Vox had been avoiding him.
Avoiding eye contact.
Avoiding conversations.
Avoiding the King of Hell like a condemned prisoner ducking a guillotine.
Reasonable, considering the last time Lucifer saw him, Vox had him chained in angelic restraints, siphoning his power into the Divine Eradicator like some overclocked battery.
Vox had smirked the whole time.
Lucifer remembered every second.
And Vox had barely gotten his body back—his systems still glitching after Valentino ripped his head off like a faulty toy in episode 8. His body wasn’t even finished calibrating yet.
Lucifer found him in an abandoned hallway of the partially ruined hotel, running self-diagnostics and muttering at his own chest panel.
Perfect.
The soft click of Lucifer’s heels made Vox jolt violently.
“Oh—fantastic,” Vox hissed, static rippling down his screen-face. “What do you want?”
Lucifer smiled sweetly.
Too sweetly.
“Closure.”
Vox froze.
Lucifer strolled forward, hands folded casually behind his back—like he wasn’t radiating celestial magic strong enough to rattle wiring. “You know, my memory’s been fuzzy since that little incident,” he said lightly. “I just wanted to ask—”
He leaned in.
“Exactly how many volts you drained out of me?”
Vox stiffened. “Lucifer—it was just business—”
“Oh? Business?” Lucifer echoed in a whimsical, musical tone. “Is that what we call kidnapping now?”
“It wasn’t personal—!”
Lucifer chuckled. A dangerous, angelic chuckle.
“Oh Mr Tv Head Man”
He tapped a finger to Vox’s chest panel.
Vox seized up—glitching from throat to hips.
“…I take everything personally.”
Before Vox could retreat, Lucifer snapped his fingers.
Golden cuffs of celestial magic wrapped around Vox’s wrists, yanking them effortlessly above his head.
Vox yelped. “LUCIFER—NO—NO, NO—THIS ISN’T—”
“Oh hush.” Lucifer circled him like a lion examining a defective toy. “You had me chained to a table like a science experiment. You drained me until I couldn’t stand. You aimed a weapon at Heaven through my power.”
He smiled wider.
“Did you really think there wouldn’t be consequences?”
Vox tried to regain composure, straightening. “If you’re going to kill me, get it over with.”
Lucifer blinked.
Then laughed.
“Oh darling, no. That would be too easy.”
He stepped closer and tapped Vox’s ribs with a single glowing finger.
Vox exploded into static.
A harsh glitch burst cracked through his speakers as he flinched violently.
Lucifer’s expression sharpened with delight.
“Oh my,” he cooed. “You’re reactive.”
“Don’t,” Vox warned, already glitching. “Lucifer—don’t you DARE—”
“Funny,” Lucifer said, wiggling his fingers with wicked glee, “that’s exactly what I told you while you were draining me.”
Before Vox could protest again, Lucifer slid his fingers under the connection seams along Vox’s ribs.
Electric chaos erupted.
Vox arched forward, laughter bursting out of him in garbled, static-choked crackles.
“S-Sto—HAHA—stop—!—Lucifer—!”
“Oh, you don’t get to tell me what to do,” Lucifer purred, dancing his fingers mercilessly along the wiring channels. “Not after plugging me into that ridiculous angelic toy of yours.”
Vox bucked uselessly against the magical hold, his legs giving out under him as laughter scrambled out of his speakers.
Golden magic held him upright.
Lucifer tsk’d. “Look at you. All that ego. All that power. And you fall apart the moment someone finds your wiring.”
“It’s—hah—ngh—NOT—funny—!”
Lucifer leaned in close.
“It’s hilarious.”
He traced glowing fingertips across Vox’s stomach panel—right where the main power cable reconnected.
Vox shrieked.
A full digitized, system-overloaded shriek.
Lucifer pressed a hand to his heart. “Ah, music.”
He danced his fingers up and down Vox’s sides, making the TV demon thrash and sputter.
“This is for the angelic metal,” Lucifer said.
A poke to Vox’s hips.
Vox’s whole system lit up like a glitch bomb.
“This is for draining my energy.”
A scribble up the ribs.
Vox screamed-laughed.
“And this—” Lucifer whispered, placing both hands at Vox’s sides, “is for making my daughter watch.”
Vox practically convulsed as Lucifer unleashed the cruelest, most playful tickle attack yet—an overload of celestial magic and fingers tapping at every sensitive seam.
The TV demon crumbled in a storm of static, laughter, and fractured threats.
“LUCI—HHAHA—STOP—STOP—!—I’M GONNA CRASH—!”
“Oh relax,” Lucifer said cheerfully. “If you crash, I’ll just reboot you.”
He kept going until Vox’s legs shook, his screen-face flickered uncontrollably, and his voice devolved into breathy, glitching wheezes.
Finally, Lucifer released the spell.
Vox collapsed to his knees, supporting himself with shaking arms, static fizzing off him like smoke.
Lucifer crouched beside him, patting his shoulder.
“There,” he said warmly. “We’re even.”
Vox looked up, screen flickering desperately.
“We’re—NOT—done.”
“Oh, I sincerely hope not.” Lucifer winked. “Retribution is much more fun when it becomes a cycle.”
Моё отношение к Vox своеобразное... С одной стороны мне интересно наблюдать как он там развиваться, становится мощнее, его питомцы акулы и его паучья форма. Но! Мне очень хочется ударить его после всей ерунды что он сделал с другими персонажами:/
My relationship with Vox is peculiar... On the one hand, I'm interested in watching him develop, become more powerful, his shark pets and his spider form. But! I really want to punch him after all the nonsense he did to the other characters :/
Content: Tickles, mention of past relationship, captive Alastor, Vox pining, drinking
Summary: The two are drinking in Vox's office, the animosity feeling almost stale. Until Alastor decides to test something.
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Fic Master List
2,084 words
The V Tower is typically a place of corporate chaos, employees running down the halls to file paperwork on time, making appointments, and attending meetings where nothing actually gets done. In the late evening, however, after most of the lower level employees have left the building, there’s a silence that sits comfortably across the halls. The only exception is the sound of amused laughter drifting out from Vox’s office door, the Media Demon lingering despite the late hour.
It’s been weeks since Vox had captured his long term rival, Alastor, and after weeks of bickering with one another, a strange sort of familiarity has started to sit in the air between the two overlords this evening. Maybe it’s just the liquor warming their veins, but the 70 year long animosity between them feels nearly absent.
The bottle of Sazerac sits nearly empty, surrounded by the two who have generously been pouring themselves glass after glass. Vox’s composed CEO persona was one of the first things to go after the third drink. Gone is the stiff posture and smug grin, instead, Vox is slumped back in his office chair, feet lazily kicked up on the office desk.
The typically imposing overlord lets out a sharp bark of genuine laughter that would have horrified him if he were sober, wholeheartedly amused by the story he’s recounting to the Radio Demon sitting across from him. “And then - hah! - and then I cut the brakes! The look on her face was priceless!” Vox wheezes, a wide, genuine smile playing across his lips that makes him look almost like the man Alastor had actually tolerated nearly a century ago.
Across from him, Alastor sits comfortably in the same office chair he’s been stuck in for weeks, though he’s finally managed to convince the other overlord to remove the cables binding him. Not that the restraints were particularly bothersome to him in the first place, but the freedom to move his limbs is a welcome change he isn’t willing to question.
The sharp and lethal grin that normally sits across his lips is replaced by something loose and lazy, his posture melting into the leather beneath him. Even his eyes are slightly unfocused, vision blurred and fuzzy around the edges. “That’s a rather cruel move, even for you, Vox,” he hums, the tone making it clear that he means it as a compliment.
Vox’s eyes fall onto the other overlord, his expression softening into something dangerously close to sincere and the liquor loosening his lips. “See? This is what I mean. It’s just like old times. I… I actually missed this. The talking. Not the- not the rest of it.” One of his hands waves vaguely, the movement loose and clumsy. The comfortable warmth sitting in the pit of his stomach can’t fully be attributed to the alcohol, he’s actually finding himself deeply enjoying the company of the Radio Demon.
Alastor pauses, the glass hanging halfway to his lips where he was about to indulge in another sip. His red eyes lock onto Vox’s, not offering an immediate scathing insult or biting jab. Instead, his head tilts to the side as he examines the dopey grin on the other overlord’s face. He doesn’t exactly agree, but he doesn’t feel the immediate need to disagree either.
But the silence is something that Alastor is unwilling to let Vox think about too long.
“My, my, how terribly sentimental of you! Quite unbecoming for the Media Overlord himself.” The deer demon’s claws tap idly against the arms of his chair, eager to shift the conversation away from anything regarding their past. Talking about his enemy’s feelings is the last thing he wants to spend his time doing.
A thought enters his mind, something he had accidentally learned decades ago during one of their routine evenings out at the bar. An accidental brush of the hand too close to Vox’s ribs had sent the other overlord flinching away like a startled cat, a piece of information that Alastor has never quite forgotten about.
And to his mind, fuzzy with alcohol and a desire for a sharp change in topic, it sounds like the perfect time to make use of that little weakness.
Alastor pushes himself up from the chair with a steadiness that would never give away how many glasses he’s actually had, planting his hands behind his back comfortably and taking a few steps closer to where Vox lounges in his chair. “Tell me, old pal, are you still as sensitive as you used to be?” A sharp grin lingers on his face as one of his hands drifts down to Vox’s ribs, the tips of his claws just barely grazing the other overlord’s side.
Vox reacts immediately.
His entire body tenses and he jerks back an inch, even the light graze sending alarm bells ringing in his head. “He-hey! Don’t touch me, you smug prick.” Vox tries to find the commanding tone he typically employs, though it’s heavily softened by the liquor and the surprise of the other man’s fingers.
The reaction is exactly what Alastor was looking for, his ears perking right up in interest. An amused chuckle rumbles from his throat as he follows Vox’s jerk backwards, his hand drifting right back in. “Oh? And whyever not, hm?” This time, Alastor doesn’t settle for a simple graze of the claws, instead launching a full-on tickling attack on the other man’s sides.
Alastor’s claws scritch-scritch-scritch against the fabric of Vox’s suit, starting at his lowest rib before starting to move up his torso, finding the skin just below his gills. He leans into the other man’s space, trapping him in the chair with nothing more than his hands and his presence.
Vox bites down on his tongue to try to stop the laughter he can feel bubbling up in his chest. The feeling of the Radio Demon’s claws is horribly, maddeningly ticklish, a weakness that not even Valentino knows about. Despite his attempts to hold his breath, a chuckle starts to break free when Alastor finds that sensitive spot just below his gills. “G-get off of me- you- you- pfffft-”
His hands shoot up to try to find Alastor’s wrists and shove them away, but the overwhelming sensation combined with his current state is making it very difficult for his hands to hit the mark. Vox ends up swiping at the air and barely grazing Alastor’s wrists, doing effectively nothing to dislodge the other overlord as more and more undignified noises start bubbling up in his throat.
Alastor’s grin sharpens at the sound of the laughter breaking through, fully invested in this game now. His free hand shoots up to go for Vox’s hip, one hand with four claws skittering in circles near his gills, and the other wiggling up and down against the bone of his hip. “What’s the matter, Vincent? Don’t tell me you’re ticklish." The word drips with sadistic cruelty as it slides off his tongue, easily dodging Vox’s weak attempts to displace his hands.
“Sh- hahaHA! Shuhahahat up!” The Media Demon’s laughter can no longer be held back with the addition of another hand, laughter starting to spill from his throat. His knees lift to try to curl up and protect his hip and his ribs, looking nothing like the imposing overlord he pretends to be.
A dark chuckle escapes from Alastor as well, fully amused by the sight of his enemy breaking down into helpless laughter. “Oh my, so bossy for a man currently falling apart!” His claws make a sharp turn then, both hands shooting right up to the spot beneath Vox’s arms and scritch-scritching there in relentless wiggles of his claws. “What a delightful little weakness. Perhaps I should use this whenever you start your incessant whining.” The Radio Demon is having far too much fun, his ears tilted forward to catch every sputtered word and laugh coming from the other man.
Vox lets out a sharp gasp as his armpits are suddenly attacked, a short-lived sound of shock that quickly dissolves into loud, barking laughter. His eyes squeeze shut with the force of it, his legs helplessly kicking out. “Wha-hahaHA! No- No no no- I cahahant!” The Media Demon’s arms clamp down uselessly over his chest in a desperate bid to stop the ticklish sparks shooting through his body, though it does nothing but trap Alastor’s claws there.
“What was that? You can’t?” Alastor mimics with a faux sympathetic grin, tilting his head as if considering his plea. His fingers never stop, easily pushing Vox’s arms up to continue the zig-zagging motion of his claws into his underarms. “That’s a shame. I find this rather entertaining.” Absolutely no intent to stop lingers in his tone, fully intent on seeing his rival crumble into tears from the sheer force of his laughter.
However, Alastor’s plan is cut short as one of Vox’s helpless kicks results in a foot jabbed straight into Alastor’s ribs.
The Radio Demon is briefly shoved back from the force of the kick, wind knocked out of him with surprise. His hands are dislodged, leaving Vox panting as he tries to catch his breath and regain some sense of composure. Alastor lets out a judgemental “hmph” and brushes down the sides of his suit with his hands, looking down at the mess of an overlord in front of him. “Well. That was rather rude.”
Vox slumps down in his chair as he takes deep breaths, his eyes snapping open in shock at the events of the past few minutes. One of his weaknesses has been exploited, he looks like a mess, and Alastor voluntarily touched him. To torture him, yes, but the thought remains, leaving a part of him almost hoping that he does it again.
But no. Best not to let Alastor see such a ridiculous thought.
Vox sits up, hand going to his bowtie to straighten it from the crooked position it had ended up in from his squirming. He clears his throat, searching for nonchalance that he doesn’t feel. “You deserved it. You’re lucky I didn’t decide to shock you instead.” Now that there’s a small bit of distance between them, Vox’s mind starts drifting to revenge. Is Alastor ticklish? Vox has never tried to tickle him, but now the thought is at the forefront of his mind.
With a more confident movement, he pushes himself up from the office chair and steps right into Alastor’s space, a grin starting to pull at the corners of his lips. “Maybe I should put you back in the cables after a stunt like that. I can’t have you… Distracting me.” The thought of Alastor restrained, only able to sit and take it as Vox maps out *his* ticklish spots is deeply enticing, already weaving plans into his mind.
Alastor’s eyes narrow at that tone in Vox’s voice, catching the smirk sitting on the other overlord’s lips that only speaks of future disaster. The sound of his static rises before he forces it back to a quieter hum, attempting to appear unaffected by whatever idea Vox is churning up in his head. “Perhaps you should retire for the evening. It is rather late, isn’t it?”
He strolls back over to the office chair designated for him, sitting down in it as if he has no concerns about the thought of the return of the restraints. The idea of Vox’s hands on him sends an unpleasant tingle up his body, and he has no interest in being reduced to a laughing mess by the other man’s hands. In an attempt to spin attention away from him, he adds, “Unless, of course, you’d prefer I broadcast how pathetically ticklish you are to the entirety of the Pride Ring. Now that sounds like worthwhile entertainment!”
Vox immediately stiffens at the jab, the thought of his weakness being projected to the entirety of Hell stopping any cruel ideas that were slipping into his mind. He has a war to lead, and the thought of rallies full of demons approaching and attempting to tickle him sounds like a nightmare. “Fine.” Vox huffs, leaning a hand against his desk and maintaining the space Alastor had set. “But if you pull that shit again, I’m not giving you another chance.”
Alastor’s smile widens in victory at keeping his freedom, crossing one leg over the other casually. “Whatever you say, Vincent.” As long as it keeps Vox’s hands away from any of his sensitive areas, he’ll behave. For now.
Summary: Back in the old days, Alastor and Vox were friends. And Alastor discovered a funny secret about Vox.
A/N: Thanks to @radioactiveler for the inspiration! :) Hope you like this!
…
There was a time, more than seven years ago, when Vox and Alastor were friends. It was a long time ago, Vox would tell himself. But secretly he missed when they could be friendly with one another. He recalled a certain day when Alastor had been especially mischievous.
Alastor popped up behind Vox, making him jump.
"Oh! It's just you."
"Just me? Why old friend, I am offended!" Alastor chirped. He seemed to be in a peppy mood.
"Well what? It's true." Vox gave a smirk and walked alongside him. He linked arms with him. "I know that smirk. You're up to something…"
Alastor poked him in the ribs. It sent a quite-literal jolt through him, as he sparked with blue electricity.
"Hey!" He squeaked. "Don't do that!"
Tipping his head to the side, Alastor was confused. Do what? He'd just poked him a little. Then Alastor smirked. Did Vox have a sensitive little secret?
He poked Vox's ribs again, this time going lower.
"HA! Ha-ha! S-stop that!" He squeaked, the electricity going through him again. Alastor seemed unaffected though. The blue electricity was very light, like a charge you could barely feel such as when you handle a wand you've just lit with an electric spark.
"Stop what?" Alastor teased. He kept poking his ribs, going rapidly. Vox cried out and laughed hysterically.
"NAHAHAHAHAAAHAAHAHAHAHAHAAAAA!! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHL!!" He pushed his hands away weakly. "DOHOHOHOHOHN'T!!"
"Or what?"
Vox flushed.
"I'll get you!" He reached out to tickle Alastor back, but he quickly stepped through a portal and disappeared. He reappeared behind Vox.
"Ah-ah-ah!" Alastor admonished. "We do not tickle the radio host, do we?"
Vox muttered, "I may have heard it once before…"
Alastor's voice crackled. "What?!"
He went in for another tickle attack, scribbling all over Vox's stomach. Vox simply cackled.
"Take it back! Take it back!! You didn't hear anything!!!" He shrieked. Laughing, Vox shook his head.
"NAHAHAHAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAA!" Trying to fight Alastor now was useless, since he'd poked at his pride. "HAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAA!!"
Alastor didn't think anyone was listening. He'd turned off the broadcast while the radio played its songs. As well as the sweet screams of very cruel people… Or at least, he'd thought he'd muted himself. Oh no. If he hadn't muted himself, everyone would hear how he was singing along to his favourite songs! Worse yet, they'd have heard how Niffty had come into the studio and decided he was the perfect tickle target!
That wouldn't do. That wouldn't do at all.
He tickled Vox's armpits next. Scribbling deep inside them. Vox positively lost his mind.
"Amazing! I made you short circuit." Alastor said calmly. Now satisfied, he pulled his hands away. "Now then, we won't be telling anyone about this, will we?"
Vox panted on the ground for a few long minutes.
"No…! Haahaha… I-I- swear…!"
He hugged his body and breathed heavily.
"Excellent. I hope you have an excellent day, then."
Vox didn't move from his spot, too spent. He kept laughing. It was ironic laughter, he told himself.
"HAhahaahha… You… I-I'll get you…"
One day he'd get him back. One day, when he was more powerful.
Blood. Vox couldn’t tell from where it was pouring, his whole body felt like it was trying to rip itself apart, the distinctive sting in his abdomen clued him in though. The way his leg wobbled beneath him also wasn’t a good sign, he couldn’t keep himself supported for long, his knees hit the pavement. Fuck, why was there broken glass there’s?! Oh right, from his screen. It has been shattered, a large, ugly crack covering his right eye.
He might’ve convinced himself he was on a bad trip with the way his sight was glitching out, different shapes and colours all buzzing in his vision, much like the ones you’d see flashing on an error screen, worsening his throbbing headache. Weakly, a swarm of wires emerged from behind him, crackling with electricity. He lunged his arm forward, commanding them to ram into his assailant, who side stepped easily.
“Thou hath grown weaker since the disappearance of The Radio Demon.” Zestial commented, making his screen flash with a furious, cyan blue brilliance. Vox’s eyes shot open, well, his one good eye did, Zestial had created a sizeable crack over his over one.
“Tell me, art I noht worthy enough to be a challenge to thou?” Zestial asked, his lanky figure looming over Vox, seeming much bigger than it ever had before. Vox stares up at those soulless, toxic, feeling much like a fly caught in Zestial’s web.
“Jesus, y-you proved your point..” Vox managed to muster enough strength to speak, though it was muffled beneath all his static and glitching. Zestial tilted his head, leaning down to examine Vox, his suit torn with sweet, blue liquid pouring from his wounds, face destroyed and humiliated. Zestial smiled and returned to his full height.
“It appears that I have. I hope this serves as a reminder to thou of whom the real overlords of this realm are. Do not think about spitting poison in the direction of Carmilla again in my presence.” Zestial warned him, though Vox wasn’t listening. His audio receptors were too clogged with his own blood. It was only when Zestial began to walk away, leaving the shivering, pained man behind that he reached for his phone with upmost need, even if his movements were weak and limp, like a skeleton clinging to their own grave. A ringing filled the silence around him, answered almost immediately.
“Vox, where-fuck, what happened to you?! Where are you?!” Velvette bellowed on the other end, her stern look boiling away to concern. Vox squinted at her with his good eye and smiled, relaxing his muscles, not having any remaining strength in his body.
“Hey Vel,” his voice came out uncharacteristically weak and tiny, “you look beautiful.” He mumbled, Velvette’s worried, frantic cries for an explanation fading away as his world blinked into darkness.
When Vox came to, he felt like shit. Not as shitty as before, there were no burning pains in his body, just mostly sore. The world around him felt soft and a quick glance around revealed him to be back in his room, though it looked a little different. On his bedside drawer were various types of bandages, cotton balls and ointments, iodines, peroxides and such, along with some medicine and…was that a card? Vox squinted at it. “Get Well Soon,” apparently from his assistant Papermint. Well, that didn’t explain why he was here-
Oh right. The fight. Ugh, did Velvette really see him like that, all injured and gross and sappy? Vox sighed at the thought, before pulling up the covers slightly to take a look at his body. His thigh had been thoroughly bandaged up, so comfortable he hadn’t even noticed until now. His shoes and shirt were gone, revealing a good few scars littered across his torso, precise and thin. Zestial’s nails. That fucking eight legged was freak was going to get what was coming to him, Vox was sure of that at least. He didn’t have long to linger on the thought though, due to the sound of incoming footsteps heading for his room.
“God dam it Valentino, he’ll be fine, he just needs rest!” Velvette screeched.
“Bullshit, he’s been out for a whole day, our novio is strong, he would’ve pulled through by now.” There was a small part of Vox that was resentful that he had indeed woken up and that Val was about to be proven right. His door clicked upon, Valentino’s imposing figure stood next to Velvette’s short one. Valentino’s coat was gone, letting his wings breathe freely, wearing nothing but a comfortable dark tracksuit beneath. Velvette’s hair wasn’t styled at all, simply left to hang freely, a style that Vox found gorgeous. Valentino just smirked confidently at Vox though it was aimed at Velvette, who just stared flabbergasted, before breaking into a relieved smile.
“Really picked an inconvenient time to wake up, didn’t you?” Vel commented, a rare sound of softness in her tone as she approached Vox; Valentino in tow.
“You know me, Vel, I always show up in places I’m not wanted,” Vox smirks, trying to regain some of the confidence he had lost from that humiliating defeat. He could pretend for now. Valentino leaned down next to his bed side, stroking his hand at the top of Vox’s TV head. At this distance, Vox could see through the tint of his red-sunglasses, his eyes were full of clear relief and love.
“You had us worried, hermoso.” He said in a tone that made Vox shiver, not used to Valentino being so affectionate. “Christ, Vel was a mess when she came to me.”
Velvette huffed. “Well excuse me, Vox was talking like he had one foot in the grave already! Who even did that to you?!” Velvette asked, there was fury in her tone, but it wasn’t directed at Val or Vox. Vox really did think he was a goner there, huh? He cringed at the thought of getting all sentimental and mushy in front of Vel…ugh, at least it wasn’t Valentino. He wouldn’t let Vox live that down, though the way Velvette was being so worried about him almost made him prefer Valentino.
“That old spider prick Zestial, but it’s fine, really. I-I just couldn’t see and I thought I was..you know, a lot more worse for wear than I was, it’ll take a lot more than that to keep me down.” Vox bragged, though the other two weren’t all that interested in his ego right now. Valentino pulled out two golden pistols he’d kept on his body, because that’s a responsible thing to bring into a make-shift hospital room.
“So, we’re going to kill this guy, right?” Valentino asked, unable to stop a grin from forming on his face though he was dead serious. Vox interjected before Vel could passionately agree.
“No, no, you two are not about to go and worsen the mess I created. We could hit him where it hurts though, his reputation, I’m sure some of my cameras caught what went down, we could easily spin this and frame him as-.” Vox put a hand to his chin as he rambled though Velvette waved her hands dismissively.
“No, no, no, you are not working right now, your hurt and your not doing anything until your better!” Velvette stated, crossing her arms over her chest, practically daring Vox to argue with her. He still get like absolute Hell, that fight has taken a physical, and unexpected emotional toll on him. He couldn’t let his image continue to slip though, he’d already looked like an idiotic sap to Velvette and a useless, banged up meat sack to Valentino. Now what was he, some helpless baby?
“Yes, I am-ow!” Vox tried to pull himself up, though the second he began to get up, it was like his torso was trying to split open.
“Careful, querido, we haven’t finished with the cuts on your torso. At least let us handle them.” Valentino asked, squeezing Vox’s hand in his own. Vox’s face heated up at the feeling and he leaned back into the bed.
“Thank you,” Velvette added in an exaggerated tone, before comfortably pulling back the covers to leave Vox’s torso on show. She grabbed some of the cotton balls on Vox’s desk and doused it in the antiseptics she had accumulated there. “This is gonna sting a little.” She warned him.
Vox rolled his eyes. “Oh, please I’m not a kid-oh fuck!” He screeched as Velvette dabbed and pressed the cotton ball against the scrapes on his torso, one by one. He squeezed onto Val’s hand tighter instinctively and hears the man chuckle; Vox blushed even more. Velvette winced and worked as fast as she could, thoroughly disinfecting all his cuts. Vox took in a deep breath, trying to regain any semblance of composure as he swatted away Val’s hand.
“You two really didn’t have to do all this, for me,” Vox added quietly at the end, Val put a hand on his hip.
“That’s a weird way of saying thank you, Voxy.” He teased, though Velvette made sure to lightly smack his arm, having finished treating Vox.
“Shut up, Val! And yes, Vox, we did, did you want to wake up half blind with a useless leg? I didn’t think so.” She seemed to shudder slightly as she described it. He hated that she saw him like that already but that just made a little bit of guilt crawl up to his throat like bile.
“I just…never wanted either of you to see me in that state, I-I apologise, it won’t happen again.” Vox’s voice shifted to the tone he’d use when discussing business deals, formal and matter of fact, dropping with false confidence. That seemed to set off alarm bells in his partner’s head. Velvette considered for a moment what to say, but Valentino beat him to it.
“Voxy, darling, baby,” he leaned in, placing his hands on Vox’s shoulders, “do you know how stupid you sound right now?”
Vox’s eyes narrowed with insecurity, Velvette looked about ready to rip off Val’s wings before he continued.
“Do you know how many times you’ve seen me ripping apart this whole tower because of some shit Angel did? Or how Velvette was a blubbering mess when she first came to Hell? None of us three are perfect, we’re in Hell, so stop lying to all three of us.” Vox’s eyes seemed to soften as he looked away, actually taking in something Valentino said. Velvette seemed shock that Valentino said something actually useful.
“You know you have to be wrong if I’m agreeing with dick for brains here. Vox, we’re not gonna view you differently for this, your still our leader. This place couldn’t function without you, we still value you.” Velvette sat down on Vox’s bed next to him, who was feeling warmly trapped between the two.
“Well…that is certainly got to know, just make sure that the details of all this stays between us? You didn’t tell anyone else, right?” Vox asked, to which Velvette shook her head.
“Only your assistant.” She explained, Vox seemed to relieve, able to relax once again.
“Good, good…thank you for doing all of this for me, truly.” Vox managed a smile for his partners, Velvette politely returned one. Valentino remained smug as always but kept his hands on Vox’s body, playfully dragging his fingers down his arm.
“Very good, I like it!” Val praised him in a sickly sweet tone, which just made Velvette roll her arms. Vox on the other hand was much more preoccupied with the way his hand was travelling down his arm, with his index finger gently dragging against Vox’s chest and then just his side. Vox eyed Valentino’s hand, biting at his lip though he was much too weak to hold back his laughter right now, softy cracking up and squeezing his eyes shut.
“Gohohod, Val, stop thahahat!” He ordered, swerving his body away from the man slightly, but Val’s fingers caught up with him, a wide grin on the man’s face as he realised what he was doing.
“Oh, don’t be such a princesa, Voxy, it’s just tickling, it’s not like I’m doing anything…sinister.” That last word came out in a dark whisper, Vox felt his face sparkle with electricity, unable to meet Valentino’s smug gaze. He tried to curl up on himself but one of Valentino’s pair of arms took a hold of his wrists, forcing them above his head.
“Vahahahl, the tickling is the prohohoblem!” Vox whined, his laughter coming out slightly crackly and hoarse, doing his best to contain his snickers. Velvette starting to scribble her nails along his abs didn’t help with that.
“VEHEHEHEL!!” Vox shrieked, tensing his legs; Velvette simply smirked up at him, squeezing at the solid skin.
“What? You gave me a proper scare, you dolt, consider this my revenge!” She declared, skittering those wonderfully manicured nails of hers over his torso, her touches a lot more precise and decorate than Val’s large hands.
“Fuhuhuhuck, why yohoHOHOHu thehehen?!” Vox spat out at Valentino, who just shrugged, his crimson teeth shining with glee.
“I just like doing this, you look adorable, Voxy~!” He teased, pinching the side of his screen, before sharply withdrawing his hand at the feeling of a sharp shock bubbling at his fingertips.
“CAHAHN YOHOHU BOHOHTH QUIHIHIT IT?!” Vox whined in a flustered tone, wishing he could just disappear, or hide under the covers. His partner’s fingers were not compliant with that wish however, Velvette continued skittering her nails all about his torso whilst Valentino squeezed up and down his ribs, leaving Vox’s midriff in sensory hell. Velvette looked a little apprehensive as she noticed how hard Vox was squirming about, he looked about ready to blow a fuse in his head with how hard he was blushing. It was cute, obviously, but she couldn’t help but come concerned for Voxy, pulling away her hands and ushering for Val to do the same by slapping his wrist. Surprisingly, he complied.
“You got off lucky this time, mi amor, but you owe me~!” Valentino made sure to remind him, but Vox wasn’t listening. He smiled appreciatively at Velvette as he laid down, trying to recover.
“You two..you two are assholes..” he spoke with a small grin before figuring to add, “thanks though but, I can handle myself from here and you both can’t afford to stay here watching me all day.” Velvette huffed, knowing he was right. Valentino looked down at him, something close to love in his eyes.
“As long as you say so, Voxy. Come on, Doll, I have a shoot to film.” He stated to which she just rolled her eyes in disinterest and turned her face towards Vox.
“Stay safe, baby,” Velvette murmured, kissing him on his cheek gently, before she stood up. Vox’s eyes had a little twinkle as he looked up at Velvette.
