Fatal Error
Alastor/Vox. Written right after the end of season 1 (edited a bit but not much :p). Rated 16+ for language and innuendos. Word count 2k.
A/N: hi
It was deer season. and Vox was on the hunt.
Sightings of Alastor had been few and far between since he'd had his ass handed to him in the battle against Adam- in fact, Vox didn't think he'd even been able to capture his face on-camera since his anticlimactic escape. Fleeting glimpses of his raggedy red coat and blurry hoof-marks in side roads were all he had to go off of; but Vox was a patient man, and in their- admittedly tumultuous- time together, he'd ascertained enough about the other demon to know his usual haunts. Especially after a bloodthirsty battle- or in this case, a humiliating defeat.
This old radio broadcasting station clung to the outskirts of Pentagram City, the tower attached jutting upwards from the building like a twisted metal claw, stark black against the red sky. From what his cameras could discern through the grimy windows, everything was long since defunct, abandoned, coated in a fine laver of dust; no wonder Alastor had crawled here to lick his wounds, Vox mused. He must have felt at home amongst the piles of trash.
Vox chuckled quietly at his own dig as he entered the building through a side door, making a quick sweep of the premises via shuffling through the few security camera feeds still functioning in the area. He stiffened as a burst of static obfuscated his view, wrenching all of his attention back to his own visual feed- a split second too late. The Radio Demon's voice reverberated in his head as if it was coming from right behind him.
"Come here to spy?"
Vox barely had time to react before he was swept off his feet, reaching out blindly to slash at his attacker- but in seconds his wrists were grabbed, arms swiftly hoisted up above his head, legs dangling a few inches up off the ground. He hissed, TV static flitting across his screen for a second and rendering the sound a distorted screech. Registering the shadowy tendrils that now restrained his body, twisting over his thin form and holding his limbs still in a vice grip, Vox’s non-existent heart leapt in his chest.
“Oh, so you’re a coward now, huh?” Forcing a laugh into his voice to hide his nerves, Vox’s eyes swept around the room, searching for his nemesis. “The big, bad Radio Demon won’t come out and fight me himself? Running off into the shadows like you have been for the past seven years-”
He inhaled sharply as a tendril yanked warningly at a wire protruding from the back of his head, exhaling in a dark chuckle.
“Come out and fight, Alastor! I mean, I know your antlers are tiny but I didn't know you lacked balls this much!”
His breath hitched as something glinted from the darkness before him, shadows parting to allow Alastor to step forward. The Radio Demon’s mouth was, as ever, stretched into his infernal smile, gold teeth glinting faintly in the dim light. Irritatingly, his previously-torn red suit appeared spotless- seems he'd somehow had time for a visit to the tailor- though Vox noted with satisfaction the bloody stain across his torso. As he approached, Vox could feel the tentacles tightening around his arms and wrists as if pre-empting an attack; all it did was make him feel more claustrophobic. He clenched his fists, claws digging into his palms. When he opened his mouth to speak, Alastor silenced him with a tendril that snaked around his neck, briefly squeezing.
“Brash talk for someone in your position,” he finally spoke, voice crackling with static. Vox held back a flinch at the sudden words, huffing in rage as he saw the sides of Alastor’s smile curling up slightly more in amusement. Of course the bastard would notice his jumpiness, he had tentacles all-but shoved into every one of Vox’s orifices. At least he could be thankful it hadn’t gone that far yet.
“You can’t kill me.” Vox kept his tone even, confident he could bluster his way through the situation though he was keenly aware of Alastor’s occult magic interfering with his ability to transform into electricity and zap away in seconds. “That little goody-two-shoes princess has you on a tight leash, doesn’t she? You can’t just go around ripping overlords apart willy-nilly. I can’t even imagine you’d be able to, after your little fiasco with Adam.” his smirk widened. “All of which was caught on camera by yours truly, by the way. How embarrassing for you.”
Alastor’s lip curled into a sneer of barely held-back animosity. Vox knew he’d struck a nerve, and jutted his screen upwards to where their faces were inches apart, blue light from his smirk reflecting off of Alastor’s exposed teeth.
“Hm… You've always been so unimaginative.” Alastor’s eyes narrowed as he stepped forward, closing the distance between them. He never once broke eye contact. “I don’t need to kill you to teach you a lesson.
“I don’t even have to hurt you. Not in the traditional sense, at least.”
He ran one claw down the side seam of Vox’s blazer, and the TV-headed demon held back a glitch of confusion.
“What the fuck are you doing?” He snapped, twitching away from the touch. His eyes darted down to Alastor’s hands and then back up again to the bastard’s face, which betrayed nothing. Both of his hands were poised at either side of Vox’s waist, not touching yet, just hovering. Having those deadly talons this close to his body made Vox’s gut twist in spite of his earlier bravado. He, of all people, knew just how deadly those claws could be at the disposal of the bloodthirsty fucker who wielded them. But Alastor had just asserted that he wouldn’t be using violence. What in the hell was he doing?
Alastor tapped all five claws of one hand one-by-one along his side in a sickeningly familiar motion, and it hit him all at once.
Alastor’s idle demeanour, despite the fact Vox knew in a normal situation his rival would be oozing with bloodlust. His unwavering grin was typical, sure, but as Vox flinched and drew back slightly from the touch, his rival’s eyes twinkled with a glint that was borderline… Playful. It brought Vox back to many a moment they’d shared during their friendship, moments which at the time had made Vox as giddy as a schoolboy despite their situation as sinners in Hell. Moments where he’d found himself at the mercy of the other’s drunken handsiness; moments where, even if only around the man he considered to be his closest friend, he’d allowed his perfectly cultivated public image to slip. Moments that now made him cringe with mortification to look back on.
“The other shoe’s finally dropped, has it?”
Those probing claws slipped beneath his suit jacket, tickling purposefully.
No. Not this. Why this?
Vox’s antennae twitched as he tried to focus on anything but the feeling of the claws against his skin, determined to retain the facsimile of control he felt he had in the situation. Alastor’s mocking chuckle brought him back to reality. “Oh, I’d been hoping you were still as susceptible to this as you used to be, old friend.”
Fuck! Fuck fuck fuck!
He scrunched up his shoulders to block out the radio demon’s words, turning his face away from his nemesis’ in an attempt to hide how much the touches were getting to him. A strangled giggle slipped out from between his clenched fangs. He arched his back as Alastor targeted under his arms with both hands, tracing a ticklish path up and down with his claws. The only thing between them and Vox’s bare skin was a thin dress shirt, which did little to block the sensations. Being unable to pull his arms down to protect himself made it so much more maddening, and he found himself writhing in the tentacles’ strong grip, systems heating up as the need to laugh continued to build inside him. He couldn’t believe this was happening.
Alastor had always been the only one who’d been able to reduce him to such a state, but through this? He hadn’t thought the radio demon would ever stoop this low again. This was the first time in over seven years that he'd felt this weak. This powerless. And the fact it was due to such a childish activity only served to increase his humiliation.
“Gnh- St-St-Stop it!” The TV demon cursed the way his words were distorted by glitching. His face was drawn up into a snarl of frustration and forced mirth, the corners of his mouth twitching as red bars split the right side of his screen.
Alastor slid a hand down to unbutton his shirt, an action that would've elicited a very different reaction from Vox in any other situation, but as it was all he could do was squeak at the sensation of those cold claws brushing against the synthetic skin of his stomach. Vox’s display flashed as his features slid out of place, glitching ever-so-slightly- whether it was from the tickling or just the knowledge that Alastor was touching his bare skin, it was impossible to tell. Electricity crackled around his body and he squirmed against the tentacles holding him immobile, hissing in frustration as his attempts to teleport away failed again and again. The corners of Alastor’s permanent grin turned up in amusement.
“Oh dear, has someone turned the Wi-Fi off?”
“I’ll Fu-Fu-Fucking KILL you-” Vox’s glitched retort cut off as a strangled chuckle spilt out of his mouth.
“I wonder how your adoring audiences would react to seeing their idol like this, hmm?” Alastor continued as if he hadn’t spoken, absent-mindedly drawing circles on Vox’s bare stomach with one claw. His other hand fondled the shorter demon’s midriff, feeling his chest rise and fall with exertion as he tried to curl up, but the tentacles held him firmly. “It would take seconds for me to ruin that perfect image you've cultivated all these years.”
Vox could feel his system burning up at Alastor’s words, fans wheezing. He was hyper-aware of every brush of claw against his skin lighting up his nerves like an electrical grid.
“It almost makes me want to dust off the old broadcast equipment to document this occasion, although I suppose instead of screaming…”
Alastor leaned down to purr into where Vox’s ear would be, hair brushing against the side of his screen. Vox’s eyes were squeezed shut, teeth gritted in anticipation.
“This time, it’d be laughter.”
Vox let out a distorted shriek as Alastor used both sets of claws to rake down his ribs, feeling his resolve crack as it all became too much to bear and he dissolved into laughter. He cackled desperately as the radio demon danced nimble fingers up and down his torso, twisting back and forth with renewed vigour.
“You-You-You F-Fucker!” He squealed, voice distorted by a mixture of glitching and emasculating giggles. “Always p-playing dirty with this shit, -”
He was cut off by his own desperate caw of laughter as the tips of Alastor’s claws caught on the twin sets of three blue gill-like apertures that lined his torso. The curious touch returned almost immediately and to his great dismay Vox realised that not only was it borderline impossible for him to squirm away or cover them- the vents were designed to efficiently ventilate the largest surface area possible for air circulation, after all- but that they were also, evidently, unbearably ticklish as a result. Alastor hummed, using those infernal claws to scritch up and down the area casually like he didn’t have a seven-foot tall demon with a TV head doubled over with uncontrollable cackling in front of him.
As Alastor summoned several more tentacles to hold him still, he shook his head desperately in protest, unable to get another word out through the laughter that wracked his body. Vox’s screen flashed with warning signs and popups stuffed with incomprehensible text, his forced smile flickering in and out of view. Tendrils began to snake down his sleeves from his wrists, tracing a ticklish path towards his underarms and oh SHIT OH FUCK OH SHIT-
“D-don’t! Not-! AhahaffFFFuck!!” Vox swore incoherently as his systems hummed with energy, the sensations overloading his hard drive even as he attempted to keep control.
“You’re just like those confounded pieces of tech you peddle, aren’t you?” Alastor continued like he was speaking to himself, undeterred by the fact that Vox most likely couldn’t hear him over his laughter, and even if he could, was in no state to comprehend his words. “All dressed to the nines with new-fangled gadgetry… and yet you still come apart so. Easily.”
He punctuated this last jab with a squeeze of his claws on either side of Vox’s waist, eliciting a garbled squeal. At the same time, the tendrils under Vox’s arms wriggled against his skin and the TV-headed demon lost it. He was faintly aware of his own pitiful struggles as the tickling sapped more and more of his energy, but could do nothing to stop the colored bars from overtaking his screen as he began to crash.
ERROR! ERROR!
Teal electricity sparked from Vox’s mechanical parts, crackling along the tentacles which held him immobile. His screen flashed with a multitude of images- Alastor, dismembered, bloody; Vox, dismembered, screen cracked and broken; Vox, beneath Alastor- Alastor’s lip curled in a mixture of amusement and distaste. Finally, his screen dimmed as a fatal error message scrolled slowly upwards from the bottom.
VOX.EXE HAS CRASHED.
Alastor chuckled as he let Vox’s limp body fall to the floor, tentacles unfurling from his limbs and dissolving back into the shadows. “They really don't make ‘em like they used to.”
