△ on the air △

Vox’s face was pushed into Alastor’s rib cage, a few errant moans vibrating past the nipple he had been spoiling. His task was slowly forgotten as Vox leaned forward more, pushing Alastor into the couch so hard it looked like it may swallow him. The other hand moved between them grabbing the radio’s and one of his own, and pumping at them together. At first stumbling a bit then more frantically.

“F-fuck- fuck- I need-Ineed- I— nee’—“

—you-

Vox crashed into his finish hard. A slight charge rolling over his frame with the intensity of it, and probably giving his tits a nice little buzz. His hand moving between them over both still as the thrusting again Alastor and into his own hand slowed a bit. He couldn’t tell- and certainly wasn’t present enough to gauge if what he’d said had been shared. It had definitely been unintentional regardless.

So caught up in his nova sized orgasm, he wasn’t sure if the other had finished. His face was planted flat on the fur. And his movements slowly came to a stop.

The feeling was frighteningly mutual.

Alastor caught the words - but perhaps not the full meaning, too involved and wrapped up in his own pleasure and hot, electric energy as the other's sounds reverberated against his middle, making his insides feel as though they were being caressed by that same tongue that spoiled his outer body. The hand wrapped around him was just a cherry on top, a deep, heady sound of wanton desire finally wrenched from him as he felt the ever-tightening spring of his climax winding to its most taut -

And with the other's half-proclamation, it snapped.

The prickle and spark of electricity that made his whole body feel as though it were alive again forced him to nearly jolt as his own orgasm fell upon him like a savage, hungry beast, coating his fur and Vox's skin both in his own essence as he spilled over. His hips stuttered as he nearly cried out, at the height, fighting the urge to bite his own tongue as the waves of pleasure rolled over him so severely that it almost hurt.

He could not remember the last time he'd felt something so intense, only half aware of the sticky sensation smothered between their bodies and loathe to do much about it as he lay there once the slight aftershocks began to settle. The air was filled with the sounds of their panting, and the sudden increase of Vox's weight against him was the closest thing, he thought, to Heaven.

In that moment, anyway.

It was only when he was able to suck in a good breath or two that he chased another urge, giving the other a few gentle tugs. Up, up, up, so that they could be more face to face. So that he could press his mouth to Vox's, hard, in silent and not-at-all-subtle appreciation.

Enamored.

Otherwise, he was in no hurry to get up or move just yet; not even swayed by the slight rumble of the hunger in his stomach. It could wait. It would wait.

It took him a long few extra moments of the tugging for Vox to find his executive muscle control and shuffle himself upwards where he was being pulled. Before sinking back down. His screen rested and sort of laid against the other’s face. Tilted so the rest of his screen laid against the couch. It was by far the most he’d excercised since nearly dying and he was feeling significantly winded.

Sated, but winded.

He just needed a good cigar and he would be set.

Pleased that Vox had eventually obeyed, Alastor’s arms snaked around the other once they were more level with one another, brushed hands over Vox’s shoulders as he nudged his head in a gentle rest against the television’s screen. He did not dare to say anything, nor complain about the mess he knew he was going to need to clean off of him eventually.

He felt too boneless, anyway, eyes sliding shut as the signal in his head simply gave off a soft rhythm of pleased thrums, not unlike the beating of a calming heart.

Alastor felt that if he went the rest of his life without sex- then he would not want for it any more. This was the best it could have possibly been, in his mind, his limbs tingling all over as his claws lightly brushed over where they gently met with Vox’s flesh.

Without thinking about it, a small tune carried itself across the channel. Quiet and unassuming. Something that reassured Alastor that it was okay to say nothing. To do nothing. Certain that it would not last.

Vox’s face was pushed into Alastor’s rib cage, a few errant moans vibrating past the nipple he had been spoiling. His task was slowly forgotten as Vox leaned forward more, pushing Alastor into the couch so hard it looked like it may swallow him. The other hand moved between them grabbing the radio’s and one of his own, and pumping at them together. At first stumbling a bit then more frantically.

“F-fuck- fuck- I need-Ineed- I— nee’—“

—you-

Vox crashed into his finish hard. A slight charge rolling over his frame with the intensity of it, and probably giving his tits a nice little buzz. His hand moving between them over both still as the thrusting again Alastor and into his own hand slowed a bit. He couldn’t tell- and certainly wasn’t present enough to gauge if what he’d said had been shared. It had definitely been unintentional regardless.

So caught up in his nova sized orgasm, he wasn’t sure if the other had finished. His face was planted flat on the fur. And his movements slowly came to a stop.

The feeling was frighteningly mutual.

Alastor caught the words - but perhaps not the full meaning, too involved and wrapped up in his own pleasure and hot, electric energy as the other's sounds reverberated against his middle, making his insides feel as though they were being caressed by that same tongue that spoiled his outer body. The hand wrapped around him was just a cherry on top, a deep, heady sound of wanton desire finally wrenched from him as he felt the ever-tightening spring of his climax winding to its most taut -

And with the other's half-proclamation, it snapped.

The prickle and spark of electricity that made his whole body feel as though it were alive again forced him to nearly jolt as his own orgasm fell upon him like a savage, hungry beast, coating his fur and Vox's skin both in his own essence as he spilled over. His hips stuttered as he nearly cried out, at the height, fighting the urge to bite his own tongue as the waves of pleasure rolled over him so severely that it almost hurt.

He could not remember the last time he'd felt something so intense, only half aware of the sticky sensation smothered between their bodies and loathe to do much about it as he lay there once the slight aftershocks began to settle. The air was filled with the sounds of their panting, and the sudden increase of Vox's weight against him was the closest thing, he thought, to Heaven.

In that moment, anyway.

It was only when he was able to suck in a good breath or two that he chased another urge, giving the other a few gentle tugs. Up, up, up, so that they could be more face to face. So that he could press his mouth to Vox's, hard, in silent and not-at-all-subtle appreciation.

Enamored.

Otherwise, he was in no hurry to get up or move just yet; not even swayed by the slight rumble of the hunger in his stomach. It could wait. It would wait.

He could say it was for show, but Vox whether he wanted to look it in the eye or not, knew deep down he wanted to prove it to himself that he could still be of use. That he still had something that would pull Alastor in. Make him think twice about looking elsewhere.

When he felt Alastor careen like that, and felt the fingers scrape across the back of his head harmlessly. He was enraptured himself. So thrilled with himself that he could pull those noises out of the other with his touches.

Vox pushed the little nub with his claw again, giving it just a slight little tweak gently before bullying it back and forth. The edge of his claw keeping it close. Then pushed his tongue against the other nipple to the left as well, making sure they were both good and wet.

The fans inside the flat screen’s head, as were minimal as they were, could not move air as well as the fans in his larger head. There was a small click and a persistent quiet hum as they turned on much more desperately to keep himself cool.

Fuck the reactions from this radio demon could have sent him to the moon even from down here. Unable to keep still much longer, Vox shifted and keened quietly himself when he felt their two members run together even for a moment.

His hips moved from their prepped alignment back to where they had been against Alastor’s and rutted just once or twice up against him. He needed friction now but his hands were busy.

After a moment he moved back to the first he had found, to make sure all four he had in his sights were properly addressed.

The continued attention to his body in that way was certainly not helping him come down from the physical high. It still felt secondary to even the rutting of the other's arousal against his own, tremors quivering along his limbs as he clung to the television in desperate need. Beyond just the physical, some part of him might later understand that this was more than just that.

It was an emotional high, too. Of having Vox so close again - of having him so physically near and pressed up against him so intimately; basking in the heat of his mouth and the sound of his eventual vocalizations that Alastor could only meet with his own. In the unspoken meeting of signals between them, Alastor's was full of warmth and affection. Relief melted against the other, echoing in the way he opened his mouth and began to utter in a hot, breathless whisper.

"Vox... VoxVoxVox, please.... Please, I can't-"

Alastor would not last with this sort of treatment. The television had not even entered him and he was already feeling as though he were teetering on the edge, unaware of just how much he was already leaking at the tip, sliding against Vox's flesh with every movement of his hips.

The last bit of sense that he had was the only thing keeping him from using Vox's former name that sat delicately on the tip of his tongue. The fear of ruining the moment was too strong; the only thing overpowering the fervent building pleasure in the coiled pit of his belly. Instead, his hips lifted, slightly, and tried to gather more friction for himself.

Vox leaned back again just enough to watch the tension sort of wash over the muscles of his companion. Feeling the pressure from Alastor’s foot behind him on the couch. His palms moved to press down on both, rubbing them against the fur in small slow circles.

“Good idea~ I’ll start immediately~ no time like the present~” he said all cheek and put on playfulness.

His hands pushed up through the fur to where he anticipated the next two being. Alastor had said six. And there they were. There was some little excitement that he felt about having something new to elicit these reactions from the other with.

“I wonder if they like my tongue as well..” he sing songed quietly.

After another long moment of rubbing and kneading, Vox leaned down to the first too and dragged his tongue over top one firm and slow.

Fuck this was so erotic to him. Vox lifted his tongue away after and gave a nice rutting grind against the other, just to get some friction for himself.

The tongue that had been used to bring him about to his first conclusion had been one thing - certainly not unenjoyable. But when the television leaned, having already fondled him to the point of blessed frustration, and placed that tongue against the bits of his flesh that were now hyper sensitive, Alastor could no longer keep himself silent.

"Mmnfuck!" He exclaimed, his tone lacking in its usual filter to sound entirely too natural. He might have been slightly embarrassed, were he at all present of mind enough to notice, but Alastor was too busy arching his spine; too busy reaching down to get arms around whatever part of Vox he could - an attempt to keep him there as he breathed a little harder and a little faster.

There was no real explanation as to why this was what seemed to grasp his libido in sharp, pointy claws and rattle it around until it was responsive.

But Alastor was not complaining, no matter how achingly hard he was now, his face effectively flushed.

He could not find words otherwise, his chest giving several heaves. His claws gave a few light scratches against the back of Vox's head, only barely cognizant of the repair made there so that he did not exacerbate it.

“I am~ the FCC allowed mature channels in the 1990’s~ get with the times baby.~”

It was cooed mockingly, but his expression would only read sincerity. The last time the pet name had been used was after Alastor stuck it to Vox with the deal.

“I guess these are pretty sensitive then..~” Vox brushed his palm back down and then slower up and over the newly discovered area. Then let the flat part of his thumb slide over it and wiggle back and forth. Just to see how much teasing power this gave him. To his utmost delight, the little peak did get a bit perkier.

“Oh these are going to be fun.” He whispered under his breath between them.

His dick was leaking against the other’s, and he wanted to just explore this later for the sake of his own release- but his companion may not give him the reactions he was giving now, later. Vox could spare an extra minute.

Vox’s other hand that was bracing Alastor’s hip, instead moved up to brush his palm across the other side of his tummy, looking for the matching twin.

The bright light in his immediate vision was enough to force Alastor to have to squint, just a bit, to keep from being blinded entirely. He could see a few spots, but did not lean away or otherwise close his eyes, rather enjoying the soothing presence of the blue coloration. Were he not laying right on his back, tail slightly pushed between he and the sofa cushion where he was being leveraged, it might have been giving a pleased little swish.

Instead, the nickname prompted the smallest of rolls of his eyes.

"That's what I have you for," he returned in a steady rumble of appreciation for the closeness between them. The hand against him, however, was rather distinctly distracting. A bed of his own making, really, pulling in a small, but sharp inhale when Vox's hand and claws began to rub and tease at the area. Alastor's ears fell back without thinking very hard about it, if only because he was concentrating on not entirely losing himself to the stark ripples of pleasure that shuddered their way up his midsection with each light stroke.

This was not exactly something he knew how to be prepared for, but he had asked for it.

He swallowed back any louder sounds that did their utmost to grapple their way out of his throat, but his head did rest back once more against the fabric of the sofa, his eyes shutting for a few moments as he focused on maintaining at least a bit of his composure.

But Alastor could not help the sharp, pinpointed sensation of arousal that was stemming from such treatment. He squirmed, the movement making his slightly gaunt form flex and tense as Vox continued.

You see, I talk a big game But it's bullshit.

And Vox had always appreciated that aspect of him. He was no fake fan.

"Whatever you want to call it, you can't blame me for being surprised," he grumbled back. "But if you want to argue semantics, sure whatever. Knock yourself out."

Catching the little squint Vox almost wanted to laugh. Some mean amusement crosses his face as he watches Alastor workout any double meaning behind his words. Funny (and a little sad) that all it took to cause pause for the Radio Demon was to be genuine with him. If only he'd had that awareness several decades ago.

"Yeah, right," Vox scoffed as he zipped up the slacks methodically. "This is all some grand conspiracy against you, in fact I blew up half the city just to have a plausible reason to sneak around in a sweat shirt and trick you into giving me a makeover, so that you'd then feel obligated to even the playing field, and I could trap you into an entirely new aesthetic. You got me. I'll try harder next time."

An eyeroll punctuated the spiel as he reached for the turtle neck finally, giving it an appraising look before committing to the act of putting it on. So maybe he'd been stalling just a little bit, pullovers could prove challenging at times what with... Well. Having a television for a head.

He poked his arms through first... Then tried to stretch it over his head. He got a few good tugs in before he realized he lost the range of motion necessary to complete the job. His arms poked up above his head, the fabric of the sweater almost entirely covered his screen, the rest of him was still bare and vulnerable for Alastor's accounts.

"Fuck," he muttered, muffled by the wooly fabrics covering up his speaker outputs.

He was already at rock bottom. What was one more kick to his ego?

"Considering the reality of your actual hare-brained schemes, you can't blame me for anticipating you to jump through several hoops to manage such a thing, if it meant validating you in some way, shape, or form," Alastor shot back. It would not be, in his estimation, the strangest thing Vox had ever done or plotted to do. Give snark to him and the radio demon would give it right back with little regard for pulling punches, no matter how recent or not-recent the television's bid for power had been.

He had been content to stand there, leaning against a nearby rack as he waited for the other to pull on the remainder of the outfit selected for him, when it seemed as though Vox began to struggle.

Setting him up for such an obstacle had not necessarily been Alastor's intent, but -

He had to admit, it was pulling from him a snort and a giggle as he watched the other flail and try to finish pulling the sweater over his large, oddly shaped head. For some reason or another, Alastor had a tendency to forget that he probably did not wear the same clothes that most others did. And to be asked for help, even, was a balm to his own ego.

"Lack of foresight overpowers you again, I see," he said, pushing away from where he leaned and stepping over to circle Vox to try and understand exactly where all his limbs were. "One of these days, you will learn to look before you leap."

Reaching hands out, he took the hem of the sweater into the hold of one, the other hand up to snap his fingers so that a zipper appeared on the back of the garment. One that he could reach to undo, allowing him more room and license to tug it down over Vox's head so that he was no longer trapped.

"There. Idiot."

The insult lacked any real bite, however, as he occupied himself, standing at Vox's back to - without asking - zip the back of it up once more. The zipper would remain so that later, he would be able to put it back on without someone to do it for him.

The blazer would be easier, and without asking again, or being asked, he took it from where Vox had set it, bringing it up.

"Arms out."

And then almost visibly bristled as he felt and saw the tendrils retreat away from their tangled rest on his various limbs. Perhaps giving away a bit more of his own clinginess that he may not even be consciously aware of.

Vox was still very much engaged in their coupling, and wanting to move it along. He hadn’t reached his climax yet, and with the other suddenly retracting and swatting and covering- an insecure impatient part of him was moments from causing a scene.

So much so that he almost missed the other’s explanation entirely. He was about to give his own witty retort to the others dismissal, then took a pause. It clicked and the red eyes widened theatrically as he gave a very animated roll of his eyes.

“Jesus Christ Al I swear you’re fucking stuck in the dark ages— what can’t say tits on the radio either?”

Vox pushed his hand away again, flapping it around a bit in a shooshoo fashion. Then pushed the fur back up- decidedly more tenderly than he had before. The vertices of his claw pushed up against the skin. And he stared for a long moment.

Fuck that was hot wasn’t it. He had two hemipene shaped dicks- who was he to say six nipples was weird.

Vox flattened his palm to the warm skin that he had been inspecting, pushing across it very slowly just to feel it move across his palm. Then grabbed Alastor’s hip with his free hand. The newly freed cords assisted in lifting the hips upward. So he could rest his double penes against the other’s single smaller one. The difference wasn’t drastic, but it was noticeable.

This was such a good angle. It was a wonder how this fucking deer ever thought for a moment he wasn’t his.

Always so quick to turn the tide from banter to impatience, Alastor thought, watching the other's expressions as he spoke. For one who likely claimed to enjoy the back and forth between them, Vox had a remarkably low tolerance for the behavior when it did not fit his own agenda.

But that was how he had always been.

"They're not tits," he offered in retort, nose wrinkling. "And no, you could not, actually. One would think you would be familiar with the FCC." Tsk, tsk. A ridiculous conversation to be having while they were both naked and on the precipice of coitus. But leave it to Vox to have such a fuss about it. "Regardless, I did not think it to be particularly appealing to refer to them so crudely."

Let him live.

When Vox began to wave at him dismissively, the radio demon almost permitted a bit of a growl to form in his throat, similarly frustrated, but it was entirely aborted when that hand pressed back against his belly. It was a softer touch, and an unexpected one, prompting Alastor's ears to swivel upright with both curiosity and intrigue as those claws trailed over the sensitive flesh.

He did not anticipate it being as... satisfying as it was, eliciting from him a small, though still obvious shiver as his fur bristled in response. In spite of his desire to remain as in control as ever, his head rested back against the sofa once more, breathing just a bit more warmly from parted lips as his lower half was adjusted without complaint.

Alastor might have nudged Vox with his foot impatiently were he not entirely placated, in the moment, by the palm pressed to his midsection. Instead, he had no protest to offer once Vox was where he presumably wanted to be, only breathing out a slow, but heated exhale to steel himself and get a relative handle on his anticipation.

Before he could think very hard about it, one of his own hands reached out, wrapping claws around the wrist of Vox's hand that remained against his belly, as if to say:

Do NOT stop.

Vox was still grinning as he watched the effects of the orgasm shiver over the others body subtly. He didn’t know how the acesexual thing worked- but he was still proud that he was the first and only that the other was interested in.

The statement snapped Vox out of his appreciative (of himself) moment, and the large eyes dropped to flat across the top.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean-“ when Alastor guided his hand back over and he felt the same thing. That did not answer his question as to what they were. He took his hand back, pulling it free of the hold, then pushed more intentionally to brush back and hold the fur away from what he was trying to see.

“My eyes aren’t fucking x-ray vision.. how would I have seen this…”

His head tilted just a bit to get a better view, then blinked a few more times.

Unfortunately for Alastor, he was stupid.

“What the fuck am I looking at.” He said blandly, and genuinely. He had never had a pet, or reason to look into the health of one. His interest was in ocean life, if any animals at all.

First and only. That was significant, but not in a way that Alastor really knew how to define. No one had ever turned his head other than the television - and he would not bother to expose this much of himself to any other, even if years and years passed without Vox's involvement. In the seven years of isolation, there had been no opportunities and no interest - nothing except... being alone.

Having Vox now...

Ugh. He was going to get further into his head with that line of thinking.

Instead, he was sufficiently distracted by the others general idiocy. Frustrating as it was, so too was it stupidly endearing, and Alastor rolled his eyes before reaching to swat at Vox's hand as his tendrils retracted in full. His intent was not to pull away - but it seemed as though the television was not about to give up the intimacy between them either.

He would bring them back, if necessary.

"I can't stand you, genuinely," he said with a huff, smoothing his own fur back down to hide them once again. Now he was just moderately embarrassed. Vox would have to earn the privilege to touch them again.

"Most humans have two. I have six. And if you still can't figure it out from that context clue, then I have no hope for you. They are irrelevant, anyway."

And if his face was slightly flushed from having to explain at all, then he would thank the other kindly for not acknowledging it.