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“So. We uh… we gonna talk about it?”
Alastor groans. “Must we? Now?”
“Al, it’s been days! I think you’ve said maybe fifteen words to me in total since, and almost a third of them were ‘bye’!” Vincent paces the floor in front of the couch, and Alastor puts down his book with a sigh.
“I had to go out. It would’ve been rude to ignore you when I was leaving.”
“Oh, for the love of- look, would you just answer one question? Did you change your mind about us having sex, like, in general? Because if you did, that’s totally fine and I will get off your case about it, but I just want to know…”
“Vin.” Alastor says softly, and Vincent stops dead in his tracks and whirls to face him. “I… I did not change my mind.”
Vincent’s screen fuzzes over with static a few times as a smile slowly graces his lips. “O-okay! That… that’s good to know.”
“Did you?”
Vincent frowns. “Did I… what, exactly?”
“Change your mind. In any sort of way.”
Vincent splutters wordlessly for a second. “No! Not at all! Did you think I would?”
“No. Maybe?” Alastor sighs again. “I don’t know what I thought. Perhaps I didn’t think anything. Being around you is… instinctual. I don’t often have to think too much about what I’m doing. But this is different.”
Vincent walks over and sits down next to Alastor on the couch.
“Yeah. It is different. So… let’s figure it out, since it’s something we both still want.”
Alastor nodded. “How… How do we discuss this? It’s so… unfamiliar to me. I don’t really know where to begin.”
“Then I’ll start. I just… I wanna say, I don’t need to know why you… have what you have. In your pants. But… are you gonna have any problems with me, like… referring to it - or you! Uh, in any specific ways? Any words or phrases I should steer clear of, you know?”
Vincent looks so earnest and sweet that it almost makes Alastor want to cry. Or kick Vincent. Maybe both. Instead he shows remarkable restraint and does neither.
“I don’t really know about… that, specifically. Just… Don't call me a woman, or anything similar. That’s not correct. I am a man.”
Vincent looks surprised, as if he hadn’t even thought of that as a possibility on his end. “Yeah, fuckin’, of course, Al! No problem!” Then his face drops into a look of concern. “Shit, wait, I’ve called you Doe before, is that… was I being super fucking insulting without even knowing it? I just thought it was cute! Why wouldn’t you say anythi-?!”
“Hush, Vincent. No, you were not offending me. I did not have any issue with that one. And I still don’t.” Alastor smiles warmly. “Shall we take turns with questions, maybe? I would like a turn.”
“Sure! Fire away!”
Alastor hesitates. “Your… uhm… equipment…”
“You mean my dicks.”
“Do you have to be so crude about this right now? We are having a mature and productive conversation!” Alastor snaps, his face flushing.
“It’s exposure therapy or whatever, dumbass! How are you supposed to get comfortable with this stuff if you dodge all the words?!” Vincent bites back playfully.
“Degenerate!”
“Coward!”
After a split second of silence, both men burst into laughter.
“This is ridiculous.” Alastor says.
“So are we. C’mon, ask your question. I’ll shut the fuck up until you actually say what you wanna say.”
Alastor sucks in a breath. “Alright. How… interconnected are they? If just one of them is being… ah, stimulated, do you feel it in both? Or…?”
“Oh, I see what you mean. Kinda? The sensation’s not as strong in the one that’s not being directly touched, though. However! I’m pretty sure they both finish at the same time no matter what.” Vincent says confidently.
Alastor raises an eyebrow. “Pretty sure?”
“We share an apartment, Al, I don’t exactly get a lot of alone time to explore this stuff!” Vincent laughs.
“But you have?”
Vincent looks flustered, and the middle of his screen turns cyan. “S-sometimes! Yeah! Anyways - my turn for a question!”
After a beat, Alastor leans back on the couch with an amused expression. “Go ahead.”
“Why… Why did you get worried that I might change my mind about sex with you?”
Alastor’s ears pin back slightly against his head. “That’s hardly relevant to-”
“No, don’t deflect, it absolutely is! I want to know if I did something to make you think that so I can make absolutely sure I never do it again!”
“Oh good grief, fine!” Alastor huffs, before going quiet for a moment. “You did not do anything specific. But I… wasn’t what you expected. I was afraid I might… might not be good enough.”
Vincent starts to laugh again before noticing Alastor’s expression changing from embarrassment to legitimate hurt. “Oh, shit, you’re actually serious? Fuck, no, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”
“Yes you did! That was a completely genuine laugh! If you really think this is such a joke…”
“Al, hold on.” Vincent turns towards Alastor, who is trying to curl in on himself as if he can stop existing simply by becoming small enough, and snatches up one of his hands, squeezing it. “What I meant is that I didn’t mean to upset you. The laugh was fucking genuine because… I mean, shit, how long have you known me? How could you possibly believe that anything about you would make me think you’re not good enough?”
Alastor’s stomach churns. He very much wants to melt through the couch, then the floor, and disappear forever. But the feeling of Vincent’s hand in his is grounding, soothing. It anchors him without feeling like a trap.
“I am not always as self-assured as you seem to think I am, Vincent.” Alastor returns the hand squeeze and starts to rub his thumb across Vincent’s skin. “But… thank you.”
Vincent visibly relaxes, and Alastor does too.
“You can ask a question, now.” Vincent prompts.
“Oh. Yes. Hm… Just how much do you know about…” Alastor grits his teeth as he blushes again. “About vaginas.” he practically hisses.
Vincent tries really hard not to laugh again at Alastor’s awkwardness. “Heh, well, I… I didn’t get to know a whole lot in practice while I was alive, apart from a few one-night stands, but I’ve got a lot of theoretical knowledge! I mean I had to look something up to get me going when I was trying to understand my own anatomy…”
Alastor shifts uncomfortably. “R-right. People do that. Regularly.”
“What? Come on, Al! You’re really telling me you don’t…”
“No, I don’t!” Alastor drops Vincent’s hand and wraps his arms around himself.
“… Never?”
Alastor sighs. “Twice. Total. And only since being in Hell.”
Vincent’s expression changes. What had just been curiosity becomes rounded with affection and warmth.
“So… once to figure out the logistics, I guess?” Vincent asks. Alastor nods. “And… the other?”
“… three nights ago.”
“… Oh!”
Alastor’s face feels even hotter as he remembers Vincent going to the bathroom to shower after their aborted first attempt at sexual intimacy together. He recalls curling up under the comforter, trembling with overwhelming heat as he thought about exactly what Vincent might be doing in that shower. He remembers his hands roaming over his flushed skin and a jolt of something akin to electricity running through his body as he’d slipped one between his legs. He thinks of curling in on himself even more as his fingers worked their way around wetness and warmth and swollen parts that sent shocks of ecstasy through him.
It hadn’t been like that the first time, several decades ago. That had been clinical, analytical, scientific. There had barely been pleasure, never mind release. This was none of those things. It was intuitive, eager, sensual…
Back in the present moment, Alastor bites his own lip exactly the way he remembers doing so in bed that night, as he’d stifled the soft, breathless moan that escaped his throat when he’d reached climax for the first time.
“Al. You still with me?”
The sound of Vincent’s voice, low, gentle and caring, sends a full body shudder through Alastor.
“Whoa, what’s… are you…?”
Suddenly, Alastor’s in Vincent’s lap, and his mouth is against Vincent’s screen, pressing insistent kisses to the glass.
“I no longer want to talk.” Alastor huffs out, his breaths coming hard and fast.
“Understood.”
And Vincent buries one hand in Alastor’s hair and guides their lips together.
Kissing a television screen that somehow generates a fully three-dimensional mouth has never become less uncanny, and Alastor finds that it clearly isn’t going to start now. Alastor is grateful for it, in a way. It helps him stay rooted in reality, in the moment he’s in, with Vincent. His idiot box.
“V-vox…” he breathes shakily as their mouths part.
“Oh, fuck… are you sure about this, Al? You’re really okay?”
Alastor nods. “Yes. I… I want this. I want you.”
Vincent adjusts them slightly so he can carefully remove the baggy sleep shirt Alastor’s wearing, before pressing tingling, staticky kisses to his collarbone, albeit from an awkward angle so he doesn’t bump into Alastor’s chin with his boxy head. Alastor’s breath hitches at the sensations, and he finds himself squirming in Vincent’s arms.
“Nnf, Al, you- if you do that too much, fuck…”
Vincent’s breath is hot on Alastor’s bare chest, and his hips roll upwards against Alastor, the obvious bulge in his pants pressing against the clothed core of molten heat Alastor can feel growing with every passing moment.
“That’s the point, isn’t it?” Alastor tries for a playful and confident tone, but there’s a tremble in his voice that sends Vincent absolutely wild, and he groans loudly as his free hand traces across Alastor’s skin.
“Oh god. I’m gonna die again. I’m gonna double-die. This is amazing. You’re amazing.” Vincent’s hand dips below the waistband of Alastor’s pyjama pants, and then he suddenly pulls it back again. “Shit! I need to- just hang on a second!”
Alastor hadn’t expected Vincent to literally mean hang on, but suddenly he finds himself lifted up into the air as Vincent stands up from the couch. Alastor lets out an undignified squeak of surprise, wrapping his legs around Vincent’s waist instinctively and clinging tightly to his shoulders.
“Vincent, what on earth-?”
Vincent doesn’t answer, focusing on carrying Alastor. When Alastor lands on something again, he quickly realises it’s Vincent’s bed.
“S-sorry! I need something in here so I figured I’d bring you with me! Is… is that okay?”
Alastor looks at Vincent for a long moment and then lets out a quiet chuckle. “Yes. It’s okay.”
Vincent leans down for a quick kiss and then goes to his bedroom drawer, shedding his shirt and pants as he does. Alastor can’t see what Vincent’s doing from this angle and tries to get a better look, but before he manages it, Vincent’s already turning around again. Alastor looks Vincent over as he re-approaches the bed, but he can’t see anything different apart from him being clad only in his underwear, until…
“Oh! Your claws, they’re…”
“Covered, yeah. Silicone caps. I did some research. They feel kinda weird to wear, but it means I won’t hurt you by accident.”
Alastor feels himself flushing again, the warmth on his face spreading to his chest. His heartbeat feels like it’s in his throat. Vincent, his Vincent, caring so much about his comfort and safety during this that he’d looked this up all on his own and made the purchase and… oh, now he’s thinking about where Vincent’s hands will go… where he very much wants them to go…
The air shimmers around them.
“Oh, damn it…” Alastor mumbles. His angelic form still trembles with anticipation and his blush is now a deep, shining gold. He buries his face in his palms.
“Al? What’s wrong?” Vincent asks.
“So… m-much…”
“Is it too overwhelming? Do you wanna stop?”
Alastor peeks at Vincent through his fingers and shakes his head. “N-no. Please don’t stop.”
Vincent pauses for a second. Then he takes a deep breath and concentrates, and the air shimmers again. Alastor moves his hands and gasps as he looks up at Vincent, now in his own angelic form. Vincent also begins blushing gold as he realizes the claw caps are useless now, and starts nudging them off his fingertips.
“Sorry, sorry! Hang on!” He starts laughing, and Alastor can’t help laughing with him. Vincent finally gets the last of the caps removed, takes off his glasses, and falls onto the bed with Alastor, both men still giggling.
“Honestly, I should’ve thought of going angel-form on my part anyway. It’s gonna make things way easier.” Vincent finally says as their laughter subsides.
“What sort of things?”
Alastor finds out that answer very quickly as Vincent leans in and kisses Alastor, and one of his hands slips into Alastor’s pyjama pants. Alastor lets out a desperate little whine as Vincent’s fingers ghost across the fabric of his boxers, slick with the evidence of his arousal.
“Oh holy shit. Holy fuck. Oh my god.” Vincent’s fingertips trace the outline of Alastor’s folds. “You’re literally soaked. And I’m the reason for it? I’m legitimately gonna double-die.”
“Must you talk so much while you’re- nnnh!”
Vincent presses the pad of his finger against Alastor’s clit through the fabric, and Alastor just about passes out from the intensity of the sensation. He hooks one arm around Vincent’s neck and tugs the man’s mouth back to his own, the distraction of what are now warm, human-like lips against his helping to center him. After what seems like both an age and a split second, Vincent pulls his hand away and breaks the kiss, trailing his lips down Alastor’s torso.
“Vin? Where are you going?”
Vincent huffs out a laugh as he tugs down Alastor’s pyjama pants and ruined boxers before settling himself between Alastor’s legs. “What does it look like? I’m going down.”
Alastor frowns. “What do you- fffuck!”
Both of Alastor’s hands fly to Vincent’s hair as Vincent presses an open-mouthed kiss to the hot, slick flesh of Alastor’s exposed pussy.
“Vox!” Alastor cries out. “Hnnnh, haaah, f-feels-”
“Good?” Vincent whispers against Alastor’s core, his voice ragged, before dragging his tongue in a long, slow line from Alastor’s entrance up to the sensitive bud of his clit.
“Ye-eeee-es!” Alastor’s reply falls from his lips in a sinfully beautiful moan, and Vincent has to try not to immediately come in his underwear.
Vincent repeats the same motion over and over again, indulging in the flavor of Alastor, as the man above him writhes and whimpers.
“You’re the best thing I’ve ever fucking tasted.” Vincent murmurs reverently, before bringing a hand closer and slowly pressing one slender finger into Alastor.
“Mmnnhh!”
Vincent feels Alastor’s legs trembling, and his free hand plants itself on Alastor’s thigh. “Relax. It’s alright. If it gets to be too much, just tap me on this hand twice, okay?” He demonstrates, tapping Alastor’s leg with his fingers; one-two. “Like that. Got it?”
“Y-yeah.” Alastor’s voice is wrecked with pleasure.
Vincent slowly moves his finger in and out, while his tongue softly laps against Alastor’s clit, taking the edge off the stretch.
Alastor can’t keep still. His body is shaking, squirming, and he feels like he’s going to burst out of his own skin. Every little thing Vincent does is full of desire, consideration, love. At any other time that word would scare Alastor out of the room, but letting it cross his mind now, all he can do is let out more breathless little sounds of pleasure. Vincent slowly works up to using two fingers inside of Alastor, still pressing delicate kitten-licks against Alastor’s clit.
“Vox, mmnh, oh, oh god, w-wait, feels like I’m… haaah, g-getting close to…”
Vincent glances up from between Alastor’s legs, his hair wild from where Alastor has been tugging on it. “It’s okay. Let me make you feel good.”
Alastor nods, before a wordless cry is torn from his throat as Vincent latches his lips onto Alastor’s clit and sucks, just lightly, and his fingers curve enough to graze a hidden spot inside Alastor’s walls, all of it more than working to push Alastor over the edge.
It’s nothing like when he touched himself. It’s powerful and all-encompassing. Alastor thrashes wildly on the bed as wave after crashing wave of pleasure crests through his body. His vision whites out, his fists curl tighter in Vincent’s hair, and by the time he starts to come down from the dizzying high, he’s a sweaty, spasming, whimpering mess, lying boneless on Vincent’s bed. He can still feel Vincent’s hot breath on his tender clit, and Vincent’s fingers are still inside of him, the stretch welcome yet still bizarre. He’s tingling everywhere, a pleasant sensation that spreads over his entire body. One of his ears flicks involuntarily, and it suddenly brings him back to a semblance of reality. Alastor looks down at Vincent, and finds the man’s heterochromic gaze already trained on him with a look of awe.
“That was fucking incredible. You’re fucking gorgeous. Oh my god, I want to make you do that forever, any time you ask me to.”
Alastor’s fragile heart hammers wildly in his chest, and not just from the orgasm. He vaguely composes himself.
“A noble sentiment. Why not come up here and say that to my face, instead of my vulva, hm?”
Vincent laughs as he removes his fingers from Alastor and climbs quickly up the bed to press a kiss to Alastor’s lips. “Vulva? Really, Al? Even after all that, you can’t just say pussy or something like a normal pers-AH!”
Vincent gets cut off abruptly as Alastor presses his thigh against the bulge in Vincent’s boxers, making him moan in shock and pleasure.
“You would like that, wouldn’t you? You pervert.” Alastor smirks.
“Hell yeah I would, baby. Someday I’ll make you beg for me to stuff your puss-FUCK!”
Another deliberate grind of Alastor’s thigh against Vincent’s crotch and he just about whines at the sensation.
“Well? Are you going to anyway? Even if I don’t beg?” Alastor tilts his head slightly, his big brown eyes pleading with Vincent to give him what they both want.
“I seriously am gonna double-die. But not before I get at least one of my fucking dicks in you, fuck…”
Alastor hums in curiosity. “Only one?”
“Only one tonight! Jesus Al, two fingers is not enough warm-up for two cocks…”
“The vaginal canal is a remarkably pliable group of muscles, you know.”
Vincent laughs even harder than before, almost tripping over his boxers as he kicks them off. “Oh my god stop, you’re gonna make me go soft if you keep talking like a fucking biology textbook! Though, uh, speaking of anatomy… since it’s only gonna be one. Left or right?”
Alastor snorts with mirth. “Dealer’s choice, my dear!”
Alastor can’t help continuing to laugh quietly even after answering Vincent’s question. He hasn’t felt this good without alcohol in… well, ever. The overwhelming rush of endorphins post-climax has him almost giddy. Most of all, he’s relaxed, loose-limbed and feeling anchored to reality, to the here and now. With Vincent. His baffling, bright, beautiful Vincent.
“Vincent… Vox, I…” Alastor pauses. His words are unhurried, his voice warm and tender. “I’m glad it’s you. Here, right now, with me. Doing this.”
Vincent looks for all the world like he could pass out just from hearing those words, and he leans down to press joyful kisses all over Alastor’s face. As he does so, he carefully aligns himself at Alastor’s entrance.
“I’m glad too.” he whispers.
Then he captures Alastor’s lips once more as he slowly and gently pushes his hips forward. Alastor finds himself making little noises of surprise and pleasure against Vincent’s mouth as Vincent gradually makes his way inside. The stretch feels entirely different than fingers - bigger, less forgiving, warmer even. It’s unavoidably intimate. Vincent’s body heat is everywhere, working Alastor up while calming him down all at the same time, and as Vincent comes to rest fully inside of Alastor it’s almost too much-
Fwoomph.
They’re both jolted slightly upwards from the mattress, and their kiss breaks involuntarily. Alastor shuts his eyes tightly and his face flushes brilliant gold once again. Beneath him on the bed, his wings splay out, the off-white of the plumage contrasting starkly with the deep navy blue of Vincent’s bedsheets.
“Shit. Shit. Goddamnit. Stupid fucking feelings, making these things pop out of me like fucking weeds…”
“Whoa, hey…” Vincent begins, but Alastor’s already visibly shrinking in on himself, and Vincent pulls out without hesitation and moves to try and comfort Alastor instead. “It’s okay…” Alastor bats him away and rolls onto his side, his wings sticking directly out behind his back.
“No it’s not! These accursed wings are the biggest reminder of everything I never was and never deserved to be! I don’t want them here, now, in this new afterlife I’m building… with someone else who’s so much more than what Heaven made him. With someone who understands what ridiculous, ugly appendages these are.”
Vincent looks at Alastor for a long moment, then moves to lay on his side next to him, not touching him, just resting his face in front of Alastor’s.
“Al. It’s okay if you don’t like your wings. I’m not about to tell you that you’re wrong and you shouldn’t feel that way. But… I’m here with you because of all that you are. Even the parts you think aren’t worthy of being admired and loved.”
Time crashes to a standstill. There’s that word again, Alastor thinks. But more than just that…
Vincent has seen, literally and figuratively, all of him. Nothing has ever sent him running, or made him grimace in disgust, or cower in fear. Even if there are things Alastor does that absolutely should prompt him to, because damn it all, he’s worked hard at curating his Hellish reputation.
But Vincent is, and always has been, so confoundingly, well… Vincent. And that feeling that sits in Alastor’s chest when he thinks of him, that sings in his veins like a sappy jazz ballad, has started to sound a whole lot like the word love lately.
Unable to convey any of this with words of his own, Alastor simply nudges forward and kisses Vincent.
“Al? Do you still… want to…?”
“Yes. But I don’t think I can get rid of the wings right now.”
Vincent grins. “I have a plan.”
He carefully guides Alastor up from the mattress so that Alastor kneels over Vincent, legs bracketing Vincent’s hips. One of Vincent’s hands rests steadyingly on Alastor’s thigh, as the other reaches down to position things for Alastor.
“Relax. Breathe. And just… sit, slowly.”
Alastor’s hands brace on Vincent’s abdomen and he carefully lowers himself down, shaky little gasps spilling from him as he sinks inch-by-inch onto Vincent’s cock. Vincent drinks in the sight as he bottoms out inside Alastor - the other man’s wings are involuntarily fanning out on either side of him, feathers trembling, and as Vincent so often does, he falls head over heels for Alastor all over again in that moment.
“Beautiful.” Vincent whispers with sheer, unbridled adoration. “You’re beautiful.”
Alastor can’t hold back. He leans down and kisses Vincent messily as he rocks his hips, and Vincent lets out a stuttered moan into Alastor’s mouth as their joined bodies move together in a rhythm that’s not quite perfect, but perfect to them. Alastor clings to Vincent as the heat in his core starts to pool again, building up with the sensations of Vincent being everywhere.
It takes almost no time at all for them to both be careening towards a mutual peak, and as Alastor’s walls gradually begin to tighten, Vincent slips a hand between their bodies, fingertips finding Alastor’s clit once more and gently stroking it.
“Vox, Vox-!”
“I know, I know, me too…”
And then, once more, it hits. Alastor’s back arches and he cries out wordlessly as the waves of ecstasy come crashing again, and his wings beat once of their own accord and fill the space behind him, free and untamed. The sights and the sounds and every sensation as Alastor comes sends Vincent over the edge too, shuddering and moaning and clinging tightly to Alastor’s hips.
On their way back down from their mutual high, Vincent blinks his eyes open to notice that Alastor’s wings have curled around the two of them protectively as they lay there, intertwined and imperfect. He’s going to have to disturb the peace all too soon, because there's a mess to be cleaned up and Alastor will hate it, but right now, he stays in their little sanctuary.
Their own true Heaven, right there in Hell.