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Alastor let his eyes wander all over Vox, from the tips of the antennae on his flat head, to his sock-covered feet that were sitting on the rug of their apartment.
He swished the drink in his hand, the ice clinking with the glass as he slowly brought it up to his lips. “So tell me, Vox, ” Alastor shifted his gaze to Vox’s face, “how does that…thing of a head work?”
Vox cocked an eyebrow in reply. “What exactly do you mean by that?”
Alastor turned to face Vox on their couch, as he brought his hand to the side of Vox’s flatscreen, turning it slightly until the side of his head was in view. “This,” he ran his finger along the thin steel of Vox’s head, “how does one fit everything into…that?”
Vox leaned into Alastor’s hand, soaking up every last bit of touch he could possibly get from the radio demon. “Ahh, well, that’s the beauty of new technology,” he sang in reply, as he shrugged his shoulders. “something you wouldn’t understand.” he cawed mockingly.
Alastor jerked his hand back in playful disgust, “I presume there wasn’t enough space for a brain.”
Vox scoffed, “Yeah, sure.”
Alastor’s eyes narrowed, as he hummed through his smile. “Either way, I do rather miss when your head had enough room to fit even an ounce of sense into it.”
Vox's eyes drifted to the corner of the screen where Alastor last rested his fingers on, quietly mourning the touch that was previously present. “Well that head was a bitch to carry around.”
Alastor’s smile stiffened at the edges. “What…colourful language.”
“Eyah, mhm,” Vox vacated his prior view to meet Alastor’s again, a smug smirk pulling at his mouth,
“wanna know how deep my throat goes?”
Alastor choked on his glass of alcohol, setting it down beside the couch with much less decorum than he had pleased. His ears twitched, as he chuckled for a moment. “Oh, Vox,” Alastor slowly leaned in, “you’re quite forward with your proposals—aren’t you?”
Vox paused at the comment, his face now flushed with a saturated cyan. He folded way too easily under the slightest prodding, posture slipping away as fast as his eyes that couldn’t bear to look at the demon in front of him. “I—um—well, ERGH,”
Vox gagged, as his eyes shot back to Alastor, who had stuck two of his fingers into his mouth without warning. “The fuck are you—EUGEFHH!”
“Now, now, dear,” Alastor unapologetically grinned, “I’m only doing what you ever so politely requested. And—oh,” Alastor turned the flatscreen slightly to see the edge of Vox’s head, watching how his fingers were somehow fitting into his mouth without problem.
“That is quite strange.” Alastor tipped his ears to the side, as he pulled his fingers out. “Well, there’s only one way to really understand that head of yours.”
Vox barely recovered, “Ugh—yeah? And what’ll that be—”
Alastor’s lips silently discovered his, lightly scissoring the opening of his mouth until the other gave out.
He kissed him. Just like that.
Alastor kissed him.
It began chaste—until Alastor found his way into Vox, his tongue lapping around Vox’s mouth, reaching spots that no one had ever been to.
Vox’s hands had strictly moved to his sides at first, only after the initial rush did his shoulders drop the lowest they could’ve been. He melted into the kiss, his eyes naturally closing as he found his palm cupping the demon’s cheek—as if they’ve practised this hundreds of times.
Alastor’s hands moved as if they had a mind of their own, slithering to the back of Vox’s neck, stroking the back plating of his head. He leaned just a fraction forward—though it was enough to send the two of them toppling over, Alastor now directly on top of Vox.
Though, they still continued, without a single hint of anyone needing—or wanting—to stop.
Alastor leaned farther, his chest now making full contact with Vox’s.
As the demon below began to grow aware of this situation, he relocated his hands to the dips of Alastor’s hips, Vox’s fingers scuttling along his spine, tickling the him in all of the right spots that he knew would pull a reaction. Alastor’s shoulders lightly shook, as a muffled hum escaped his mouth. Alastor pulled back for air, as an uncontrollable laugh echoed through their living room. It was warm, and full of life; the very sound that Vox knew for the past seventy years.
“There's my laugh.” He lightly pinched Alastor’s nose, using the soft grip on his face to begin gently leading the radio demon's head side to side.
Alastor let out a bubbly giggle, letting Vox do as he pleased. “Oh, dear,” He opened his eyes again, “I’ve grown quite fond of you.”
“Aww, honey.” Vox teased.
He brought Alastor into a now tighter embrace, both of them lying on a cramped sofa with their intertwined legs dangling off to the side—safe to say this sofa is really only fit for one—but they could make it happen.
After a while, both of them quieted down; listening in on the unrest of hell unfolding below them, listening in on their peaceful apartment, listening in on the other’s breaths and heartbeats.
That was, until—
vvvrrrrr
Vox’s internal fans buzzed on, eliciting another chortle from the redhead resting on him. He didn’t say anything, his bright cyan face and whirring fans took all of the words out of his mouth, as he stroked Alastor’s back out of embarrassment. He gave in to the other party's teasing, affectionately rolling his eyes along with Alastor's laughs, the vibrations of his vocal chords sending waves of warmth throughout Vox's body.
He tousled the back of his Alastor's hair, bringing him in closer, squeezing every last snort and chuckle out of the other demon like juicing an orange. They slowly rocked back and forth on their too-small-for-two sofa, and for a fleeting moment, they were happy.
As everything simmered down, something had began to gnaw on Vox, they—or he—had forgotten they were in hell again; forced into eternal damnation.
He looked back at Alastor. What if...Vox shut his eyes; no, forget about that, not when he’s with the only person he’s ever loved. He opened his eyes to look back at his love, who had stopped laughing, and was now looking at him with a dampened melancholic smile.
Alastor noticed Vox’s mood swing at the speed of light. He knew that face.
“Vox, sweetheart, what’s troubling you?” He said it in a way that wasn’t how he’d typically half-heatedly narrate—it was somehow softer, quieter. Alastor brushed a finger along the edge of Vox’s face, as he looked into his anguished expression, deep concern washing over his features.
“Al, it’s nothing.”
Alastor’s smile grew smaller, his eyebrows lowering slightly in understanding. “...It’s about all of this—right?”
Vox looked at Alastor.
“This…hell predicament, all of us being thrust into such an agonising world.”
Vox didn’t reply, just gazed into his eyes as conformation.
Alastor chuckled, “Of course, I thought of that too, for a long while I’d worryingly muse about how we all ended up here.” He brought his lips to Vox’s again, only for a light brush.
“But you make me let go of that.”
Vox’s eyes widened, his heart beat faster, to the point it was battering his ribs with excitement.
“I—I…”
Alastor quietly snorted in response to his partner’s sad attempt at pinning his feelings.
“I love you too, Vincent.”
Vox’s mouth stretched into an almost feverish grin, his shoulders slightly shaking from the sound of his partner's voice.
“I love you too, Al.”
Amongst all of the uncertainty, all of the pain, all of the bloodshed, Vox could see just a brief ribbon of light, and that was Alastor.
"Awe...you!"
Vox hugged him harder, Alastor finding it in himself to cackle even louder this time, a hearty, uncontrolled roar, masked with excessive static. They enjoyed each other longer, more passionately—not to forget, but as a signal. A signal to the other that they weren’t alone in all of this, that they weren’t isolated from everyone, and that there was someone down here who cared.
As the evening slowed, everything else dwindled along with it. Alastor was fast asleep on Vox’s chest, the diluted glass of alcohol still being left untouched by their feet. Vox glanced down at the other demon, an endearing, selfish smile plastering itself right on his monitor, with only one thought left to consume his attention;
'I could have him all to myself.'
He felt good, of course—amazing even—but through it all, and most of all; it felt right, for once.