Chapter Text
“Al, slow down!” Vox shouted through the rain, a coat thrown messily over his head as he hoped and prayed that it wouldn’t leak into his vents somehow. “You’re walking too fast!”
Irritated with the TV-demons' slowness Alastor turned on his heel.
Red and black hair was half-plastered to the radio-demon's face as he took in Vox. Bright, red eyes dancing with mirth as he bit back a laugh.
“Dear god, Vox.” the radio-demon laughed, the sound barely carrying through the soft curtains of rainfall around them as he lifted his red and silver claws to shield his eyes. “You’d think it was raining acid.”
“Maybe,” Vox fired back, red eyes narrowing petulantly as he trudged through the rain towards Alastor. “That’s because when you’re made of electronics it might as well be.” he reached out the moment he was close enough to grab the other overlords arm.
Alastor stiffened briefly in surprise under the touch.
Vox merely stepped even closer, his screen tilting close enough to Alastor that the radio-demon's warm breath steamed up the cool glass of his screen.
“Gotchu, Al.” Vox breathed roughly, squeezing Alastor's arm.
Alastor's gaze flicked down to where Vox’s hand gripped his own. “You should know,” he delivered flatly with an unamused glare, “many would find your methods of showing affection to be rather uncouth.”
Vox smirked wickedly. “I could be a hell of a lot more uncouth if we weren’t standing in the middle of the street right now.”
Alastor scoffed, rolling his eyes despite the ambitious amusement quirking at the corners of his lips. “Please do restrain yourself.” he dismissed, looking away.
Vox chuckled softly, voice dipping. “And why…” he asked slowly as he brought up two claws to catch Alastor's chin and tilt his head back in his direction. “Should I do that?”
“Because, I'm telling you too.” Alastor retorted, folding his arms over his chest stubbornly.
“Hm.” Vox mused, briefly skimming the base of Alastor's mouth with the tip of his neon-blue talon. “Weak argument.” he commented before dipping his head low—
His mouth locked against Alastors with a breathless sound.
Alastor startled for about half a second before he realised what was happening and deepened the kiss pack. The warmth of his tongue was addictive as it bled onto Vox’s own pleasantly enough to almost draw a moan out of the TV-demon.
It was at that point Alastor drew back first, leaving Vox feeling horribly needy as he attempted to lean in for a second—
A red claw tapped against his screen stopping him.
“Not whilst we’re still standing in the middle of the rain, you fool.” Alastor teased, dropping his claw with a smug smirk. His hands reached up briefly to toy with the collar of Vox’s white shirt. “Aren’t you afraid you’ll get your sensitive v-code-ers wet?”
Vox laughed. “Vocoders, Alastor.” he corrected playfully, and then smirked softly. “And I think that you would be surprised just how wet I'm willing to get for you.” he said suggestively, waggling his brows.
Alastor let out a light scoff and shoved him away.
Proceeding to tuck his hands against his sides as he began a beeline down the damp street.
Vox stared after him fondly for a moment, before remembering to follow. Jogging to catch up with his rivals' swift pace.
“So,” Vox started, shifting the subject as he finally caught up to Alastors side, “you planning on heading back to the hotel?”
Alastor glanced over at him for a moment, looking as though he’d forgotten how to speak as he answered with a small nod. “Yes, I should believe so.”
Believe so.
Vox snorted at the phrasing.
Alastor's eyes narrowed into pin-pricks. “What’s so funny?” he questioned.
Vox trained both hands defensively, waving them dismissively. “N–nothing!” he swore, pixels brightening in a fluster, “Don’t worry about it.”
“Why the question then?” Alastor asked instead.
“Juet well… y'know…” Vox rubbed the back of his neck nervously.
“I don’t know.” Alastor snarked.
But voice remained strangely earnest. “If you wanted you could… Come back to V-Tower with me...” he trailed off, looking flustered. “I mean it’s closer so…uh—”
Vox startled as Alastor’s fingertips found his own and gave a sharp squeeze before letting go. Eyes doeish and wide and he inclined his head in a bow. “I suggest you lead the way then.” he encouraged.
Vox rolled his eyes. “Flirt.” he murmured, before stealing Alastor's hand back into his own and dragged them home through the rain.
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“Your ears are in the way.” Vox complained, frowning, as he attempted to dry Alastor's sodden hair with a thick hand-towel. “Can you like… take them off for a minute?”
Alastor scowled with his eyes. “I’m not sure if I should be disappointed or offended by that question.” he deadpanned.
“Okay, okay but can you like…” Vox gestured faintly towards them with the towel, “put them down or something to make it easier?”
Alastors eyes narrowed briefly…
And then he reluctantly lowered his ears.
“Thank you.” Vox sighed before returning to trying Alastor's hair methodically with the towel. “Was that really so hard?” he chided.
The towel brushed gently over the curve of Alastor’s now-lowered ear—
It gave a small involuntary twitch at the contact.
Vox’s expression brightened immediately—
“If you even think,” Alastor snapped immediately, expression flat, as his claws curled slightly into the fabric below, “about cooing I will see fit to pry that picture-box off your head and re-wire you.”
Vox pouted. “You know, you’re grumpy when you're wet.” he complained in a low grumble.
“Then dry quicker.” Alastor merely offered.
Vox tossed the dampened towel over Alastor's face. “Dry it yourself then if I'm too slow for you, Mr. Radio-Demon.” he countered, flooding his arms over his firm chest.
Alastor merely pinched the edge of the grey towel between his thumb and index finger before peeling it off his face just enough to glare up at vox. “How mature of you.” he commented before lifting both sets of claws to his head and beginning to dry his hair.
Vox watched him passively for a moment. And then—
“Alastor, stop. You're only drying the top. The ends are dripping everywhere.” he complained, stepping forward and snatching the plush grey towel out of Alastor’s claws before using it to crunch the wetness out of the tips of the slanted bob. “Honestly, you’re useless.” he chinded, though not cruelly.
Alastors hands fell uselessly to his lap as Vox continued to handle his hair.
“By the way,” Vox mumbled smugly. “I’m still much faster than you at this.”
Alastor’s gaze slanted up at Vox. “If you keep crunching my hair in that manner you’re going to give me curls again for the first time in almost a century.”
Vox groaned. “Ugh, you’d look so cute with curls though, Al.” he complained. “I think I would’ve killed to see you with them.”
Alastor was half-tempted to ask how literally those words were intended to be.
But his thoughts were interrupted by the sharp jostle of his head throbbing sharply as Vox rubbed the towel too roughly into his head. The radio demon flinched, ears snapping down as his shoulders pinched—
Vox quickly eased off. “Al?” he asked with a frown. “You good?”
Alastor offered a nod, lifting a hand to rub against his skull. “Tension headache, I think.” he dismissed quickly, attempting to massage away the lingering tension.
“Ooof.” Vox winced in sympathy, though his voice was strangely distant. “Sorry.”
Alastyor shook his head. “I hardly see how it’s your fault.” he assured with a faint wave of his hand, offering Vox a somewhat shaky smile.
And Vox’s expression…
Softened?
Alastor almost shuddered. Even after all these months it was something that he could never quite accustom himself too.
There was only silence beyond the gentle clock of Vox’s boots as he closed the small amount of space between himself and ALastor.
The radio demon was perched on the edge of his mattresses. Hair damp and dishevelled in knots from Vox's messy drying as he glared up at Vox with all the force of a slightly tired, angry poodle through messy vermillion locks. His hands curled feebly into the soft cyan sheets below as his shoulders were hunched to suppress the slight tremble his body as trainwater still crawled coldly down his spine.
Vox reached out slowly, clawed hands coming up to cup either side of Alastor's face in a gentle caress.
Alastor leaned into it almost instinctively.
Vox chuckled. “Wow,” he teased, “Your head really must be hurting if you’re being all cuddly.”
That—
That had the radio-demons eyes snapping open. Fire simmering quietly behind them. “I do not do cuddly, Vox.” he argued.
“Sure you don’t.” Vox dismissed, shifting his hands so his fingers could rub soft tiny circles into either side of Alastor's forehead, working out just towards the edge of his eyes—
The touch pulled a soft whine from the back of Alastor's throat.
Both of them stiffened immediately.
Alastor's eyes caught wide, almost frightened—
Meanwhile vox felt…
Strangely curious.
His retracted his fingers movements rubbing his claws in that same motion again—
And felt the tension melt from Alastor involuntarily as he hit that same spot—
It was softer than the rest. Tender. Almost sticky—
“You have scent glands?!” Vox exclaimed in surprise as he used his claws to gently pry apart the soft flaps covering the small, thick oily bump. “That is so—”
Alastor gently batted his hand away. “If you attempt to say cute again i swear i will—”
“But Alastor—!”
“No.” the radio-demon said as final.
Vox reached up again with his hands nonetheless. “Fine, I won’t say anything. But if it eases the tension, would it help?” he asked, using the tip of his claw that still had thin traces of discharge on it to skim the soft skin below Alastor's eye.
The radio-demon looked unsure for a moment, ears dropping. “Maybe?” he questioned, sounding uncertain.
Vox hummed thoughtfully. “Okay well…” he said, inching the tips of his claws back against the glands and loving the way Alastor’s posture turned almost helplessly submissive at the motion. “Just tell me to stop if it bothers you.”
“Hmm.” Alastor gave a non-commital hum, already looking as though he were…
“I swear if you fall asleep sitting up I'm going to splash your face with a cup of rainwater.” Vox threatened.
Alastor pried open an eye at that. “You wouldn’t dare.” he countered weakly.
Vox’s grin turned devious. “Wouldn’t I?” he boldly teased back.
The radio-demons brows pinched suspiciously. “It’s hardly even raining anymore,” he offered.
“That’s alright," Vox dismissed quickly with a shrug as he pressed more firmly into the scent glands beside Alastor's eyes. “I can just ring it out out of the towel I just dried your head with.”
Alastor cut him a dry look. “It was not that wet.”
“Was too.”
“Was not.”
“Yes, it was, Alastor.” Vox sighed, despite the smile playing on the corners of his mouth. “God you’re insufferable.”
Alastor hummed, though the sound was monotone. “And yet,” he proclaimed somewhat dramatically, “You claim to love me.”
Shaking his head Vox stepped closer, placing his hands either side of Alastor as he leaned over him with a dark spark in his eye. “I do.” he declared, almost seriously.
As though he feared Alastor was actually questioning him.
Alastor smirked. “Good.” He reached up and traced a firm line down the side of vox’s screen. “I do have a certain level of enjoyment for power.”
Vox shook his head. “Don’t I know it.” he tsked. And then—
Something dark shifted behind his gaze that made Alastor's mind go almost dizzyingly blank. His pulse quicked.
And Vox leaned father over him, his hands now tangling with Alastors in the mattress as the radio-demon was almost laying down—
“All that stubborn will of yours…” Vox drawled slowly as one of his hands moved, ghosting the length of Alastor's arm as it travelled up. Stopping only to bunch the end of Alastor's messy hair between his claws. “And yet you’re all mine.”
Alastor felt strangely breathless. “Careful, Vox.” he warned. “You’re sounding certain.”
“I am.” Vox confirmed without missing a beat as his gaze dropped to Alastor's mouth in a way that made the radio-demon want to squirm but Vox’s other hand tightening on his held him still. “I think… you're one of the only things I've ever been certain about…”
Vox’s breath was hot against Alastor's neck.
“Certain about wanting you…” his voice dipped into a growl. “Certain about needing you.”
Alastors pulse practically hammered.
Finally, Vox pulled away, something absolutely wicked in his expression that made the radio-demons stomach twist…
In a good way or a bad way he hadn’t decided yet.
But his gaze couldn't physically leave Vox as he watched the TV-demon cross the large room and reach for a glass on his desk, listing it and shaking the empty crystal cup in offering.
“Whiskey sour?” Vox offered as he placed it down and turned to the drinks cabinet.
It took Alastor five embarrassing minutes to find his voice again before he could say yes.
Say yes, and enjoy this moment whilst it lasted. Because being with Vox meant that his life was a stir of exhilarating highs and gut-twisting dread; as though something deep inside him knew that this was a foolish decision...
But the radio demon had never feared the unknown before. And he wasn't about to start fearing it now.