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    Summary

    Heat rushed to his face as he realized just how much his flattery affects him. “Who’s the creep now?” He heard once more, the smooth deep voice sending more blood to his groin. He let out a silent sound of distress, yanking his hands away from his head as if he’d been burned. He let them hover in the air, eyes wide and smile tight. He shifted as if to get up, that was the wrong move. The hard friction of his casing turned his head fuzzy, making him pause.

    He shouldn’t. He really, really shouldn’t. If he ever caught Vox even considering doing anything to him while he was unconscious then he’d kill him immediately. And if he ever caught him actually doing something… his name would be permanently erased. But, Vox isn’t him. How would he react if he acted on his… impulses.

    Or:

    Vox fell asleep on a drunk Alastor, and the radio demon had a physical reaction to it. Tw for somophilla and non-con.

    Series
    Language:
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