#vhw2026

The 20s style deco tiles behind the small stage framed Alastor’s hands perfectly as they danced a complex version of “Everybody Loves My Baby” across the keys. Vox found he couldn’t look anywhere else. Alastor occasionally glanced in his direction, expression serene and smile placid as any angel’s. Vox tipped his head towards Mimzy as if to see if she looked as enamoured as he felt, if she was equally fooled by his charms. He expected that she was at least watching the performance, but she was shooting Vox an evil eye and he immediately took his elbows off the table, straightened up, and sipped on his drink.

Mimzy and Alastor were fun to hang out with and had a good dynamic together. Vox wanted to fit in with that, but he just wasn’t used to how to act with them yet. They had been close even back in life, and had likely remembered and listened to this very song when it was written. Vox wasn’t even an overlord; once he had more clout, he would likely seem like less of a nuisance. Although, come to think of it, Mimzy wasn’t an overlord either. He didn’t have time to ponder that, though, because Alastor was approaching the final section of the song and was getting more creative with his embellishments, and Vox returned his full attention.

Alastor’s hands glided over the keys and executed a perfect musical pivot. He was a talented pianist and clearly enjoyed a jazzy improvisation. The song ended with Alastor’s usual dramatic wrap-up, and he stood, picked his rye from the bench beside him, and bowed carefully to the smattering of whistles amid hearty cheers.

The Radio Demon soaked in the praise as he sauntered down the stairs, holding the shot glass high and nodding to anyone he happened to make eye contact with as he made his way back to Mimzy and Vox.

Vox thought he looked like some old pre-Hollywood star with glam and class enough to make the orangey glow of the room dazzle with golden glitz. Alastor turned his back to Vox and playfully bowed to Mimzy saying, “I hope the lovely lady enjoyed my performance. I had a certain special someone on my mind…”

Mimzy pushed Alastor in a teasing little shove, and he feigned a stumble that turned into Alastor drunkenly plopping down into Vox's lap.

The touch was unexpected, but not unwanted. Everyone in Hell was touch-starved and Alastor rarely ever touched Vox below the shoulder. Vox's stomach flipped, and a sudden flurry of butterflies spread from the contact, dispersing through his core and flushing his body with a heat that had nothing to do with the alcohol in his veins.

Alastor continued to laugh, not noticing Vox's wary eagerness, and Vox started to chuckle as well, playing the moment natural and trying to keep the night casual. Alastor made no move to get up, adjusting his weight and leaning forward towards Mimzy, brushing his tail coats to one side before clumsily adjusting his weight against Vox's thighs and settling down more solidly. 

Mimzy picked up her dirty martini, face flushed pleasantly with buzz and slurred as she called “I barely touched you, you're sure sensitive tonight!”

Alastor’s smile turned impish and sly, “Indeed, dial up whatever you wish, any reaction is but a touch away!” Vox felt his face band with heat and for his sanity, he tried to tell himself that the maddening scent of old-fashioned pomade and musky cologne was not Alastor.

Mimzy was still laughing, and Vox chuckled half heartedly again too, trying not to betray his thumping heart. Alastor turned a quarter to his left, hip slipping and brushing firmly against Vox's crotch as he threw his arm over the CRT head.

A lick of flame had the air in Vox's lungs seizing as his unruly libido stiffened and thickened his cock.

He forced himself to inhale a hiss of cool air through his gills, trying to steady his increasing heartbeat and thrilling nerves.

His hands had automatically sought Alastor's waist and he gripped it to manually guide Alastor back to balancing on his thigh and away from anything too sensitive.

Alastor didn't seem to notice, and kept talking amiably with Mimsy about something. Vox was vaguely aware that he wasn't keeping up in conversation, had been quiet for too long, but Alastor didn't seem to notice and kept talking amiably with Mimzy about something Vox wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to smoothly contribute to. Vox sharply inhaled again, willing his chub to droop before the worst happened and Alastor noticed. The mood Al was in? He’d tell the entire joint and get them to laugh in his face. Alastor was horribly cruel at times, and had a sexual bent to his odd humor, the current favorite joke was the blooming warmth in the relationship between them.

Mimzy responded, “Ooo, you absolute scoundrel!” and flicked her napkin at whatever Al had said, which had him settling back onto Vox, wriggling with a chortle and drunken contentment. His joy made his body shift between Vox’s legs again, friction sliding and catching on Vox’s stiff dick and making his box head swim with painful static from the mixed signals.

Blood rushed in his speakers and his brain and he wrapped his claws around Alastor’s waist, gentle and firm, trying to pull him up again but Al was grinding down against him, playing with the razor's edge of awareness.

Vox twitched heatedly as he filled out and forcibly shifted Alastor away back to the decency of his leg again. “Don’t squirm so much, Al. I have my legs apart and I don’t want you to fall.” Vox murmured into Alastor’s ear, which flicked.

Vox’s screen banded in a heated flush that he hoped Mimzy believed was due to the number of drinks he’d had.

Alastor ignored Vox’s request and intentionally used his feet to knock Vox’s together and sat back in defiance of Vox’s direction. Vox’s prick prodded Alastor squarely and firmly and he turned his neck at an odd angle and reached back as if to clear the intruding object.

“What’s in your lap, dear?” Alastor fussed and his fingers grappled and squeezed at the offending bulge.

Vox gasped as a roil of tension and intense desire gripped him. He felt the tip leak a little, and shame hit like a wall immediately after. He instinctively pushed Alastor away, and he stood, spinning to assess what was happening.

“Oh, goodness, Vox! No wonder you were acting so wooden! You really should have said something—it's quite a desperate little display you've got going on!” Alastor practically projected to the room, nudging the head of his staff against the clear outline of Vox’s erection. “My, my, but you have a hairline trigger, look how wet you are for me!” he poked at the damp patch at the head again and Vox instinctively curled protectively and tried to close his coat over the offending sight. A fresh wave of cold shame crashed over him, a sheen of sweat breaking out over his neck and upper back.

“Perhaps all the excitement is a little much for you, you ought to go on home. I know how overwhelming a little good music and good drinks can be for you.”

Vox stood, pulling his coat to straining and glancing at Mimzy to assess how much she had seen. She looked like she was on the verge of laughter, delight clearly written across her face. She raised an eyebrow archly at him. Vox felt he might die again. He bent at his waist instinctively and froze up as test colors flashed and glitched on his screen.