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Valentines Day. A holiday made to celebrate the ones that you love and to shower them in affection.
Just a few days away.
To say Vincent was panicking would be an understatement.
He was full blown losing his mind.
Valentines Day was merely 3 days away, and he still had yet to get his partner anything. To be honest, he had no idea what to get for them!
After all, what can you get for person who brutally ends anyone who crosses him and then eats their organs like it’s a 5 star dish?
Alastor was one odd case. That’s what made Vincent so smitten by him.
——— ~ ———
“Hey Al?…” The pale TV host spoke, removing his arm from being draped over his face, gaze casting down to the latter who laid on the other side of the couch, book in hand.
He really was a vision. A sight for sore eyes. With his gorgeous curly brown locks and uncanny smile. All that to hide the terrifying monster that lived underneath. No wonder Vincent was head-over-heels.
Eyes not daring to tear away from his novel, Alastor queried an eyebrow, signalling the other to continue with his question.
Vincent felt himself gulp. “What, uh…Y-Your favourite flowers are roses, right?” He began to fidget, toying with the fabric of his thin shirt. He tended to avoid wearing heavy clothes ever since he moved into Louisiana. The heat was unbearable, but it made it easier to dispose of anything he needed to, which happened often.
The sound of a page being turned dragged Vincent out of his thoughts, his fingers abruptly ceasing the pulling of his shirt. Alastor still continued to stare down at his book, but Vincent could see that his pupils were still, making it known he wasn’t reading it.
The radio host released a hummed laugh, raising his head to look at Vincent with a smirk. “Why do you ask, hm?” He adjusted his small circular glasses on the tip of his nose, the chain on both handles jingling against the skin of his cheeks.
Vincent felt his cheeks warm. “N-No reason…”
Letting out a huffed laugh, Alastor closed the cover of his novel shut and placed the book on his lap, his full attention now on the opposite, which made Vincent want to curl into a ball.
Al did always have a flame in his gaze, which could burn a hole into anyone’s skin.
“I thought you would have known this by now, dear.” Alastor rolled his eyes. “There’s never a day that goes by where I don’t have those beauties in a vase.”
Vincent felt his cheeks grow into a deeper shade of scarlet. Of course he did. How dumb of a question was that!? “H-Haha…Y-Yeah, forgot about that…” He grit his teeth, internally face palming himself.
Silence then filled the gap between them. An uncomfortable one. Well, for Vincent anyway.
“Well,” Alastor broke it. “There are all different types of roses. Red, white, pink, yellow, purple…They all have actual florid names but I don’t imagine you’d be able to understand them.”
“Hey!” Vincent yelled, crossing his arms over his chest in a huff. “I’ll have you know I know a lot of flower names, prick. Like peonies, tulips, sunflowers, daisy’s…” He began to name them off, counting each one on his fingers.
“Those aren’t types of roses, nitwit.” Alastor rolled his eyes, placing his book on the floor beside the couch.
“W-Well, you get the point!” The TV host grunted, lips forming into a tiny pout. He knew he shouldn’t be letting Alastor see his reaction, since the other man seemed to revel in his embarrassment whenever he could, which was more often than he’d like to admit.
Vincent was a pro at putting on a mask. A rich, confident, leading mask that could get anyone to fall to their knees and obey him. Treat him like a god, just like he had longed for.
Anyone…except Alastor. Vincent could never put on a mask in front of him. He had tried, and the other had just seen right through him. He’d crumble to dust from that hazel brown gaze. Melt into a puddle beneath his feet, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.
A brief silence was met between them once again, a comfortable one this time. But, it didn’t last any longer than 10 seconds, broken by a familiar sultry voice.
“I must say, Vincent, I’m intrigued to know the reason as to why you are so interested.” Alastor spoke, voice smooth like butter. He adjusted his position on the cushion until he was eventually…leaning his chin on the opposite’s knees.
Vincent instantly felt his cheeks flush an even deeper red than they had before, if that was even possible.
With precise and controlled movement, Alastor parted both of the TV host’s legs with the tip of his finger, moving to crawl in between them and cage Vincent’s torso underneath him, all whilst maintaining consistent eye contact. “Do tell, sweet. I’m intrigued.”
Vincent felt like his whole brain was shutting down. He couldn’t believe this was happening. Al had never done anything like this before. He wasn’t the touchy type, unlike himself. The most he had ever gotten from the man, physical touch wise, was a quick tap on the cheek or a pat on the head like he was a damn dog. But, never this…
Blue and green heterochromic eyes never dared to tear away from the brown pupils.
Fuck, what was happening?!
Faces now mere inches from one another, Alastor’s smirk widened, raising one hand to press against the pale male’s chest, his other hand being used to keep his balance steady on top of Vincent’s torso.
“Oh dear, you’re practically trembling.” Vincent felt his breath quicken at an impossibly fast pace as he felt the brunette’s hand begin to trail his chest upwards, nails gently dragging against the thin fabric of his pale blue shirt. His skin prickled with goosebumps, his Adam's apple bobbing as he let himself gulp, just as the trailing hand began to bypass his collarbone and press against his neck.
The pair still didn’t dare break eye contact. They couldn’t. Vincent felt like they were going to die if they did.
“I’ll let you in on a little secret, Sharkie.” Alastor fluttered his eyelashes, hot breath decorating Vincent’s skin as a shiver ran down his spine.
That goddamn nickname, the radio host knew just how much it made Vincent fold. His Vincent.
“Whilst I have a tendency to buy red roses,” Alastor’s fingers danced around his prey’s throat, caressing the tender flesh like it was going to be his next meal. “I do love them snow white. ‘Desdemona’s’, I believe they are called.” His sultry voice continued to drift, nose almost bumping with the other’s.
Vincent felt himself beginning to gulp again, eyes fluttering as Alastor began to inch closer and closer.
Just one more inch…One more-
Vincent felt his breath abruptly be cut off, a hand encasing its way around his throat. Not too hard to choke him, but enough to leave him breathless.
He was forced to stare wide eyed at the beautiful creature in front of him, mouth agape in shock.
He was under Alastor’s complete control, lost under the dark spell of the demon in front of him.
Unconsciously, Vincent’s hands began to raise to hold the man above him by his hips, not that it seemed to bother Al. It was like he was controlling him, telling him what to do without even moving his mouth.
“Oh, I do love them so. It’s just so…” Alastor let a fang sit on his bottom lip, pricking at the skin as he leaned down slowly to Vincent’s ear. His hand still sat clasped comfortably around his neck, thumb rubbing the skin.
“...so much fun to coat the beautiful petals in red. Like a messy art project.”
——— ~ ———
Vincent wasn’t able to get that day from last week out of his mind. It played on repeat in his head like a broken record. They’d been so close, bodies practically melting together, as he succumbed to Alastor’s curse over him.
That’s how Vincent found himself in the predicament he was in now.
Here he stood, in the dark swampy forest, covered head-to-toe in a familiar red liquid. It was still warm against his skin. Still warm as it poured from the crumbled man’s various wounds. Still warm as it coated the white petals of the bouquet in the clutch of his hands.
This, by far, had been one of the host’s most frenzied attacks. Normally, he just liked it to be quick and over and done with. A quick slash to the throat or torso. He didn’t have time for all the petty begging bullshit.
But, tonight he did. He always did have time for his beloved.
Staring down at the bouquet in his hands, Vincent’s eyes trailed over each white rose, making sure every last one had a large amount of red splatters decorating them.
It was perfect, just the finishing touch to his gifts.
He felt himself smile, proud of his achievements.
Al was going to love this.
——— ~ ———
“Vincent, what could be so important you must keep me from my evening whiskey?” Alastor questioned, sitting down on their plush couch, just where the other had told him to.
“Just shush for a sec, will ‘ya? Oh, and close your eyes!” Humming a sigh and rolling his eyes, the brunette slowly closed his eyes and sat still, waiting for a signal to open them.
He resisted the urge to chuckle as he heard the other male stumble around in the kitchen, mumbling a curse before he then came barrelling out, the sound of crinkling following after.
“Alright, open them!”
Blinking open his eyes, Alastor adjusted his gaze to a smiling Vincent before looking down at what he held in his hands.
He felt his breath catch in his throat, pressing a hand against his chest.
There, in all his idiotic glory, Vincent stood with a love heart shaped box, wrapped neatly in a ribbon in one hand, whilst the other held a bouquet of white roses, each one splattered with dry blood.
Alastor sat stunned for a solid moment, worrying the taller for a few seconds, until he eventually spoke. “For…For me?”
The radio host was genuinely speechless. No one had ever done anything like this for him before. Not a single soul. He’d never wanted them to, honestly. But, his Vincent doing it for him…actually warmed his already cold heart.
Smile wobbling on his lips and cheeks dusting a pale pink, the taller pale man laughed nervously as he sauntered his way over to the other, holding out the gifts. “H-Ha…Happy Valentine’s Day, Al…”
Reaching out to grasp his presents, Alastor gently placed the bouquet of roses next to him on the couch, hands moving to remove the ribbon from around the love heart shaped box.
Now, Alastor was not a fan of sweet things at all, but he avoided mentioning it again to the other since he went through the pain of getting him it-
His eyes widened upon what sat inside the pink tub.
In small individual wrappers, clearly where chocolates had once sat, laid different coloured eye balls and severed fingers. All sprinkled with small speckles of blood, ready to devour.
“I know you don’t like sweet shit, so I had to cut up like four guys to get all of these.” Vincent chuckled, hand scratching the back of his neck. “Seriously, I don’t know how you do it all the time, Al-”
Alastor instantly shut the other up as he gripped him by his scruffy shirt collar, yanking Vincent towards him and smashing their lips together.
They sat like that for a solid 10 seconds, the TV host completely frozen in place, before the brunette eventually pulled away, a smile gracing Alastor's mouth once again.
“Thank you, Sharkie~…” He chuckled, gently picking up his bouquet of blood splattered white roses and pressing them to his nose, taking a long sniff of them.
Ah, that heavenly smell of flora and death. Almost like a funeral. How pleasant.