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Summary
Vox froze when he heard Alastor wheeze loudly and painfully, like he was practically dying where he sat. His flatscreen head snapped up from the holographic documents he was looking at and he saw Alastor sitting hunched over in his chair, head hung low and ears laid back.
“Alastor?”
“’M fine,” the radio demon mumbled.
“The fuck you are,” Vox grumbled. He pushed himself to his feet and strode over to his deer captive. Alastor pathetically swung his legs in an attempt to push himself away, but a cable sprung from Vox’s back to hold the chair in place, meaning his feet only slid uselessly against the tile floor.
With how weak Alastor looked in this moment, Vox wasn’t even sure that he would have been able to push himself away even without the cable.
He pressed a hand against Alastor’s forehead and frowned at just how hot the other man’s body felt under his palm.
Fucking Christ, he’s like an oven.