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God, this was such a fucking mistake.
Your whole evening out barely served as the little edge you needed to take your mind off of all the bullshit that was running rampant in your brain.
About three hours and six drinks ago, you were invited out for clubbing by your other coworkers as a celebration for … well … nothing in particular, really. The five of you just wanted to have an excuse to spend time together again since the employment change that divided the group. And tonight seemed like the perfect evening for it.
Vox was ‘kind’ enough to relieve you from your obligations for the night. Not that you needed his permission anyway. He was getting on your last fucking nerve recently and you needed to expend that pent-up anger somewhere.
Recently with Vox, it’s only been “Valentino … Valentino …. Valentino,” and you were fed-up with the numerous date cancellations and cockblocking that’s been happening because of him. One itty bitty cry from Valentino and Vox would be gone in an instant to fly to the rescue of his precious boyfriend.
Obviously, you knew that they were still very much in a rocky relationship with one another, but if Vox was going to fuck around with someone else — he should at least have the time to balance those aspects of his life.
Admittedly, you did start getting quite caught-up with Vox since the pair of you started fooling around. In your rational mind, you knew that neither of you owed each other anything. Especially not Vox. He had a proper partner to tend to and you were just the new, shiny toy he was fixated on. Where it stands, you two had no established commitment — you two were fuck buddies and nothing more.
But you were still a demon with your own thirst for passion. Selfishly, you wanted him all to yourself. At this point, you’d even settle for having him two days out of the week.
Vox managed to stoke the flame that was your wanton desires and needs, but now you were dwindling away into a pile of soot. You were deprived of him.
You stared at your reflection in the dirty restroom mirror of the club. You had still been lingering around in the dark, hazed room after your latest hook-up. You don’t even remember who the poor sinner of the evening was that had been the target of your pent-up rage.
Your lipstick had been smudged across to the corner of your mouth, mascara smeared under your eyes, and a plethora of hickies scattered all over your neck. Normally, you’d feel a little embarrassed about the very obvious display of how your evening went. But all of your drinks from the evening clouded your head with thoughts of indifference — not caring about any opinions that could arise from this night.
You stumbled out of the restroom to be met by the thick air of nicotine and body heat that flooded the room. All the bright neon and flashing lights blinded you, a fierce contrast from the low lighting restroom you were just in. In your drunken daze, you stumbled around the club floor to find your friends to let them know that you’d be heading back to the tower.
“Oh, please, we’ll go home with you — we’re not letting your sorry-ass walk solo,” One of your friends had waved off. The five of you rallied together and swiftly escaped from the confines of the club. Luckily, the journey back would be pretty brief, and so the lot of you decided to huff-it.
On the trek home, the five of you shared a pack of cigarettes that one of them had bummed off their flirt-of-the-night. The end of the evening was spiraling to a very sweet conclusion, all of you leaning against one another for physical support and passing underneath the dimly lit street lights of the city. It was nights like these that made you miss seeing the stars on Earth.
As you were nearing the tower, one of them perked up with a sizzling inquiry of “so what’s going on between you two?”. Against your better judgment, you began mouthing-off to your friends about Mr. TV Head with genuine malice. You knew the cameras would be picking up on all of your conversation, and you especially knew that Vox would be watching. Unless he was caught up with Valentino. Either way, you didn’t fucking care anymore — you’d let him know straight to his face that you were pissed.
Once you all bid each other a good night and separated into your respective sects of the tower, you felt the weight of the evening droop off of your shoulders. And the final amount of vigor you had that supported your journey home wore off. You barely supported yourself upright in the elevator as you were shot up to the floor where your little apartment was.
Your vision blended a lot of the colors and lights together into one unified splotch, and it was a major struggle to even fish your keys out of your purse to make it to homebase. It was pitch black inside your home, only the bleeding light of Hell’s skylight seeped in through the window. Steadily, you floundered toward your bedroom, using the door frame and walls as guiding support.
“Welcome home, sweetheart,”
“FUCK!” You yelped at the greeting. You had just made it into the doorway of your bedroom and had been met with the bright, glowing cyan screen that was Vox. “What the fuck are you doing here?” You cried, still catching your breath from the scare that he gave you. Your claw laid over your chest, feeling the fast rate your heart was pulsing at.
Vox had been leaning back in the vanity chair in your room, stripped down of his work clothes and lounging in your home in a sweater and a lighter-colored pair of slacks. He looked good casual. But you sure as hell weren’t going to admit that now.
“I wanted to pay a visit to my favorite sinner,” Vox had a lazed smile on his screen, leaning forward with his hand under the bottom of his screen — ogling what little he could see of you in the dark.
“Yeah, sure, whatever,” You dismissed with a frustrated huff, trying your best to ignore his existence all together. His favorite sinner? Yeah right. This motherfucker couldn’t even hold a non-work conversation with you for more than five minutes before getting snatched up by someone else.
He had snapped his fingers and turned on the dimmed lights of your bedroom, now being able to relish in how you had looked tonight. Vox wouldn’t say it to you directly, but you looked like a goddamn mess. Your hair had stuck to the sweat that was on your face, makeup a mess, and clothing was crumpled.
But most notably to Vox, your skin was completely covered in miscellaneous purpling and reddish welts. He could feel his systems start to overheat, his screen starting to shift color hue from the previous cooling blue to a fierce, angry red.
“WHAT THE FUCK?” Vox had roared. All of the lights in your room began to flicker erratically, threatening to burst if you said the wrong thing. Normally, you would be mortified to be the recipient of his targeted anger — but in this instance you were too smoked out to even care if you died.
“Is there something wrong?” You dryly asked him, assuming correctly that he was upset at the evidence of your tryst. You looked at him with a sullen face of disappointment, faded anger still evident on you.
“What the fuck is that on your neck,” He hissed out, eyes pulsating with fervid colors of anger.
“None of your fucking buisness is what,” You sneered back at him. He approached you like a predator, bright blue sparks firing off from the back of his screen. Vox was seething with rage, and he was fighting the urge to tear up your home as a pitiful act of ire.
“It certainly is my fucking business," Vox shot back, tightening his hands into balled fists. He met you toe-to-toe, trying his hardest to regulate the jealousy he was feeling seeing you like this.
“Why? Because we’re fuck buddies? Last I checked, you’re the one that’s still actively in a relationship,” You pointed at him with an accusing finger. “You’ve got Valentino, I’ve got whoever wants me for the evening — I’m just making this relationship fair.”
“Who was it?” Vox’s hand came up around your throat, progressively tightening his squeeze. He was letting his emotions get the better of his mind.
“Who cares,” You spit on his screen, pushing against his chest to get away from him. As you began walking away, Vox grabbed you by the wrist and pulled you back into him.
“Get a fucking reality check,” You yelled. “You’ve practically been ignoring me for the last two weeks. What else am I supposed to do?” Vox’s grip on you tightened, threatening to snap your bones in half.
“Valentino, he’s been-“
“No. Don’t blame this on him. You’re the one playing the balancing act right now,” You scolded, taking this opportunity to snatch your wrist back from him. The irrationality of Vox’s anger sizzled into a stupor once hearing your words.
Once again, you were right. However, in this moment, his pride swallowed him whole. He didn’t want to admit that he was a fool, no matter how deeply he understood that it’s all his fault.
Like most arguments with Vox, they started wildly and ended as soon as you markedly point out how irrational he was being. While Vox was a simmering, seething baby — he listened to you. He valued what you had to say, even if he didn’t like bending the knee to you.
“Let me make it up to you,”
You expected another retort from him, even him breaking something in your house. Anything that encouraged the fearsome emotions he had been feeling. You could tell that he wasn’t necessarily apologetic, especially while his petty jealousy took over. But something in the gravel of his voice made him seem earnest.
You were met with a firm, passionate kiss from him. His hand had trailed to the small of your back, holding you tenderly against him. There was a part of you that wanted to shove him away again, continue berating him and release your frustrations onto him. But you couldn’t help feeling absolute bliss at this small contact.
You missed the warmth of his lips on yours, the light flavoring taste of mint on his tongue. Even if this passion erupted from stupid jealousy, you welcomed him into you regardless.
Your hands traveled from his chest to the back of his neck, pulling him closer to you. You stumbled backward toward your bed, gliding Vox down with you and letting him push you down against the mattress.
Kissing him was intoxicating, and his warm touch kept you drunk on his touch. You wrapped your legs around his hips, making sure every part of you was latched onto him.
Vox’s hand reached up for your face, squeezing the sides of your face and pulling back from you. He gave you a once-over, looking mostly at your face — focusing on your slightly puffy lips and wide eyes.
“I think you need a reminder about who makes you feel good,” Vox slid two of his fingers into your mouth. And you happily accepted the intrusion, swirling your tongue around him. You kept your eyes on his as you sucked on his claws, thoroughly wetting them.
With his free hand, he reached up under the fabric of your dress and began to pull your underwear down your legs. He didn’t fully remove them off of you — just enough to get what he wanted.
He withdrew his fingers from your mouth, bringing them to your pussy. Vox slowly teased your folds, gliding his fingers all over you but not giving you any sort of relief. You mewled out pathetically, clutching onto his shoulders and grinding your hips against Vox’s hand.
“V-Vox, please,” You choked, leaning your face closer to his. Vox dipped his head down, admiring how cute you looked in this disheveled state. His other hand reached for his belt buckle, slowly undoing it while teasing your dripping pussy. Two of Vox’s fingers prodded at your entrance, barely dipping past your threshold — causing you to whimper out more pleas.
“Beg for it,” He breathed against your lips, only making your desire grow more desperate. You arched your back off the mattress, trying to bring your body as close to him as possible.
“Please, Vox, I need to feel you inside me,” You pleaded. “I need you so fucking bad,” Vox was grinning wide at your pitiful attempts at getting him to touch you.
“You have to make me a promise, baby,” Vox growled, slowly kissing down your body. Every single kiss and lick had you softly moaning, each static buzz leaving chills down your spine.
“I can be the only one to fuck you, got it?” He pinched your nipple, drawing a high-pitched whimper from you. Your body felt like it was on fire — you needed him inside you, make you cum, fuck your brains out. He could’ve asked for you to bind your soul to his and you would happily do it if it meant that he’ll ruin you.
“I promise,” You stifle out. “You’re the only person who can fuck me.”
As soon as the words left your lips, Vox sunk his fingers deep into your pussy. You cried out in satisfaction as he immediately began to abuse your wet folds. Vox dipped his head down to you, swallowing up your moans.
You were writhing underneath him, desperate to cum on his fingers. Your claws dug into the thin fabric of Vox’s shirt, tearing through the material and leaving red lines along his dark blue skin.
Vox’s thumb began to roll over the bump of your clit, the light touch pulling a strained moan from you. Your thighs tightened around Vox’s wrist, an involuntary reaction to the stimulation you were feeling. With his free hand, he pries your legs back open again — fingerfucking you faster.
“If you want to cum, you better keep your legs spread for me, baby,” Vox chuckled, dragging his claws against the soft flesh of your thigh. Just him fingering you now felt so intense, more so than the hook-up you had earlier.
Sometimes you regret even thinking of hunting down a new sinner to be the target of your lust — especially when Vox could make you feel this good. He knew your body better than anyone else, so why else even bother seeking someone that wasn’t him?
“V-Vox,” A strained cry. “I’m gonna c-cum.”
Your climax was steadily approaching with each fast-paced thrust from Vox, your eyes squeezing shut and preemptively preparing for your orgasm. But as soon as your relief was about to arrive, he withdrew his fingers from your pussy.
You let out the most pathetic whine Vox had ever heard. You were very obviously upset at the denial of your orgasm, clenching around nothing and your hips still lightly thrusting up to find some stimulation.
“You were pretty bad tonight, baby,” Vox cooed, tracing circles around your navel. “I don’t think you deserve to cum yet.” He grinned from ear-to-ear as you groaned in response.
“Please, I’ll do anything.” You mewled, maneuvering around to splay out before Vox’s lap. Your hands wandered over his thighs, sliding upward toward his belt buckle.
“If you’re good, maybe I’ll give you what you want.” Vox teased, his large hand coming down to cup around your cheek. His thumb brushed over your swollen bottom lip, daring to dip into your mouth once again. Your fingers fumbled around with the belt buckle and leather, clawing away at the material like you were eagerly opening a present.
Pulling down his underwear, you watched Vox’s cock spring out and lightly smack your cheek. His thumb pushed down on your chin, opening your mouth wider. Without a second beat, you began to swirl your tongue over the head of his cock. Your tongue lapped over the slit, drinking up the little beads of pre-cum that began to leak out from him.
Vox’s hand entangled itself in your hair, holding you firm by your scalp as you sunk the entirety of his cock into your mouth. You sheepishly looked up at Vox from your position, continuing to devour him whole and drag your tongue over his length.
Drool dribbled down his shaft, wetting the fabric of his pants. Vox’s grip on your hair tightened, holding you in place while he lightly thrusted his hips upward into your mouth. You gagged at the sudden change of pace, but happily adjusted to this. You hollowed out your cheeks and kept your suction on him tight.
Vox continued to fuck your face, smiling wide as he watched your eyes roll to the back of your head and your mouth becoming slack for him to use. His pace hastened as he began to reach his climax, a series of moans spilling from him. You kept your head down as Vox came into your mouth, drinking up every drop you could.
You looked up at Vox, tongue lolled out and covered in cum. He groaned in satisfaction at the sight, drawing his fingers to your chin and closing your mouth before whispering “swallow.”
Despite the arrival of his orgasm, Vox was already hard again. He couldn’t help it; seeing you in such a state of subservience and compliance to him fueled his arousal and his pride. Vox needed to have more of you tonight.
Vox drew you closer to him, seating you on his lap. His large hands fell to your waist, caressing your body as he made his way down to your hips. He held onto you tight and lifted you from his lap, sliding his cock into your dripping pussy. The moment he slid into you, both of you let out soft moans.
You pressed your forehead against his body as he began to slowly push up into you. His nails dug into the soft flesh of your hips as he fought the urge to completely fuck you braindead right here and now. Vox let you set the pace, albeit it was much more gentle than he anticipated.
Still, being inside you was pure nirvana for Vox. He could feel your walls clenching around him as you rolled your hips back and forth. Vox couldn’t help but let a few curses slip from his mouth as you continued your grinding. His eyes squeezed shut, biting down on his bottom lip.
“Fuck, you feel so good,” He was sounding so pathetic, voice crackling and meek. Vox couldn’t help it anymore. His arms wrapped around your waist as he laid back into the bed, thrusting his hips quickly up into you. Your hands immediately shot for your mouth, feebly attempting to muffle out the sounds of your pleasure.
“Let me hear you, sweetheart,” Vox cooed, reaching up to pull your hands away from you. He drew your arms behind your back, holding them in place as he continued to fuck up into you aggressively. With the newfound pace and unfiltered volume, you were practically crying out for Vox.
You were dumbly babbling out for him to let you cum. The sound of your bodies melding together and the drone of your moans were like a symphony to Vox’s ears. He was loving being your undoing.
“Tell me that I’m the only one who can fuck you like this.”
“You’re the only one-” A hiccup of pleasure, head lolling back. “Who can fuck me like this.”
Hearing your compliance was the final thing Vox needed to hear to send both of you over the edge. He drew his thumb over your clit once more as he continued to plunge himself into you. You let out a cry of pleasure as he abused your clit, desperate to get you to cum with him.
As soon as Vox felt your walls impossibly getting tighter around him, he knew you were near the peak of your pleasure. You leaned back in his lap as he pounded into you — the messy noises of your bodies filling the room. With a final thrust, Vox came deep inside of you — filling you up to the brim with his cum.
Shivers ran up your skin, headed clouded with pleasure and eyes glossed over. Vox sat up for a moment, still inside of you, and gently ran his thumb over the apple of your cheek. He gave you a sweet kiss to the other cheek, holding you so tenderly.
“You’re all mine,” He whispered into your ear as you collapsed against his chest. Vox caressed your body with the affection of a true lover. You were drunk on ecstasy, barely able to lift your head to leave a chaste kiss on his screen.
“I’m all yours.”