Work Text:
Valentino’s eyes were like rubies.
Not really. Like, at all. But as Vox’s processors slowed because of the cold, that was all he could think of. It never got this cold in Hell. To evade the heat, someone had to be inside where there was air conditioning. Vox didn’t know why he woke up to his room feeling like a fridge. Maybe it had been done on purpose. Val or Velvette. They were mad at him, after all.
But Val had on a fluffy coat and Vox was brought into his wings. Val was fire. There was some sort of slang about that, but Vox couldn’t remember what else it meant other than heat right now. The smoke from Val’s mouth didn’t come from a cigarette, but his own internal production of such fumes.
Val didn’t make fire. He didn’t control the flames. It was the smoke, the heat and debris which floated into the air because of the burning, and it was that warmth which encompassed him.
And none of it felt so warm as those rubies staring into his screen as if Vox’s soul had pooled to the surface as he melted and Val could reach him just with a look.
“For being so cold, papi, you’re awful flushed.”
Vox swallowed, but when he tried to speak all that came out was stuttered glitching errors.
Val tutted and continued to hold him. As feeling returned to Vox’s body, he instinctively pressed against Val’s fur as the smoke continued to swirl around him—inside him. It wouldn’t get him high as it did other people, but it didn’t mean Vox didn’t usually enjoy Val’s smoke in his mouth or in his vents. Especially when it was his smoke and not from any sort of cigarette.
The pure and unfiltered taste of Valentino. Something Vox knew only he could completely enjoy with a clear head.
…a head that Val pressed a kiss on (right next to his antennae). “You’re warming up. Should I fuck you until you’re too hot?”
Vox stared into those rubies, but realized something by Val’s timbre. “What d1d y-y-you d0?”
Val laughed and didn’t answer, but if that wasn’t the answer Vox needed to know Val had somehow put the air conditioning on full bore, Vox would throw his old head out the window.
“V-V-VallLll…”
“It’s being fixed. Don’t be so impatient.”
He would have been, if he wasn’t so cold, but Vox could only bring himself to huff in irritation and clutch Val as he continued to receive kisses as hot as flames. Bright as rubies.
Pure and unfiltered heat of Val’s attention and whatever it truly meant between them. Vox could take it in without thinking too much about it now—without worrying about feelings which were nothing to worry about, but he couldn’t stop himself.
And, maybe, when he wasn’t shivering so much, Vox would kiss him back. Dig in his nails.
Get an answer about what happened as Val laughed underneath him.