but at the moment all he could think about were the pheromones coursing through his body twice as aggressively. He wrapped all four limbs around his mate, growling softly and impatiently; he rolled his hips toward the other demon.
Thankfully, Vincent was no longer capable of waiting himself; he thrust the tip of his cock into Alastor’s entrance. The squeeze around his length was vicelike, and he snarled with frustration as he struggled to work more of it into the omega beneath him.
“You’re so fucking tight,” he moaned into Alastor’s ear, sending a shiver up his spine. “I keep forgetting you were a virgin before me - you were so wet and loose last time.”
“Well, the heat just started--” Alastor started, but Vincent didn’t seem to want any kind of explanation. He reached between them to rub at the older demon’s clit. Alastor yelped and thrashed momentarily, overwhelmed by the sudden burst of pleasure, and Vincent worked with the flutter of his cunt to push further in. “Stop interrupting me, you bastard,” he managed.
Vincent laughed at him, adjusting his angle ever so slightly to press more of himself into Alastor’s tight entrance. He arched, moaning obscenely as the swelling base pressed against his entrance. He opened his mouth to complain further, but only a mewling moan escaped; the pleasure starting in his cunt was overwhelming, the heat in his gut drowning everything else in the world out.
That was fine. The rest of the world didn’t matter. He was perfectly happy with his universe consisting of himself, Vincent, and the orgasm that was already threatening to spill over. He tried to squirm and say something to warn the other demon, but before he could, Vicent had pressed the swell into him. The knot stretching him open was more than enough to leave him shaking.
However, it was the tip of the alpha’s cock grinding against his a-spot, tantalizingly close to his needy cervix, that pushed Alastor over the edge. He let out a cry that was more static than voice, his cunt tightly gripping the knot and pulsing as if it wanted to take every last drop. Vincent was more than happy to comply, biting harshly down on the side of his neck once more and promptly spilling a load of hot, sticky seed directly into the omega’s waiting womb.
Alastor felt incredibly full, almost uncomfortably so, but as he shifted to try and ease some of the strain of Vincent stretching him open it quickly occurred to him that the knot being removed anytime soon would be painful both physically and emotionally. He could go without the tearing, or the longing.
His thoughts were starting to blur together, his mind darkening around the edges, and he was glad for it. He wanted nothing more than to reenter that pleasant haze where his cunt and Vincent’s scent were all he needed to worry about; as a form of stress relief, it was addicting, and he had to admit that he was finally starting to understand the appeal of sex as a method of seeking intimacy.
He’d never felt the way he did about Vincent for a single other soul he’d met, alive or dead. It was something other than friendship; it was an unending craving for closeness, a need to be held close and adored. The sexual interest only really hit him when his body decided it was time to mate, but all other desires - whether they were platonic like he hoped, or romantic like he suspected - persisted all month.
To be vulnerable was a scary thing. He didn’t know if he would ever be brave enough to truly inform anyone of how much Vincent meant to him, let alone Vincent himself. For a week every month, though, he could let his guard down and ride the pleasure where it took him. The alpha’s rut may have made him more aggressive, but it also meant he was just as exposed and needy as an omega, and that was a comfort.
He lurched toward the other’s face, pressing his lips and teeth against the screen in an attempt at a hungry kiss. Vincent moaned into his mouth, brushing his staticky tongue against Alastor’s and making him shudder; his strong arms wrapped around Alastor’s skinny frame, holding him close as he rocked as deep into the omega as he possibly could.
The moans that spilled from Alastor’s lips were low, desperate, and downright whorish. He’d be embarrassed of them if he cared about anything other than getting as close to Vincent as he possibly could. His claws dug into the other’s shoulders, scrambling against his back and sides and leaving deep, bloody gashes in their wake. The smell of blood, sex, and pheromones was overwhelming. He pulled his face away from Vincent’s in order to sink his teeth harshly into the other’s shoulder, growling softly around the skin in his mouth.
Another load was pumped into him, and Alastor couldn’t help a needy whimper as the very feeling of being filled made him cum once again. Vincent grabbed an antler to tug him away from his shoulder, licking some of the blood off of Alastor’s mouth; he didn’t have it in him to be disgusted, because the feeling of velvet being rubbed from the sensitive bone was too much of a relief. He nudged his head into Vincent’s grasp, letting his eyes flutter closed as the bloody material was scratched off.
“I love you,” Vincent murmured to him, not slowed down in the least by another orgasm. He just continued pounding into the older demon, rubbing his neck and scent all over Alastor’s face regardless of the omega’s squirming. “I can feel your signals. I know you love me, too.”
Alastor didn’t have the will to argue; he could only cling, moan, and hope that kind of sensitive information would be forgotten by the end of the week.
The thing that's extra crazy about Alastor's pupils getting all big when he looks at Vox is that Vox is a fucking television. Pupils are meant to get smaller in the light to prevent damage. Vox's face is bright af. Like, how gorgeous does Vox have to look to Alastor for his pupils to DILATE while staring into his massive beacon-ass lighthouse of a face? The amount of dopamine and oxytocin pouring into that freak in Vox's presence has gotta be astronomical.
I love reading fanfics where one character is tagged as jealous, but their partner is unlovable to anyone but them. Like.. calm down, sweetheart, no one wants your man. We're still trying to figure out why you want your man.
CHAPTER SUMMARY: On a visit to a radio station, Vincent learns some troubling information that leads him to making an impulsive career move.
Read the entire chapter on Ao3 here!
Six o’clock simply could not come fast enough.
Saturday would normally be a day to relax, unwind, and get ready for another week of his show. He was only in town one weekend, though, and every media company in New Orleans seemed eager to do business with him; he’d barely gotten away with only making appointments with a newspaper and a radio station, having needed to cancel a visit to the theater to make his dinner with Alastor work.
The theater owners weren’t happy. Vincent, on the other hand, couldn’t wait.
He’d left a two hour clearance in his schedule, just so he could get back to the hotel early. It may have only been a three minute walk from where he was supposed to meet the radio star, but Vincent wanted to make sure he put his best foot forward after that embarrassing incident the previous night.
They may have lived in a cutthroat industry, but he’d never had this much trouble tracking an entertainer. Alastor was a step ahead of him, he supposed, and that just made Vincent all the more intrigued and infatuated. He wanted to pick the man’s brain tonight, really learn what made him tick, and he really needed to dress to impress in order to do that.
Unfortunately, first he had to smile through a couple of studio tours.
He was used to these; during his entertainment career so far, it only ever helped to know his peers’ businesses inside and out. He usually liked them even, finding them fascinating. With his mind on Alastor, though, his heart just wasn’t in it. He went through the motions, said all the things he knew a businessman needed to hear, but he was distracted, glancing at the clock every few minutes and daydreaming.
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