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Val taps the butt-end of his cigarette down onto the gold case in his hand.
If this goes south he at least wants to be high for it.
Sexy housewife roleplay seems like I’d be a total turn on for Vox, right?
Yeah, right. Not a trick question. It’s the whole reason Val’s dressed up like this.
But then again, this is Vox he’s talking about.
That guy’s dick can be a total land mine. Sometimes the wrong kink will make him lose his shit. Not like Val doesn’t do the same thing, but still.
Whatever. Val’s too bored right now to care. If it goes south, so be it. At least it’ll be something.
Val downs a glass of wine to match the pack of cigs he’s already burned though and then puts on some music.
Any minute now.
Val’s half way through his second pack when he hears Vox come up the stairs.
Catching his que, Val turns around to face the counter.
Sticking the half smoked cigarette in his empty wine glass Val begins to chop up the cucumber in front of him.
No, he’s not looking to stick it up his ass. Been there and done that. It's mostly set dressing—the scene of “coming home” and all.
Most of the sex appeal of the housewife comes from the control shit, but Val likes to think part of it also comes from the whole safety thing. The idea that someone's always waiting for you, loving you. It’s nice.
“You’ll never guess what happe–” Vox’s voice sounds from the hallway, all echoey and sleepy.
“Val, what the hell are you listening to?”
“Hm? Oh, nothing dear. Just a little something to keep me company.” Val has to bite his lip. This is a little silly, isn’t it? Pretending to be someone's doting little wife. Like he could ever.
A few beats of silence follow before Vox decides to give in and let it go. “Whatever. Well. that fucking asshole, Josh, told me to ‘lower my volume’ today—Me! He said that to me, like I don’t fucking own him.” The sound of Vox’s irritated voice is followed by the clop of his shoes hitting the carpet.
“Oh, how terrible.” Val coos from the kitchen.
Despite the silence Val knows the exact moment Vox rounds the corner.
It’s dusk and there are no lights on in the kitchen. In the soft blue it’s hard to see, much less well enough to appreciate all that Val is.
Vox’s system notices the lighting before he does and cranks up his screen's brightness. It’s an automatic thing, Val sometimes wonders if he even knows he's doing it.
It is when that pale blue begins to pulse around the edges of Val’s vision when he knows he’s been caught.
Now or never. Is Vox gonna hit, leave, or fuck him? Maybe all three. That sure would be something. Been there, done that too. Val wonders if that cig in the wine glass still has a pull or two in it.
“Val.” Vox’s voice breaks a little bit at the end.
Taking a breath Val turns around. “Yes dear?” He asks, leaning back on the corner.
It should be clear to Vox by now what's going on. Val’s squeezed into a shiny white tea dress with a weaving floral pattern swirling all about it and dainty little white gloves covering his hands.
His lips are painted a faint red and a row of aged pearls hang about his neck and ears (or at least where his ears would be).
“Yes dear, Is there something I can do for you?” Vox’s wide eyes stare Val down, almost frozen. Maybe he’s buffering, how cute would that be?
“Uh, yeah… I can think of a few things.” Jackpot. Seems Vox lands in the fucking camp tonight. Val’s shoulders relax.
In one fluid motion, as if he’s falling, Vox wraps an arm around Val’s waist and pulls him in. Their mouths slip into each other.
Static-y 2d lips rub against Val’s. It’s odd, sometimes Val thinks he knows the taste of Vox’s mouth better than his own.
That doesn’t make any sense because obviously he tastes his own shit more. But still, there's something overly familiar in the tangy buzz of Vox’s spit, like a drink you’ve been drinking so long your mouth doesn’t even really register it anymore.
Vox is clearly tired, his movements sluggish and breezy. It’s alright though, Val kind of like it when he’s sloppy– reminds him of when they first met.
Val giggles, sliding a gloved hand onto Vox’s shoulder. “What was that for?” Val mocks, letting his voice ebb up higher and softer than usual.
An unintended result of this slip is a thickening of his accent, but he doesn’t mind, not when Vox is looking at him like that.
“Can’t a…husband.” Vox slips the word out cautiously, testing the waters. Val just smiles down at him, like nothing's out of place. This seems to quench Vox's thirst for reassurance and he continues. “Just appreciate his wife?”
“Not when she hasn’t done anything special.” Val teases back, beginning to play with the collar of Vox’s shirt.
“Oh, but she has.” Vox torts back, hoisting Val up onto the counter.
Val bites his lip. God, this whole thing just reeks of shitty rip-off porno dialogue.
Val is better than this—Vox sure is. Val isn’t even hard, like, at all.
He is having fun though, so what the hell.
Seems Vox isn’t getting hit with the same cringe factor as Val though, cause he’s hard as fuck agaisnt Val’s thigh, his hips twitching forward every few seconds.
Throwing his head to the side Val smiles, pulling the damp cigarette out of the wine glass, seeing the coast is now clear. “And what might that be?”
“You lookin’ like this.” That gets a genuine laugh off of Val. Oh gosh, Vox really is such a loser.
“Is that so?” Val smirks, hooking his thighs around Vox’s legs so the tip of his clothed cock grazes the wet patch of Val’s thong.
Vox buckles, his breath catching. Val will never get over the way Vox turns into a total virgin when he is overworked.
“Yeah…” Vox mutters, all starstruck. Okay, he’s not usually this much of a dork. Seems the wifey thing really worked.
Examining the damp cig in his hand Val decides he doesn't need to get any higher tonight and tosses it. Probably wouldn’t have worked anyways.
Grabbing Vox’s ass, Val pulls Vox’s dick closer, grinding them closer. Val lets out one of his good moans, the kind that always plays on camera.
Like clockwork Vox groans and hugs Val’s sides, cramming himself closer into Val’s body.
Val sends a command downward to let out a bit of self lubricant.
Val doesn’t know if it’s a demon thing or experience thing but he has full control over all the inner workings of his junk. It’s good for situations like these where the other person is clearly more into it then he is.
Vox doesn’t need to know that, though.
The fabric covering the tip of Vox’s cock is beginning to get drenched in slick as Vox’s hip picks up the pace.
“Oh god honey, you're just so fucking pretty." Vox mutters before smashing his mouth into Val’s.
Val can’t help but smile. Vox rarely gets this cheesy. The line is usually ‘Fuck, you’re sexy’ or ‘Goddamn that’s hot.’
Well, they are married after all or whatever.
If they're committing to the shitty porno angle Val might as well go for it. “Really?” Val moans in between the buzzing tongue sliding over Val’s, leaving lines of spit sticking to the corners of their mouths and lips. “Even after all this time?”
“Oh yeah baby.” Vox chokes out. The words get Val giddy. “The sexiest fucking man I have ever met.”
Sliding his second pair of hands down, Val unhooks the sides of his underwear and slides them down. “Oh, you don’t mean it.” Val whines, all tongue and cheek, half expecting Vox to tell him not to push it.
“No!” Vox fires back, with far more passion than Val expected. “Your fucking, like, god– just sometimes I wake up at night and watch you.” Vox groans.
Val gasps, his hips betraying him, moving to collide his bare pussy with Vox’s drenched pants.
Of course Val knows Vox watches him at night. He’s caught him a few times. Besides, the guy is always watching.
But just the reminder is enough to get him going—for real this time.
Val grips Vox’s shoulder, maybe a bit too hard. “Oh fuck, yeah baby?” Val gasps out.
At this point Val is just humping himself on Vox’s clothed cock, grazing his clit on the rough fabric as he leaves an ever increasing trail of slick behind.
“Oh god, fuck yeah!” The fuck part is sputered out, choppy and too fast. “I’ll–like, just lay there– recording, fuck!” Vox grunts, his breath cutting out as he tries to talk. “I’ve got hours of footage of you just—fuck baby!” Vox squeezes Val’s waist so hard it knocks the wind out of Val's chest.
Val is starting to squirm. The idea of Vox just sitting there, watching, amazed that he even gets to look at him is everything. “Oh baby you’re too good to me.” He whines, kicking his feet as the stimulation on his clit rises.
That seems to do it for Vox. At the sound of praise he tilts his soaked hips away from Val and begins the fumble with his zipper.
When the cool air hits Val’s exposed cunt he can't help but gasp at the absence of the situation, his clit twitching as his pussy clenches desperately around nothing.
“God, fuck me please!” Val yelps, plunging two glove fingers inside himself. “Please, please. I’ve been so alone all day.” There’s more truth in that statement than Val would like to think about.
Vox buckles like he’s been hit, squinching his eyes. “God, you too–.” Vox gets his zipper down and immediately reaches for Val's hand and rips it away from Val’s cunt. The fast exit causes Val to half gasp half whine with the shock.
Per command Val tightens his cunt. Vox has to push at first, squeezing the first inch first before getting any further,
Val shakes his legs slightly, shivering from the pleasure. “God, yes!” He yelps. “Oh baby, yeah. Take care of me.”
“You're too good to me.” Vox mutters, but it’s mostly to himself. “God, too good.”
Slowly, Val is feeling himself slip into delusion with Vox.
He knows, obviously, that this is fake. But god, they're both actors by trade–and good at it too (Usually). It’s getting harder and harder to hold onto reality when all signs of real life have seemed to completely flee the scene.
They’re married, it really feels like it. They are happy married people who are happy and in love and good.
They are good.
“Oh!” Val moans, gripping Vox as his cock slides in fully.
Stuffed, full, happy.
Val allows a wave of arousal to rush his body.
“Thank you!” Val begs, out of character and a little scared by how good this feels. “Ey! So good papi! Thank you!.”
Something that sounds dangerously close to a sob escapes him as they jut their hip together.
Glitching out and sputtering Vox thrusts in and out, unseen tears run down his face. “Of course— take care of you.”
“Yes! Yes you do! Oh god, Take care of me.” Val repeats back.
Sliding in and out of the slick controlled walls cause Vox to shutter. He’s so close. The only reason he hasn’t cum yet is because he’s really putting his mind to it.
Unbeknownst to the other, both become momentarily overtaken with a wave of grief.
Once they cum, once they really feel good this will be over. They wouldn’t be married anymore, they’ll be… fuck they don’t even know.
They’ll be alone again.
But they aren’t alone right now so they go on.
Val pussy spazums, Val gasp, his head facing the ceiling as his whole body rings with the feeling of being fucked, held.
A messy of words pour out of the both of them, messy and breathy as they whisper sappy one liners and fake promises.
But somewhere along the way the panting deforms into an overlapping chanting of ‘I love you’ gasped and sobbed in between kisses.
It’s humiliating.
Vox has buried his head in Val’s shoulder, hiding away in the dark as shot after shot of pleasure stabs through him.
They both hold out as long as they can.
Eventually though, Val comes, shaking and whining as a rush of cum gushes out of his pussy, his cock pulsing with its own bout.
The rush and tightening of Val’s cunt causes Vox to follow suit, his vision cutting out for a few seconds as he floods Val’s insides.
And then it’s quiet.
Ashamed and dazed, the two pull away from one another. Their eyes meet. The face of the man looking back at them brings no comfort. He looks tired, focused, and strange.
Val awkwardly pushes Vox away, snatching his cigarettes before he straightens up.
Unable to meet Vox’s eyes Val kisses him on the cheek before fleeing the scene.
Vox stands alone in the kitchen, staring down at the counter.
They never talk about that night again.
A week after the incident Vox begins work on his plan to take over heaven.