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The Media Demon. CEO of VoxTek. ~Papi~ if you’re Valentino. Sir or Boss if you made the confoundingly foolish decision to sell your soul to him. Picture box…
Despite how he presents himself, Vox is dreadfully insecure. It’s an open secret, really. Nobody talks about it. Except him. That radio fucker.
—
“It is not that which keeps you chained and fettered that traps you here.”
His nimble fingers brush against Vox’s navel, causing a shiver to run up his spine.
Fuck, he will never get enough of his sweet grazes and teasing touches.
“You are addicted.”
Fuck you, Vox wishes he could say the words, but all that escapes his lips is a soft whimper.
“Addicted to the way I touch, touch, touch you in all of the right places,” emphasizing his words with a small flick to Vox’s nipple.
Alastor slides his hand down, gently stroking the meat of Vox’s thigh; he inhales sharply.
“The way I can turn you into a whimpering mess,” he whispers in a gloating tone.
Vox so desperately wants to beg, plead him to touch his—
“One word and I shall leave, remember?”Alastor spoke, sensing Vox take a breath, preparing to say something.
Those are the rules. Vox has to keep his mouth shut. The last time he spoke, he uttered a small ‘please’, then was left by himself, his cock in a cage, the key nowhere to be found. He was trapped for a week, until his Master felt he had learned his lesson.
Never again, Vox thought to himself, I’ll be good this time. I will.
—
When Vox first proposed their little…agreement…, Alastor shed a few tears, he was laughing so hard. A man like Vox, submitting to him? Unthinkable.
But Vox wasn’t joking.
—
Vox feels a hand brush against his cock finally, which twitches in delight. He lets out the breath he’s been holding, his toes curling in the carpet beneath them.
“You’ve behaved well this week,” Alastor praises, “I think I’ll reward you.”
On the outside, Vox simply shivers, but in his mind, he screeches in delight. Alastor almost never acknowledges his good behavior! Granted, Vox is a brat most of the time, but if he didn’t try his darndest this week…
He looks up at Alastor with a soft twinkle in his eye, and Alastor chuckles.
“You heard me,” Alastor nods, “any ideas?”
Vox opens his mouth only to snap it shut. His Master didn’t tell him he could speak.
Alastor strokes Vox’s screen, a soft smile gracing his delicate features, “Good boy. You can speak now.”
Vox’s eyes light up.
“Can I taste you?” Vox asked shyly.
Alastor chuckles, “I swear, picture box, you’re addicted”, but gestures for him to start. Vox blushes, and pulls Alastor’s underwear off, and nuzzles his dick with his…screen…, causing Alastor to sigh and lean his head back against the pillows.
—
Alastor was actually hesitant in agreeing. Not because he didn’t want to hold that delicious power over that stupid television, no. It was just…Alastor didn’t really enjoy sex. At all. And no doubt that frisky Picture Box was expecting it.
Vox surprised him, though. Somehow he knew.
“Listen, Al, I know you’re not really a sex guy,” he says, “that’s not what this is to me.”
Pants didn’t come off until their 5th meeting. And even then it was only Vox’s. Alastor came to learn that sex was not just sticking a penis into a hole. It was…an art.
—
His cock was a respectable 5 inches, but almost never got hard, so Vox had no problem taking the whole thing, bobbing his head in a practiced motion. It is an unusual feeling; warm, tingly, not quite wet. It is hard to describe.
Alastor found his mind wondering, where does my cock go when it enters his mouth?.
A stupid thought, completely inappropriate for the setting.
…
Does Vox know? Should he ask him? Should he wait until after…this?
Alastor looks between his legs; Vox seems really into this, moaning and slurping, though Alastor never really saw the appeal. Frankly, it was enough that Vox enjoyed it.
Alastor looked closer.
Vox was grinding his cock against the heel of his palm.
And you were so well behaved until now…
Alastor grabs the corner of Vox’s screen and abruptly pulls him off of his cock, and before Vox has time to process what has happened, Alastor flung him across the room, causing him to hit his screen against one of Alastor’s many skulls, breaking a small part of his screen.
“Is it really so hard to follow the rules?” Alastor asks, no doubt, a rhetorical question.
Alastor uses his black tendrils to pin Vox upright against the wall.
“I’m sorry, I-I’m so-so-so-sorry” Vox cries, “P-Please, I’m sorry—I didn’t mean to-”.
Alastor’s grin spreads wider, which cuts Vox off immediately.
“Foolish television”, Alastor hums, “such a glutton for punishment.”
Alastor lowers Vox, allowing him to sink to his knees.
On his knees. Before Alastor.
His rightful place.
“I suppose I should touch you, should I not?” Alastor’s voice drips with annoyance.
A confused but aroused Vox looks up.
Touch me? Oh, I’m fucked, aren’t I?
Alastor summons a leash and collar around Vox’s neck.
Mine, his signal says.
Yours, Vox’s replies.
Alastor lifts his foot, and gently places it on Vox’s cock, only a thin layer of underwear separating the two. Vox lets out a whine, but makes no effort to move.
Good.
Alastor starts grinding his shoe against Vox’s bulge, moving in small circular motions. Vox groans, his hips twitch, but he ultimately stays still.
Lovely.
Alastor begins to push the ball of his foot down harder. Vox grunts a bit louder, but nothing else.
I will break you.
Alastor’s heel lands on the floor, and he pushes the top of his foot forward, using his own bodyweight to compress. Vox cries out, hands reaching to remove Alastor’s foot, but Alastor is faster, summoning his black tendrils to restrain Vox’s arms behind his back. Alastor tugs the leash sharply, causing Vox to fall forward. Alastor removes his leg from Vox’s middle, resulting in Vox faceplanting directly on the floor.
“Fuck!” Vox cries out.
Alastor takes a step to Vox’s side, and kicks him square in the stomach. Vox lets out a sharp yelp and lands on his side with a thud. With Vox’s screen now facing him, Alastor notices a few more cracks on his screen. Alastor lifts Vox’s knee with his foot and pushes until Vox is flat on his back, and then positions himself on top of the television.
“Quit acting like you don’t get off on this, Picture Box,” Alastor tuts.
He straddles Vox’s stomach, ensuring no part of him touches Vox’s area. Vox sucks in a breath, but doesn’t dare move an inch.
“The rules are simple,” Alastor declares, freeing Vox’s arms only to rebind them above his head.
A twisted part of Vox’s mind thought, how sweet.
Alastor continues, “Do. Not. Move.”
The ‘or else’ was left unsaid, and Vox didn’t dare think about what Alastor would do to him then.
Alastor summons a knife. Nothing fancy, just a small carving knife, dangerously sharp. He would be cutting meat, after all…
—
“Oh my God, Al!” Vox exclaims, “I’ve been lied to!”
“I’m afraid any assumptions you’ve made about my anatomy are on you, dear pal!”
Vox circles around Alastor, returning to his front.
“No tail?!” Vox whines, “Seriously?”
Alastor chuckles, “Does this upset you so?”
Vox lets out a grunt, as if it should be obvious.
Alastor tilts his hips coyly, “If you stop whining, I might let you touch my ears,” Alastor suggests in a sing-song voice.
Vox shoots up straight with a puppy dog look in his eyes. If he himself had a tail, it would be wagging profusely, no doubt.
“What do you want me to do?” Vox pleads. With Alastor, things never come free.
“Good, so you do understand how this works”, Alastor grins, “All I need you to do is compliment me—”
“Easy!”
“—Live on television”
…
That bastard.
—
With the first slice of the knife on his quivering chest, Vox sends a prayer to whatever god would possibly answer to an irredeemable soul like his that he shut the fuck up for once. He needs to stay silent. Vox looks towards Alastor, who is in turn mesmerized at the first drops of bluish blood that begin beading at the site of the wound.
Freaky-ass deer.
“You know,” Alastor begins, “I normally love the sound of screams! The terror, knowing that it is the last breath they will draw…You’ll be happy to know that, for tonight, I decided to take a page from your book, Vox, and watch.”
As he utters that final word, he creates a well-placed, deep, slice across Vox’s sculpted chest. Vox’s eyes well up, but all that comes out is a shaky sigh. Alastor can also hear Vox’s cooling system, no doubt functioning at increased capacity.
I’m just that hot, Alastor jokes to himself.
Alastor pulls the knife away for a moment, holding it at eye level, enthralled by the way the blood pools near the tip, before dropping onto Vox’s chest. Vox wants to beg so badly. He doesn’t even know what for. Anything, he supposes. He looks down.
He’s hard.
Alastor’s cock is twitching to life embarrassingly fast, and he hasn’t even noticed.
Vox’s screen glitches.
—
Vox finds himself on his knees in front of Alastor.
“Well I must say, picture box, you’ve shown quite an amount of restraint thus far, do you agree?”
“Yes, Y-Yes, Al, I’ve been so patient, please?”
Alastor chuckles, “You don’t even know what you’re asking for!”
“Anything you’ll give me,” Vox replies, “Please.”
“Such a charmer!” Alastor remarks, “Very well.”
Alastor pulls his underwear down, revealing his flaccid penis. Vox reaches a hand towards it, before pulling it back for a moment’s hesitation.
“C-Can I?” he asks.
“Go on,” Alastor acquiesces.
Giddy with excitement, but maintaining a gentle hand, he reaches out and brushes his fingers against Alastor’s thigh. Vox feels the muscles flex. He rubs the flesh with his thumb, before sliding the digit over towards Alastor’s cock.
Never would have guessed that he’d be clean shaven, Vox thought, not like I’ll complain.
“Could-could I maybe get some lube?” Vox asks, and Alastor summons a small bottle into Vox’s free hand. After pouring some of the lube onto his other hand, Vox slowly begins to stroke Alastor, spreading the lubricant along his shaft, gently massaging the area with tender care.
Alastor’s cock begins twitching a little, definitely responsive to Vox’s caresses. Focused on the task at hand, Vox doesn’t look up until he hears a soft gasp come from above him. He looks up to Alastor’s smile quivering, his hands balled up by his sides.
“Is this okay?” Vox asks, concerned.
“Yes, Vox,” Alastor answers, “do continue.”
Vox almost doesn’t catch the soft ‘please’ under his breath.
Cute.
—
Alastor leans back down to slice Vox’s chest some more, and he notices. Fuck, he notices.
“Hmm,”Alastor hums, “how nice.”
Alastor stabs the knife down into Vox’s sternum, and rises to his feet. Vox cries out in pain.
“Get up,” Alastor demands, “and sit on the bed.”
After a few seconds, Vox rises, shuffling to the edge of the bed. His trembling hand hovers above the knife, but does not dare touch it. Alastor summons a chair and sits across from Vox, crossing his legs. Vox looks into Alastor’s eyes and feels his uncertainty.
I’m starving, Alastor’s signal reads.
And I’m yours, Vox replies.
And that’s all the permission Alastor needs. He leans forward and plucks the knife from Vox’s chest, and fucking licks it clean. He looks into Vox’s eyes and lets out a small moan as he swallows. Vox can’t even breathe.
Don’t cum, Vox chants to himself.
—
After a couple weeks, Alastor begins to be more confident in the bedroom. More demanding, expert touches, he even made Vox come without his help! Just like anything else, sex is a skill that can be built upon and developed. And Alastor was getting the hang of it.
Of being in charge.
Now, Vox could hardly be called selfish in the bedroom—outside of that is a different story—, but after accepting that Alastor didn’t operate on the same sexual desires as him, he felt less bad receiving. Alastor loved to give, too. He could not care less about orgasms, the feeling he got from controlling Vox was so much more addictive. Making Vox touch himself, grinding on Alastor’s foot, humiliating himself…anything to get that stupid TV to get that adorable glow on his cheeks and beg Alastor for ‘anything, please!’.
And Alastor would sometimes heed those requests.
Sometimes.
—
Alastor lunges forward and sinks his teeth into Vox’s shoulder. His mouth is immediately filled with the electric-blue flavour of Vox’s blood. He truly is unlike any other sinner he has tasted before; metallic, thrumming with energy as it coated his insides. Vox cries out, but quickly short-circuits. He falls back onto the bed, Alastor climbing on top of him to gain momentum to rip Vox’s flesh from his body. Vox arches his back in agony.
Sweet. Delicious. Agony.
Alastor grinded down onto Vox’s stomach as he chewed. Vox could feel his aching cock from beneath his trousers. He was aroused. Because of Vox.
Because of me, he thinks.
He grinds up against Alastor’s ass, not even worrying about Alastor punishing him. In fact, Alastor doesn’t seem to even notice. Vox looks up, watching Alastor chew and swallow him.
Well, that’s definitely one way to be inside him, Vox thinks.
Alastor grinds his ass down on Vox’s aching erection, gazing at Vox with a look of…something. Vox couldn’t quite put his finger on it. It wasn’t quite lust, nor was it contempt. It was almost reminiscent of…admiration?
Alastor grunts, which pulls Vox out of his thoughts. He’s still frotting against Vox. Like a wild beast, which, in a way, he was. His ears were twitching, his lips pulled back, drool escaping his clenched teeth. And his eyes…they were completely glazed over.
This isn’t the first time Vox has seen him like this. About a year ago, Vox returned to his room at V tower to find Alastor—a 12-point rack, growling, notably larger—humping his pillow, Vox’s clothes and sheets strewn across the room.
That was the first year Alastor felt comfortable to share his annual rut with Vox.
And boy was it fun for Vox. Alastor? Not so much.
Somehow he didn’t enjoy losing all of his faculties and wanting to dick down the closest thing shaped like a hole.
Weird.
—
Alastor and Vox are on a dinner date at Dante’s Inferno. No doubt Vox wanted to flex his wealth and fame. Truly, Alastor didn’t mind. He found it endearing.
“I’m guessing you’ll want the venison?” Vox asked.
“What else?” Alastor replied.
Vox chuckled and flagged down a waitress.
“Hey Doll, can we get an order of venison and a steak, and a bottle of your best?” Vox pulls out the charming and suave CEO voice.
“O-Of course, right away, sir!” the waitress scurries away.
Alastor chuckles. This is the first time the public has seen Vox and Alastor not trying to kill each other in decades, so he has no doubt that they are worried about a fight breaking out.
Vox begins tapping his claws against the table—a nervous tick Alastor has become familiar with—and meets Alastor’s gaze. He doesn’t say anything, but gives a lopsided smile.
“Vox…” Alastor begins, but doesn’t quite know what to say, and so says nothing.
“Hm?” Vox’s eyes widen in attention.
While it was still quite a challenge to communicate healthily—on both parts—, Alastor and Vox had been practicing this thing called ‘saying something when something is wrong instead of being passive-aggressive or blowing up on the other’. They’ve also been doing this weird thing called ‘saying something when you want something instead of expecting the other to read your mind’. It’s been life-changing.
“I’ve been thinking…” Alastor manages to spit out, “you’re quite aware of my…proclivities… correct?”
Vox chuckles, “that’s definitely … a word for what you do.”
“Right, well,” Alastor ignores Vox’s jab, “I’ve been meaning to discuss with you…how would you feel about-”
“Eating me?” Vox finishes his sentence for him.
There aren’t many moments where Alastor is rendered speechless, and even fewer by Vox’s hand. This is one of those moments.
“You…you-I’m sorry, what?” Alastor stutters out.
Vox just laughs, “I’ve seen the way you look at me, Al. Hungry. And not always in a horny way.”
Alastor looks away, willing his face to not show how caught he felt. ‘Like a deer in the headlights’ as Vox once said. Alastor made sure to tell him that that joke had gotten old after his first decade in hell, and that if he ever made it again, he would tear off his head and give it to Niffty to play games on. And so Vox stopped telling that joke. He did not, however, stop thinking it. Alastor could see his stupid face, with his stupid smile he tried to hide. Nobody made Vox laugh more than Vox himself, not even Alastor.
“Well, it’s more of a curiosity than anything…” Alastor trails off.
Before they can continue this uncomfortable conversation, the waitress comes back and places their food in front of them. She pours them each a glass of the wine, and scurries away once more. She knew better than to interrupt their riveting discussions. About eating people. Vox, specifically.
Vox grabs Alastor's hands and leans over the table, “Alastor, this is totally something I am willing to try. Not one of my bigger fantasies, but if that’s what you’re into, I’m down.”
At times like these, Alastor was glad that Vox had some…experience…even if it was mostly from that disgusting moth. Because of the combination of that and Vox’s knowledge of Alastor, it meant he knew just what to say to comfort Alastor when things became overwhelming.
But Vox definitely had to research all about proper BDSM etiquette because he did not want to fuck things up with Alastor, and Vox learned that wow, Valentino doesn’t actually know shit about actual BDSM culture. Consent, boundaries, and healthy communication are not things Val does.
“I’m glad that this doesn’t entirely put you off,” Alastor expresses.
“Nothing you do could ever put me off,” Vox grins.
—
“Hey there, Al,” Vox tries, “you still with me, buddy?”
No response is given, only a low grunt. Well, fuck.
Vox’s olfactory system has since been flooded with Alastor’s musk, permeating every crevice in his screen. Now, Vox was totally looking forward to a 72 hour period of rut-crazed Alastor, but the fact that Alastor had not communicated that his season was happening in advance concerns Vox. And so he tries to get his attention again.
“Alastor, hey,” Vox firmly states, “I need you to talk to me.”
This seems to do the trick, as Alastor’s form regresses to be more humanlike, slightly.
“Vox,” Alastor pants, “I have communicated to Charlie that I am indisposed for the week. I have no obligations, nor do I have any concerns.”
“Oookay,” says Vox, “I guess I’m off too!”
Alastor simply licks Vox’s screen, and when he pulls back, Vox notices that he has once again returned to this eldritch abomination. His eldritch abomination.
No doubt that took a lot out of him, Vox thinks, now, let the show begin.
Alastor doesn’t acknowledge, he simply grinds down on Vox’s hips once more. Now, free from punishment, Vox returns the attention, even reaching to stroke Alastor’s delicate waist. Why was the damn thing so small?
Alastor raked his sharp claws down Vox’s chest, no doubt leaving marks. But Vox didn’t notice, or even care. He was too busy feeling Alastor’s tongue down his throat. Alastor had always had a strange fascination with Vox’s screen, and the feeling that surrounded him when he submerged part of himself in the staticky void of Vox’s mouth was unlike any other.
Vox felt a shift as Alastor leaned back, before letting out a sharp yelp as Alastor flipped him onto his stomach. He instinctively arched his back, feeling Alastor’s hand pushing his upper back against the sheets. He was presenting himself. He heard Alastor snarl from behind, and he knew that the deer was quite pleased with his display.
You like that, huh? Stupid horny deer.
Vox felt a tongue in his hole. No doubt being prepped by saliva would leave him aching beyond measure, but at this point he truly didn’t care. Vox was never really able to hide how much he liked the pain. Or pain in general. Once Alastor caught a hold of this thread, he never stopped pulling. And Vox didn’t want him to. Cuts, slices, and stabs. Broken bones, dislocated joints, and torn limbs. Vox took it all with a surprising amount of grace.
As Vox reached around to start stroking himself, Alastor’s tongue breached his tight hole. Vox let out a loud groan, and tried grinding his hips down. He felt Alastor nip at his rim, sucking in a jolted breath. No doubt Vox liked Alastor’s sharp tongue in more ways than one.
After a minute or two, Alastor appeared to have decided that the prep was good enough, and assumed the position to mount his mate. He guided his cock into the tight wet hole in front of him, and began to push the head into Vox’s entrance.
—
Alastor was cute.
There was no other way to put it. He was adorable.
Vox was currently sitting across from Alastor at his dining table. His head was resting on his hands, and though he couldn’t feel the face he was making, he could wager a guess that he was making those ridiculous puppy dog eyes.
Vox looks down to the bowl of gumbo in front of Alastor. There was no other way around it. He was in that bowl. His flesh.
When Alastor swallowed his first bite, Vox mirrored him with a gulp of his own.
Why did this feel so…intimate? Not only in a sexual way.
“How…how do I…how do I…taste?” Vox manages to eke out.
“Delicious, my dear,” Alastor leans forward and smiles with a slight head tilt.
—
Vox immediately let out a loud groan. He was finally in his rightful place.
Beneath Alastor.
Alastor doesn’t waste any time and immediately begins thrusting forcefully into Vox’s tight hole. It hurts no doubt, but Vox is too busy experiencing the closest thing to nirvana to process the pain. He can hear Alastor’s rhythmic grunts above him, signifying his lovers’ immense pleasure.
With each thrust, Vox feels himself pushed further and further to the edge. He feels Alastor shift, and his monitor is quickly shoved into the sheets. He notices the sheets are soaked with his drool. Alastor’s thrusts speed up even more, and Vox can tell that he is almost there. As much as he wants to do something—anything—, all he can do is lay there while Alastor uses him like a fleshlight.
Alastor bites down on Vox’s shoulder once more, and that does Vox in. He cries out, his cock leaking copious amounts of cum onto the sheets. With one final thrust, Alastor meets his peak as well, breathing heavily near Vox’s audio ports. He can feel Alastor’s cum filling him, and he subconsciously starts to grind his ass back.
“Holy fuck,” Vox croaks out. It feels like it’s been forever since he last spoke.
He feels Alastor lick over the wounds covering his shoulders, it being both an act of grooming as well as enjoying the taste. Vox feels his lover behind him pull out. He flips Vox onto his back so that they are face to face.
“Wow…” Vox utters, “you look pretty wound up.”
“Really?” Alastor responds sarcastically.
He looks down towards the mess he has made, the mess being his cum oozing out of Vox’s hole. A feeling of pride washed over him.
Well bred.
“I’d apologize in advance for any injury that may occur on your behalf, but that would imply that you wouldn’t enjoy it,” Alastor quips.
“You know me so well,” Vox pulls Alastor close and kisses him.
It wasn’t a horny kiss. They both knew.
Not that they were at all equipped to address what kind of kiss it actually was.
Fin.