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Alastor wasn’t typically a team player. He preferred to rely on only himself. So when Vox offered him a place on the team he hoped to build, with stars in his eyes and a hand extended, Alastor had laughed in his face.
But, an unfavorable deal and a leash around his throat forced him to reconsider the benefits of such an arrangement.
Vox had been, to put it mildly, ecstatic when Alastor came to him three days later. He had tried to put up a cold front, obviously still pissed over the initial rejection, but hadn’t been able to hide his glee for very long.
That was around thirty years ago.
While Alastor had agreed to join Vox’s group, he was really more there as a close ally who showed up for the big fights rather than a team member. He was wholly uninterested in modernizing to fit Vox’s brand. His show remained the same as it had been the day his radio tower was erected, and his appearance remained the exactly as it was the day he stepped into hell.
Vox didn’t hide his frustrations on this matter, but he was happy enough with having The Radio Demon on his side that he didn’t attempt to rock the boat. Much.
Like his show and outfit, his friendship with Vox has remained the same. Something Alastor has decided is worth being publicly associated with such a flashy group. It’s hard to find good company in hell, and even harder to find good company that doesn’t run screaming at the sight of him.
Today, they had a meeting. One Alastor had actually agreed to attend, after Vox’s persistent pestering. It was rather boring, all in all. Talk of selling and buying certain stocks. Alastor was disappointed. With all the effort Vox had put into getting him here, Alastor had thought they’d be discussing something interesting!
Vox was to learn a lesson he should know well by now. A bored Alastor is an annoying Alastor.
And Alastor is in peak form.
Arguing against every point Vox made, just to be contrary, distracting from the topic at hand by bringing up recent overlord gossip, which got both Velvette and Valentino off topic, gesturing pointedly to the clock every few moments, using some modern slang incorrectly to set Velvette off, and even flirting with Valentino, something Valentino had taken and returned with an amused smirk, obviously knowing Alastor’s game.
It seems to have been the last one that sent Vox over the edge of annoyance into pure fury.
Because as soon as the meeting ends, Velvette and Valentino gone, Vox has him bent over the very conference table they’d just had their meeting out.
Alastor is grinning like the cheshire cat, eyes bright with amusement and glee. Oh, how he loved to piss Vox off!
“Is it seriously too much to ask for you to just fucking behave for the one meeting you bother to attend a month?” Vox snarls in frustration.
He’s got a hand on the back of Alastor’s neck, pushing his face into the table while he fucks him, the table cold agaisnt Alastor’s cheek. His movements are angry, lacking the usual coordination he’d have. Alastor likes it, likes to be able to so clearly feel how much he has angered him.
As Vox has learned Alastor’s tricks over the years, it has gotten harder and harder to make him blow his top. So Alastor is always delighted to break that calm, cool, and collected mask Vox has perfected.
“Yes, it is entirely too much to ask.” Alastor replies, panting. His claws are digging deep gouges into the table as he grips on the purchase as Vox pounds into him relentlessly. “Especially when it’s a meeting as completely boring as that one was. What do I care about stocks? One of the benefits of joining up with you was so that you’d handle all that boring business drivel.”
“You should care because your fucking name is on the company too!” Vox snaps… Although it’s clear that his real ire has nothing to do with Alastor’s lack of interest in business matters. “And what the fuck was up with that little show you were putting on with Val? Huh?”
Alastor claws dig deeper into the table as Vox’s already punishing pace picks up.
“Little show?” Alastor repeats, tone innocent and grin distinctly shit-eating. “I’m unsure what you’re referring to dear.”
“Oh you know exactly what I’m referring to you fucking tease!” Vox rages. He’s panting, pixilated face red with anger, sparks shooting from his screen. Alastor can feel the static puffing his hair, and bites his lip to hold in his laughter.
“Fucking batting your eyelashes at him, touching his arm, leaning into him, laughing at his stupid jokes!” Vox rants.
“And why shouldn’t I? We’re all such good friends and business partners, aren’t we? Afterall, our names are on the company!”
Vox actually snarls at this. Alastor cackles, delighted. His laughter shifts to a moan of surprise when Vox pulls out only long enough to flip him over onto his back before thrusting into him again.
“Oh!”
The angle is better now. Much better. Maybe Alastor should show up to more of these meetings… It’s been awhile since he and Vox have had this kind of fun.
“You shouldn’t because you’re mine damn it! Valentino doesn’t fucking deserve you! Valentino hasn’t spent years getting to know all your weird little quirks! He doesn’t know you like I know you! Do you think Valentino could make you feel this good?”
“Well, I’d assume he could make me feel better, given his profession.” Alastor jokes, then squeaks in surprise when his legs are pressed up to his chest, folding him in two with his knees framing his face.
“Oh, I’m going to make you regret saying that Bambi…” Vox growls, voice low, harsh.
Vox fucks him hard, doesn’t stop until Alastor finishes with a choked groan, and doesn’t stop then, only stoping when Alastor is an overstimulated mess, trembling and bleating underneath him.
Only then, does Vox pull out. He’s still hard, to Alastor’s surprise. Vox was usually in the ten to fifteen minute range.
“Are you on a pill?” Alastor asks, eying him suspiciously.
“What? No! Of course I’m not on a fucking pill.” Vox snaps. “I’m just… I was just mad! Now shut up, I just want to look at your stupid pretty fucking face…”
Oh, there is so much Alastor could say to that, but he decides to oblige the request. He doesn’t want to piss off Vox to the point that he won’t want to have dinner with him later, after all.
Alastor watches Vox jerk himself off, with sharp, angry motions, biting his lip. It doesn’t take long for Vox to finish. He comes on Alastor’s thighs.
Alastor scrunches his nose at the feeling, and the visual. “...ew.”
Vox sighs. The anger seems to have mostly left him.
“Don’t say ew, that’s such a turn off…” He scolds absentmindedly.
Alastor stares at him pointedly, expression unimpressed until Vox uses his own shirt to wipe up the mess he made. Then, he slides his hands underneath Alastor thighs and scoops him up.
Alastor, who is quite pleasantly sore from it all, wraps his arms around Vox’s neck, feeling too lazy to resist
“Come on, let’s get you to a shower, you prissy little shit..”
“I’d hardly consider not wanting to go around covered in your own dried bodily fluids prissy.” He responds. “Not all of us have as low standards as Valentino.”
Vox adjusts his grip, preparing to zap them to his own rooms. He pauses and scowls when he hears Valentino’s name.
“Oh shut up. And seriously, don’t flirt with Val anymore. Satan knows his ego doesn’t need it.”
Alastor just grins. “But perhaps yours does.” he coos, and cackles at the eyeroll he gets in return.