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Vox had rammed Alastor into a wall, and he had infuriatingly smiled at him like he was an insect that he just hadn’t gotten around to crushing yet. It had been a decade since their last fight, and even drunk, he was doing much better than the last time. He had more souls under contract, more strength. If only he could wipe the smug smirk on the demon's face. If only he could make him feel as small as Al made him feel after all he had wanted them to be business partners.
Lies.
His fingers dug into the radio demon. He just wanted him to acknowledge him. He just wanted him to be sorry. He just wanted him.
Vox closed his eyes for a brief moment, trying to get his emotions under control, but when he opened them, he realized the mistake because Alastor had moved right out of his arms. He probably would have done it even with his eyes open, but at least he would have been able to fight it. How had it been 30 years, and the demon deer still got under his skin? Still made his heart beat so hard in his chest that had nothing to do with fear as Alastor stepped towards him.
“How pathetic,” Alastor mocked him as he walked forward, “The same song and dance, and for what?” For what? That asshole knew sure as shit for what. If he didn’t want to be his partner, all he had to do was say so, but no, he had to be an asshole. Had to stomp on his heart when all he wanted. All he still wanted was Alastor’s approval. His love. Maybe if he killed him, he would finally get it, at least once.
“All I wanted was to be partners.” Oh no, he shouldn’t be saying this. His sober self would not say that. He shouldn’t have picked this fight while drunk, but he had seen him, and he couldn’t stop himself. “All I fucking wanted was for us to be partners.” Alastor’s eyes narrowed, and his smile was more angry than menacing now.
“So you could use me?” Use him. Why would he want to use him? He wanted him, not his power. For the first time in his life, he wanted happiness, connection over power, and Alastor had shown him why he had chosen power in the first place.
“I didn’t want to use you.” He had wanted him. Just him. As a friend. As a business partner, and really just him. He just wanted to run his hands through Al’s hair. Throw back some drinks with him like they used to. Even if Al didn’t want him the same way, he had just wanted to be by his side. He still wanted that. Pathetic. He was so pathetic to want a demon so bad who hated him.
But maybe they still could? Al thought he had just been power hungry, maybe if he explained further…but Al’s face was also now twisted in disgust. Even if he explained further, would it make a difference? They had been fighting off and on for over 25 years now.
“Really, you weren’t planning on using me like a business ladder. All smiles to my face, then kill me like all the other people in your life?” That sounded oddly hurt. Alastor never sounded anything but petty, sarcastic, mocking, or mad when they fought. Vox tilted his head to the side. When Vox had been closing in on him, he had smelled alcohol too, but he kind of just thought he was somehow smelling his own breath. Was Alastor drunk, too?
The accusation took a moment longer to process. Yes, that’s how he had gotten power on earth, and he couldn’t lie and said he had never even considered it. He had thought it a few times early in their whatever it was, but it had quickly fallen away.
“I wouldn’t have done that.” His voice is a lot more hurt than the angry he wanted it to be. “I didn’t want that. I wanted us.” He wanted Al, just Al. He still wanted that in whatever capacity Al would allow, even if it was only fights once or twice a decade. But maybe if he understood, maybe if he could make him understand, it could be more.
“I cared about you.” He still cared about him, but he kept that to himself. “It wasn’t about power for me. I just wanted you.” If anything, Alastor looked even more pissed off.
“Liar!” He accused loudly, using his tentacles to hold him in place as he stomped his way over to him. “You are a liar. Everyone wants something. Power. My body. My soul. There are no friends in hell, just what you can get others to do for you!” Maybe Al did really feel that, and he almost felt bad for him. Almost.
“So that’s what I was? What was my purpose then? Why keep me around?”
“You were entertaining!” Vox hadn’t expected that answer, especially not after what Alastor said. He had expected that maybe Al had plans for him, plans he ruined. Especially since he had said before that Vox had ruined it by asking for assistance.
“I was fun, and you didn’t think maybe I thought you were fun too?” The five years of their friendship had been the best time in his life. He hated that sometimes he would just daydream about it, since he thought he was never getting that back.
“There are no friends in hell!” Alastor spat at him. “I could never trust you.” Suddenly, he could see that was the problem with the whole thing. Al didn’t trust him. Had never trusted him. Probably didn’t trust anyone.
“I don’t want to hurt you.” He said even though he had scraped the side of his face with his claws just minutes ago, the blood was mostly covered by his hair. “All I ever wanted to do was be your friend.” He could tell even without the scowl on Al’s face that he still didn’t trust him. Was there any way to show Alastor he could trust him? That he wouldn’t betray him when it was convenient?
“Surely there has to be some way to prove it.” He muttered aloud, mostly to himself. The gold light in Al’s smile lit it, drawing his attention back. Al had a large grin on his face. What the hell did that…oh. He got it now. He would have gotten it even without the twist of Al’s hand. He wanted to own his soul. The only way for Al to ever trust him was to make sure he couldn’t betray him, which wasn’t actually trust but the closest Al probably got to it.
“I’m not going to sell my soul to you just so you can trust me.” He was a love-sick fool, but not a complete idiot. Your soul wasn’t just something you threw away, no matter what the traitorous muscle in his chest wanted. Vox was nearly an overlord now, a few more souls under contract, and he would be powerful enough to make a play for overlord. If anyone knew he was under contract, they would probably consider him weak. No, even if that was the only way Al would trust, he still couldn’t do it.
“You’re the one who asked.” He did, and now he was regretting it. Some part of him wanted to say fuck it all. If he could have Al back, what was his soul for his happiness? But people changed, and being owned would make him weak and vulnerable if others found out.
He barely noticed Al had shadow transported the two of them somewhere else until he noticed where they were. Al’s place, he hadn’t moved in 30 years, and while some of the chairs were different, it was mostly exactly the same. He never thought he’d be back here after that first time fight. Nostalgia flooded through him as he saw the same chair Al had sat in while they watched a movie together before halfway through, coming to join him on the couch. The couch was replaced, but the chair wasn’t.
They had so much fun together, though. He could have that back.
“How about you give me your soul for five years?” Vox looked back at Al but couldn’t read his face. “ That should be plenty of time for us to figure this all out. No restrictions, no power sharing, nothing except that neither of us can betray the other. You don’t have to obey or side with me by force, and I don’t either. And when the five years are over, we can see where we go from there.” Five years? Five years, and Al would let them be friends again? It was so pathetic that he was even thinking about it. He had sworn to himself he would never sell his soul. He swore that he would always be in charge of his destiny, that he wouldn’t let anyone dictate his afterlife but him.
“Do we have a deal?” Alastor’s hand was green and enticing. He shouldn’t do it. He was almost an overlord who knew how this would affect his plans. He shouldn’t.
He could have it back. Those cosy nights. Those close conversations, all he had to do was make a deal for five years, and the terms had been laid out clearly. He didn’t even have to do his bidding, just refuse to betray him for five years. He could have him back. He could see Alastor smile at him without it being mocking, a real, true smile, and all he had to do was shake his hand.
Vox shook.
He had expected to regret it more when he was sober, but he didn’t. That night had been 25 years ago, and every year or so, he repledged his soul. The terms were always short. Six months if he was mad at him and 3-4 years when he was particularly enamored. The terms had gotten more specific over time, but Al had never tried to treat him like a pet, as he called it when he talked about his contracts.
They were business partners and something more that Vox was afraid of defining aloud because Al still had trust issues, even though he owned Vox's soul, and he realized that Al didn’t like labels. Vox saying they were friends had played its part too in sending Al running for the hills. His beloved deer was so bad at feelings and any kind of relationship, sometimes it drove him so crazy.
Of course, there were other times, too. Like now. Where Alastor was nibbling on his lip, seated on his lap. He was rarely the initiator; most of the time, anytime they did anything, it was Vox initiating, and Alastor most of the time just allowing, although sometimes he didn’t, and sometimes he matched his fever. He knew why the fervor this time, though.
Al always got aggressive and then sullen the few weeks when a contract was coming to an end, even though Vox always made a deal again before the day was out. Had for the last 25 years. It was the only way Al would trust him, the only way they could stay them. Part of him was mad that after 25 years, Al still didn’t trust him without a contract, but he also understood him a lot more than he used to
Al was under contract, too, only he wouldn’t or couldn’t say who with. He had theories, but Al couldn’t or wouldn’t answer any even minor prodding questions he had, trying to figure it out. Alastor pushed himself against his lap on the couch. Fuck was Al a tease. At least in the last decade or so, he started finishing him off with his tentacles, even if he didn’t want to have sex.
Al was ace, not that he had any clue. It had taken Vox a while to figure out, too, but not nearly as long as Al. The demon deer didn’t like sex most of the time, but sometimes he would do it for him, and sometimes he got into it. Al stayed away from new modern technology like the internet and cell phones; even though he had one, he barely used it. He knew some slang, but that was mostly because of Vox and his relationship with Rosie. Al liked biting, but that was probably more due to his cannibalistic tendencies more than anything else.
Oh, the fucker was grinding down on his cock while he was biting Vox’s lip. He was such a fucking tease sometimes. Trying to tempt him into another year, even though Vox already decided, nearly the day after the last deal, he would be doing it again and again for as long as the two of them were together. Sometimes they’d fight. Sometimes they even fight physically, but every time, Vox always shook Al’s hand when it was time.
He never let it show, though the little he got from the deal with these couple of weeks of Alastor trying to show him what he would miss if he didn’t sign again. That and some favors sprinkled in through the years, little ones like promises to show up and support him at his events or let himself be recorded for a commercial or two. In those years, he also let Alastor claim a very small part of his power, even though he really didn’t need it, but what he got in return usually more than made up for it. The show of support from a demon like Alastor always got him more power in return.
Vox was bleeding. But anything physical with Al always meant he was bleeding. He was such a fucking biter. He put his hands on the back of Al’s head, feeling his ears. One of the few times Al would let him touch them was when they were fucking or working up to it. He didn’t used to be masochistic, but now bleeding turned him on; unfortunately, that had started before their situaitonship. They were so fucking soft. He was so fucking hard because the little fucker kept grinding down on him. Suddenly, two tentacles sprang out from either side of Al one pressing him to the couch and the other teasing his chest.
Tentacles this early, exciting! Usually, he only brought them out when he ran out of horny feelings. The tentacles weren’t slimy; they were more cold voids than anything, but years of Al using them like this had made it easy to ignore the previous uncomfortable feeling. They seemed solid enough when they entered him anyway. He was so hard!
Al sucked a little more on Vox’s lips until they were red and wet. Al was a blood-driven psychopath, but he was his blood slut as far as he knew Al only drank from one live source, him. Al was gorgeous. His hair was slightly disheveled, his suit open, exposing the red shirt underneath that was done up with fewer buttons than normal. Al never let anyone else see him like this, just Vox, only Vox. Al was so perfect. Vox’s cock was straining against his pants, painfully.
“Al, please,” He needed Al to let him take his cock out. He needed him to let him at least stroke it.
“Are you my picture box?” The tone was slightly mocking, but he knew that was just Al’s nature around this time. He was definitely his; he wanted everything of his, even if they didn’t fuck as much as he would like, he was still his, but he only had a small window to hold this over him; he couldn’t actually say it right now. Instead, he moaned as Al grabbed and pulled at his antenna.
“Are you mine?” He asked again before biting his lip on the other side. He hissed as blood slowly started leaking down his lips. Thankfully, as a TV, he could hide his lips and just show his teeth at the Vee meeting with Val tomorrow. He kept his words inside. He didn’t mind the biting. The aggressiveness, the possessiveness, Al rarely showed any of that except when he was worried he would lose it. He loved it. Maybe he should make this one short so it could happen again soon.
Al’s hand wound around his neck and started squeezing. Joke's on him, Vox was into that now, or maybe Al knew after all this time. He was so hard. So fucking hard, and Al only started grinding down harder. He groaned at the sensation.
“Are you my picture box?” He didn’t know how ‘picture box’ could be so hot, especially while Al was still squeezing his throat. Stars started appearing in his eyes from the lack of air, but then suddenly, Al let go, letting him gulp up the air greedily. He also got up from his lap. No, the fucker, no. What was he doing? He was getting so close, sort of uncomfortably close. Oh, wait, without Al there, he could at least unzip his zipper and take his cock out; he did.
Al didn’t move, just kept looking at him. Al wasn’t just going to leave him like this, was he? If he had to, he could finish himself, but Al wouldn’t do that, would he? The tentacles were still out but still holding his body in place, though they had let him remove his cock. The left one started slowly moving his way down.
Oh, Alastor ran out of horniness apparently, a bit of a shame since he preferred Alastor’s actual body over his tentacles, but still, he didn’t mind as the tentacles slipped through his shirt to caress his nipple. It was strange; they were more like a lack of anything than actually being there, but over time, he had grown to love them. The other tentacle wrapped around his cock. Oh, yes, oh yes. That was good. A third tentacle sprouted out from Al and slowly made its way across the distance on top of his pants, jerking them down, though it was a bit hard due to the way he was sitting.
He slowly stood up and let the third tentacle work his pants down to his feet. Then it slipped under his boxer and Vox yelped slightly as the tiniest of tendrils slipped its way between his asscheeks and into his hole. It withdrew and a moment later came back, this time somehow coated in something warmer and moister. He pushed down his boxers, not wanting to cream his pants. He could see the tendril behind him out of the corner of his eyes.
How did it mimic a cock so well? Only it was kind of nice that it shrank down at first, then slowly filled up as he got more and more used to it, but still, he would rather have Al’s actual cock. There was just something about him grunting in his ear as he shoved it repeatedly in his hole that was just so much better.
“Oh, yes, Al,” he gasped as the one tentacle moved slowly inside of him while the other played with his cock. He gasped again as he realized he had closed his eyes, and Al was suddenly in front of him, nibbling at his lip again.
“Sit on the couch the other way.” He demanded, and Vox couldn’t help but comply. Kneeling on the couch, his ass exposed to the room. The tendrils moved easily with him. The one in his ass grew slightly bigger.
“Fuck Al, Fuck me Al.” He moaned, thrusting against the one in his ass. He then felt an arm, a real arm, stretch around his body, and then there was hot breath on his neck.
“Are you my picture box?” Oh, he was. He so was. He bent so easily to Al and all Al had to do was shove a tentacle inside of him, and he could undo him so easily. Al’s hand made it to his nipple, and he twisted it; pain but also pleasure coursed through him. And Vox stopped breathing for a moment as he realized that something that felt more like a finger, less like a tentacle that was also in his ass now.
“Tell me your mine, and you can have it.” Did he mean it all he had to do was say it, and Al would actually fuck him, not just use his tentacles. He was about to short-circuit as it was, but he could actually have the real thing?
“I’m yours, I've always been yours,” He said and moaned as he heard pants being unbuckled and pulled down. His real cock, his real cock was so much better, he moaned and grunted, and Al pumped into him for what seemed like hours but was probably only a few minutes until he came all over the place. Best perk of the deal so far.