“Funny,” Alastor muses from his chair, “how some demons think they’ve won just because they’ve got you cornered.” Even with his arms bound, he speaks with the air of someone stretching them behind his head, leaning back, oozing confidence.  

The screen across from him flickers with anger. “I don’t think I’ve won – I know I have.” 

“Mmm,” says Alastor, gaze sliding to one side, brows raised. 

Somehow, using no words appears to annoy Vox more than if he’d come up with an insult. Electricity crackles with his irritation, and he stands from his chair, glowering across the room at his captive. “Maybe you need a demonstration. Maybe I should--”  

Alastor’s grin widens as Vox’s voice cuts out mid-threat. The pause is just long enough for him to pivot in his chair and give himself a push with his feet, sliding the chair backwards, just out of reach of the hand that swipes at him.  

Vox’s face erupts with pixellated fury, and his form contorts for a split-second before he materialises inches behind Alastor, fingers crackling with errant voltage as he makes a grab for Alastor’s shoulder. The radio demon twists away with a delighted shriek, but he’s not fast enough – Vox's thumb just grazes the delicate junction between neck and collarbone, and the resulting squirm nearly has his chair tipping over.  

“Aha!” Vox cries out in triumph. “Ohhh, someone’s ticklish.” 

Alastor’s breathing hitches, half-laugh, half-gasp, as Vox’s fingers dart down and skate over his ribs, sending sparks of sensation glittering through him. He arches away, but Vox’s other hand clamps down on his waist, pinning him between them.  

“Nowww then,” Vox croons, leaning in. “What was that about some demons, again?” 

Alastor opens his mouth to retort, but another shock from Vox’s fingertips has him choking out a laugh instead. His laughter dissolves into wheezing giggles as those fingers spider-walk up his sides, each touch sending jolts of electricity dancing across his skin. “S-stop – ah! - You’re cheating with th-those damn shocks!” he gasps, toes curling in his shoes as Vox finds that spot just under his ribs that makes him jerk. 

“Cheating?” Vox grins, leaning in. “No, no, I think you’ll find this is called winning! What were you expecting? All your taunting... you didn’t think I’d put you in your place?” 

Alastor’s voice comes out in a wrecked, hiccupping giggle as Vox’s thumbs dug into the hollows of his hips, sending him thrashing against his bonds. “I- ah!! - I thought you’d be slower, you g-glorified toaster!” he manages to gasp before he cuts himself off again with a shriek as Vox’s fingers skitter up his ribs again. He manages to get a foot on the floor with enough leverage to give his chair a firm push away from Vox again, who darts after him like lightning. 

One hand clamps down on the back of his chair. Vox spins his chair around as he yanks it back towards him and leans down, laugh buzzing against the back of Alastor’s neck, the electrical current humming louder. Alastor twists, trying to put some distance between his ears and the ticklish buzz of static before it occurs to Vox to target them. 

His breathing hitches again as Vox reaches down to squeeze at his thigh, the voltage dialled down to a teasing thrum that makes his muscles twitch involuntarily. “You’re- ahaha!! - you’re enjoying this too much,” he accuses, voice cracking as Vox’s thumb digs into his thigh just enough to make him jerk. “Admit it, you’ve- n-no! - you’ve been dying to get your claws on me like this!” 

Vox’s screen flickers with a smug glow, his fingers never stopping their relentless assault as Alastor squirms in his chair. “Oh, absolutely,” he admits, voice thick with smug delight. “A chance to put you in your place? I thought I’d done that already, but apparently not! So kind of you to let me know you wanted another lesson!” 

Alastor’s breath comes in ragged, uneven bursts, his entire body trembling with the aftershocks of laughter and lingering electricity. His upper arms are still bound to the elbow, leaving only his forearms free, hands just able to reach Vox’s but not able to stop them. His fingers scrabble uselessly against Vox’s forearm, claws leaving faint scratches in the fabric of his sleeve. 

“Look at you,” Vox croons. “Weren’t you listening earlier? You can try to squirm and struggle and it wouldn’t do a thing!” 

Alastor growls through his grin, twisting again and trying to use his foot to push his chair away again, but this time, Vox is quicker, and stops him before he even gets out of reach.  

“Well, if you still haven’t managed to learn... perhaps we’ll take it a step further!” Abruptly, Vox sets one foot on the base of the chair and tips the whole thing over. Alastor, still tied to it, ends up on his back, still in the seated position, his legs in the air. To make matters worse, Vox sits down right beside him on the floor, that infuriatingly smug grin pointed down at Alastor, and he begins to walk his fingertips up from Alastor’s stomach, over his ribs, poking and nudging and tickling all the way while Alastor scrunches his nose and tries not to giggle, up his neck, and finally up into his hair to find his ears.  

Alastor twitches in alarm and jerks his head away, a giggle already halfway out of his mouth, but there’s really nowhere to go. “No!” Vox’s hand follows, and his fingertips start to tickle. Alastor begins to squirm anew, shaking his head, turning it from side to side, laughter bordering on hysterical now as he squirms in his strange position and starts to kick his legs a little too. “S-stop! Vox!” he protests, and to his absolute horror, a bleat escapes. 

Vox’s fingers still, just for a second, while he registers what he just heard. “Was that...?” 

“No.” 

“It was.” 

“No.” 

“It was! Ha! Oh, fuck! The radio demon bleats!” 

Alastor doesn’t get a chance to deny it before his ears are being tickled again and he’s dissolving into giggles, a boneless heap being played like an instrument. He’s not even sure how long passes before Vox asks, “have you learned your lesson yet?” 

He gasps, pants, wheezes, trying to catch his breath, and he doesn’t reply.