Chapter Text
It's Vox's one-year anniversary with Valentino today, and neither of them had cleared their schedules for it because frankly, neither of them had expected to see this day. They had been fooling around in an on-off situationship for several years now, and they've never managed a streak of stability this long before.
They had realized this dilemma yesterday rather abruptly. Their schedules are staggered all wrong. Vox has back-to-back meetings and appointments starting at 5 am and running into the afternoon with hardly enough chance for a bathroom break, and Val has Angel scheduled to film from noon to past midnight. Val had suggested they just stay up past midnight the night before to celebrate, but Vox had rejected the idea. 'Celebrate' in this context meant (and still means) 'fuck nasty'. Starting at midnight and going at it for who knows how long when he had to be functional on live air in 5 hours? He hadn't died in his 20s. The amount of cocaine he'd need to pull that off would ruin most of the actual day.
They had settled on a different solution. A remote controlled solution.
It's ticking past 10:10 AM right now as Vox shifts uneasily in his seat. Val should be awake by now, and this is the last non-televised event before noon when Valentino becomes unavailable. He's only been wearing Val's little toy for like 10 minutes and he's already antsy. Val had better hurry up. This meeting is gonna be over in 45 minutes and, per their agreement, he'll be taking this thing out before going back on live air. He can afford to be humiliated in front of Velvette and a few of each of their employees, but it would be disastrous if his image were tarnished in front of millions.
Speak of Velvette, she's glaring at him.
"Vox, are you even paying attention?"
No, he hadn't been. He tries in vain for a moment to remember what had last been said, and the only thing he can recall is that this meeting had been labeled 'costuming w/ vel' in his calendar.
"Yeah, yeah, how many yards of denim was it you needed?" he replies instead of even trying to be serious.
Velvette's glare intensifies, though his jab earns a muffled chuckle from her pair of employees (and a vacant stare from his own. Humorless bastard).
"Denim!? Do you want your show to look like the 60's threw up on it? Besides, I don't torture my models." Velvette snaps back. "That's your boytoy's self made job," she mutters unhappily, soft enough that only he can hear it.
Speak of the boy and his toy. The buttplug pressing into his prostate is still a silent intrusion. He risks a glare at the VoxTek camera in the corner of the room that he had given Val the access code to. The toy remains dormant.
Vox decides not to dignify Velvette's prod at his boyfriend with a reply.
"This season of 'Yeah I Fucked Your Sister' is going to be pretty voyeur centric," Vox says instead, mentally acknowledging the irony of the topic. "Our XL Luxury Deluxe Voyeur Scopes are on track to be released right around the same time the season premier airs, and our goal here is to push sales through the roof. All we'll need to do is show the product in episode one and my hypnotism can take it from there."
Velvette's grinning now. "Everyone'll want a bite of the action without even having to interrupt the show with advertisements. Clever."
"Exactly," Vox confirms, taking a sip of coffee before he continues. "In terms of outfitting, a major factor of this season is going to be wardrobe malfunctiAH-"
Vox full body jerks, sloshing hot coffee over his claws as the vibrator in his ass abruptly turns on at top speed. Fortunately for him, it quickly drops down to a lower function. That asshole is playing around on purpose. He must think he's funny for that timing. He sets the mug down before he can do any more damage.
"Apologies, must have been a power surge in the pentagram," Vox says with an easy smile, lifting his coffee-wet hand and letting blue electricity arc between his fingers.
Velvette eyes him suspiciously, but the three underlings across the table buy it easily. His employee jumps out of his chair to fetch a napkin, which Vox accepts and wipes his hand and the table down with. The toy has settled at a low buzz, which is more than enough to have his pants feeling very tight. The toy even being there in the first place had been enough to get the job halfway done anyway. It's distracting for sure, but not enough to make him throw off the meeting any more than he already has.
"As I was saying. Wardrobe malfunctions. Velvette, this is going to be a new sort of challenge for you, but I expect nothing short of excellence, especially considering that we are expanding your budget by 10%."
Whatever suspicion and annoyance she had been regarding him with melts immediately at the good news. She grins like a kid in a candy store, or maybe more like a shark that has tasted blood in the water.
"You know me, Vee. Excellence is what I deliver. Melissa!" Vel barks.
Vox digs his claws into his armrests and holds his breath for a moment as Val turns the toy up significantly higher. That was definitely multiple settings, the asshole. This is definitely distracting. Very distracting. Good distracting. His cooling fans are buzzing in overdrive now. He exhales slowly, every move calculated at this point. His screen is still under his control, displaying a tense grin, the same grin that he froze it on like a screensaver the second Val upped the power.
"Vox, did you hear me?" Velvette's voice almost echoes back into focus.
One of Velvette's employees is now standing on a raised platform on the other side of the room, wearing something different than she had been when she entered the room, a simple white dress.
"Oh, who am I kidding. Scrap that," Velvette growls to her other employee. "Wet t-shirt contests are so 70s."
While that employee scribbles furiously on her clipboard, Velvette snaps again and her model is suddenly wearing layers and layers of flowy, sheer gossamer in an elegant gown. While she strikes a couple poses, the vibrations fluctuate like Val is playing with them, and they finally settle on an intensity that has Vox worried how long he'll actually last. He is so glad he's not expected to speak right now because his voice would definitely betray him. He's gripping his armrests hard enough to put claw marks in them as the lights in the room start to flicker a little. His screen is partly still under his control, in that he's still displaying a smile, but he can tell his background color is flushed from the frantic buzz of his cooling fans.
"Sheer fabric is the new wet t-shirt," Velvette asserts. "Opaque from most angles, until you're silhouetted by strong enough light, and then every detail is bared. I'm a genius. Vox?"
Shit. She turns to him casually, expecting an answer.
"Yep," he says through his teeth.
Velvette's eyes narrow at the strained, one word reply and flushed display. Her intelligent gaze examines him suspiciously, and Vox fails not to squirm in his seat. Oh, moving was a bad idea, that makes it worse. He freezes again, but not before a soft, strained sound slips his control.
He sees the exact moment she realizes what's going on, and it's before her gaze even flicks down to confirm it. Her gaze drills into him for a second with the message she can't speak out loud: really, Vox? Then she rolls her eyes and turns her attention back to the model.
It's not like he and Val haven't full on had sex in front of her before (though usually only when Vox tops). It's typically a 50/50 chance whether she will leave the room or just ignore them while on her phone. Usually her annoyance isn't this intense. He can only assume her annoyance sources more from her realization that it's up to her to run this thing and do damage control than anything else.
She's talking again, something about slip knots on halter tops, and Vox is paying almost no attention. He tries to shift his weight in his chair again and runs into the same problem that moving pretty much at all just grinds this thing into his prostate. Velvette and her employee with the clipboard are too busy to notice him, but the model and his own employee are starting to give him looks frequently enough to make him realize he must be completely losing his grip on his display.
He's frankly on the edge of losing his grip on everything.
Velvette elbows him. "Vox, fix the lights, please."
Shit, she's right, they're flickering erratically. Now the employee with a clipboard is looking at him too. The fuck is he supposed to do about the lights in the state he's in? It's all he can do to keep his voice out of his heavy breathing. He's not even sure what expression his monitor is displaying but whatever it is, it's flushed badly. He should be panicking, not on the edge of orgasm.
Val cranks the toy to max speed and that's it for him. The lights just go out as he finishes with a sound that he chokes off as quickly as he can, raking his claws into the armrests.
"I said fix the lights, not blow them out!" Velvette complains.
"Mr. Vox? Are you ok?" his employee asks.
The thing is still on, leaving Vox squirming even after he's spent, lifting his hips up from the chair to try to escape the overstimulation. He's vaguely aware that he's making way more noise than he should be at this point.
"Hahh- tu-rn it off aszshole!"
It finally goes still.
Vox collapses into his seat. The room is silent for a couple seconds, except for Vox panting.
"Get the lights back on, Vee, we have a meeting to finish," Velvette's annoyed voice cuts the silence, completely ignoring the state Vox is in.
Of course there's no way she'd even let him catch his breath. Vox tries to arrange himself normally in his chair and then cuts the lights back on. Immediately, all three employees are just staring at him with varying levels of fascination and embarrassment. He glares back at them, even though his face is still badly flushed at this point. The embarrassment squeezes hot and heavy and he's so gonna jerk off to this later.
Velvette jumps back into the meeting like it had never been interrupted in the fist place. She snaps her fingers, and now her model is wearing a pleated skirt and crop top.
"I assume we're not resorting to cheap upskirt shots in the actual show, but implying the possibility will get viewers interested in the versatility of the Voyeur Scopes. Short skirts are a must this season," she says, snapping through several different skirt pairings in rapid succession.
Vox takes a deep, steadying breath and fixes his expression back into the smile of a businessman. "If you all will excuse me for a moment-"
Velvette throws an arm across his chest before he can finish standing and glares him down viciously. He keeps his seat.
"You want to go the route of humiliating yourself in the middle of a meeting, you live with the consequences." Her tone is one of a woman emphatically stating fact.
She removes her arm and again turns back to the meeting. All three of their employees are absolutely staring at him, mixed expressions now containing amusement, although none of them are stupid enough to say a word regarding the humiliated Overlord.
"Melissa, pay attention while I'm modeling you. Any skirt can work--pleated, a-line, circle, fitted--but keep them fingertip or shorter, like this."
Vox sinks back in his seat, mentally preparing himself for a very uncomfortable, sticky pantsed, toy-still-in rest of this meeting.
He'll get Val back so good for this.