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Vox was intimately aware of his reputation when it came to Alastor. He knew people saw him as a sycophant to the Radio demon at best and a second rate copy at worst. They were partially right.
When Vox had heard of the Radio demon he was skeptical. When he listened to his broadcast he was enchanted. And when he finally glimpsed Alastor's face in person, he was quickly obsessed.
His whimsy, sinister aura, intimidating countenance, the sheer raw power. It was beyond intoxicating.
And more than a little... motivating.
Vox was accustomed to getting what he wanted when he was alive, this did not change as a core part of his personality just because he was in Hell. Before they had even spoken directly Vox had begun to plan their future together as media overlords. Ruling together with unfathomable cruelty and ruthless charm. It was all but inevitable, after all.
Vox just needed to prove his worth.
He built himself up, frustratingly slowly, snatching at scraps of power and listening to Alastor's voice day and night for encouragement. Recording and replaying each broadcast before carefully archiving them in his own memory bank.
Sometimes Alastor would tell stories, winding and thoroughly enthralling. Other times he'd take calls, engaging cheerfully with the nervous and awed speakers. Sometimes he would sing, that got Vox either hot and bothered or set him off daydreaming about their future together.
Somehow though, his favourite broadcasts were ones with... guests.
The sounds of wet flesh and smacking lips, broken by low, hypnotic commentary and the occasional satisfied groan, left Vox a sweaty, jealous mess. It should be him under Alastor's mouth, making those same sounds in such a different way.
With Alastor commenting on his body, his taste, his desire to consume him entirely.
Vox eventually learned how to key out the screaming for full immersion. The next step would be to get Alastor to say his name for his personal recordings.
Vox would happily let Alastor take a bite out of him. The thought of his body becoming part of Alastor's was intoxicating to even fathom.
Though his new, mechanical form was likely not to the cannibal's taste.
It took longer than Vox liked but he finally built up enough power to be invited into an overlord meeting. Finally, bringing him face to face with his unsuspecting future love.
Alastor had looked breathtaking up close. Large, ruby eyes, button nose and his ever-present smile on full display. Though he was looking more politely disinterested as Carmilla droned on about territory.
Embodied chaos was not made to sit silently at another person's table.
He was seated next to that cannibal woman who ran the creepy little town. She also sported a grin and would occasionally reach out and brush Alastor's shoulder, removing imaginary lint or whatever.
Vox hyperfixated on that touch and tried to calculate if he had enough power to take out the leader of Cannibal Town.
He had done his research though. A consequence of the growing camera presence in the Pentagram that marked his expansion. And his ever present eyes on Alastor. She was powerful and, apparently, happily married so he let it drop for now. Eventually he'd convince Alastor that he didn't need her.
Vox waited for his opportunity, knowing from his extensive research and surveillance, exactly how to approach Alastor for the most favourable outcome.
He had barely heard a word that was said in the overlord meeting. Too busy watching Alastor contain his true, chaotic nature behind a sedate smile. As soon as the meeting came to a close, he had made a beeline for Alastor before he could leave and the rest was history. His corny jokes and radio themed humour went off without a hitch.
Or so he thought.
Vox had no idea at the time but Alastor was well aware of his cameras, data collection, and spies that had grown in number as Vox had accumulated power. Later Alastor had revealed that the bold move to have him followed and surveilled had piqued his interest moreso than Vox's clumsy approach at the meeting.
Handsome and intelligent.
He was so perfect.
So perfect for Vox.
From there it had been a whirlwind. Vox became addicted to scheming with Alastor, cooking with Alastor, dancing with Alastor. Being near Alastor, surrounded by Alastor as much as humanly possible, until one became almost synonymous with the other.
He rapidly became addicted to the way Alastor's nose would scrunch when he was committing a heinous, unhinged act. The tantilising sway of his hips as he hummed to a self-made tune, sleeves pushed up to his, rarely exposed, forearms as he cooked or manually washed their dishes. The unbelievable slimness of his sultry waist under Vox's hands as he struggled to keep up with the steps only Alastor seemed to know.
The scent of his hair...
It had taken Vox longer than he'd cared to admit that he had obsessed day and night over inventing olfactory sensors just for that purpose.
He'd managed taste shortly after too. Just to be prepared.
He wanted to experience Alastor with every sense. And for Alastor to experience him. It took very little time to research that deer sight percieves colours differently and choose his look accordingly.
Back then he had advanced himelf enough that all moments, all sensations, were meticulously filed away to be viewed and experienced again and again, at his leisure.
Now it had been years since he had gone and fumbled their relationship.
Vox tried not to think of those days as much anymore, not unless he was well and truly alone.
Not that it stopped his dreams. The domesticity being easy to conjure up, even though the thought of domesticating Alastor was a feral pipe dream, no matter how impeccable his cooking was. It was as his thoughts turned to more intimate moments Vox's limitless imagination stalled.
Vox had never managed to see more skin than Alastor's forearms and face, and he would be one of the very few to get even that. For someone who grew up during the roaring twenties, Alastor was rather buttoned up.
Though Vox had once caught a glimpse of his elegant neck as Alastor had changed bow ties and, by his own reaction, he could see why the general population shouldn't be allowed to see that. After all, Alastor liked his space and there was no way he would get it with a body like his, not unless it was, unfortunately, covered up.
Though this made fantasizing about his favourite deer quite difficult. From corsets that accentuated his waist and showcased his upper torso, to casual clothes, to nothing at all, Vox could never get rid of the sense that his imagination was getting it all wrong. This would often leave him more frustrated than satisfied.
One thing he almost never did was to picture Alastor tied up. Partially because the thought alone would almost certainly cut his 'me time' short, but mostly because he liked the image of Alastor coming to his bed willingly so much more.
How he cherished the thought of Alastor's scarred hands roaming Vox's body in that lazily dangerous way of his. Or, perhaps grasping desperately at the sheets or headboard. All of his own volition. It was more tantalizing than any coercion or force could ever be.
He wasn't too proud to admit he occasionally dreamed of overpowering the great Radio demon to take as his own from time to time. Grappling in close quarters before Alastor willingly gave in.
Alastor liked to pretend he didn't belong to Vox, a cute little game, but they both knew the truth.
Alastor was ensnared in his own way. His desire for Vox leaving him trapped in a web of their own making.
Vox had always been attracted to power.
To controlling it, bending it to his will.
Containing it to use at his leisure.
Collecting it for his use alone.
And Alastor knew this.
Alastor, himself, was a force of nature. His fluid movements, unusual dark magic, and the devastation he left in his wake just for the fun of it were simply awe inspiring.
He flaunted his power for Vox's viewing pleasure. To test and tease him. All an elaborate plot to draw Vox in. Basically asking for Vox to do something drastic. To take what he desired.
...and to have a force of nature bending to his will, satisfying his darkest desires was euphoria at it's very finest.
They had always danced like this. Boasting grand displays of power just to attract and impress each other. Even after everything fell apart.
Vox took a sharp, almost imperceptible little breath as he rubbed his hands across where his eyes were set on his face screen, determinedly keeping them above his waist. Knowing already that it was going to be another long night as he slumped into his chair.
When he finally pulled his hands away he couldn't help but glare at them. How many decades had it been since he had last touched Alastor? How long since he had rested a hand on Alastor's mouthwateringly trim waist and swept him into a dance.
He had missed so many sensations with his primative sensors at the beginning of their relationship that he had been forced to cobble together after failing to feel Alastor's first handshake on their first meeting.
He vowed not to miss another touch, dutifully logging away the sensation each time to revisit in darker moments.
But his favourite was the experience of running his fingers through Alastor's hair, sweeping through the short strands of his undercut up to his velvety soft ears. It was... indescribable. He had touched them only once after Alastor had lost a friendly bet and begrudgingly conceeded the victory to Vox. Vox still salivated when he thought of Alastor bowing slightly at the waist, hands tucked neatly behind his back as he inclined his head with faux reluctance towards Vox, with a roll of his eyes and a small, ever present, smile.
Vox had barely made it home that night before he was downloading the sensation to his back up sensors while tearing desperately at his clothes. On lonelier nights he replayed the feeling until it got him off untouched.
Their big fight didn't count as the last time they physically touched. It couldn't, really, he never directly made contact with Alastor regardless. Alastor had taken his little game too far and had hurt both of them in the process. Vox had just wanted to convince him to come home with him where he belonged.
The drinks he had plied Alastor with on their last night together was normal. They always drank heavily when they had a date. The drugs Vox added to them, tried and tested by Valentino, were only to help Alastor be more comfortable. To relax for once, give in and let Vox take control. It was high time he take their relationship to the next step, after all.
His darling was just a bit nervous.
But Vox could be gentle. He would for their first time.
Vox knew his Alastor was shy in matters of the flesh, ever the old timey gentleman, so he was helping him. When Vox had struck the final blow, using his hypnosis to guide Alastor back to his tower, soon to be their tower, he knew this was what would bond them forever.
Alastor had always been naturally resistant to his control, mostly rolling his eyes fondly whenever Vox 'slipped out of control' around him. This time he hadn't even put up a cursory fight. It was obvious he had wanted this as badly as Vox did.
He still did as far as Vox was concerned.
Seeing him on his knees in their bedroom was... indescribable.
Soft and hazy. Malleable.
Trusting.
It did not take long for him to slump backwards onto the bed, his brilliant red hair spilling haphazardly over Vox's pillow, gorgeous half lidded eyes and the enduring smile. Though he was still wearing his godforsaken coat, it was unbuttoned at the front, revealing his suspenders crossing enticingly over his chest like a harness. One hand laid loosely curled by the side of his head while the other was sprawled carelessly by his hip.
He blinked slowly over swirling eyes, a thrill ran up Vox's spine to see a part of himself inside Alastor. Though his eyes were bleary, Vox knew that this was the their moment. Alastor had finally decided to let him in.
Alastor's lips and deadly teeth parted invitingly as Vox leaned down towards him, caressing Alastor's face and not wasting time to bury his fingers in Alastor's hair again. His ears were just as glorious as he remembered. Perhaps even better with his newer sensors.
Alastor's eyes flickered to static for a moment, one ear twitching endearingly, before returning to mirror Vox's swirling pattern. Typical Alastor, still trying to win.
Vox redoubled his efforts, ignoring the high pitched interference running through his system.
"Give in." He commanded, softly to Alastor. "Let me have this. Let us have this." Vox's direct tone was falling dangerously into begging territory.
"Tell me you want this. Tell me you're mine. Kiss me and mean it." Alastor didn’t respond, but he also didn't say no. It was fine, they could work on his communication skills later.
They were in the verge of becoming one, Vox with both knees planted on either side of Alastor's body while his hands framed his gorgeous face, when Vox's landline rang shrilly, jolting him enough to drop his hypnosis. This must have given Alastor cold feet because he seemed to shake himself, staring unfathomably at Vox for half a second, his ever present smile on the verge of dropping, before his eyes burst into radio dials and he was swallowed up by his shadow with an unholy screech of feedback.
When Vox had tried to track him down, finally catching the tail end of his shadow sluggishly moving into Cannibal Town, he knew it was over. That cannibal bitch, Rosie, would be more than happy to twist what happened, especially with Alastor's memory being so hazy.
He had expected righteous anger, for Alastor to hit back twice as hard as he felt he was wronged. Vox would have to be persistent to get Alastor to understand he had done all of this for them. At the very least he was braced for a scathing radio show.
Still, Vox hadn't expected Alastor to cut him off completely. There was just... nothing. He figured they would fight then talk about it, like adults, and he would make Alastor understand that it was for the best and he was just trying to help him.
But apparently Rosie had twisted his love to turn Alastor against him.
The nothingness killed him more than any demonic power or catty comment ever could. Being treated as though he didn't exist, like their relationship was... was some kind of fantasy. It was worse than any other petty punishment Alastor could dream up.
And it was not short lived either. Vox kept waiting for Alastor to capitulate, to tell him he was on thin ice but to be prepared for dinner on the weekend.
No such olive branch was ever extended.
Vox, himself, tried to reach out. In person, at overlord meetings, through the televisions Alastor walked past when he was out and about. Alastor just ignored his presence or looked at him with bored impatience before moving past him.
It was torture.
The only thing Vox could do was build up his empire. Soon Alastor would not be able to blink or breathe without one of Vox's cameras picking it up.
The day Alastor's image became distorted through his surveillance, Vox trashed the newly minted V tower and the power was out for days.
Even Alastor's radio shows became unintelligible for him. Though the fact that it was only for him had to mean something. That Alastor was still thinking of him. Still singling him out above all others.
Since their falling out, Vox had slept with as many deer demons as he could find and that Valentino had gifted him. It was one of his only ways to feel close to Alastor. Their ears hadn't come even a fraction close to Alastor's. Their bodies not even close to Alastor's inherent appeal. Their minds shockingly dull and boring.
And they were just too easy.
Even when he compelled them to be like Alastor, just like his fantasies, they were never believable.
In his mind he'd had Alastor in every conceivable way. Sweet and shy, commanding and overpowering, coy and sexy. It was never quite right. Just like all the other deer demons would never measure up to the real thing.
It never matched up to how Alastor acted and reacted. His unpredictability something impossible to duplicate.
One of a kind.
And now he was back. Seven years of absence and now Vox had another chance.
He was even dancing with Vox again, their back and forth kicking up in a way that Alastor hadn't engaged him since before their disaster date. It thrilled Vox to know that he had finally found the secret to getting Alastor's attention again.
Vox wasn't a patient man and he had long since grown weary of Alastor's brand of flirting. But he could indulge Alastor's little game. He could wear Alastor down until he accepted he was Vox's. That they were made for each other.
What was waiting a short while with the promise of eternity in Hell together?
He tapped his fingers impatiently on the control panel of his private surveillance room. Alastor had managed to take out all of his current cameras surrounding the hotel, each monitor frozen on the frame of Alastor's face right before it was destroyed.
He was breathtaking at all angles, all sharp angles and vibrant doe eyes. And Vox could tell these smiles were genuine. They were a secret message just for him. Nobody else got to see Alastor this way, let alone be permitted to keep the image.
It would take some time to replace them all but that didn't stop a thrill of ecstasy from shooting down his spine at the idea that he had entertained Alastor with this little treasure hunt.
They were still playing their games together.
Alastor didn't watch T.V., didn't deign to gaze at any screens, not since their little spat... but Vox knew it wouldn't be long until Alastor couldn't tear his eyes away from Vox's screen, his face. Soon it would be the only thing Alastor would look upon.
He would look him in the eyes, submit to Vox's hypnotic gaze, willingly. And when Vox told him to forget the hotel, forget radio, forget himself, he would finally allow himself to succumb to the inevitable.
He would give in and admit he was Vox's, that he always belonged to Vox.
Alastor's game would be over and they would be unstoppable.
"Soon you'll be mine." He caressed Alastor's image on the central moniter possessively. "All mine."
It was only a matter of time.
He felt his hypnotic eye activate without his permision but paid it no mind, too enraptured with the images of his rightful property.
"Give in, you're mine."
He reached for his belt again. Finally caving to his overwhelming desire.
"All mine."