The crowd were all randoms, too.  It was obvious they were proxies bidding on behalf of overlords, but aside from the obvious cannibal in the crowd, it was anyone’s guess who was representing who.  Vox thought he recognized one of Zeezi’s goons, but he couldn’t be sure.

Fuck.  This was really happening.

And for what?  Punishment, yeah, but if that was all, Valentino could do that shit in house.  This was… something else.  And now Vox had to, what, suck it up?  Let some overlord out there pay for the privilege of one full night, dusk to dawn, to do anything they wanted to him?

When he regained his power—and he fucking would—Valentino was a dead man.

Not that that helped him now.

He couldn’t even defend himself.  His power levels were so low, he probably couldn’t even hypnotize Angel anymore.  He could summon a single wire or two, but they weren’t strong, and his electricity was little better than a static shock.

This might not kill him, but the humiliation and degradation—maybe he’d kill himself afterward.  See how they liked that.

And to add insult to injury, the poorer overlords were getting a potential boost to their funds from fucking Val—if they recorded or let Val record his whole fucking evening and publish it, he’d take a generous chunk off the auction price.

Fucking bastard.

Vox was seriously going to kill him for this.

Alastor laughed.  “Oh, I’m sure, sweetheart.”  He patted his back lightly.  “Now, you’re in luck!  I happened to look into hypnosis during my living radio days!  There was a bit of a spirtualism craze, you know, and I found myself curious!  I watched a man hypnotize a young lady at a party, and I interviewed him about it after the fact.  He was quite informative, especially after he realized my, shall we say, lack of interest in young ladies.”

Vox blinked.  “He thought you were—that you preferred—uh, that you…?”

“Yes, Vox,” Alastor drawled, tone lazy and unconcerned despite the subject matter, “the man assumed I was as gay as he was, the poor dear.  I did break his heart, I’m afraid, but he left with his life, I assure you.  Very friendly and professional.  He’d have been a waste to kill,” he chattered on lightly.

“So you—you know enough to hypnotize someone else?” Vox asked instead of the far more important question:  You don’t like women, but you aren’t gay—but do you… could you ever like me?

“Certainly!”  Alastor clapped.  “It was quite simple.  It’s all about rhythms, you see, and patterns.”  He waved his finger back and forth.  “You want to lure your victim into a state of relaxation until they drop their guard entirely.  Once done, you may begin your work, though even that takes time and repetition.  Let me demonstrate.”

Alastor snapped his fingers and summoned some thrall or other.  “Sit down there for me,” he commanded.  “This will only take a moment, and it won’t hurt.”

The thrall sat down obediently.  “Uh, Mr. Radio Demon, sir, what’s this about?  Am I in trouble?”

“Not at all, my good man, you’re merely to be a learning opportunity for my friend here.”  Alastor’s expression gentled, a strange calm settling over him in stark contrast to his usual mania.

“Now, Vox, pay attention.  To begin, you’ll want a focal point.  Since I don’t have that clever eye of yours, I’ll use my watch.”  He drew it out of his pocket and let the chain slide through his fingers with a quiet clink, letting it dangle loosely from his fingertips.  “A watch makes for a good focal point, because it reminds one of time, and maybe you can even hear that steady tick in the back of your mind as it sways in rhythm.”

“All I need you to do,” Alastor intoned gently, “is keep your eyes on my watch.  Yes, just like that.”  His voice was so sweet, so easy.  No wonder he was such a popular radio host.

Vox had named himself Voice, but the real voice was Alastor.  Quiet but still commanding, powerful.  He could listen to him talk for hours, hours counted out in seconds, tick-tick-ticking away on a gently swaying watch.

It caught the light, too, he realized, firelight catching on the metal and flashing at regular intervals.  Vox’s eyelids drooped with effort as the watch swayed back and forth.  Alastor said to keep his eyes on it, so he should…  He should keep looking at it…

“That’s it, I know your eyes must be getting quite tired now, but it will feel much better if you keep them open just a little more, only a little longer for me.  That’s it,” Alastor praised.  “Well done.  A state of hypnosis is only a state of pure relaxation, a moment of true rest, where your thoughts go quiet and your body goes loose.  It’s easy, and it feels so good.  And a skilled subject like you, I’m sure you’ll be able to reach that state without any problem; you’ll be able to drop into that state for me, won’t you?”

Vox nodded, unthinking.  For Alastor, he could do anything.  His head began to droop, even as his eyes kept staring at the watch.  Back and forth, back and forth, each pass making his head heavier, his eyes more tired, his mind more relaxed, edging closer and closer and closer, until:

“Drop.”

Vox fell limp, head falling to his chest and eyes closing.  His breathing matched the rhythm of the watch, something he could still see, even with his eyes closed.

“That’s right.  It’s so firm in your memory, you can see it even now.  In fact, you’ll never forget the motion of the watch.  It will lull you back to this state even easier next time.  Every time will get easier and easier until it takes no effort at all, until you need only think of the watch to return to this state for me.”  Alastor’s voice drifted in and out of Vox’s mind, filling the empty spaces in his head with his melodious voice.

“Open your eyes,” Alastor urged—Vox obeyed—and there was the watch again, right in front of him now, swinging at the same mesmerizing pace.  “Go ahead and let yourself come up, but don’t take your eyes off the watch.  Can you feel how easily it draws you back down for me?”

Vox nodded mutely.  Had the watch been in front of him before?  Hadn’t they been… doing something…?

Vox took it with a growing sense of relief.  Just being near Alastor was enough to stave off the worst of the symptoms, his headache beginning to ease through nothing more than proximity.

Alastor led them through the portal and into his radio tower.  When he tried to remove his arm, Vox tightened his grip, panic seizing his throat.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Alastor assured him, voice low, but he stopped trying to pull away.  “Why don’t we have a seat,” he suggested.

Vox followed him, clinging to his arm even as they sat side by side on the studio’s loveseat, pressed together from shoulder to hip to knee.  “I don’t know why it wasn’t enough this time,” Vox admitted, apologetic, as if it was his own fault.

“My absence, probably,” Alastor said with a sigh.  “I’d hoped you wouldn’t be affected, but it seems we were both impacted by it.”

“So you do feel it?”

Alastor shot him a rueful grin.  “Oh, certainly.  I’ve been trying to catch your attention all week, my dear.  Luckily there were a few truly pathetic sinners to take my ire out on, but they don’t compare.”

“No,” Vox murmured, thinking of his own dalliances with Valentino.  “They never do.”

“Well, if humiliation isn’t enough for either of us this time, what are we to do?” Alastor asked.  “What have you been doing while I’ve been away?”

“Are you sure you want me to talk about subbing for someone that isn’t you?” Vox asked, doubtful.  “Your jealous streak hasn’t had anything to really sink its teeth into for quite a while.”

Alastor’s hand tightened against the crook of Vox’s arm.  “You make a good point.  Don’t tell me the details, but do tell me what you’ve enjoyed more generally.”

Vox shook his head.  “I honestly couldn’t say.  I was phoning it in.  Whatever was fine as long as it got me down.  I didn’t really…”  He winced, his next words pulled from his mouth without so much as a by-your-leave.  “I was too busy wishing it was you.”

Alastor let out a quiet breath; Vox nearly moaned.  “Right, then.  On your knees.”

Vox moved without thought, dropping from the loveseat with a shiver and a quiet whimper.  He looked up at Alastor, desperate for further instructions.  Anything.

For Alastor, he would do anything.

It had been so long since Alastor bossed him around, since he was allowed to kneel at Alastor’s feet.  How long had it been since he’d really submitted to him and not just let Alastor humiliate him in battle?

“Good boy,” Alastor said lowly.  “I did miss how expressive you are.  I went back to killing people to scratch the itch while I was gone, but it wasn’t the same.  Not even close.”

Vox slumped into Alastor’s leg with a moan, eyes fluttering shut.  “Please, sir.”  The honorific slipped off his tongue as though he’d last used it yesterday and not decades ago now.

“Please what, Vox?”

“I don’t know,” Vox forced out.  “Fuck, anything.  You could fucking kill me right now, and I’d thank you as long as you used your hands.”  He bit down on his lip to try to stem the flow of words.

Alastor hummed, tracing a claw across Vox’s bared throat.  “Do not tempt me, darling.  You have no idea how often I’ve wondered what your insides look like.”

Vox wrapped an arm around one leg.  “It’s true.  I’d carve myself open to feed you my fucking heart.”  The words poured out of him, terrifyingly honest and unfiltered.

“I don’t have anything else handy…”  Alastor pressed two gloved fingers against his lips.  “Here.  Quiet, before you say something you’ll really regret.”  When Vox opened up, his fingers pressed inside, stroking his tongue.

Vox sucked gratefully, letting the fingers keep his mouth occupied, his thoughts finally slowing to a crawl.  He let his eyes shut.  This might be enough, he realized.  Kneeling for Alastor, sucking on the supple leather around his fingers.

Alastor wanted him right here, quiet and kneeling, just like this.