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From the dimly lit mezzanine, Valentino watched Vox.
The lights by the bar were brighter, catching on his claws and sending glints of light across the room randomly. It was not so distracting to the average sinner, but to Valentino, it was mesmerizing.
The little bursts of lights contorted on surfaces while the man with a TV for a head gestured sharply in an argument with the notorious Radio Demon. Alastor.
From the safety of the second floor, Valentino could not make out their words, but by the frequency that was putting his fur on edge, Alastor was not as unaffected as his outward posture would imply.
Eventually, Alastor left with a dramatic twirl of his mic and a mocking word between peels of laughter while his shadows swallowed him whole, leaving behind nothing but an empty glass and a trembling Vox.
Partners, huh.
Smoke wisped lazily around his feet as Valentino stood. The show was over and by the way the bulbs closest to Vox illuminated, Val did not want to stick around for the shitshow about to happen.
Besides, Vox and Valentino’s paths would cross again. He’d make sure of it.
oOo
Touch had never been a problem for Valentino. It was a weapon to use against those who desperately sought it, and to maintain his spot at the top, Valentino freely used it. A caress to persuade, a slap to demand, a kiss to soothe. There were many ways to weaponize one’s body to get what they wanted. And no one wanted Valentino more than those weaker sinners drawn to his light, his confidence, his power.
Most of the other Overlords did not bother crossing paths with the sinner who embodied Lust, second to only Asmodeus himself, but those who did dare, often found themselves at the precipice of pleasure with the barrel of a gun pointed to their temple.
People were easy to manipulate. In Hell, as sinners, it was even easier. Striped down to their baser instincts, exposed raw to their wants and needs. It surprised Valentino at first how no one else seemed to pick up on that fact.
That was, until whispers of Vox searching for an Overlord alliance landed him in a meeting with said Overlord.
The first thing Valentino noticed was that Vox liked to talk. A lot. Secondly, Vox was touchy. A classic move to bridge familiarity and plant seeds of persuasion as he yapped on and on about big plans and partnerships. Valentino recognized the way Vox laid his hands on his cloaked shoulders, how a caress on his arm was not a reflection on the charming grin displayed on his screen. It was a mirror to every touch Valentino ever did. Manipulation.
Still, Valentino let the man touch him. Sometimes the light would catch on those cyan claws and would remind him of that night at the bar long ago, but what good would it do to admit he’d been watching him from afar all this time, bidding his time for this exact moment.
Who knew Vox would be this annoying, though.
Throughout the negotiation, Valentino nodded when prompted and gave encouraging grins when their eyes met, but when the TV man turned his back, the smiles would drop. Red smoked billowed into lazy hearts between them, but Vox paced back and forth through the haze unaffected.
Valentino knew when he was being played. Valentino also knew when to show his hands. So when Vox turned to face him, the Moth Demon realized he had been asked the final question. He hissed the remaining smoke out between a sharp grin.
“Yes.”
Partners was only a step to being bigger, badder and better.
oOo
Vox remained annoying most of the time, if not all of the time. Despite wanting to take leaps into technological advances, he was old, rigid, and controlling. They bumped heads more often than not and it drove Val up the fucking wall.
Eventually, Valentino decided the TV head had reached the bottom of his already thin patience. He’d sleep with him and kill him like the many silly Overlords before him.
Vox still touched him in that phony way he did when trying to sell someone on an idea, but Val had noticed immediately when the touches started to linger a fraction of a second too long. For someone who used their body as a tool, it was impossible not to notice and never one to turn down intimacy, Valentino let him. Things quickly changed once Vox caught on.
It led to being pulled into a spin - dancing and laughing and intertwining their fingers. A closeness that had nothing to do with sex, manipulation, or excuses. And in their twirls, Valentino would forget his plan, laughing along with Vox, but all the while still aware of their claws holding onto one another, of their palms pressed snugly together.
That was bad.
And so Val turned his charm to 100, but his dear Voxxy was more difficult to seduce than he originally thought.
The damn idiot was repressed, obviously, but this was Hell. Literal Hell. Who was to judge them?
In response to the more brazen advances, Vox would scurry away with a weak excuse and a hand covering the obvious bulge in his pants and Valentino would let him go with a scowl. Perhaps skipping the seduction part and heading straight into the shooting part would be better.
That thought was tossed aside quickly.
Voxxy had grown quickly as an Overlord and only continued to shine brighter and brighter. He had a presence now when he entered rooms. He demanded attention in a different way from Valentino. He demanded respect.
Valentino hated him a little for it.
He needed to fuck the smaller sinner to show who really had the power. Valentino needed to break him the only way he knew how to break people.
And while time passed terribly slow in Hell, getting a rise out of his business partner made it pass just a little faster. It seemed like a funny joke to frame some of his best shots from past photoshoots and hang them in Vox’s office. A gift, he would coyly explain once Vox’s indignant ire turned on him and perhaps then, he’d finally get the messy fuck he’d been vying for.
Unfortunately, that was not the case.
Valentino was not prepared to see Vox staring wide eyed at his pictures, screen bright with a telltale shine of cyan across his cheeks. It stopped Valentino in his tracks, and for a few seconds he said nothing. He did nothing. Vox was unaware, unguarded, and Moneyshot sat heavy in the lining of his winged cloak.
Shoot him. Shoot him now. The survival instinct that had helped him crawl out of the dark pits of this hellhole screamed at him. All those souls the Media Demon had would be so easy to snatch once an angelic bullet nestled into that box of a head.
But Valentino only stood there. Enraptured by that stupid box of a head and his unadulterated admiration. It sent a flutter in his chest which he had not felt since he was alive. It had been years since then and it staggered the Moth Demon.
His heeled boot tapped the floor in its hasty step back and Vox snapped out of his daze.
Valentino expected yelling, a reprimand for strolling into Vox’s office uninvited and unsupervised to hang up the pictures. Instead Vox took confident strides to Val and wrapped his cold claws around Val’s nimble fingers.
“Val, these pictures are amazing! I just got done looking at the initial sale figures and we’re already way past our projected profit!” He practically dragged Val further into the office to the hovering displays above his comically large desk. “I’m thinking of moving your next photoshoot up so the release can coincide with Valentine’s Day but will also still give you enough time to direct your themed porno. Seemed like the most obvious decision.”
Valentino looked at the numbers. It was true they profited way past the projected margins, but while Vox continued animatedly talking about this and that, there were other things causing the Moth Demon’s chest to tighten. Like Vox’s fingers intertwining with his own.
Perhaps, Valentino thought, he could postpone killing his Voxxy for another day.
That was, unless Vox decided to do it himself.
The glow from Lilith’s Might bathed the 3 of them in its light, but for some reason, did not reflect off Vox’s claws.
A small detail Val’s brain couldn’t help but notice after he offered his hand, only to be carelessly pushed away by Vox’s. His screen was the darkest he’d ever seen, and somehow, he was still talking. Always fucking talking. So fucking annoying.
Holding hands was their fucking thing.
And while Valentino gripped the metal edges of his Voxxy’s head, he recalled that Vox had been the first to reach out all those years ago. He touched him first, threaded their strange Sinner fingers together like a puzzle slotting into its long lost missing piece. He forfeited the right to say no the moment that flutter came alive in Val’s chest. Vox doesn’t get to kill all of them. He doesn’t get to kill himself.
So Val tugged and ripped. “Cállate!”
And Vox let him.