Chapter Text
Vox’d sooner knife Valentino than be alone with him again. At least until the moth learned to keep his dick in his pants. Stupid to think he ever would, when he was reclining in plain sight with three demons pawing all over him. Music thudded too loud, and there were enough bodies gyrating around that Vox’s fans were whirring to keep his brain from frying.
Vox hated parties. As one of the elite few Overlords, he didn’t have a whole lot of choice about attending theirs, not unless he wanted his phone bombarded the entire night with questions and jeers.
As it was, Vox was on about the sixth page of comments for some AITA post (the answer was yes), and missing the quiet of his own penthouse. Val’s reeked of about a dozen different pungent smokes, not to mention sweat and sex. Velvette had wandered off to get more drinks a while ago. She wouldn’t be coming back: Vox got a notification about a live-stream from her. Something about some guy climbing out the window and inching along the ledge. She was probably hoping he’d fall. Good content.
Irritated, Vox flicked to the seventh page. He’d forgotten what the post was even about anymore. He didn’t want to watch Velvette’s stream, either. Better to pretend none of this was happening, and that his circuits didn’t feel weird, like sparking magnetism before a storm. Or more aptly, like something had been staring at him for the past ten minutes. Some one.
The obscene slurping of mouth on dick had no right being louder than the music.
Vox couldn’t take it anymore. “The fuck’re you looking at?” he snapped.
He hated Valentino’s stupid laugh, and he hated the way it caught at the end when whatever bitch he had between his legs changed techniques.
“You, baby,” Val drawled.
“There’s nothing to goddamn look at. There’s tits and cock over there, if you haven’t noticed.” Vox jerked a hand towards the mess of slobbery demons in the corner. “Go fetch.”
Val’s grin took on a hard edge. Good. Let him be pissed. Teach him a lesson about yanking Vox around and pretending like he had all the control here.
Vox was getting too hot. He’d overheat in this shitstorm of bodies and sex. The tech Overlord sprang up (god, he hated how much he noticed the new installation between his legs now) and stalked to the kitchen. Black granite with carmine and pink swirls, cherry wood cabinets sprouting thorns and eyes. Vox shoved his way past a few losers (probably every one of them desperate for a fraction of the power the V’s had, only showing up hoping to brown-nose their way to some success) and scowled once he reached the sink.
Fucking thing was broken. Faucet bent and spewing water. Not hard to guess how, with the two demons sitting on the counter sucking each others faces so hard they might as well be inhaling each other. One of them had a foot in the sink.
So much for a refreshing drink. Vox cast a foul look at the number of candy-bright punch bowls lined up nearby. Who knew what Val had put in those .
Screams erupted from the open window. A tide of bodies flowed in that direction. Derisive shrieks and high-pitched laughter. Velvette was howling out to her viewers, a rictus grin split across her face and her eyes wild with delight.
All sensationalized. What was the point of dying when you were already in hell?
All this was too intense, too real.
Look, he’d shown up. He’d stuck around for the first shitty few hours before everything devolved into fucking and suicide and Lucifer knew what else. Nobody could complain.
Vox headed for the exit. On the way, some asshole bumped into him and slurred through half his apology before Vox’s fist met his face. As Vox slipped out the door, violence was igniting behind him, some pugnacious demons leaping onto the punched guy to rip him to shreds.
The further down the halls he traveled, the less the music pounded in his brain. His fans cooled him with fresh, non-smoggy air. Already he was thinking about the gentle blue glow of his own home, and sitting back to lose his mind in hours of television.
Never could be that easy.
“Where d’you think you’re goin?”
Vox didn’t stop walking. “Back home, Val, what does it matter to you?”
A gunshot blasted out. Vox’s speakers screeched. When the immediate shock dropped, Vox saw in the wall a frayed round hole.
“Satan’s nuts, Val, what the f-?” He spun around and Val was suddenly in his space, three hands groping his body. It didn’t take much imagination to discern where the fourth was: a metal barrel bumped against the bottom of Vox’s screen.
Fucking asshole. Vox would have spat a good insult if he didn’t suddenly feel dizzy.
“Got a new room set up for us,” Val breathed. He stank of curdlingly sweet smoke, and he wasn’t making any effort to pretend he wasn’t hard and grinding against Vox’s stomach.
“I’m not one of your pornstars.” Vox tried to kick him off; Val grabbed his thigh and hiked it up.
“No, baby. It ain’t like that. I’m not filming and I’m not sellin. Just you and me.”
Vox used to believe something like that. “We’re not anything . Let go of me.”
Val tilted his head. He wouldn’t stop grinning, the bastard. The words that came out were wrapped in honey. “We ain’t? Vox, you think anyone else has got what we got? You think I let anyone else get this close? I got a room rigged up special for us. Can watch it all, don’t gotta do a thing. Let me take care of ya.”
Vox hated when he talked like that. It went right to his chest, and two guesses where it went from there. “I’m not as easy a sell as I was before,” Vox hissed.
“You’re telling me it isn’t working?”
Working wasn’t the word Vox would use. He had a goddamn gun to his face. “Just be fucking honest.”
“Always, sweetheart.” Val let go of him and stepped back so quick that Vox stumbled and caught himself on the wall. The drug lord was already heading down the hallway, waving the gun in indication for Vox to follow.
Growling, Vox stalked after him. Don’t be alone with Val. Well, too late on that one. Who cared? They would fuck and then Vox would go home. He’d waste more time arguing and waffling. Just get it over with.
Maybe the room would even be interesting.
It was not. The moment Vox stepped through the threshold he was stalling. It looked like someone had vomited bubble gum and hearts over everything from the wallpaper to the carpet to the fluffy bedspread. The black light stands and camera rigs were stark against the otherwise blindingly bright room.
“Not here,” Vox turned tail, only to have Val grab his wrist and whip him so fast into the room that Vox crashed into one of the camera rigs.
Swearing, he flailed in a mess of cords. He made it exactly nowhere before Val was on top of him. Something clacked against the side of his frame twice, grating metal against metal - “Watch what you’re fucking doing,” Vox snarled - before they jammed home. A crack of feedback. The world blinked out.
Vox saw his body in third person, crumpled pathetically under the moth’s mass.
Oh, shit.
It wasn’t the first time he’d seen himself in third person. But normally there wasn’t more going on than him sipping coffee and monitoring screens.
He was fucking small under Valentino.
“Thought you’d like that.” Jarringly, the words were growled right up against his transducer and they shivered down his spine, but because Vox was determinedly not using his own monitor for visuals anymore, there was distance between what he was seeing and hearing.
“Shut up,” he snapped back.
Valentino laughed and dragged Vox up to his feet. Vox felt the hands on his body and hated it. He saw a scrawny form manipulated by a much larger, confident demon, though, and it looked good. So easily that stumbling, nervous thing was towed to the bed, and thrown screen-down to the sheets. “Oh, I’m gonna give you a good show, Voxxy. You like it, huh? Like watching yourself get wrecked under me?”
Claws yanked at his clothing. Vox fiercely ignored the chill of flesh exposed, and the barrel of the gun digging between his shoulder blades. “Stop fucking talking, Val.”
The smack of a palm to his ass shot all the way up his spine and set his circuits frizzing. At the same time, Vox watched the lithe demon’s spine straighten and heard it emit an electric squeal. It squirmed like it was trying to claw its way across the bed away from him, but Val was “not gonna fucking let you go anywhere, bitch.”
“I’m not one of your-“ Vox twisted around and flashed to first person. Soon as he did, everything felt more real: the burning from Val’s hit, the pants tangled around his calves. Everything was too close. His shoulder popped when Val twisted his arm behind his back, spitting insults. The strike to his screen was a warning shot. Val didn’t give two warning shots; Vox was lucky to get one.
He popped back to third person and shut off his other set. Didn’t fucking matter if Valentino talked, it was just annoying. Screen shoved back into the bedspread. “Plug in the audio jack,” Vox said. It didn’t come out as demanding as he hoped, but whatever, it worked. Valentino slapped his ass again and then hunted amongst the cords.
Soon two more plugs jammed home. Vox switched off his personal audio. Now all inputs were coming from the wall-mounted system.
Shit, Valentino looked like an animal on top of him. Grin wide and ugly as sin. Antennae curved back, he looked as happy as a cat with cream. An oversized, predatory cat with too much fondness for the color pink. His grinds were firm. He was practically crushing him, huge hands wrapped around his lower back and smushing him into the mattress with half his weight.
Chills sparked along Vox’s wires. Gross details were trying to bleed into his thoughts, like the hard length rubbing on bare skin, or the pain of his lower back nearly breaking. Val could break it, probably very easily.
If it wasn’t his own self, Vox would want Val to do it. Would want to see him snap some lowly demon. Let him really fuck someone up. He got a certain way, when he really got into it: hurting demons brought out something in him that was always there, but usually sleepy and lazy in its contentment.
When Valentino whispered in Vox’s transducer, he didn’t catch the words this time, only the rumbling growl of his voice. He liked that just fine.
The body on the bed was barely moving. Only twitches or flinches. It wasn’t enough. Not for Vox, who liked things flashy, and definitely not for Val, who’d used dumpster loads of porn to fry whatever speck of normal might have existed in his brain.
Vox could see it in his posture. That edge of tense energy, the settling realization that the lifelessness of the body on the bed just wasn’t doing it for him. Did he want to make it jump? Make it scream? Spasm?
Valentino went for the cords draping from the screen and across the bed. Winding up until he had a good length. Fear flickered up - he wasn’t going to pull them out, would he? Vox didn’t want to be back.
Val wrapped the cords around his throat. Vox’s energy surged, like power lighting up the whole grid.
The cords cinched. Not enough to strangle, not yet, but the threat was there, and it made for an erotic image. One hand tangled in the cords, ready to yank them tight. Another still held a gun to his head. A third wrapped around his lower back. Jesus, Val’s hands were huge.
He was still muttering stuff, but Vox was glad to not catch any of it. Probably his usual shitty sweet talking, which was mostly him getting off to the sound of his own voice.
… It was a good voice. Somewhere between a purr and a growl right now.
Vox wanted to see those cords tighten more. He wanted to see the body on that bed jerk and flail under Valentino. Wouldn’t be the first time he’d watched a video of Valentino fucking up a demon. In this field, Val was an artist.
Instead, Valentino leaned over to the nightstand and fumbled in the drawer. What… oh.
His palm cupped between Vox’s legs and smeared cold slimy lube all over his soft plastic lips. Two fingers pushed inside to slick up there, too.
Those details didn’t come from the visuals. As per Valentino’s wishes, Vox had ensured the flashlight installed between his legs came with physical sensation. He regretted it more than ever right now. On one hand, he was relishing from his disconnected birds-eye view the sight of Valentino getting a demon to squirm and whimper and kick out futility. On the other… he couldn’t stop the infiltrating tide of… well, he wouldn’t call it pleasure. Jolty, uncontrollable sensitivity. Not unalike to touching an exposed wire, except there was no surge of power and thrill. Just the shock, and a twisting ugly kind of residue.
“ Fuck,” Vox swore, voice crackling out of the frame currently buried in the comforter. He couldn’t stay detached from what was happening. “Stop it, Val…”
The head of his dick started rubbing against Vox’s lips.
“Shhh, you can take it, baby. Relax, your daddy’s got you.”
“Get off between my thighs,” Vox bit out. “Or jack off on me or something.” He hated saying it, and neither were appealing, but they were better than the alternative. Anyway, Valentino had done either of those options - and any other number of creative ways of getting off - with Vox before and never minded.
“Nah-ah. You owe me.”
“ Owe you ?” Vox started to struggle. Valentino had very little problem keeping him held down. Ugh. With the lube-slicked hand, too, wiping it on Vox’s synthetic skin.
“You’ve been teasing me all night. Sitting there lookin cute on your phone. The shit I was thinking about you, Voxxy…”
“I said stop it!” He felt trapped. He was overheating, and this wasn’t funny anymore, if it had ever been. Previous memories, layered one over another, glitched over his screen (the only mercy: given their positions, Val couldn’t see it too). Close ups of Valentino’s abdomen as he fucked his mouth. Gleaming red eyes seen only through spidering cracks.
Vox scrambled backwards, only to bump harder into Valentino. His panic shot up and words rattled off without any ability to control them; “I’ll stop hosting your goddamn porn, Val, I will ruin you- you don’t do this to another Overlord, I’m not your slut !”
Vox immediately regretted every word. “I’m sorry, I - I didn’t mean - Val -“
The sound of a gunshot blasted his transducer. Glass exploded.
Vox’s heart thudded against the inside of his ribs. There was no pain, but that meant very little. He knew what it was like to get gutted, and for the agony to hit only once he looked down at his spilled viscera. He knew what shock could do.
Shaking fingers crept up the sheets. They grazed the bottom of his television set, and flinched. Hard plastic. Higher, roaming along the set. He half expected his finger tips to dip into a mess of liquid and glass, or a gaping hole somewhere. Nothing. Nothing yet . Still no pain, only ringing silence.
Then the wet squelch of Valentino sheathing himself inside. A shudder worked its way up Vox’s spine. Weakly he clawed at the sheets, as if there was any chance in hell he’d be crawling away. Valentino’s sticky hand on his hip kept him positioned.
Where had he shot him?
“You gonna be good for me?”
He sounded pacified.
“Y-yes, Val.” So his voice was working. Everything seemed to be working (the wiring in the fleshlight, all too well). He couldn’t understand. He felt paralyzed, his body (half machine or not) convinced that he’d just been killed.
“That’s daddy to you, slut.”
No. He didn’t want this. It twisted in his stomach, teasing the impulse to vomit. If only he could press his legs together and stop anyone from ever going between them again.
“You gonna be good for me?” Valentino snarled, and the butt of the gun cracked across the back of Vox’s head.
“Yes, daddy.” Vox choked on the words. Part of him wanted to shut down again, view all this from the wall instead (maybe then, learn where’d been shot). He couldn’t manage it. Not with the violation that reached nearly to his belly with every thrust. It was horribly surreal. Made Vox feel like he wasn’t a person, right now, just a sex toy.
“Fuck, you smell good,” Valentino exhaled right at the nape of his neck. “ Fuck.”
His body laid over Vox’s, until they were aligned, and his fluff tickled the top of his monitor. Vox knew he’d barely see his own body enveloped beneath him, if he looked through the other monitor. The vents between Vox’s ribs were suffocating smashed against the sheets, but the ones on his set still breathed in the reek of sweat and smoke.
There was nothing to do but take it. Take it, and listen to the disgusting sloppy sounds of Valentino rutting in the fleshlight. He was real focused now. Intent.
Sometimes he rambled when he got close, riling himself up with lewd words and the sounds of his own moans. This time he fell silent, apart from the huffing of his breath. Vox almost wished he’d talk. Then at least Vox wouldn’t have to hear the gross noises of lube-slicked plastic and flesh.
It wasn’t much longer after that that Vox got all the tell-tale signs. Val’s cock twitching inside him. His raspy gasps. The way he pressed himself hard against Vox like he was dying to get even deeper.
“Asshole,” Vox muttered, volume low. If he’d said it before climax, he probably would have earned himself a new dent on his head. Val was always in a better mood after, and instead he just laughed.
“Fuck, you always get me goin.” He pulled away, leaving behind an empty chill all along Vox’s spine. Vox shuddered at warm fluid oozing from between his legs.
Vox yanked up his pants. They were ruined, anyway. He just wanted to get home.
“You have fun too, baby?” Val asked.
One of the cameras was shattered across the floor. That was what Valentino had shot. Not Vox. It had been a fake-out the entire time.
Vox didn’t deign to answer as he fled the room.