Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“The Radio Demon is there.”

Those words stop Vox’s heart, his circuits, his life—

“What did you just say?” His claws slash across the desk. He turns around, his muscles pulled taut and static beginning to crash through his speakers.

Valentino blows smoke languidly and grins. “You heard me.”

A wave of emotions rushes over the tv demon. Anger, hurt, betrayal—

“Alastor is back, and, and that wasn’t the first fucking thing you told me?!” Vox rages, turning the intense relief he’s experiencing into fury because of how incredibly overwhelming it is. He seethes at the moth, snarling and snapping and declaring he’s going to give Alastor hell (pun not intended).

Vox is chomping at the bit to start a fight, to give the Radio Demon a piece of his mind. He’s asserted himself at his massive workspace, plugged himself in all the way, ready for a breaking news segment to broadcast to all of Pentagram City, but . . .

Vox stares at the surveillance feed he has pulled up on the central screen. He can see Alastor; the deer is walking down the street, humming a tune and holding his staff closely. For all it appears, Alastor is carefree and driven by a single, nonlethal goal.

Despite his anger, Vox’s heart squeezes painfully.

The only words that flash across the screens for the next hour are “The Radio Demon is back in town.”

Vox feels Alastor before he sees him. The signal the radio gives off is unmistakable. He really doesn’t know how he missed it for an entire week of Alastor being back, in his territory or not.

Vox knows Alastor can feel his, too. They’re both too ingrained in who they are, what they are, to not notice such things, even if they represent different mediums.

Vox swaggers into the meeting with as much confidence as he can muster, Velvette at his heels. He’s glad she’s here because he doesn’t know if he can concentrate with who’ll be in the room. He’d really hoped that Alastor would not show up to the meeting, but just his luck.

“Yes, hello, us two Vees are here,” Vox says smoothly. He keeps a cool grin on his face and pointedly does not look at Alastor, but hopes Alastor is looking at him.

Carmilla Carmine nods and begins to speak, and Vox wishes he could pay attention. He gives in and looks over at the deer. Alastor’s eyes are on Camilla. Black eyes, however, glance in his direction.

Rosie gives a barely perceptible shake of her head. Vox swallows, or at least, does his best interpretation of one. Her eyebrows press upwards in what could be called a sympathetic manner, but it’s hard to tell because of how quick it happens, and Vox is left reeling as she turns her focus back to Carmilla.

What does she know?

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

After the rather brief and abruptly ended meeting (in which Vox allowed Velvette to take the lead on the subject of the dead Exorcist), the overlords disperse. Vox stalls, watching as the demons take their leave.

“Come on, Vox, let’s get the fuck out of here,” Velvette says haughtily, eyes glued to her phone as she moves toward the doors. The tv can’t tear his eyes away from Alastor, who is waving Rosie off. As said demon passes by him, Velvette huffs. “C’mon, V.”

Vox hesitates and murmurs, “You, uh, go on ahead. I’ll meet you back at the tower. I have a few . . . errands to run.”

Velvette raises an eyebrow. “‘Errands’?” She glances around the room and finds there to be only three demons left. “Oh, right. Of course. Well then, I’ll see you later. Don’t break anything.” She pockets her phone and turns, closing the door on her way out. The sound of it is the only thing for a long moment.

Vox takes a step toward Alastor, who is neither moving nor facing him.

“Don’t,” the deer says simply. His arms are crossed behind his back, ears standing ramrod straight.

“So we’re just going to pretend that this isn’t fucking insane?” Vox asks. He doesn’t move from his spot across the table in fear of spooking Alastor.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

Vox huffs and crosses his arms. “That’s a yes, then.”

“What is it that you want, le requin?”

Vox’s electric pulse flutters in both sorrow and anger at the pet name.

“I want fuckin’ answers, Alastor, what else would I fuckin’ want?” Vox snaps despite himself. “You just vanish for seven fucking years, and, and then show up like nothing happened?”

Alastor turns around. “What I do is none of your business.”

“Really? After all we—” Vox’s speech is interrupted by a static bump, and he has to stop for a moment. “After all we were?”

Alastor’s ears flatten, and he sneers, “’What we were’? Oh, my silly television, we weren’t anything.” His pupils flash into dials for a split second. The glare he settles on leaves Vox frustrated.

“If you think that, maybe you’re really fucking going out of commission because my memory tells otherwise,” Vox snarls. He leans forward on the conference table, palms flat.

“I don’t doubt in that deluded head of yours that you’ve convinced yourself there was something between us more than enemies.”

Vox laughs, a discordant studio joining in on top of him. “O-oh, oh, I’m delusional? What a fucking joke.” He bares his teeth, and the air between them begins to crackle and lift Alastor’s hair away from his skin. “We were friends, Al, and maybe even more than that—”

“We were nothing!” Alastor hisses, eyes full dials as he begins to tower over Vox from afar. “I tolerated your presence, and that’s all there is to it.”

Unintimidated by the Radio Demon’s theatrics, Vox retorts, “That’s why when things got heavy between us you ran for the hills like a fucking coward?”

A sharp screech of feedback, and Vox is forced to fight off a black shadowy tendril with his wires. Electricity jumps from his antennae along his body, surges along the cables, and fries the shadows before they can touch him.

“Oh, please, spare me the drama, Bambi,” Vox says, stepping around the table, hand waving off the remnants of darkness like smoke into the air. “Didn’t your mother ever teach you manners?”

Alastor’s grin sharpens, eyes flashing, and he laughs darkly, “I’d keep my mother out of your mouth if you’d like to keep that trashy head of yours.” He doesn’t move as Vox rounds the table. “And I’d hardly say I should bother to treat you with any decency given our differences.”

Vox crosses his arms, scoffing. “You really know how to hurt a guy’s feelings, huh?” His tone falls flatter than he means it to, revealing his weariness.

Alastor sneers, lip curling. “Since when have we ever cared about each other’s feelings?”

A sigh escapes the tv, and he tenses, frustrated. “Can’t we just talk? That’s all I’m trying to do.”

“I don’t care, and I’ve decided our little chitchat is over.” Alastor walks toward the exit. When he passes, Vox reaches out, lightning fast, and snags him by the upper arm. This is met with a violent burst of static and signals flashing, but Vox doesn’t let go even when Alastor’s antlers extend with the sound of cracking bones.

“God fucking damn it, Al, stop! You don’t just get to walk away again!” Vox yanks the deer back to look him in the eye.

“My leave had nothing to do with you, and to insinuate such is asinine,” Alastor snarls, voice rippling with static. Despite his fury, he doesn’t try to pull away. “You’re making an ass out of yourself.”

“Bullshit it had nothing to do with us.”

“How many times must I repeat myself to get it through your thick skull? There was nothing—”

“I don’t believe you!”

“I don’t fucking care!” Alastor spits venomously, and he finally attempts to jerk his arm out of Vox’s grip, nearly elbowing the taller demon in the face.

“Can’t you just be honest for one fucking second, asshole? You’re acting like a child,” Vox huffs. He’s not afraid of the deer.

Alastor laughs loudly and mockingly, “Oh-ho, am I now?”

“Yes, you are, and we are going to fucking talk about—”

A sharp pain shoots up Vox’s leg, earning a short yip, and it’s so unexpected and petulant that he’s startled enough to lose his grip on the other demon. Alastor slips from his grasp and under his arm, bolting for the door. Vox recovers swiftly and pivots, just in time to catch the end of Alastor’s coat. He grabs with his fist, not his claws, and is rewarded when the deer stumbles. The two demons fight to stay on their feet with the momentum dragging them forward.

“Let go, you cinematic charlatan!” Alastor reaches a clawed hand back and swipes at Vox’s offending arm.

“You fucking kicked me!” Vox dodges the claws and grabs onto Alastor’s forearm.

“You deserved it!” Alastor struggles to get his arm back.

“Stop being such a fucking brat!”

Vox grabs a fistful of Alastor’s coat right between his shoulder blades and yanks. The two demons back peddle, nearly falling over one another, but Vox keeps them upright. It’s easier than he expected, and the tv wonders briefly if there’s something wrong here. That’s thrown out the window when Alastor nearly bites the hand still wrangling his arm, and Vox fumes, shoving the deer facedown onto the table by the back of his coat.

“I said, stop!”

Vox swings his free hand, his other still pinning the Radio Demon against the table, and smacks him on the ass twice, hard. Alastor jolts, a sharp punch of feedback nearly bursting a speaker, and Vox realizes he may have just signed his own death warrant with that little reactionary stunt. Despite this, he holds firm, keeping Alastor in place.

The deer doesn’t move, and if Vox could see his eyes, he’d only see radio waves. Alastor lays there, hands near his face, claws extended and ready to use, but . . .  he doesn’t use them. In fact, he doesn’t do much of anything, frozen in place as he is.

“. . . Are you going to stop fighting?” Vox slowly breaks the tense silence that had fallen. He keeps his voice stern to maintain the peace. There’s another long pause, and Alastor fidgets slightly.

“I . . . yes,” the deer croaks, throat dry.

Vox shuffles, stalling, before removing his hand and helping Alastor stand straight. Contrary to what he is expecting, the deer doesn’t flee, merely hovering in Vox’s personal space.

“Are you . . . okay?” Vox asks carefully. The smacks were delivered with force, yes, but they were also over Alastor’s coat, and there was no way they hurt enough to do any damage at all. Vox tries to read Alastor’s expression but is unable. Besides being subdued, he’s somewhat blank, smile small and eyes big, gaze averted. And he’s blushing.

“I’m fine,” Alastor says softly.

“Good. I, er, well. I’m sorry, I didn’t—”

“No, no! No need to apologize,” Alastor interrupts, suddenly perking up, that static lilt back to his voice. Vox opens his mouth, perplexed and intrigued, but closes it as the deer fully faces him and begins fussing with Vox’s attire. He smooths his hands across the tv’s shoulders, straightens his lapels, and readjusts his bowtie with a casual air.

“Alastor, what-?”

“I’m afraid you might be right, mon requin,” Alastor continues, as do his touches, “about my behavior.”

Vox pauses. Did he just hear that right?

“I’ve been terribly remiss; of that I know. I suppose in my absence, I’ve become accustomed to such.”

Vox doesn’t dare say anything as Alastor holds onto his jacket’s lapels, thumbs smoothing over the fabric. The deer doesn’t look up at his face, eyes simply focused on his own activity.

“I started a fight when all you wanted to do was talk, and yes, I know I’ve been gone a long time, and you’ve been waiting.”

Vox finds his voice. “Alastor, if this is about what I—”

“You weren’t wrong to levy a firm hand, Vox, and I . . . I think, perhaps, you’d do well to continue.”

Those words sink in, and Vox’s circuits freeze. He realizes now that Alastor is looking up at him, ears splayed and pupils blown out.

“You . . .” Vox starts, fighting against his own shock, and a pulse of heat rushes downward, “you deserve a spanking, Alastor?”

The outright question makes the deer turn even redder, and those slitted eyes dart to the side. Alastor’s hands grip tighter onto Vox’s jacket, and for a split second, it almost appears as if he will flee.

“Y-you seemed to be of that opinion—”

Vox interrupts the flustered demon. He’s put two and two together, and the idea of what’s coming thrills him to no end.

“Good, because that’s what you’re gonna get,” the tv says. He keeps his tone firm and smirks internally at the way Alastor’s jaw snaps shut and his ears prick upward. “Take your coat off.”

Alastor swiftly undoes the buttons and shrugs it off but takes the time to fold it and place it on the table. Vox can’t help but grin at how naked the deer now seems without the article of clothing. He hooks the nearest chair with his foot and drags it closer before taking a seat. There, Vox pats his thighs and crooks a finger.

“Over my knees, little deer,” Vox orders. Alastor obeys, closing the distance between them, but then hesitates at the tv’s side. His smile doesn’t change, but his eyes narrow. Vox sees it for what it is.

“I said, over,” Vox repeats and grabs Alastor’s arm, tugging him across his lap. The deer lets out a small huff as he plants his hands onto the floor. Vox chuckles and taps his claws on Alastor’s upper thigh. “Comfortable?”

Alastor wiggles slightly, muttering, “As I can be.” His voice holds a hint of petulance. Vox merely hums in acknowledgment and raises his hand.

He brings it down firmly on Alastor’s right cheek. The sound and effect are muffled by his pants, but the deer flinches. Vox spanks him again on the other side.

“You know,” Vox says after giving Alastor a handful of swats over his pants, “I’m not sure what I’m thinking, Al.”

Said demon doesn’t respond but perks his ears, tensing.

Vox leans his elbow on the deer’s back and puts his screen in his hand. “I don’t know why I’m even bothering spanking you over your pants. This would be a whole lot more effective if they were out of the way.” To accentuate his point, he slips a finger into the backmost beltloop of Alastor’s pants and gives it a couple of tugs. “Don’t you agree?”

What follows is a soft drone of static and Alastor fidgeting.

Vox then scoffs, “What am I saying? It doesn’t matter because they’re coming down anyway.” With that, he leans forward, levering Alastor’s hips up with his left arm and reaching under with his right to pop the buttons on his fly. Alastor lets out a small sound of indignation as he’s shifted around, and Vox can barely contain his excitement as he slips his fingers into the waistband. With one smooth motion, he pulls the deer’s pants and underwear down to his mid-thighs.

“Ooh, fuck!” Vox grins, eyes crinkling in amusement, and he pushes Alastor’s shirt farther up his back. “There’s that little thing; aw, isn’t it cute?”

Alastor whines, embarrassed, as Vox strokes a finger along the underside of his tail that is now out for him to see. The red-and-black ball of fluff is sticking straight up, red side flashing for a herd that doesn’t exist, to warn of a threat that’s not quite a threat. Vox pokes at it like one would scratch a cat’s chin, finger lightly brushing against it.

“I was wondering why you’d decided to hide it, but I guess being a big, bad overlord with such a precious little charm is bad for business,” Vox laughs, but not cruelly. Alastor grumbles, ears pinned against his head, and he squirms at the tv’s administrations. That is, until Vox pulls his hand back and spanks his now unprotected bottom firmly.

“Ah!” Alastor can’t help the small cry and full body jolt, completely unprepared as he is for the hit.

“There we go; that’s what I’ve been looking for,” Vox says with a laugh. Alastor’s ass, which is a small but nicely rounded thing, barely flushed pink with Vox’s previous smacks, now boasts a spot that is blossoming red in the shape of his hand. “Naughty boys get spanked on their bare bottoms, isn’t that right, Alastor?”

The deer merely sniffs, red in the face and head lowered.

Vox chuffs in amusement and readjusts his hold on Alastor’s waist to assure he can’t get away before delivering another swat to the other cheek. This one doesn’t get a cry, but it does elicit a twitch and a gasp. He gives a few more paced out spanks before getting into a quicker rhythm, alternating sides and swiftly beginning to turn Alastor’s backside a nice rosy hue.

Alastor lays mostly still over Vox’s lap, only shifting or twitching when Vox lays into one spot more than others. With each smack, his tail quivers, the tip still pointed at the ceiling.

“Your ass is getting pretty red, Al,” Vox says. He pauses to run a hand over the deer’s backside, feeling the warmth radiating from his normally cool skin. “But I don’t know if you’re learning your lesson yet.”

“I am,” Alastor responds, eyes still on the floor.

Vox raises an eyebrow and taps a claw against Alastor’s red skin. “You are? I dunno about that. Considering everything for which you’re being spanked.” He inspects his handiwork and hums, pretending to think. He then lifts his hand and continues the punishment, earning a choked sound from Alastor.

“I think we have a while to go!” Vox says cheerily. Alastor huffs and actually stamps one of his boots on the tiled floor, and Vox quickly delivers reprimand.

“I don’t want any of that attitude from you, little deer,” Vox scolds. He brings his hand down harder and quickens his pace. Alastor audibly gasps and lets out a distressed bleat, pushing himself onto his toes. “You’ve been nothing but a brat since I’ve known you. You earned this spanking, you’re gonna take it. Understood?”

Alastor whines deep in his throat.

“I expect an answer, Alastor.” Vox aims his hand at the deer’s sit spots and tops of his thighs and earns a hiss of pain.

“Y-yes, I understand,” Alastor bites out, squirming over Vox’s knees now.

“Good. Because next time you’re in your little radio tower, doing another broadcast, I want you to think about me blistering your little bottom, and how much it hurts to sit down,” Vox says, not content until he’s reddened every inch of Alastor’s butt and upper thighs, “and I want you to know that I’ll tan your hide as many times as you need it.”

Alastor’s breath catches in his throat as Vox continues his assault on his tender backside. He wants the unrelenting hand to stop, to give him a break, but at the same time—

His skin on fire stokes a different kind of warmth inside him, one that he’s not used to feeling. When Vox had struck him for the first time, a burst of something had rushed through him, and after reeling for a lot longer than he should have, Alastor realized that he wanted more. He had realized he was tired of running.

And Vox had realized it too, right after Alastor had not tried to rip him apart for striking him; before that, even, with the way Alastor had not simply disappeared into the shadows upon being confronted.

Vox also knows that Alastor is enjoying every second of his ass being smacked silly (he’d asked for more, after all), despite his immediate switch to pretending he wasn’t in control.

“Your ass is nearly as red as your hair, Al,” Vox comments. His hand still bounces off the deer’s backside. “I suppose that means we’re almost done.”

Alastor whimpers, completely humiliated and loving it, and throws a hand back to stop Vox’s from contacting his red-hot skin any longer. Vox catches it immediately, clicking his tongue.

“Ah-ah-ah, Alastor, no reaching back to protect your bottom,” Vox chides. He barely pauses the spanking as he interlaces their fingers together and tucks Alastor’s arm against his side, pulling the deer even more securely against him to prevent his squirming. He delivers several harder swats for the interruption.

“Ah, Vox-!” Alastor whines, kicking his feet, “s-stop!”

“You want me to stop, huh?” Vox asks. “You’re gonna behave?”

“Yes!”

Vox can hear the word is brimmed with tears.

“You’re not going to disappear on me anymore, are you?” the tv continues.

“I-I won’t, I promise, I’ll be good!” Alastor cries out.

“You’re sure?

“Yes, yes, Vox, please!”

The words that fall out of Alastor’s mouth are desperate and honest, his voice cracking. Vox spanks him the hardest he has yet, finishing the punishment off on a high note (literally, based on the sounds that Alastor makes in response). With the last smack, the deer’s legs spasm, his whole body tensing as the pain peaks.

Vox lets the last strike resonate for a moment as Alastor draws in ragged breaths and shudders. His whole body trembles minutely. Vox admires his work; Alastor’s ass is red and speckled with the beginnings of bruises.

“Sh, there there, it’s all over now,” Vox murmurs, jumping into action. He rubs Alastor’s sore bottom, once punishing hand now a soothing respite as it steals some of the sting away. His hand sweeps up and down his butt to his thighs, visiting every spot that’s been swatted. “You took your spanking so well, Alastor.” The deer merely sniffles, body going limp over Vox’s lap.

“Yes, let it out,” Vox says. “You really earned that, huh? But it’s okay now.” His hand pulls at the hot skin just beneath Alastor’s reddened cheeks.

“You’re not all that subtle, either,” Vox chuckles, leaning down to say it closer to Alastor’s ears. He slips his hand between his legs to feel the warmth there, grazing his fingers against it. Alastor inhales sharply and freezes. “I could hear your arousal as I spanked you, ya know.” Vox slides a finger along Alastor’s slit, testing the waters.

“Nngh, Vox,” Alastor whimpers breathlessly, squeezing the tv’s hand where they are still interlocked. Vox’s words are so potent, so vile, and Alastor is absolutely mortified by the acknowledgment that he could hear the soft squishing as he’d squirmed over Vox’s knees. If he gets any hotter, he thinks he’ll burst into flames.

“No shame in that, though.” Vox grins and moves to cup Alastor’s mound with his hand. The action receives no backlash, and Vox slides two fingers through the wetness, then upwards to surround the nub at the top. “Fuck, Alastor, you’re so hard for me.”

Alastor groans weakly. Vox’s hand placement is pushing his legs apart, and he wiggles his hips to gain more traction. Vox sees this and pulls his hand out, earning a whimper, but he shushes the deer. He pulls Alastor up farther over his lap, then spreads his own legs. Vox leans to shove the rest of Alastor’s pants off one leg, revealing he’s wearing sock garters. Vox takes great delight in that fact as he slides Alastor’s right leg between his, opening access to his arousal.

“There we go, got you right where I want you,” Vox says contentedly. He slips his hand back to where it was, pressing his index finger to Alastor’s tiny dick.

“Mm, please,” Alastor whines, pressing his hips down.

“Don’t worry, baby, I’ve got you.” Vox gathers more slick from the deer’s hole and then begins to draw circles on that sensitive nub. Alastor sighs and rolls his hips into the man’s fingers. “So good for me, Al. Shit, a sound spanking’s all you needed to open up to me?”

Alastor moans, pressing his forearms into the floor now that he’s closer to the ground. His ass still stings, and the movement between his legs is sending spikes of pleasure to his core. Vox takes in every static laced sound that Alastor makes, his own cock hard in his pants. He doesn’t care about that right now though, instead using this opportunity to blow the deer’s mind.

“Mm, you’re so hot, squirming over my knee like this,” Vox groans. He speeds up his ministrations, fingers dancing over Alastor’s dick.

“F-fuck, Vox, mon requin, s’il vous plaît,” Alastor moans. He’s basically fucking himself on Vox’s hand, pushing down and rolling his hips into the feeling. Vox grins and channels energy through his arm.

Alastor jumps, crying out, as the sensation below changes. It’s like static electricity without the sting, like radio fuzz against his dick. He chokes on his pleas for Vox to continue, manages to throw a hand down to press Vox’s fingers harder against him. With a shudder, Alastor cums, muscles tensing and a breathy name escaping his lips. It crashes over him with such an intensity it feels almost like a drug, and briefly he wonders if he’s been missing out.

Vox keeps his fingers pressed there for as long as Alastor is rocking and twitching into his hand, and only when his hips are lifting, desperate to escape the feeling, does he withdraw. Slick coats the outside of Alastor’s hole, a boner inducing sight that any demon in this afterlife would surely jump to pound, but Vox restrains himself and summons a soft cloth to use to clean the deer up.

Vox gently wipes Alastor down, careful to avoid putting any untoward pressure on his dick, and then helps him slide off his lap. On his knees, Alastor leans into Vox’s abdomen. His pants are still around his ankles, off one, and Vox can’t help but sneak a peak down the front of his exposed body. His cock twitches; he ignores it.

“Are you okay?” Vox asks. He pets the deer’s head. Alastor nods, his eyes closed. Vox slips a hand under Alastor’s chin, and those red eyes open to look at him. Alastor’s smile softens, a single fang sticking out from under his lip.

“I really did miss you, Alastor,” Vox says softly. He runs a thumb down the side of the Radio Demon’s jaw. A crackle of static is all he gets in return, and Vox lets out a sad laugh. “You really know how to hurt a guy’s feelings, huh?”

Alastor sighs, “Oh, Vox, I’ve always cared too much about your feelings.” He leans up and brushes his lips against Vox’s screen. His 2D expression skips a frame, but he catches Alastor before he can pull away, kissing him in the way only a tv could.

When they pull apart, Alastor pushes himself up onto his feet and snaps his fingers. In an instant, he’s fully dressed, looking prim and proper. Vox watches him from his seat.

“I’ll be in touch,” Alastor says, both hands atop the head of his staff. He is gone the next moment, shadows melting into the floor, leaving Vox to sit there alone.

“I miss you already.”

Chapter Text

Alastor slips into the shadows; he’s merely going downstairs, but he knows Vox won’t be going this way. He materializes at the base of the building next to the elevators. The eggs are dumpster diving (much to his chagrin), but he allows them to continue—not out of apathy, but because his mind is still reeling from his . . . encounter with Vox.

Alastor shifts his weight from foot to foot, and the action restirs the stinging in his backside. The sensation sends a jolt of interest to that spot between his legs and a shiver up his spine, and his ears tremble.

The elevator descending draws Alastor’s attention back to the present. He turns his gaze onto the egg that exits.

“Well?” Alastor inquires.

The egg quickly tells him about the conversation he’s heard between Zestial, Carmilla, and the other Carmines. Alastor’s ever-present grin sharpens with the knowledge of the Exorcist’s demise, and he’s already thinking about how to best use this information to suit his own needs. His scheming is interrupted by pressure around his leg.

Alastor emits a sharp spurt of static, and his eyes go wide. He immediately cracks his neck to look down at the egg currently hugging his shin.

“What, pray tell, are you doing?” the deer bites out through a clenched jaw.

“I-I’m just, well, comforting you,” the egg responds plainly, and his little arms don’t let up.

Alastor’s eye twitches. “Why?”

The egg glances around before putting a hand to his mouth, as if to shield his words. He whispers, “I saw you getting a spanking.”

Alastor nearly cracks the egg open on the spot.