Work Text:
The bruises on Alastor’s body were proof that Alastor would always be weaker than him. Less than. It was why he liked looking over them each time. Every few days, he would beat him, not for any particular purpose, but just because he would feel like it. Somehow, no matter how many times he did it, it was just as satisfying as the last. Even if it had started purely out of rage, now he did it for the love of the sport. Cords tied up Alastor’s body, and his wrists held him up, his legs dragging against the floor. Blood dripped down his nose while his ears remained flat, and his nose was bent at an ugly angle f. Vox would’ve called it almost beautiful if something like Alastor could be considered that, but instead it was just ugly. An ugly reminder of what Alastor had become to make Vox have to do this to him. It helped, though. Most of the time, he had to keep Alastor gagged. If he let him speak, all he did was piss him off more. The few times he had allowed him to speak, he had beaten him to the point of unconsciousness. He pulled up Alastor’s shirt to look at the healing bruises on his thin stomach.
Alastor tried to squirm away from the touch, but Vox just clicked his tongue in irritation.
“Calm down, I’m not going to do anything more. I don’t want to fuck your loose hole today. I just want to look at these babies,” he said, rubbing a thumb gently over the mark. He had raped Alastor more times than he could count. Each time it was good. The first time had been especially good. The look of disbelief on his face as Vox pulled his pants down. The insults, as he told him that he never thought Vox would stoop so low, and of course, the way he had looked when he had cum all over Vox’s hand like a fucking whore. Completely mortified. His smile stretched unbearably wide as he tried to pretend it didn't bother him, only for the humiliation to be made worse by Vox cumming in him.
The first time they had sex, it was like a dream. At least to Vox, he tried not to think about the other feelings that came up from the sex. All he focused on was Alastor’s defeat and embarrassment.
“Oh fuck, those look good.”
Alastor's stomach had a dark purple, reddish hue mark right at the center of his stomach that was somewhat covered by the thin fur on his stomach. Satan, it looked good. His dick ached when he remembered how he had put it in there.
Alastor looked him in the eye through his gag. Refusing to back down, even as he let slip a hiss from his lips, when Vox pushed against the bruise with his thumb. He snapped a screenshot for later. That would be great to jerk off to later, only when he was bored, of course. A great reminder for Alastor to remember who owned him. All of Alastor’s body was covered in bruises. Yellow ones that barely showed up anymore and had started to fade. He had a lot of those near his ribs from where Vox had broken them. Alastor had tried to pretend they hadn’t hurt when they really did. He would talk as if they were nothing, but in his own time, he would see how Alastor’s face would twist up in pain at just any slight movements. Blood would rush to his cock every time he saw it. There were green ones on his thighs that Vox cataloged and snapped pictures of while Alastor watched him snap photos and measure the size, purely for his own amusement. He couldn’t describe why, but ever since Alastor had been under his pressure, every little mark he left on him was addicting. Maybe he should leave a more permanent one?
“What do you think of a permanent tattoo, Al? Maybe something like my logo, right about-” he let his hand go all the way close to Alastor’s lower stomach, right above his dick, and pulling down his pants a bit, which caused the other’s eye to twitch as drool dripped from around the gag onto Vox’s hand.
“-here. Would be great to show everyone who exactly fucked your prude ass first.” He wiped the drool off his hand on Alastor’s pants, finally letting them go back up as he did. Vox used his cord to pull away the gag. Alastor’s eyes had dark rings underneath them from the pure exhaustion, which only excited Vox more, but instead of showing that exhaustion with his words, he simply said, “Yes, because you care about my opinion now. Come now, Vox. When will you get bored already?”
He was fraying at the edges; he knew he was. The way his body would twitch more away from him now. It showed exactly what he needed it to, and still, Vox wanted to destroy this man until there was nothing left.
“Maybe when you stop being a massive piece of shit. So probably never,” he said with a grin, which just made Alastor’s lips tremble before he grinned, “Then I suppose I should look forward to an ugly tattoo that I will simply cut off the moment I get the opportunity.”
“You never will,” Vox said, holding him by the chin as his hand went back to the bruise on his stomach and pressed, causing him to widen his eyes and bite his lip in that way he always did when he tried to suppress his pain. Fuck, he really did love leaving bruises on him. Vox was the painter, and Alastor was the canvas.