Hell Bounded

The shock that came from Vox did little more than startle Angel, his fur standing on end from the static electricity around them, but he refused to move away from him. He'd gone so far as to try to block any onlooker's view from the Overlord in front of him, not wanting them to see the state he was in once he'd wet himself.

Something must have been seriously wrong with him for that to happen... and Angel couldn't stop the slightly pitiable expression that crossed his face. He wouldn't judge him or make fun of him -- hell he wasn't even that mad at him anymore. Seeing him in such a lowly state really knocked that whole situation right out of his thoughts.

Of course, by the time he's acknowledged that he was no longer upset with Vox, he'd come to and swore at him instead of coming to like someone that deserved his forgiveness. How the hell did Val put up with him all the time? Angel sighed. He let go, but wouldn't let himself move any farther from Vox than that.

He pulled his sweater off and tried to hand it to Vox so that he could wrap it around his waist and better hide what had happened.

"Here. Use this. No one else needs ta know what happened. I'll even help ya tie it around ya if ya still need ta get ya bearin's..." He waited for a moment before proposing a different option. "Or... I could carry ya where ya gotta go. I don't look like much but I got enough muscle ta carry someone your size where ya gotta go. Ya got an extra set'a clothes in ya office?"

Angel was offering all he could think of, but he was sure it wasn't going to be looked at as a positive thing. Perhaps Vox would see it as him pitying him (which... to some extent he was,) or maybe he would see it as not needing the help of someone as low on the Vee Tower food chain as Angel was.

It didn't matter, though. He knew (all too well) what it was like to black out and wake up in his own urine. Between the drugs and the drinking, it had happened more times than he wanted to admit; but he couldn't say that out loud. He didn't need Vox brushing him off because 'they aren't the same' or something along those lines.

Vox wasn't sure what was more embarrassing, the fact that he was sprawled in the hallway of Vee Tower with a stain of piss between his legs - or the fact that the only person who seemed to care it had happened at all was Angel fucking Dust.

By this point in time he'd ascertained the cause of his little fits- it didn't take a genius. He knew there'd have to be some consequence to Frankenstein's Monstering his spare parts together like he was some junk appliance left in the scrap yard. Vox just didn't think it'd be this bad.

The fits started within a few days of his reboot, and they became more and more frequent the longer time went on. Any time he ventured out of his room into the lights where he was significantly more likely to be provoked it happened. At least in the darkness of his cave he could usually talk himself off the ledge. Now he was lucky if he could make it through a day without setting off some kind of feedback error.

He hadn't told the other Vees about it and they either hadn't noticed yet or were okay with it happening. Both outcomes were shitty.

The residual pain was still thrumming through his system. It had actually happened before where Vox had worked himself up from one fit straight into the next. So, he made an effort to calm down, closing his eyes to Angel's overly piteous expression and counting to ten.

When he opened them again, he took Angel's sweater tentatively, balling it up and holding it over his crotch with some chagrin.

"I can still fucking walk," he huffed but there was significantly less fire in his tone. But. Maybe he could use a shoulder to lean on.

"Just help me back to my room, I need to change," he sighed finally, trying to get to his feet and feeling his legs shake. There were spare clothes in his office, always were, but he wasn't really needed there these days, and where the fuck was Angel keeping his head if he hadn't noticed that yet??

He pulled himself the rest of the way up, relying on Angel a lot more than he'd like to admit, before realigning the sweater ball in a farse of preserving his dignity- he really didn't think it was doing much for that, regardless if others saw- one witness was more than enough.

An independent and selective blog 𝓂𝓊𝓁𝓉𝒾 𝓂𝓊𝓈𝑒 𝓇𝓅 𝒷𝓁𝑜𝑔, for muses across multiple fandoms. Unaffiliated with any fandom or RPC. Highly sporadic activity. Minors and personals DNI. Haunted eternally by ℐ𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓃𝓃𝒾𝓈. 30+ he/him pronouns. All my muses are portrayed independently and may exist across multiple verses, timelines, and alternate universes. Typically written in a 𝓁𝒾𝓉𝑒𝓇𝒶𝓉𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝓃𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓁𝓁𝒶 style.

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ind . zestial account ( and sometimes asmodeus on the side ) from hazbin hotel && . helluva boss ! mutuals only , as narrated by jack ( 25 + y / o ) . minors dni !

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Still working to regulate his breathing while Vox smarmed his way into speaking once again, Alastor gave a small roll of his eyes, reaching to very gently bonk the top of his head with a closed fist.

"You say that as if I've got a lot to compare it to," the radio demon replied with a small snuff. Seeing Vox's face down there so close to his now spent length was still a bit lewd, and he was doing his utmost to fight away the lingering flush of his features so that he did not seem so prudish at simply being present to observe it. But for all that it was worth, Alastor seemed to be taking the situation in relative stride, perhaps further soothed by the petting of Vox's palms over his fur.

"But at least that big mouth of yours is good for something, hm?"

Never underestimate his ability to tease, but it was all he had loaded in the tank, for the moment, as he dropped back to rest against the pillows with a tired sigh. He had no intent to allow their evening to draw to a close with just that, but he needed at least a few moments of respite.

Eventually, one of his hands slipped down to seek out the other's, giving him another little tug up towards himself.

"Don't stay down there. I'm not having a conversation with your antenna."

Beyond that, he was already getting a bit chilly. Alastor thrived on having warmth in spite of his fur already providing a bit of insulation. He was a warm-weathered southern boy, at the end of the day, and having the comforting press of Vox's body against his own was new and novel. He was not about to skimp out on having it back to himself as long as it was there to be had.

It was about then that he paused with a small realization, falling silent for a few brief moments before speaking again.

"...You did not strike me as someone to bother offering something like that before trying to satisfy yourself first," he muttered with some honesty. That was how he saw most men, in fact. Always looking for their own gratification first and foremost without consideration for how the other person felt about it - or what they needed. That preconceived notion was a rather large part of why he believed this sort of physical entanglement could only lead to trouble.

And yet... Here he was now.

Still, there was hesitation in what happened next, a small worm of concern nestled somewhere in the depths of his gut. He did not necessarily know how to phrase it, nor did he really want to. But stress emanated from a deeply inset worry that now Vox (or any other man in this position, perhaps), would be adamant on taking what he now felt was owed.

But he did not voice that. He did not want to put the other off - and in truth, he enjoyed having him close. Much more than he would have liked to admit.

Vox had settled with his arms spread just bellow Alastor's rear, laying his chest against the remains of the bed, and his lower half starting to bend down over the ledge of it

"Hm," he considered as if he could ever forget the fact that he was Alastor's first- and he was determined to be his first everything in as little as time as possible, least he miss the opportunity. "Bet I was better than anything you could have imagined then."

Vox liked settling near Alastor's cock, spent or otherwise. He liked being in reach of it, liked being able to sneak looks at it to memorize every detail, and cherish the fact that by all extent and purpose it was his now. If he wasn't painfully aware of how tender the refractory period could be he might have refamiliarized his own hand with it, given it a few playful tugs for his own satisfaction.

But Vox didn't. Vox remained good and patient. And surprisingly that smart comment did not offend him even a bit. Maybe he could see that Alastor was just trying to find his way back to having the upper hand after all that, if anything it fueled his ego more, and his self satisfied smirk spread.

"Oh, you don't know the half of it, baby," he couldn't help the pet name it slipped out so casually, "That was just a warm up."

God... He was really looking forward to getting inside of Al.

As they talked his erection flagged only mildly. It would sturdy up again in no time if he needed it to. Alastor had that effect on him. How many times had they fought with Vox's dick caught half-hard in his slacks? Too many times to count.

He crawled upward just as willingly when Alastor tugged him forth, settling beside the other, truthfully having cooled down quite a bit on the southern edge of the bed. He was eager to side up next to Alastor's body warmth, all parts of him braiding against the other. Vox's arms slotted around the Radio Demon's slighter frame, nestling around him just as eagerly, getting comfortable and ready to nod off into sleep if that's where they were headed.

Then his eyes opened again. Crawling to stare sideways while processing the somewhat offensive assumption. Vox's cock had landed somewhere between Alastor's thighs, still mostly hard, glowing, and a little bit wet, especially around the bulb of his head. His heart began to race faster.

"You really think I'm that much of a pig, huh?" he replied, that was the conclusion to be drawn, wasn't it?

And maybe it wasn't totally inaccurate. Except that Vox cared about Alsator, and he took pride in the fact that he'd trust him this way. He knew without being told how much this show of trust meant. Why couldn't Alastor accept that?

And just because he had to convince himself to behave, that didn't make it any less genuine, right?

Vox found himself frowning.

"It's not just sex for me, Al," he said propping himself up just enough to fix his stern look down at the other's face.

She keeps saying that, but Vox doesn't believe a word of it. Everything is transactional. Charlie has to be getting something out of this. There's no way she'd help someone like him out of the goodness of her heart.

The question, at least, is one that doesn't feel incredibly invasive and stupid -- like asking about his family or how he died.

『 ..Because your dad is easy to manipulate and the only way I could get enough energy to make the weapon work -- a lot fucking more than I expected, actually, so maybe you can stroke his ego with that one. 』 He's continuing to bounce his knee, gesturing with his hand as he speaks.

『 And your stupid friend was already under your roof and under contract, so he was the obvious choice after the snake failed. I could've technically borrowed him at any time, I just don't like him enough to do so. 』

But if Vox was looking for a tangible reward then he'd come up short.

For once he actually seems to be answering one of her questions genuinely and without deflection- well, not too much deflection. Charlie perks up, straightening her clipboard and trying to figure out if she needed to take notes on any of this. It was hard to ascertain what detail might lead her to the next breakthrough, so she wrote down everything he said to sort through later.

"Uh.." She paused. "Okay..."

Well. She couldn't defend her dad much, but Angel. Angel.

"Angel's not stupid you know? He's a really kind and caring person, just... generally misunderstood. and he's not staying here anymore, in case you aren't aware... Wait a minute. Why wouldn't you like him, he used to brag all the time about how he's one of Vee Tower's top earners?"

He'd heard it all before. They needed to accept that they were just too different from each other. It would have saved them both a lot of trouble, but Val was far too selfish to give Vox up like that. They could fight all they wanted -- kill each other if they had to! -- and it wouldn't change a thing in his mind.

They belonged to one another, and Valentino wouldn't be convinced of anything less, even while they were bickering about the same old shit for the millionth day in a row. The good days greatly outweighed the bad, and that was all he needed to keep in mind during their spats.

Vox wanted mystery and 'discretion' while Val wanted every soul in Heaven and Hell to know that he and Vox shared their lives in the most loving (well, maybe not the most loving) way possible. He didn't like keeping who he was meant to be buried under too many layers or shut away in the dark; doomed to be silenced forever, and that was what Vox was asking him to do.

He finally looked Vox's way as he mentioned Val and Velvette being into his 'taking over Heaven' scheme. Both sets of arms folded over his middle as he stared at the shorter Overlord. That much... he could admit to. But bringing up his sleeping around again was a step too far.

"Okay... so what if we were into it? And so what if we threw you under the bus after it all ended? We were trying to protect you, honey. You, your business, all of our livelihoods! If one of us didn't come out of that mess looking like a fucking hero, that would have been the end of all of this!"

Valentino threw an upper arm gesture to the rest of the room around them, meaning the tower and the roles they each played within it.

They always found their way back eventually, despite the enormous personalities, with the reminder that they were The Vees, and that they were a team.

But the past few months had seriously thrown a wrench into that idea.

Where ever the blame lay... Whether that was on Vox's shoulders for undermining the authority of his teammates and seizing center stage (and so many other stupid mistakes), or on Valentino for humiliating him in front of the entire realm and acting like they'd never met- something in Vox had changed, and that much was undeniable.

The spark wasn't there anymore, he'd been pissed before, they'd been at each other's throats before, but through it all there had been a purpose behind their arguments. An understanding that when he put his foot down it was for all their sakes, or as far as he believed it to be.

Now, he just seemed dark, seething, painful. Like he didn't care anymore. Locking himself away in his room, cast in darkness but for the flourecent glows of his screens, doing god knows what for days. on the rare occasions he came out he was avoidant.

For a second he could still feel it, the energy vibrating under his legs as he took his aim square at Alastor's clenching grin. Did he regret doing any of that? Had that been him giving up, or had that been his final fraying effort for dignity, and what followed now was Vox giving up

"Protect me? That's rich! " Vox spat. "You ripped my head off and made me look like a goddamn idiot. I'm surprised you even want this anymore. I've seen the way you talk about me to the press, Val. Or did you forget 'you've never heard of me'?? I hope you're happy now, you get to be the boss, now you 'matter'. Fuck my plans, fuck my company," Vox flailed his arms throwing his hands up into the air in a mockery of surrender.

What was the point. It wasn't his anymore. They'd taken from him too.