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Great White Sharks will die if they stop swimming. They can’t push water through their gills to breathe, so they have to move their gills through the water instead. Eternal forward momentum or certain death are the only options.
The irony wasn't lost on Vox as he stared blankly out the window of his room, Heaven's light shining on him like a spotlight. He had barely left his room in the weeks since his catastrophic failure, and even within it he didn't move much; he'd been sitting on his sofa doing nothing but wallow for hours. His body ached from regenerating. His muscles were sore and underdeveloped. All he could stand to wear were sweatpants and a loose t-shirt, and even that felt rough against his raw, new skin.
Nobody wanted to see him, so he stayed hidden. Stayed still. His mind was pacing, though, desperately seeking the way forward, the way to climb right back to the top. There were avenues. He saw them. In fact, there were countless avenues, and that was the problem. If every road leads up, that means you’re at the very bottom. Square one.
Eyes aching from an abundance of divine light, Vox blinked and turned his screen away. The room was dark, but not so dark that Vox couldn't see the figure, tall and looming, hovering in his doorway.
“What do you want?” Vox grumbled.
“Oh that's the tone we're taking?” Valentino snapped back. Aside from his injury and the bags under his eyes, he looked impeccable. “How about ‘thanks for doing damage control after I fucked everything up, Val?’ Hmm?”
“I'm not one of your slaves, asshole. You want groveling? Fuck off.”
“Fine. I'll fuck off. I'm super busy running your company anyway.” Valentino waved his hand dismissively and turned to leave.
Even VoxTek was gone. There was truly nothing left, nothing at all but a dark, black abyss into which Vox was sinking like whalefall. It didn’t seem right that, of all people, Valentino was taking the first bite. Panic turned quickly, as it always did, to aggression.
“You'll run it into the ground in a week.” Vox called out. He tried to cover up the weakness he felt in his lungs. “You'll be begging me to take it back once you realize that without me, you're a useless, airheaded-”
“ENOUGH out of YOU.” Valentino spun on his heel and moved like a torpedo into Vox's space. Every inch of his almost ten feet seemed to expand to fill the room, and four fists clenched with a menacing promise. “After everything I've done, you call me useless? I saved your miserable fucking life!”
Except Valentino shouldn't have done that, shouldn't have bothered. Vox forced himself to his feet in a futile attempt to match Valentino’s presence. He put on a sneer. “I never asked-”
Predictably enough, one of Valentino's fists collided with Vox's screen. He stumbled, but spite kept him standing despite the pain in his LEDs. Valentino continued. “You never have to! Vel and I forgive and forgive and pick up your slack, and how do you repay us? You use us without credit, boss us around. You play too rough with my favorite toy. You try to cut us out of your big plan and then? And then? You almost BLOW US UP! We almost DIED, Vox! So be fucking nice to me!”
A retort never appeared on Vox's tongue. What could he say? Certainly not that he was sorry, or that Val was right. Never that.
“Okay.” He acquiesced flatly. “Yeah, okay. I'll be nice.”
Val's fists disappeared and his posture softened. “What? Like that? We don’t even fight about it?” He squeaked.
Exhausted, Vox sank back into his sofa. As quietly as he could, he admitted, “I'm all out of fight.”
A few moments passed where nothing happened, then Val settled himself on the sofa as well. “My baby.” He breathed, and gently, four arms wrapped around Vox's body. Vox sank into Val's chest despite himself, too tired to resist. He couldn't even remember why he was supposed to want to resist.
Through the window, heaven shone on them and cast their shadows across the floor. Vox reached out his hand as if to touch the beams of light, feeling nothing as they passed through his fingers.
“I was so close. We almost had everything.”
Val stiffened and his fingers dug briefly into Vox's skin before relaxing. “So it's ‘we’ again?”
“C'mon Val, you know me, my bad habits.” Vox shrugged in Val’s embrace. “It’s always ‘we,’ I just forget sometimes. I get this need to be on top and go a little nuts.”
“I know better than anyone you don’t always need to be on top.” Val purred, one of his hands trailing down Vox's body to rest on his thigh. He didn't go further, though. There was a long, uncharacteristic pause then, with uncharacteristic seriousness, Val said, “It was different this time.”
“Nah.” Vox pulled Val's hand further up his leg.
Another pause filled the air with awkward tension. Groaning, Val finally unwound his arms from around Vox and pushed himself off the couch. He began to pace around the room, aimless. Nervous energy was never a good thing for Valentino. He could be so unpredictable when he was agitated. It wasn’t his fault; he came from a passionate people.
“Babe, let's just fuck and put this behind us. It's over!” Vox wanted more than just to calm Val down. He wanted those hands again. Being held had brought a sense of peace that Vox hadn't felt since… since his seven years of peace had ended. Losing it felt like being plunged in icy water. “I'll let you pick whatever hole, don't you want that?”
A few words Vox didn’t understand flew out of Val's mouth and he whined, “Don't distract me, of course I want that, and I'm gonna do that for sure, but that won't make what happened go away! You were gonna cut me and Velvette out of the plan. Where did we fit in once you became ‘the only god’? Because you obviously didn't have any issue blowing us the fuck up, so who knows what you’re capable of!”
“Woah, wait.” Vox said. “The blowing up thing was NOT planned.”
“So how were you going to get rid of us?”
“No, no Val! There was no ‘getting rid’ I just… I didn't…” Vox hefted himself to his feet “Look, I saw myself on a throne at the end. How I got there? I dunno. There were a LOT of gaps in the middle.”
Val was still frowning, so Vox shuffled over to him and took him by his wrists. He smiled up at him, light from his screen illuminating Val’s face. The truth was messier than Vox was letting on. He'd never had a specific plan to kill Val and Vel, but… Fuck, he'd been so out-of-control, and he'd felt so good standing alone in the spotlight. In life, he'd had a certain strategy when it came to obstacles. People got in his way; he killed them. None of those people had ever mattered to him, but still. How sure was he that his ‘bad habits’ wouldn't have gotten the better of him?
The possibility sent a jolt of fear up Vox's spine. Why wasn’t he more sure? Why couldn’t he say…
“I would never hurt you.” He wanted it to be true. “The thought of spending eternity without you and Velvette makes me sick.”
Val scoffed but didn't pull away. “You're bullshitting.”
“Always.” Vox bared his teeth in a crooked grin. “Some of the best bullshit is true, though. I want you around. I’d be bored as fuck without you.”
Val rolled his eyes but it was playful. The vibe was getting comfortable again, familiar. “True. I can’t imagine you’d be happy stuck throatfucking angels who have probably only ever done missionary. At a certain point you need someone with experience.”
“Oh for sure, but I’m talking about more than the sex.” Now that he was in the fantasy, Vox saw it all unfurling in front of him. He tugged Val towards his bed, giddy as he pictured it. “Velvette would be my top angel and run heaven. She'd kill at that job, and the clothes? Everyone would look phenomenal. You could be my exorcist, my new Adam, slaughtering my enemies without mercy. Fuck, you’d look hot as hell. Four flaming swords, drenched in blood, wings shining and golden…”
“So excited.” Val laughed as he followed. “We should play this game. I'll get some white robes and a halo, call you Dios mio, get on my knees for you…”
Vox stopped. “You'd really do that?”
“Hmmm maybe once you're back in my good books. Can't have you getting a big head and acting like a cunt again.”
“That would be…” Vox felt his screen fill with static. “I mean it's easy enough to get that kinda thing from a slave or sycophant, but it's so damn boring. They do it because they’re actually nothing. Someone on my level, though…”
“And that’s me, eh?” Val laid two hands on Vox’s waist and two on his shoulders, but didn’t pull him close. “Someone on your level.”
“Of course that’s you!” Vox laughed. “We’re overlords! We're Vees. Who the fuck else wou-”
Like that, the room felt cold and small, and Vox’s vision narrowed. Who else? Alastor. Always Alastor. If only they’d never met. If only Alastor had never gone to hell at all, never died, never been born. As if through a tunnel, Vox could see that Val was smiling with his mouth, but his eyes were brimming with a deep, deep sadness.
“I don't understand why you didn't just fuck him when you had him.” Val said. He was trying to sound casual, but it wasn’t working. He spat out a hollow laugh. “I had to start that whole rumor about you fucking him with a chair. Because you wouldn’t.”
Vox sighed and stalked off, letting Val’s hands slip off him. “Val, how many times? It's not like that with Alastor.”
“Come on, baby. I'm not THAT blind.”
A wave of exhaustion hit Vox hard and he sat heavily on the edge of his bed. “I HATE him. That’s how it is. I hate him more than I hate ANYTHING.”
“Okay?” Val's voice wavered a moment. “That's not the opposite of lo- of wanting someone. You think it felt good when you were fucking me and staring at him the whole time?”
“Not the whole time.”
“The whole time!” Val threw his four arms upon the air. “There's obviously SOMETHING you need from him and maybe if you knew what his insides felt like you wouldn't have gone completely fucking insane.”
Vox stared at his hands and didn't answer.
“Vox?”
“He'd hate me for that!” Vox admitted, and his heart sank as he watched Val recoil from his words. Hurriedly, Vox tried to clarify. “If he hates me then he'll never admit it was a mistake not to join my team. Our team. You wanna know what I need? I need that.”
“He's never going to do that.” Val replied. This time it was Vox’s turn to recoil. “I know it hurts to hear, but think about it, baby. Would you? I mean in a million years would you ever admit that? Creo que no. Can't it be enough that we know it was a mistake?”
Vox hemmed and hawed, his head feeling heavy on his new neck. Val reached out, cupped the side of his face and tilted it up to look at him. The sadness in his eyes had ebbed, but not disappeared.
“If Alastor can't admit it…” Vox struggled to say it. “Maybe it's not true…”
“It's true.” Val's reply came like a whip crack, sharp and quick and certain. “It’s really true. He could have been part of our media empire, could have been having great threesomes all the fucking time, but no. He's living in that shitty hotel with, like, the wo-o-orst people. Ever. Thank fuck Angel is out of there for good. Voxxy, he definitely made a mistake. Fuck, if I had his life I'd kill myself. I'm not kidding.”
Vox laughed. “Okay, that actually makes me feel better.”
“Uh, yeah. I have fantastic emotional intelligence and I never get to use it for anything good.” Val explained. He flopped himself onto the bed next to Vox, propping himself up on his lower arms. His upper arms gesticulated as he spoke. “And I'm always right. And I have exquisite taste in men. Alastor and his fuckass bob could never. NE-VER! And I just wish-”
Val stopped himself. His hands froze in the air. Whatever he wanted to say, it seemed to be stuck, and Vox’s instinct was to let it stay stuck. It’s what he would have always done, but things were different now. He owed Val, didn’t he?
Swallowing his pride and trying to play it cool, Vox asked, “Wish what?”
Val sighed with his whole body and twisted his mouth. The sadness in his eyes was back. When he spoke, his voice was strained and halting. “I wish… you weren't so worried. About what he thought. About not being his favorite. And you could see... I wish you'd see that you're my favorite.”
Vox's heart was racing. They were too close to the thing they weren't supposed to say. Whatever he owed Val, it wasn’t enough to keep going. He rolled his eyes exaggeratedly, intentionally, and let out a nervous laugh. “You just said Angel Dust was your favorite.”
Val thought for a moment, then he shrugged.
“Fuck it.” He muttered. When he spoke now, it was more certain, more steady. “He's my favorite toy. Ah, Voxxy, por lo que más quieras! You're my favorite.”
Not knowing what to say, Vox grabbed Val's hand and squeezed tightly. He didn’t want all this touchy-feely stuff to come up to the surface, not tonight, but if Val went away Vox felt like he might die of loneliness.
“Stay all night?” He asked. Maybe it could be that easy.
It seemed that it could. Leaning down, Val kissed Vox, finally. It was full and gentle and tender, and it made Vox wonder what he'd ever done to deserve it all. Why, after failing so publicly and epically, did he still get to come home and heal in safety and comfort? Why did he get to be kissed like this? Val seemed to have no idea that Vox was unworthy of it as he laid him down on the bed, still kissing him, still holding his hand.
“Baby, do you need Daddy to take care of you tonight?” Val breathed against Vox's mouth.
“Yes, I-” Vox's voice broke and he whimpered. It didn't matter. They were alone. “Yes please. I need that. I need it.”
“Shhh.” Val sat up, tracing a finger down Vox’s screen as he did so. Four hands made quick work undressing the two of them, and Vox just laid there while it happened. He wasn't usually such a pillow princess, but his body ached and Val had said he'd take care of him. He wanted to be cared for.
The last piece of shame in Vox's body left him through a soft, needy moan as Val slid inside him. Val pressed their bodies flush together and Vox reveled in the warmth of his skin as he wrapped his arms around Val’s bony upper shoulders. He was too thin, Velvette probably was as well. Tomorrow Vox would make sure they ate. That was something he could do.
Maybe then he’d be worth this. The pair of them had fucked countless times over the decades, but not very often like this. Val's thrusts were soft and steady, rhythmic like waves, and Vox felt like he was floating on the surface of his ocean. Between easy kisses, Val whispered sweet things in English and Spanish.
“My favorite. Soy tuyo. Te quiero. I’ll worship you, baby.”
When Vox came, sighing with relief, it felt like melting. He sank so deep into the mattress he might as well have disappeared. His arms flopped limply at his sides, his sore muscles tingling. Barely, he registered Val finishing inside him, but mostly he was still there in the ocean, floating and insensible. In that moment, he was perfectly at peace, totally content. It was unlike anything he'd ever really felt before.
It was in the stillness of his contentment that a thought formed, foreign and frightening, deep in the unused parts of Vox’s mind: what if everything he’d ever actually needed was right here in this tower?
Vox rejected the thought immediately, violently. It was connected to too many other thoughts that had no business even being considered. Instead, he focused on Val, who laid his head and hands on Vox's chest and hummed happily. His one good antenna twitched in front of Vox's face, occasionally brushing his screen.
“Did you know most species of reef sharks can pump water over their gills?” Vox mumbled apropos of nothing. “They don't have to swim to breathe. They sleep on the seafloor propped up on their little fins.”
Val glanced up, red eyes narrowed. “What? Shark facts now?”
With some difficulty, Vox moved his heavy arms to Val's body and pulled him close. “I like shark facts.” He explained.
“Okay weirdo.” Val trailed patterns along Vox's chest with his fingers. “You wanna tell me some more?”
Still half in a trance, Vox started talking idly about the things he knew about sharks. Nothing he could say would really be new information to Val, but he didn't think either of them were really paying attention to the specifics of the words. Finally, Vox had something again. He had Val all night, he had a plan for tomorrow and, though he didn't fully realize it, he had a vacant space in the back of his mind that was shaped like a thought he’d never meant to have.