Archive of Our Own ^beta

The neon green stitches were garish against the fine brown timber of Alastor’s skin and red suit. That would have to go first. Velvette had plans to pretty Vox’s prisoner up, but until then, Vox wanted to drink in the Alastor he’d always known.

The open wound jagged across his chest was new. Vox had a feeling that Velvette couldn’t top that new addition.

Like before in the streets, Vox hooked a finger under the thread and watched it fray as he dragged his claw across. Only this time, it would remain undone.

“You’re so fucking pretty.” Vox caught himself saying. Alastor didn’t seem to notice the temporary loss of Vox’s decorum, face faraway as he was touched, all that seething hatred tempered into apathy.

Alastor had watched Vox and Valentino fuck multiple times, had reluctantly submitted to bending over as Vox took a peek at his tail, and being kept in a room where Valentino’s collection of pornography played on multiple screens around him. He ate off the floor, not even from a dog bowl. Just straight off the floor, eating fresh food instead of his preferred diet of fetid meat.

It was tiring to maintain the energy to show distaste and after a few days, the most energy Alastor had was to keep up his smile. He decided that was more important to do than show Vox how much he hated where he was, because of course Vox knew that already. They both did. No need to state the obvious.

“Do you know how long I’ve wanted to FUCK you?”

Alastor’s eyes moved from the wall to Vox’s jagged smile and made a noise between a huff and a laugh. “Then why did you make yourself wait even longer?”

“So, we could be alone.” Keeping up with the media coverage of the new addition to the Vees had taken more of Vox’s time than he had expected, and on the occasions he had the time, Valentino claimed it first. Apparently, Angel still wasn’t answering his texts, which usually delighted Vox, but with Alastor dangling and waiting right in the room adjoining his own, he had started to wish Angel would quit his tantrum and distract Val for him.

It had taken all of a week before a moment like this was laid out for him. Good old quality time with an old pal.

But they weren’t friends anymore; Alastor had made that clear 70 years ago.

“Just you and me, my little bottom bitch. Did you like the material I left you with? I felt like a virgin like you ought to know what they’re dealing with-.”

“I know how it’s done.” Alastor cut in acidly.

“Do you now? Then show me.”

“Mmmm.” Alastor’s eyes dragged down Vox’s face lazily. “No.”

Normally, this would have riled Vox up. Alastor would have to learn that his usual quips were hard to take seriously now with his hands tied behind his back and an open wound leaking putrid mustard colored puss from his chest.

“Such a brat.” Vox said, sliding his index and middle finger into Alastor’s open chest wound. Alastor jumped in his spot on the bed, nearly falling backwards except that Vox caught him with his free hand, palm pressed to his backside. Vox could tell Alastor almost seemed to prefer him roving his hand into his chest over holding him tenderly.

“I was going to fuck you hard.” He said. “Break you in quickly. But I think maybe it’s better to take things slow. . .” He demonstrated this with how languidly he rocked his fingers back and forth inside of Alastor. “. . . don’t you think?”

“Still so eager for my approval.” Alastor commented snidely, the apathy from before had melted away. The sensation of his insides being scooped into juxtaposed with the way Vox tenderly held his backside had quickly brought him to a heightened state of arousal, hackles raised.

Vox opted to ignore him. At the end of the day, it was Alastor who had surrendered to him, who was in his bed, keening around his fingers. And soon enough, his cocks would be guts deep inside of him.

Vox wrenched his fingers free from Alastor’s chest. A stretch of sinew held onto Vox’s claws stubbornly. Held in the air between them it looked like a string of cancerous saliva, pulsating and pink and sticky.

Vox flicked it away and yellow pus stuck to the side of Alastor’s face. Vox wiped that away with his thumb. It might have looked affectionate if it wasn’t for the plain disgust on Vox’s face.

“And you thought you could take me in this sorry state?” He barked out a laugh as he uncapped a decanter of the strongest liquor in his cabinet and emptied its contents right into the hole in Alastor’s chest.

Alastor howled something fierce and stamped his feet, working through the pain the best he could. The dregs of the infection bubbled out in a hot wave, gradually replaced with a soft stream of blood.

“I’m going to fuck with your heart like you did to mine.” Vox explained and for a moment, felt a whisper of his past self, a quaking vulnerability that had reared itself after Alastor had dismissed his advances so many years ago.

He unzipped his fly so quickly it barely made a sound, and plunged himself into Alastor’s gash.

Alastor winced, shaking all over as he fought to process the pain with dignity.

“You might as well stop.” Vox pulled out slowly and pushed back in even slower. “It’s over. I won.”

But Alastor didn’t. Rather, he doubled down, meeting Vox’s thrusts and angling himself so that sharp fractured bone grazed harshly against the tender underside of Vox’s cocks.

“F- FUCK! FUCK YOU!” He shoved Alastor away.

Alastor’s back hit the bed and he stared up at Vox with a wicked gleam in his eye.

“Fucking prick. . .” Vox muttered under his breath, tending to his softening cocks before bringing his attention back to Alastor. “Let’s see how you like it-!” He lunged, pulling down Alastor’s pants and underwear in one swift motion. He had every intention to torture Alastor’s manhood, give him a taste of what he’d just given Vox, but the moment he saw Alastor naked from the waist down, he quickly realized that was impossible.

At first, he thought maybe his love/hate interest just had a micro-dick and he cackled at the thought. But as he brought his face forward and examined Alastor, he saw it was better than that.

“Always thought you were a pussy.” He smirked.

Alastor stared down at him coldly, the muscles in his legs taut. Vox read this as proof that as much as Alastor wanted to snap his legs closed like a Venus flytrap, he was refusing to do so, to hide his shame.

“This why you turned me down? Why you’re afraid of sex? Why you’re a. . .virgin?”

“Hardly.” Alastor retorted.

“Care to explain?”

Alastor’s lips were sealed so Vox decided he was right. “You know I would have understood you. I could have been gentle. . . “He paused, allowing the words to sink into that stubborn skull. “. . . instead, we have to do it. . .” His cocks were hard again, thanks to the reveal of Alastor’s pussy. “Like.” He lined himself up to that juicy opening and thrust inside. “THIS!”

A sharp static noise came out of Alastor as he very obviously held back a scream.

Alastor was tight, not only clamping down in an attempt to push Vox out, but as a virgin whose hole had never been used, not even to masturbate. Vox grunted against the resistance, brow furrowed and eyes locked onto Alastor’s twisted expression. He was going to show him exactly what he’d been missing out on.

He sighed as he finally thrust all the way in and settled inside, more for his own constitution than Alastor’s own. He took slow breathes, remembering the advice Valentino had given him on how to last longer. This meditation was quickly cut off by Alastor, who wanted the last word.

“Finished already?”

“You wish.” A pause and then. “It’s funny- you make it sound like you’re not into this but you were wet when I stripped you.”

“And that matters. . .why?”

Vox chuckled, “and you said you knew how it works. Listen, closely, Bambi. . .” He ran a finger in circles around Alastor’s clit. “When someone with your anatomy gets excited, they start to get dripping wet. Did you like it when I fucked your chest wound that much?”

Alastor’s smile remained present as always but thinned, recollecting how after every kill he had to wash up for more reasons than just the blood. Or how before meeting Vox for drinks (back when they were pals) he would have to plan on wearing a liner in his undergarments. How as he licked his wounds after his first fight with Vox, he had thought his menstrual cycle had started on account of how slick the space was between his legs.

What Vox was doing to his clit felt nice as well and against his will, he felt some of his restraint unspooling, body rising to the touch as much as he could in his sorry and bound state.

Soon, he was clamping onto Vox’s cocks, almost as eager for them to fill him up again as he was for them to pull out completely.

“Fuck, you’re adorable. You should hear yourself. Holding back moans while taking me so well. I almost wish I didn’t start off plunging my dicks in your chest wound- I can’t tell if the blood is from me popping your cherry or that.”

Alastor couldn’t hear Vox’s crowing, all of the warmth swarming to that sweet spot between his legs was distracting and he could feel something (he suspected an orgasm) building. He fought between chasing the sensation or tamping down on it, but it seemed like the more he tried to hold it back, the more. . .excited(?) he became. He clenched the bedsheets underneath him behind his back, hoping that Vox wouldn’t notice.

“Just because your cunt is already tight doesn’t mean I haven’t noticed how much you’re clamping onto me.” Vox said snidely, looking down at him with ferocious zeal. “You should try it. Break apart on my cock, Alastor. Cum for me. . .”

Unintentionally, Alastor fell apart at the last word. His heels dug into the mattress. Hard. He choked back the sounds that wanted so badly to claw up his throat and finding that venture fruitless he bit down on his own tongue so at least not all the sobs that came from him was on account of the pleasure Vox had inflicted on him.

While he twitched like an insect pinned to a board, Vox slowed his thrusts to take in the show. As much as he wanted to take that opportunity to fuck Alastor hard into the mattress right that second, he also wanted to hold back, just a moment longer.

Once Alastor’s head cleared from cumming hard, Vox leaned forward and boxed him in with both hands next to his shoulders, picking up the pace from where he left off. “I’m not done with you yet.”

And even though Alastor knew that already, he really wished that for once, he was wrong.