Archive of Our Own ^beta

“Lay down on the floor, I need to close that up.” 

“Fuck… off.”

Puttering out a wheeze, Tino hugged himself tight. He could handle himself just fucking fine, thanks. All Tino wanted was to curl up and hold himself. His stomping ground of a body deserved it, and he didn’t need anyone—especially some ugly TV-headed bastard that could never seem to mind his own goddamn business—intruding on his space. 

“Don’t be so fucking stubborn,” Tino’s unwanted flatmate-by-chance pushed anyway, marching forward. “You’re losing too much blood.” 

“I’ll fucking take care of it myself, Vox! Don’t… don’t touch me.” He puffed out another wheeze. Fuck, Tino was shaking so goddamn bad. Was it even possible to be this cold in Hell?  

“Jesus, that’s a nasty one,” Vox muttered, forcing Tino’s arms down. “What the Hell happened tonight?” 

Tino snorted. Always so fucking nosy. Not like Vox needed to know what happened anyway. Knife play. Dimmed lights. Way too much coke. Good money that never seemed to come back around. A shitty mix if you’d asked him, but no one ever asked. Who would? Tino was a nobody. A nobody with nothing, living in shithole fitting for one too. 

“Doesn’t m-matter,” Tino spat, knees wobbly and close to buckling. 

“Lay down on the fl—”

“—Just fucking leave it! Leave me al—”

“—It’s going to get infected, you fucking moron! I can’t risk having you dying on me just yet.”

Tino clicked his teeth, licking at the blood-stained gums. God, why couldn’t Vox just get the fucking message? If he really wanted to play hero tonight, he could get Tino a cigarette and a blanket and fuck right off. Maybe a loaded gun too. That would be nice. 

Smoke a cigarette. Cocoon himself in dirt-stained sheets. Shoot his brains out and color them red. Yes. A comfortable pause to Hell’s eternity. 

Tino knew better, though. It would only end up worse for him the moment Hell brought him back, just like always. The wheel never once hesitated to break the butterfly down here, after all, even after it had already been broken.  

“Listen to me…” Vox continued with the slightest rise to his voice. It pissed Tino off.

He knew that tone. 

“…I have another plan being drafted.” 

“Mhm. Yeah?” 

“… And it’s going to work this time.”

Tino managed a chuckle. Barely a puff of air, his small wheezed-out snorts rose to manic cackles pounding down on his lungs. 

He thought about everything. This place, his work, the company he kept in the late hours of the night. Tino had thought he’d lost his hope for something else some few years back, but Vox somehow always managed to bait a spark out of him just for it to get snuffed out by one thing or another. 

Tino was just so fucking sick and tired of them, Vox’s goddamn grand visions of change that always led to goddamn nowhere. Always the same start, always that same tone. 

‘I have a plan, Tino.’ ‘Tino, listen to this.’ ‘We’ll get out of here soon, Tino. Just hold on another night.’ 

Tino hated it here, sure. The joint was as ugly and broken as it got and always stank up something fierce even on the best of days. But he’d honestly hate it a whole lot less if delusion would stop infecting the already putrid air once and for all.

“… None of your plans ever work,” Tino finally said after the laughter died out. “You know that, right? I think it’s high time we stopped trying for anything better than this at this point.”

His eyes meandered up to the ceiling. The web of cracks that littered it formed together in the shape of a messy web, leaking droplets of acidic water from outside’s downpour. A single droplet caught his shoulder, making the skin there burn for a small moment, and for some reason, that tiny prick of pain was the proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back.  

“We’re fucking losers!” Tino snapped, glaring straight into Vox’s eyes. “Losers, Vox! Losers! The biggest losers in all of fucking Hell! Do you fucking hear me! Every—everyone can see that but you. When…” Tino’s voice cracked. “When the fu—fuck are you gonna get that through your stupid fat ugly h-head…?” 

Without noticing, Tino’s body had sunk to the ground, body like lead and cursing at him with every twinge of muscle. The sound of the rain outside eventually drowned out his cries as Vox forced him to lie down. 

“… I’m never gonna get outta here, am I…?” He whispered. 

Ignoring his question, Vox outlined the deep cut running down Tino’s abdomen with electric blue, starting from his left shoulder blade and slowly tracing along towards the jutted out bone of his right hip. 

Tino hissed. God, it fucking hurt. Literal fire on his skin, melting it back together like a searing glue. 

“This is all just temporary,” Vox eventully said, snapping Tino awake before he could pass out. “Don’t you dare fucking forget that.” He muttered something else as reached the other side of the wound before dabbing at it with what could only be the last of their rubbing alcohol, but Tino couldn’t quite make out the middle bit. 

“… But I need your help, loath as I am to admit. Therefore, I need you to take care of yourself. To try and stay alive,” Vox finished, the words loud and clear. 

Managing a nod, Tino’s eyes slowly shut as Vox’s screen-face blurred. With a liberty never willingly given to another, he allowed himself to be completely vulnerable just this once, and drifted off in the cold, unfamiliar arms that held him. Soft mutters like a twisted lullaby were the last things Tino could make out before Hell temporarily faded away to a dreamless black. 

“… I need you to trust me, Tino.”

He could laugh at that. But Tino’s laughter had all but ran out, partnered to die alongside the remaining fragments of his hope.

Velvette’s laughter cut through the club’s air like a knife. 

“So you scared off another one.” She took a sip of her glittery pink alcohol with a hum, acrylic nails clacking against a bright phone screen. “How many does that make now?” 

“—Fucking piece of shit coward!” Valentino yelled across the club, ignoring her. “Your dick was rancid anyway!” 

Wiping the remnants of sticky precum from his mouth, Valentino spat on the floor, glaring harshly towards the exit. Over the boom of the speakers playing a heavy electronica, a staggering dinosaur demon was cursing Valentino’s name, covering tender privates as he hightailed it out of Klub Kaiju. 

“And… there he goes,” Velvette chirped, snapping a photo of her with her drink. “What happened to getting a good dick-down tonight, Val? ¿Que pasó?”

“Fuck off and make room!”

Hurling a mix of Spanish and English expletives under his breath, Valentino settled by the bar next to the little doll. 

Goddamn fucking ridiculous was what it was. 

“I haul ass to the other side of the Pentagram to get a good dick-down, but the guys here are all just as fucking shitty as the ones on our half.” He slapped down on the table then ordered a drink. A Bloody Mary would do fine. Valentino just needed something cold and spicy to wash this bitter dick-taste out of his mouth. Hopefully strong enough to help him forget about that less-than-pleasant encounter too. 

Not having to wait long, Valentino took his drink from the tender and downed it like there was no tomorrow, swishing the cold alcohol between his cheeks before swallowing. 

“And for a dinosaur, he sure was a pussy about a blowjob,” Valentino puffed out as he finished, slamming the empty glass down on the counter. “‘Use more teeth, baby,’ this asshole fucking begs me. And now look where we are. Goddamn coward.”

“You scared off the last no-name too. Lizard one off of 666th? Remember him? And the one before that, and the one before t—”

“—No tact, the lot of ‘em.”

Clicking his teeth, Valentino pulled out a well-deserved cigarette. Since his usual lighter didn’t want to come out tonight, Valentino had to make do with the one in his pocket. Placing the filter end in his mouth, he flicked at the worn metal, cherry fumes mixing into the air as he exhaled, illuminated by flashing yellow and green strobe lights. 

“I fuck who I want, when I want. I’m at the fucking top, baby!” Valentino vented over the speakers, puffing out his chest. “Damn near impossible to get a good dick inside you right nowadays though. Go fucking figure.” 

Velvette gave him a look. “Not sure your flat-faced prince at home would agree with you on that, Val.”

Valentino made a face. Not what he meant. Velvette liked pushing him and Vox together more than she should, and it bothered Valentino more than he’d like to admit. Vox was fine. Great, sometimes. But he was certainly no colossal-sized-dick-owning dinosaur that was for fucking sure. 

“You have contracts?” Velvette continued with a roll of her eyes. “You have your pheromones, my love potions we make with them? Get some bloke to fuck you that way. That’s what I’d do.”  

He shook his head. So naive, the pretty little doll. Sighing, Valentino tapped at his temple with three clicks of a Latin tongue, message carrying loud and cool. 

“Lesson one of pimping, my sweet nena. You fuck your bitches. Your bitches don’t fuck you.”

An old life-lesson from Valentino’s maquereau—bless his heart. The dick in question could be doped up to the max on every drug under Hell’s eternal sun but still get too comfortable visiting the inside of your temple once post-orgasm clarity hit. It got arrogant. Clingy. Asked for a number. Wanted to see you again. The last thing Valentino needed was some nobody from nowhere thinking they were his equal in any sense, bedroom or not.

“I have to pick who tops me more wisely than you’d think,” he reiterated carefully. “But I don’t need smoke and mirrors for that. My looks are real and plentiful.”

“Yet your personality leaves so very much to be desired, Señor Val.”

He ignored her. Velvette could just mind her fucking manners and witness a real pro in his element. They didn’t call him the demon of lust for nothing. 

“Watch,” he muttered. 

Squinting his eyes, Valentino scoped out the dance floor. A hulking dino was exactly what Valentino needed. One that could fuck him hard into dirty backroom sheets and actually take some rough ‘love’ thrown back around. His belly had better be bulging and his hole stretched good before the end of tonight. He didn’t waste the time to come out to Zeesi’s shithole for nothing. 

“Fuck!” He screamed after a few long—unsuccessful—moments of scouting before throwing his empty glass against the wall. 

And here Valentino had gone on, thinking Cannibal Town was dog shit. There was absolutely fucking no one. Nothing. Not a single indicator for the lusted out depravity he craved. No sloppy grinding. No public foreplay. Not even basic tonguing. Valentino needed talking bodies—running mouths and working brains should be reserved for the office, not the goddamn club. 

Velvette topped off her drink with a loud slurp. “Good Lord, there’s plenty of guys here. I’d say it’s just your shit eyesight, but I know better. You’ve gone and fixated yourself on sex with one man without realizing it.” 

“Excuse me?” Valentino raised a brow, both out of offense and worry, wondering if Velvette’s drink had been laced with something to make her think up a notion as fucking ridiculous as that. 

“I think,” Velvette continued, looking at him coolly. “Despite what your mind is telling you, you subconsciously like being exclusive.” Velvette nodded at him with a collected confidence, making Valentino realize she was being serious. 

He snorted, waving off the thought with the flick of his cigarette into a nearby ashtray. “Oh? You think so, hm?”

“Yes. I actually do, believe it or not. Disgusting as it is, that back door temple entrance of yours has gotten itself rather sanctified outside of its one flat-faced worshiper.” 

Pointing a finger straight at her, Valentino let out a laugh. 

“Stupid fucking girl, do you actually fucking hear yourself?”

If the doll wanted to be a comedian today, Valentino would gladly give her a receptive audience. What a cracked-out fucking idea. Velvette’s been spending and spent too much time on that phone of hers, it’s rotted her brain. The poor thing. There wasn’t a single thing about Valentino that could ever paint the picture of a monogamist, and Valentino very much preferred it that way. 

“God, you’re such a fucking shithead,” Velvette hissed, the words crisp with a sharp edge to them. Eventually, she let out a hum. “… Mind if I ask some questions, then? They’re about you. Your favorite person.”

Laughter cooling, Valentino eventually hummed back in agreement, waving his cigarette smoke in the air to form a heart. He’ll be kind and humor the little doll for now. Whatever. There was time for a Q&A session before the dinosaurs went home in any case. 

“When was the last time you got dicked-down?”

“Before we left.”

“Ugh.” Velvette rolled her eyes. “By?”

“Who the fuck do you think?” 

“Moving on.” 

He scoffed. What was the point to even ask? Velvette was a smart cookie. She should know better.

With the abused state of Valentino’s hole, the still-visible love bites around his neck and nipples he didn’t bother to try and hide, and the very distinct—clearly possessive—claw marks on his legs and waist and ass he also didn’t bother to hide, any sinner with semi-working eyes could easily guess who had fooled around in the halls of Valentino’s temple last. It wasn’t like Vox ever made any real effort to be discreet with his marks, especially before Valentino wanted to go out. 

“And who was the last person that dicked you down before that?”

“What’s your angle here, baby doll? You know the answer to this one too, no?”  

Velvette had a pissy-fit at breakfast because of said answer, actually. Valentino had woken up pleasantly surprised to find a sleepy Vox grinding his morning wood between his thighs. It was cute. He couldn’t just say no to the little lumberjack on a mission, and they’d made more noise than expected for 6 in the morning. 

Velvette spat out another question. He ordered another drink. A shot this time. 

“Ok. Before that?” 

“Vox again. Fine.” Valentino took the drink, throwing it down the hatch before wiping the corners of his mouth. “I mean we live together, for fuck’s sake. I don’t exactly have to travel far for sex with him. It’s convenient.”

Valentino didn’t remember the exact reason for the dick-down this time. It happened the night before. Something about arguing over what movie to watch. They’d eventually settled for Valentino’s Hell-enovela suggestion one very bruised throat, two very scraped knees, and a happily wrung-out Vox later. 

“Ok. How do you spend your Friday nights after work?”

“Switching it up?” He hummed playfully. “Me and Vox go out. Yet another question you know the answer to, my muñequita.”

Loath as he was to admit it out loud, date nights were a favored part of his week. Valentino couldn’t exactly remember when the unofficial tradition had started, but he and Vox have always gone out together every Friday night. Dinner. Movie. Dancing. Whatever. Not a binding agreement, per se, but neither of them had bailed out just yet surprisingly enough. 

Actually, Valentino wanted to take Vox dancing this Friday then go to a new eating joint across town since it was his turn to pay this time—

“—Huh?” 

He blinked slowly.

Pay. This time.

… That wasn’t right. Valentino shouldn’t pay for others. Valentino doesn’t pay for others. When Valentino did pay for others, he expected compensation back in full or the angels would get a nicely wrapped present come Extermination Day. A contract to add to the roster always satisfied. But there was no contract with this, was there? With this ongoing, unbroken chain of Friday nights with Vox, Valentino paid of his own volition. Has paid of his own volition... 

“Getting sloppy, Tino? I’m disappointed in you.”

He flinched. The ghostly voice of his old ball and chain made Valentino’s eye throb, like he’d just been slapped with a ring-decorated hand. Fuck. What was it saying to him now?

“… And where do you stash your emergency cigarettes?”

Valentino shook his head. Fuck, that’s right. Babydoll. Question. Cigarettes. Easy enough. 

Valentino rattled off answers, letting the sound of his voice drown out everything else.

Every inch of his room, bathroom, sex dungeon, and person, of course. Valentino was never without a cigarette handy if he could help it. Some in Velvette’s fashion studio and bathroom too. A few in a secret crack on Vox’s bed; it still confused Vox where Valentino got them from after sex and it never failed to make him laugh. A whole pack in Vox’s nightstand. Every drawer in Vox’s office. Vox’s casual jackets. There was also some in Vox’s old TV head sitting in the back of his walk-in closet—

“—Wait, what the fuck…?” He muttered, blinking again. 

It was Vox again. Too much Vox. Why was there so much fucking Vox? The more Valentino thought on it, the more sickly of a feeling pooled in his gut. 

“Something wrong?” Velvette’s voice was laced with mirth. 

“Nothing,” he spat, grinding his teeth together.

“Then let me just ask you one last thing, Valentino.”

Velvette stared him down with those white pupils, contrasting with the cherry red scleras surrounding them. Valentino exhaled his nerves, itching for another cigarette. He was very much tired of this little game and Velvette’s questions now. 

“… When was the last time you got properly topped by someone that wasn’t Vox?” 

They had gone home early. It was peacefully quiet on their ride back to the Tower, but there was no peace to be found in Valentino’s mind. Velvette’s words were still ringing fresh at the forefront of his thoughts, replaying over and over and over, no matter how much he scrolled through his phone. 

Has Valentino really been getting sloppy? When was the last time he bottomed for someone else again? He used to do it with randoms somewhat regularly, right? Whatever happened to that? 

Fuck.

Digging his nails into his thighs, Valentino eventually looked down. The claw marks were still there.

Fuck, fuck, fuck!

As soon as they arrived home, the root of Valentino’s problems was waiting for them in the kitchen.

Bundled in his gray robe with a mug of fresh coffee in one hand, Valentino narrowly avoided the other reaching for his waist like it always did. His refusal earned him a raised 2D eyebrow, but it was shrugged off soon enough. Unperturbed and in surprisingly high spirits for a work night, Valentino’s problem shot him a look. That look. 

“Are you hungry, baby?” came the smooth low voice, laced with not-so-hidden intentions. “Daddy’s gotten peckish waiting for you to get back, you know. We could eat something together? Or I could just help myself if you want to sit on my face and let me do all the work…”

Valentino sneered, the erotic words grating to his non-existent ears. Goddamn fucking dinosaur nobody! If Valentino had gotten his fill earlier like planned, his body wouldn’t be responding the way it was now. Asshole throbbing, waiting to be licked and stuffed and used. Pants bursting at the seams, holding back his readily growing cock. 

He inhaled. Fuck, did Vox just shower? He smelled good. Really good. And he was wearing that cologne Valentino liked too. Maybe if—

“—No.” 

“Val?” Vox raised a brow again, voice shifting back to normal. “What the Hell’s wrong with you—”

“—Nothing.” 

Shoving Vox aside, Valentino marched up to his room, not sparing a single glance back. After a long well-deserved shower, he eventually locked himself away with his thoughts, lying in the comfort of a surprisingly empty bed. 

Sex was a drug of the unholiest of proportions. Delicious. Tempting. Sampling a nice variety was fine, of course. But getting hooked on one alone? That was a problem. That showed attachment. And attachment was leverage. Valentino absolutely refused to let anyone have any sort of leverage over him. Or at least he thought he did…

Fucking shit. 

It was actually a big fucking deal that Valentino couldn’t remember whose dick had been inside him outside of Vox. With a growing sense of dread, Valentino thought back to his last few successful hookups where he’d been on the receiving end, and to his horror, those hookups had in fact happened several very, very, very long decades ago…

“So, uh… I’ll call you?” 

Valentino made a face. “You most certainly will not. And if you ever tell anyone about this, I’ll pluck those pretty peepers right out of their sockets, cariño.”

His tone was pleasant despite the threat. Naturally playful and beguiling. Seductive. Valentino made sure to add just a pinch of venom so the demon knew his place and knew he meant business. He wanted this fucker out yesterday. This nobody was taking far too long just to put on a t-shirt and pants, and his mere presence was stinking up Valentino’s bedroom already.  

“Jesus, hurry up and get the fuck out of my house or I’ll start shooting,” he snapped. “You’ve got ten seconds… Nueve… Ocho…” 

The wolf demon, handsome but so utterly forgettable that Valentino couldn’t be bothered to remember his name, looked up at him, then down to the loaded pink gun cocked playfully in his hand. Shaking like a leaf, he rushed to get dressed. Valentino watched the entire time, tasting the sweet panic on his tongue.

While Valentino absolutely loved the fear present in the sinner’s lambent yellow eyes, what he admired most of all as he watched him change was the artful damage he had done to the rippling body. The lipstick marks all over the wolf’s lips and neck and stomach, trailing slowly down into unbuttoned pants where they painted the expended dick too. The ruffled fur with an artwork of pretty purple bruises hidden beneath. The debaucherous cut marks staining his soft coat red. 

Perfection. 

Eventually, no name left his room without another word, changing the number of occupants in the room from two back to one—ah. Never mind. 

“This is getting real fucking annoying, you know.” 

Valentino’s business partner and unexpectedly long-term roommate gave him a look from the doorframe, arms crossed and frown heavy. It reminded him of a disapproving father.

“Nice to see you too, Voxy,” Valentino cood, not-so-discreetly rolling his eyes. 

God, what a fucking heel. For someone that was always holed up in his office with work, Vox sure did make the time to come out of his den to bother Valentino during his post-sex cool downs. 

The lust demon rolled his head back and forth, contemplating the mystery of Hell’s up-and-coming CEO. Vox must have had secret cameras around here or something, since he always seemed to know when Valentino had ‘visitors’ over. 

On one hand, it was an amusing idea. Flattering, even. After all, who wouldn’t want to be the Peeping Tom to Valentino’s beautiful Lady Godiva? But on the other hand, it also made Valentino just a touch uneasy. Vox could really be a wildcard when he wanted to be—even worse than Valentino sometimes with those electrically-charged rages of his. Like right now. 

He blinked as the lights quickly flickered, synched to the rise in Vox’s voice.  

“I leave my office after a long day of meetings, just to find a whore that—wouldn’t you know it!—doesn’t belong in my home. One whore’s enough as it is, and you, I can’t seem to get rid of. Don’t you have any shame at all?” 

Raising his hands to the air with an unbothered stretch, Valentino fluttered his wings before slipping on his robe.

“Perdón, Señor Vox,” he answered with a high pitch to his voice. “I’ll make sure to do better next time, I promise.” 

He snorted. Whatever. It wasn’t like Valentino had done anything wrong. He kept his bedroom affairs strictly in his bedroom and paid his share equally and on time, just like they’d agreed on before moving in. For a CEO on the rise, you would think Vox could spare the pocket change and grace to pay for everything, but no. He always insisted on being a hard ass in every single regard wherever Valentino was concerned. 

“Cut the shit, we both know that’s not true,” Vox said with his own snort. His voice pitched up, sending mocking words right back. “I just need you to clean your mess, ok? You can do that, sí? You’re a big boy, Val. I know you can do it.”

“Watch it.”

Vox smiled, grin pearly and wide. “Just wanna make sure you fully understand how absolutely fucking disgusting it is when your dick-downs track blood and semen on my floors.”

Valentino smiled back, grin leaking with resentment, before his face shifted into a full-blown sneer. 

Reaching over, he yanked a cigarette and light from the nightstand. God, Vox’s pleased little grin was so fucking aggravating. Condescension was perfectly reasonable grounds to shoot someone in the face point-blank in Valentino’s book, but since it was Vox, he’d hold back the loaded gun for now. 

Besides. For how annoyed the old TV man could make him, riling him up back was so much more fun than any hypothetical violence Valentino could inflict. 

“Are you jealous?” He asked with a smirk, taking a drag. 

Vox blinked, smile quickly shifting into a frown. “Of course not.” 

“You’re not un-allowed to fuck people in the house too, you know. I don’t care.” Lazily, Valentino exhaled cherry fumes with a shrug. “In fact, I’d welcome the bitch in our home with open arms and a nice warm meal.”

‘If it would get you to shut the Hell up.’

Valentino reminded Vox of this regularly, but his roommate never took advantage of the opportunity to let loose in the house. Vox, ever the ‘gentleman,’ had taken multiple opportunities on multiple occasions to fuck Valentino’s girls before on their little outings—on the house of course, he’d have a fit if Valentino actually charged him—but bringing someone here seemed to be a different story for the TV grandpa.

Truthfully, Valentino really only extended a hand to his budoir to the no-names he planned on bottoming for. He was surprisingly careful about who went inside him and where it happened. Maybe, in some way revamped for a heterosexual lens, it was the same type of principle for VoxTek’s head honcho? 

“I know you don’t care,” Vox continued, shifting by the door frame to lean on the other side. “You’re as shameless as shameless gets. Not to mention that sex is your everything. Your image. The very foundation of your power.” 

“You know you can come in and sit down, right?” Valentino raised an eyebrow, taking in Vox’s position. “You don’t have to just stand there. I don’t bite.”

“We both know that’s not true. And I’m fine here.” 

He shrugged. Valentino thought it was funny in a way, how Vox always kept his distance during his lectures. In fact, the only times Vox really ventured out of his office to talk to him always seemed to be in the form of a distanced lecture nowadays. 

Always with his hands behind his back or crossed into himself, standing by the doorway and never entering, like a fucking vampire. He never used to do that before. What, does Mr. CEO think he’ll catch an STD or something? Ruin his precious image by breathing the same air as a lust-filled deviant? 

“Whatever,” Valentino continued with a yawn, trying to show he wasn’t bothered in the slightest. “Stay there. Don’t say I didn’t offer.” 

“I’m fine standing, thanks,” Vox said tersely, looking around. “And back to the main issue at hand. I just want this house to maintain good PR. For both of our sakes. I mean, what would the people think, if they saw some club fiend running out of our front gates half naked and sexed-out?” 

“I honestly don’t give a fuck about what the people think. The tabloids hold no sway on me,” Valentino answered as he looked up at the blemish-free ceiling of their new home. “Why you care, Vox, quite frankly, is your own fucking problem.”

He didn’t flinch as the lights flickered again. Valentino just let out another bored yawn. Vox could be pissy all he wanted, but it was the truth. Why should Valentino care about what those nobodies thought? He was powerful now. They were powerful now. On the rise and so tantalizingly close to Overlord status that Valentino could taste it on his tongue. Once all the meetings and devilish little details were settled, the two of them could finally immortalize themselves as rulers. As somebodies. And maybe, if Vox could realize that and let himself live a little, he’d finally be able to free that poor stick from out of his ass and get off Valentino’s.

“Prick.” Vox’s lip curled into a sneer. 

Valentino grinned, voice lulling into a sultry coo. “Aw, don’t look at me like that, partner. Need something for your ills? I’ve got a nice shark girl contract that’s right up your alley. I can call her now. Free of charge.” 

“No. Thanks.”

“Fine, fine.” He looked at his roommate, eyes full of mirth. “How’s about a dick for that tight little ass of yours then?”

Valentino laughed at the way Vox cringed. Cute little TV grandpa, still stuck in his outdated 50’s mindset. Being in Hell, you’d think fucking another man would be the least of Vox’s concerns, but he was still staunchly against the idea of two dicks bumping uglies. Valentino would make the argument that you couldn’t truly know you disliked something until you’ve tried it at least once, but Vox looked like he was on the verge of blowing a fuse already. 

“I like women. You know that.”

“And? So do I. My point still stands.”

“Just—” Vox cringed again, making the lights flicker. “—Just fucking clean up your mess, Val. For once. I need to get back to work.”

The door shut with a heavy slam. 

Finally alone, Valentino hummed as he picked off white furs from his banged-up countertops. Slowly, Valentino’s memories of no name faded away into obscurity, and all that really occupied his mind for the time being was the way Vox favored his left when his lip curled with disgust.

“You know you can’t ignore me forever.”  

Valentino only sank deeper into the duvet plush of his covers. Maintaining his silence, he wrapped his wings around him like a warm security blanket. 

He could ignore this un-welcomed thing in his room for as long as he needed to, actually. Valentino was quite good at ignoring whatever bothered him, should killing it be an unavailable option, which it rarely ever was. If only said thing right now could take the hint and promptly fuck off. 

“Alright. Guess we’re doing this then.”

After a few moments, Valentino felt a dip in the mattress, right next to his legs. Vox’s body heat seeped through the thin bed sheets, almost reaching Valentino’s skin, and an equal urge to either kick as hard as he could or wrap his legs around Vox’s waist and grind their hips together like there was no tomorrow rushed over the moth pimp like a hot wave. 

“Mind telling me exactly what the fuck’s going on in your head? Or we could just skip straight to the sex like we always do. Your pick.” 

Valentino frowned, feeling a much stronger urge to kick now. “None of your fucking business,” he muttered. 

A bout of loud, dry laughter shook the bed.

“—No, actually!” Vox’s voice rose with an electric boom. “It is my business when these little tantrums of yours cut into my profits. You’ve been rotting in here for almost a week now. I think it’s high time we put an end to this little game, hm?” 

Valentino sighed, fully noticing the sporadic shifts between light and dark through his sheets.

Wonderful. The lights were going off. Vox was actually upset about this. The TV fuck-face thought he was slick too, using profits as an excuse. Valentino knew damn well a negative dip in his quarterly would piss Vox off, but not genuinely upset him. He missed the sex. The two of them haven’t gone on this long without at least a kiss and Valentino could smell a pent up hard-on for miles. 

“You do realize we have a collective quota to fill, don’t you?” Vox continued with a placating coo. “So why not just tell me what that fuck’s wrong, so I can fix it and we can get back to our pretty little status quo?”

God, what Valentino wouldn’t give to be able tell Vox where he could shove his stupid fucking quota. The grandiose dick might have his eyes on Valentino’s body when and wherever he pleased, but Valentino’s mind and his private affairs were his and his to manage alone. 

“Nothing’s wrong,” he answered with a smile as he curled into an even tighter ball, hissing the words through gritted teeth. “I’m just taking a vacation this week.”

Eventually, Valentino heard a sigh, then the sound of nails tapping away at a phone screen. Valentino would bet good money that Vox was sending a message to Velvette, the little powder keg to this messy explosion of emotional turmoil, and it only made him more bitter. 

“Ignoring that a vacation request should’ve been processed at least a month in advance, I’m gonna bite and ask why.”

“For my mental health.” Valentino frowned deeper into his cocoon, hugging the sheets stubbornly. “Now get the fuck out of my room, Vox!” 

“You sure?”

“Why the fuck wouldn’t I be?”

“Hm.”

A pause of silence filled the air. Valentino could feel a shift on the mattress right before the sensation of a hand slowly rubbing up and down his leg, sharp claws just barely digging into his warm purple skin. 

“Oh, Val…” 

He snorted. Confident, much? Hell’s big CEO may be more well-versed than the average sinner in fucking Valentino’s holes as far as their fucked up ‘relationship’ went, but Vox was dabbling checkers in a game of chess if he really thought this kind of approach would ever work without Valentino choosing to indulge him first. And, unluckily for Vox, Valentino wasn’t feeling very indulgent today. 

“Fuck off.”

“Oh c’mon, baby. Don’t be like that. Daddy’s got an itch he needs scratched. Have you eaten today? Thirsty? I know it’s been awhile, but I have your favorite treat right here…”

Hearing the sound of pants unzipping, Valentino kicked hard, grinning right as his foot landed against a bony side. He could hear Vox make a pained grunting sound just as the lights flickered off and on again. Hearing a snarl, Valentino blinked at the bright light assaulting his eyes as his sheets were roughly pulled away. 

“You’re such a fucking child!” Vox yelled, tugging hard on the expensive fabric. “Just fucking talk to me if there’s something wrong! It’d make yours and my life a whole lot fucking easier!” 

Valentino pulled back on the sheets, absolutely bitter at the irony. Vox was such a goddamn hypocrite. As if he wasn’t one of the worst fucking walls to break through when he was upset. 

“Just fucking leave me alone and I’ll work it out myself!” 

“Oh yeah? When? Next year?”

They struggled for a bit in their game of tug-of-war, pushing and pulling, slinging curses back and forth, before Valentino decided he had just about fucking enough. 

“Fine! You really wanna know what my fucking problem is?” He boomed, pointing a jerky finger Vox’s way. “Well, I’ll fucking tell you, you goddamn son of a bitch!” 

Slowly and clearly, he gave his answer. It took a moment before Valentino’s words fully seemed to register, and when they did, Vox finally let go of the sheets. The lights flickered again. 

“What the fuck do you mean ‘I’m the problem?’” Vox roared. “What the fuck did I do! I haven’t touched you at all in days, let alone talked to you, since you seem fucking hellbent on ignoring me and my messages—”

“—Do you remember the last time I bottomed for someone, Vox? Tell me.”

Looking confused at the question for only a brief moment, Vox’s mouth quickly shifted into a misguided smile as he opened his mouth and puffed out his chest. 

“Someone that wasn’t you,” Valentino added with a sneer. 

Vox’s mouth hung open, eyes darting about before it closed, his confidence completely lost. Perfect. The know-it-all that’s had his stalkerish eyes on Valentino every waking moment of his fucking life for the last how many fucking decades didn’t even know. 

“I don’t either,” Valentino hissed, venom laced in every syllable. “I haven’t fucking bottomed for anyone else but you in so many fucking years.”

“Interesting.” Vox brightened. “And?”  

“That’s a problem.”

“Really.” 

“It is.”

“Because…?” 

“It’s you.”

“Oh?” Vox crossed his arms, smiling tightly. The lights flickered again, more sporadically this time, right as his screen dimmed. “And what, pray tell, is wrong with me?” 

‘Everything,’ Valentino wanted to say damn-near immediately. 

Vox was hypocritical. Insecure. Tight-assed. Obsessive. Manipulative. A real piece of work, to put it lightly. And that was only a small list that Valentino would use to describe him personality-wise. Looks-wise, Vox didn’t really fit the bill of his type in that department either. Short. Old. Flat. Bony. Hard to kiss. Harder to be affectionate with. 

So why the fuck was Valentino with him? Valentino knew he could do better. He had his pick of a very plentiful litter to choose from, every whore and hole to suck and fuck dry, every big handsome dick he could put inside him and ride like there was no tomorrow, but it always came back to this. This one person. And it was a problem that it had taken Valentino this long to realize it. 

Heated rants and fiery emotions churled inside his gut, making Valentino want to scream. Made him want to beat a message into that TV fuck-face’s head that—for some inexplicable reason—Valentino had gone and unknowingly and unwillingly closed off a part of himself and reserved it for Vox. He’s gone and made a mess of the principles that got him here, all because of a short, middle-aged TV man that barely scratched a 7 on a good day.  

“See? I knew you couldn’t handle this, Tino. Even when you’re at the top, you’ve still got the mindset of a bitch at the bottom.” 

“You’re not good enough,” he eventually spat, chest twinging with the words. Valentino bit his lips, holding back something from spilling out.

“… Really? I’m not good enough?” Vox echoed harshly, voice on a dangerous rise. “I’m not good enough? From where I stand, I see the opposite, actually.” 

“Ok.” 

“You were nothing but a whore at the bottom of the barrel when I met you.” Vox crossed his arms with a smile that was both pleased and spiteful. “You needed me. You’d probably be dead without me, in fact.” 

Valentino shrugged, pulling out a cigarette and lighter. His thumb flicked at the metal of his lighter desperately. He needed something to fill the air. He could smell the stench of Vox’s insecurity wafting off him in folds, leaking through those sensitive circuit boards, and it was driving Valentino insane. 

“Just a pretty little beat-down butterfly with its wings torn off,” Vox continued, eyes filled with the intent to be cruel. “A used-up hole. A breathing punching bag. You remember that, right? Tino?”  

“Sure.” Valentino swallowed something bitter. Bile, most likely. 

“And you’d still be like that if it wasn’t for me! A nobody with nothing!” 

After a few moments, Valentino inhaled from his cigarette, held it, then exhaled cherry fumes, absolutely refusing to let his nonchalance shatter. Fuck Vox, honestly. If he wanted to play this little game of digging shit up from the past, Valentino was more than ready to pitch in his own venomous two cents. 

“Those are some big words from a dollar-store Radio Demon,” he answered harshly, jutting out his chin as he saw Vox’s eyes widen with an underlying hurt. “Look at you. You make your fancy little screens so bright and loud, updating yourself with whatever, whenever, but you’ll always be stuck in Alastor’s shadow. You’re still, and will always be, just that. A fucking loser.” 

Immediately the lights flickered off and on sporadically, timed to Vox’s rage-inspired heaving. 

“You…” Vox started. 

Fists clenched tight by his side, Valentino leaned forward on the bed, gearing for a fight. Vox opened his mouth, red hot saliva dripping at the corners, clearly on the verge of snapping. His left eye flashed in bright hypnotic spirals aimed right at him. 

Then suddenly, just as quickly as it started, it all fell apart. Letting out a heavy sigh, Vox wiped at his mouth, looking like a deflated balloon. Valentino could feel something in his chest lurch at the defeated, almost sad, look on his partner’s face now. Eventually, Vox nodded his head in a tired, defeated silence before shooting Valentino a different look. A sneer of disgust, marked by the curl of his mouth, favored towards the left. 

“Fuck you, Val. I’m not listening to this anymore. Take the whole month off for all I fucking care.”

In a flash of blue, Vox was gone. 

Valentino didn’t know why part of him expected Vox to come back, but he did. An irrational disappointment crept in when, after a few long moments of staring at the spot on the floor where another body used to be, he realized that wasn’t going to happen.

“Prick,” he muttered, tossing his cigarette. 

He didn’t flinch at the way the lights flickered. It didn’t take a genius to realize Vox was more upset than usual this time. But Valentino didn’t want to think about Vox. Vox had taken up far too much of his headspace—too much of his heart space—already. Lying back down, Valentino let his eyes shut, ignoring the lights, and sunk back into his cocoon, letting the dark creep in.

For someone that loved nothing, Valentino always claimed to love quite a bit of everything. 

Love really equated more to enjoyment. He loved—enjoyed—things that pleased him. Drawing. Hell-enovelas. Bloody Mary’s. The color pink. Luring people into contracts with words of sweet honey. Giving a good blow job, too, was one thing he actually loved very much. 

The demon, something along the lines of a goat-gorilla hybrid, was a head pusher. A handsome head-pusher and just his type in the looks department with those rippling pectorals and abdominals, but a head-pusher nonetheless.

Valentino didn’t mind. He was well-acquainted with rough treatment in the bedroom, and this demon he had met at the club hit all of his checkpoints in terms of looks and depravity. Not to mention dick size. 

Willingly and greedily, Valentino took more of the girthy cock into his throat, feeling it pump in and out so hard and fast that his lungs burned for air. Pink saliva trailed off the corner of his mouth, mixed with a salty precum. 

God, Valentino fucking loved this. He loved the familiar discomfort in his throat and knees, loved the way his receiver’s eyes rolled back in a sinful pleasure, loved how he had the power to bring these big, strong demons to tremble with just the magic of his mouth. 

What Valentino didn’t love was the loud crash from across the hall and the sporadic flickering of lights.  

He sneered, mouth still stuffed with cock. 

Great. Of course Vox just had to ruin this for him with a tantrum today. The lights were always a gauge for his roommate’s true feelings. Even though the lights could flicker when Vox got overly excited, for the most part, lights flickering off and on usually meant he was upset over something, even if the little CEO didn’t want to admit it. 

Mind slowly preoccupying itself with his roommate instead of the cock in his mouth and the delicious ache in his jaw, Valentino raised a brow. 

They were different this time, the lights. Too sporadic. Too glitchy. Valentino immediately knew that something wasn’t right as the lights fizzled out entirely, blanketing his room in a dim light from the fading sunset outside. 

Moving his head back, pink spittle followed as Valentino’s tongue and mouth freed the glistening—still painfully erect—cock. Taking a look around, he ignored his receiver’s grumbling for more satisfaction. 

“Hwa… shit.” Valentino swallowed the mix of flavors in his mouth. “Just gimme a minute, hot stuff. I need—”

Suddenly, the demon growled and pulled at his antenna with a rough jerk, shoving him back to abuse his throat some more. Valentino sneered at the interruption. Had this been a different day, he would have appreciated the force, but he wasn’t in the mood anymore. This demon was far too fucking cocky for his liking. Smirking as the cock forced its way back in, Valentino bit down full force. The taste of iron immediately began to fill Valentino’s mouth, overriding the fading taste of salty precum. 

Yelping, the demon pushed away. Without hesitation, Valentino reached for his gun from under the bed and pulled the trigger. He didn’t flinch as warm blood splashed his face. Frowning at the handsome corpse now making a mess on his floorboards, Valentino fired a few more bullets for good measure, watching in satisfaction how the body spasmed and jerked. 

“Fucking dick.” 

Eventually he retrieved his robe, but not before spitting on the body. Opening his door with a groan, the halls were dark outside of his room, but Valentino could still see it all—could still smell it all—well enough. 

Blood. 

There was blood everywhere, fresh, dark, and metallic. Uneven red footprints trailed from their front door all the way up the stairs, and smears of red hand-shapes and claw marks traced along the white stucco walls, following alongside them. The door at the end of the hall—Vox’s room—was hanging wide open. The bloody footprints and claw marks tracked their way inside, disappearing from his view. Gun in hand, Valentino made light work of speeding across the hall and immediately peaked his head inside. 

“Vox? You there?” 

To say the sight wasn’t pretty would be an understatement. His roommate was lying on the floor in an expanding pool of blood, a wheezing, glitching mess. His screen was partially cracked, and from what Valentino could make out, there was a deep gash over his chest where the blood was seeping out in buckets.

“What happened, partner?” Valentino’s voice was calm and teasing, but his footsteps were fast. Quickly kneeling down, he ripped Vox’s shirt open check for life. He exhaled in relief when he got a croaked out response. 

“Doesn’t… m-matter.” Vox’s claws trembled to cover the exposed wound on his chest. “Leave it alone. I just… need to rest.”

“‘Leave it alone,’ that’s fucking hilarious,” Valentino answered with a snort before rising from the ground and pointing to the ugly gash along Vox’s chest. “I need to stitch that up. Try not to die in the meantime.”

Dashing out of the room, Valentino quickly returned out of breath with a first aid kit in hand. Pulling out his lighter, Valentino sterilized the needle over the flame and carefully pulled the silk thread through the loop. 

“I can—I’ll be fine.” Vox’s voice glitched, making the lights flicker to life before fizzling out again. “You don’t—”

“—What’s that thing you say about trust?” 

Before Vox could answer, Valentino shoved a thick cloth in his mouth. 

“Bite down,” he ordered. 

Narrowing his eyes, Vox eventually nodded and bit down on the fabric with bloodied fangs before closing his eyes. 

With a sense of familiarity lost to a blurry past, Valentino pinched at the bluish-gray skin. He was surprised at how soft it was. Gliding the needle’s edge into the base of the wound—right at Vox’s left hip—he slowly began to suture the cut closed. He placed his hand on Vox’s shoulder when he heard a muffled hiss, forcing him not to move so much. 

“It’ll hurt worse the more you squirm, amigo.”  

“Hmph.”

It was a nasty gash, but Valentino had fixed up worse on himself before. And he had always been delirious with those wound-licks. This was a cakewalk, really. A messy, bloody cakewalk. 

He hummed his favorite song as he worked. Gentle guitar strums and wailing violins played in Valentino’s mind, overriding the muffled curses of the body underneath him. Crossing over and over in a seemingly continuous loop, the blood seeping out eventually trickled to a halt as he stitched together the last pieces of skin. 

“Almost there,” he whispered, squeezing Vox’s shoulder again. 

Eventually reaching the other end of the wound at the edge of Vox’s right shoulder blade, Valentino gave his work a once over before he cut off the loose end of the synthetic silk. He dabbed at the blood-encrusted edges with alcohol wipes. Without moving him too much, Valentino maneuvered a white gauze around Vox’s chest, adding a few extra layers to keep the blood in. 

There. Good as new. 

Apparently not thinking so, Vox hissed again, his claw squeezing Valentino’s knee. Despite his pain tolerance, Valentino flinched at the piercing pressure of those claws digging into his skin. So he wasn’t tempted to slap away the dying man’s grip, Valentino offered one of his extra hands in his knee’s place with a huff. Expecting to get slapped away for trying to hold the old prick’s hand, Valentino blinked as their fingers surprisingly—and easily—laced together. 

“Baby.” Valentino smiled. 

Vox spat out the cloth. “… Fuck… you.”

“Pay me first.”

Valentino could feel a sense of relief in his system that his roommate wasn’t completely out of it yet as he saw Vox roll his eyes. For a few moments, Vox stared up at him, glitching every now and then through the cracked screen. The cracked screen Valentino couldn’t do much about, but Vox usually handled his broken screens just fine on his own, somehow. Feeling another squeeze to his hand, he lightly squirmed at the uncomfortable sensation of sweat and blood mixing between the palms. Fuck. He just bathed too. 

“How did… you learn how to do that?” 

“How the fuck you’re still lucid is beyond me. Go to sleep, asshole.”

“Just yap like always… and I—I’ll fall asleep eventually.”  

“Fucker.” Looking down, Valentino held onto Vox’s hand, feeling the warmth of their fingers intertwined. Mind drifting elsewhere at that moment, Valentino couldn’t help but think of their old flat. 

“… I licked a lot of my own ouchies before you came around, you know,” he eventually answered. “Sewing ripped clothes, sewing ripped skin. It was kind of like my own twisted art after a rough night.”

“You like… art.”

“I love art.”

“You—you had someone over,” Vox muttered. 

Valentino could feel another squeeze to his hand. “How’d you know?” 

“Saw shoes at the entrance. They looked cheap. Got bl… blood on ‘em.” Wheezing in pain, Vox attempted to get off of the floor only to plop back down with a defeated huff. “Whu—where is he?”

“How do you know it was a guy?”

“You… only ever bring guys over. I’m not stupid.” 

“I bring people with dick’s over,” Valentino corrected. 

Vox snorted, the sound mixed in with another pained wheeze. “What difference does that make?”

“Such a grandpa, Voxy.”

“Whatever…”

“If you’d care to know….” Valentino shifted, lying back and casually bloody, propped on one lower hand while the other was still laced with Vox’s. “He’s currently a bloody mess on my floor with a bullet through his head. Guess that makes two of you, minus the bullet. What the fuck happened anyway?” 

“Surprise… knife-down from that—that anti-Overlord extremist group. They got my assistant.”

“Shame. I thought for sure that one would last longer.”

“We’re almost Overlords.” Vox tried at an awkward shrug. “Comes with the… with the territory.” 

“Hm.” 

“So.” Vox’s voice wheezed with electrical glitches. Finally able to speak again, he asked in a pained murmur. “You didn’t like him?”

“Who?” 

“The guy.”

He rolled his eyes. Of course Vox would be a bleeding mess on the ground, barely survived a knife party with his monitor intact, yet Valentino’s fuck-up of a dick-down was what he was worried about. The old man really should get himself laid more often. 

“I loved him,” he answered flatly.  

“You’re full of it… but I’ll bite.” Vox gritted his teeth, squeezing Valentino’s hand again. “Why’re you—you here then?”

“Well you took out the fucking lights for one thing.” Valentino hummed, rubbing his thumb along the skin of Vox’s hand. “And you pay the other half of the utilities and basically manage our electricity for another. It’d get pretty fucking annoying not having you around.”

“I would’ve respawned eventually. Con—considering how depraved you are,” Vox let out a hiss in his attempt to laugh. “I’m surprised you picked me over—”

“—You shouldn’t be.”

Vox blinked. “Why…?” 

It took Valentino a moment to answer for some reason. He hadn’t really been thinking too hard when he pulled the trigger. That demon nobody had been standing in his way, and he’d let a thousand nobodies bite it and rot in a pit before letting someone that Valentino viewed as an equal respawn. And Vox was his… friend? Could he say that? 

Mind slowly floating away, Valentino clenched his fist, almost forgetting there was another hand there. Knowing that Vox was staring, he met his eyes and gave a lazy shrug.

“… You’re somebody to me. Not hard to understand.” Outlining the bumps and ridges of Vox’s knuckles, caked with dried blood, all the way down to the sharp tips of his claws, Valentino hummed. “We don’t see eye to eye on most things, but you’re worth more than those nobodies could ever dream, partner.”

A long gap of silence filled the blood-stained room and finally, Vox answered, a tired smile on his face. 

“… Good.” 

Valentino could feel a light squeeze again before the hand in his went llimp. Eventually, Vox’s eyes drooped ever-so-slowly to a close, his screen’s light diminishing to a peaceful black. 

Surprisingly careful, Valentino undid their hands and lifted Vox off the floor before tucking him into his bed. 

He stared at his roommate in bed before taking notice of the blood all around the room. Hm. Vox could clean this up in the morning. He could clean the blood in the hallways, too. Valentino’s done his part, and he needed to get that body out of his room before it started stinking up the place. 

Hovering over the bed one last time, Valentino exhaled in relief when he heard the snoring vrmmm of Vox’s fat TV head. Only a few moments later, the lights flickered back to life.

As he walked down the bloody hallway back to his room, Valentino hummed his favorite song again, hearing the gentle strums of a guitar and wailing violins in his mind as he followed the bloody footprints.

One New Message: 

Babydoll <3

>Wtf’s going on w the lights ? 

With a sigh, Valentino plopped his phone back down on the nightstand.

Vox could be such a fucking drama queen sometimes. Worse than Valentino even, and he actively chose to be one. That insult the fucker jabbed, the broken butterfly one, was more hurtful than some off-handed comment about being number two to Alastor, but of course Valentino just had the rotten luck of regularly inviting the sorest loser in all of Hell into his bedroom affairs. 

With nothing better to do and emotions swirling in his gut like the bitterest of cocktails, Valentino ordered Kitty to make him a drink. Not a cocktail. He was in a wine mood right now. A nice glass of Romanée-Conti to indulge in the dark while he rotted away in bed. He picked up his phone again. 

Babydoll <3

>You did not just fucking leave me on delivered

> !!

<3<

After turning off his notifications, Valentino scrolled mindlessly through his phone. He shooed the little robot servant away with the flick of a wrist after getting his fix. Right as Valentino finally settled into a video to watch, a commercial popped up. 

“Fuck!” He threw his glass against the wall, drenching it with red worth thousands. 

Just his goddamn fucking luck landing on a VoxTek commercial too. And of course, rather than using paid actors for this one, the commercial just had to showcase the very person Valentino didn’t want on his mind right now. He hovered his thumb over the ‘skip’ option with a sneer.  

“Introducing VoxTek! Trust us with your entertainment.”

“Hello, my good people! This is Vox, your executive CEO of VoxTek Corporation.”

“Fuck you.”

“Feel down sometimes? Lonely?”

“No.”

“I know I sure have my moments!”

“Good.”

“And when the rain pours, sometimes all you really need is a friend to open up your heart and let the sunshine in! But who needs real ones when you’ve got Vbuddy? Vbuddy! Your very best friend! But that’s not all! Vbuddy comes with a therapy-assist mode…”

Valentino snorted. Him and Velvette actually received a free prototype for “Vbuddy” before it launched. The store price for its quality had been absolutely egregious—worse than Vox’s other half-assed cash grabs to manipulate and spy on the masses—but it was always funny how Mr. CEO sold himself to market it all. And you’d think Valentino would be the fake one of the two of them. That commercial smile of his always reeked of absolute bullshit, meant to fool the incompetent. 

Fuck. 

And there Valentino went again, letting Vox take up his headspace when he didn't want him there. Not even caring about the actual video now, he shut off his phone just as the commercial ended. 

Eventually rising from the bed and trudging into the bathroom, Valentino grabbed handfuls of candles from his walk-in towel closet and strewed them around his tub. He delighted in the romantic candlelight that slowly began to fill the dimmed room. Orange specks flickered against the cherry-red porcelain tiles, and Valentino immediately took the opportunity to strip down and admire himself in the full body glass mirror as the tub filled, angling his body every which way to get the best view. 

God, he really was something. Slender and toned and soft, yet still mascular and strong. A perfect specimen for sampling. Devouring. Drinking in and indulging like the most expensive of wines. Valentino could come undone by his own radiance, really. 

He looked down at his naked body. Biting his lip, almost puncturing the skin, his fingers slowly meandered downwards. At the junction of his hips, Valentino lovingly cupped his more-than-impressive cock. He stroked, feeling his dick get harder with each smoothed motion. 

Up. Down. Up. Down. Up down, up down, up down—

“F-fuck…” 

He groaned, eventually reaching a rhythm. For a moment, Valentino stopped the strokes to circle the dark purple head with his thumb, watching dribbles of precum collect at the slit’s opening. 

“Mm…a-ah. Fuck…” 

Fuck, that felt good. When was the last time he’d masturbated like this? Too long, apparently. With his second free hand, Valentino pinched at a heart-shaped nipple, brushing against the metal piercings before rolling the pert nub between his fingers. He pinched again, harder this time. 

“Ngh…” 

He squeezed at his pectoral, mind briefly drifting to thoughts of being a pregnant broad. If he squeezed just hard enough, milk would leak out from the heart-shaped nipples like a cow. And it would taste good, wouldn’t it? It would feel good. Having his nipples sucked and bit and marked. Swirled and teased—

“Mmm…” 

He let out another deep groan, bucking his hips towards the mirror like he was fucking his own reflection. His eyes cracked open, clouded with lust. 

God, he was so fucking perfect. A perfect, beautiful goddamn masterpiece. 

“Of course you’re beautiful, Tino. That’s why I wanted you from the moment I saw you. My pretty little butterfly, won’t you dance for me?” 

Unfurling his wings, Valentino gasped at how whole they were. How perfect. No tatters or rips in sight. Not again. Never again.

He’d get fucked with his wings around him, casting a shadow over his perfect, sweaty body. The fuzzy red hairs would rub against his skin, giving him a soft carpet burn, as his body slapped together with another sweaty body, squelching noises spilling from the dick thrusting in and out of his hole without mercy. 

“A-ah… ah… fuck, fuck, fuck…” 

He stroked faster and faster. Pinched harder and harder. Valentino was good. Better than good. Perfect. And nothing else would ever do. His third free hand brushed his reflection with a feather-light touch before slapping the palm on the glass. He braced himself, leaning over with a wicked arch. Muscles flexed and calves pointedly tight, Valentino bucked faster and faster, peering straight into the eyes of his most receptive audience. 

Yes.

No one loved Valentino like Valentino loved Valentino. And Valentino could never love another like he loved himself. There was always room at the temple for outsiders, but the vestibule that led into the corridors of his heart would forever remain blocked off. As they should always be. 

“Love? Come on, baby. That’s just a pipe dream for people at the bottom. You know that, right?” 

“Yeah… fuck! Ah…” 

He bucked faster, more and more precum dripping down his cock. Hot, bubbling water from the overflowing tub spilled out, mixing with the mess of his opalescent fluid on the ground. 

Finally, with his last free hand, Valentino reached back and outlined his hole. It was warm. Pulsing and tight. Circling the rim, he thrusted his index right into the velvety heat. 

“Fuck!” 

Knees wobbling, he went far past the knuckle, letting out a heady moan. Then he inserted another two fingers at once. 

It was hot. Hot and tight and pulsing and perfect. He timed each thrust inside to the strokes of his cock, more and more precum spilling out from the tip. Eyes closing again, Valentino lost himself to his own touch and more bubbling fantasies. 

“… You’ve no idea what you do to me. Fuck, I want—I want to taste you so goddamn badly, Val.” 

“Ah, fuck…”

Valentino fingered himself harder, aiming for that sweet spot to send him over the edge. His hips bucked, cock swiping up and down the mirror, tracking white marks along the glass. He bent over even more, back sinfully arched, stroking faster and faster. 

Finally, angling just right, he jammed his fingers straight into that sweet bundle of nerves. 

“Fuck!” 

“God, your hole is so fucking tight. I want—no, I need this…”

“Ah… fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck…”

He puffed out hot air, fogging up the mirror, stroking and fingering. God, he felt so hot. Hot and perfect and debauched. If only Valentino had another pair of hands so he could scratch himself, cut and scrape up his skin so it would bleed. More hands on his body, possessing him and bruising him. Yes, that was what Valentino wanted. What he craved.

“Fuck, that’s good. Open your legs, nice and wide for daddy’s face…”

“… V-Vox, Vox, Vox!” He panted the name like a prayer, writhing and wriggling with heat. 

Valentino could imagine it all. Those claws gripping his skin, making him bleed as they dug into his asscheeks. That static-blue tongue licking and plunging into his hole, soft degradation muffled as Valentino thrusted back against his face. And in the aftermath, he could imagine Vox perfectly, screen wet and messy, body bruised and bitten and bloody and stained with lines of cum, smiling at him, gently pulling him by the waist so they could lie together in the glow—

“I love you.” 

 “Vox…Vox, fuck. I love—I love you t—Goddamnit!” 

He stopped his hands, pulling out the fingers and halting the stroking. His heartbeat was racing a mile a minute. Valentino frowned, fists shaking by his side and cock still hard and glistening and entirely unsatisfied. 

“God fucking damnit!” 

Unable to bite down the rage coiling in his gut and the nerves firing off underneath his skin, Valentino punched the mirror. It crackled like a spiderweb beneath his fist, his face trapped in the spiraling center. He stared into the broken reflection as his chest heaved in and out, knuckles dripping with fresh blood and mixing with the cauldron below. 

“Fuck!” 

From the glassy web, tired, bruised eyes stares back at him from the shadows. Wings torn off and canvas painted with ugly splotches of red and blue and green.

Valentino sneered at the disgusting wretch. It shouldn’t exist. It should be dead and gone and buried. He swiped his hand along the broken mirror, not caring if the shards were cutting deep into his palm. With his own blood, he hid the poor pitiful bastard away. 

“Please… just say you love me.” 

He spat at the mirror. 

“Fuck you.” 

“God, you’re so fucking hot, Jesus fuck.”

Valentino hummed, grinding his ass playfully back on the tiger sinner’s crotch as he unlocked the front door to the house. Murmuring soft erotica, Valentino sank back into the teeth biting his neck and the warm hands gripping his waist like a lifeline. 

Fuck, he loved when people held onto his waist like this, bruising and gripping them like they wanted to possess him. He could already tell this sinner’s dick was a big one based on what he could feel through the thin fabric of his jeans, and Valentino wanted whatever he had inside him and thrusting now. 

Just as Valentino turned around, aiming his tongue for a sloppy wet sandpaper kiss, the smell of freshly cooked food greeted him with the opening of the door. He stopped, blinking as he saw the smiling face of his roommate pop out of the kitchen. 

“There you are. I made dinner tonight. I just wanted to say—”

Vox blinked, face falling, before a bright pearly white smile appeared.

“—Oh! I didn’t realize we were having visitors…” 

The tiger demon popped out from behind him, standing next to Valentino with his chest puffed out, heaving in and out as he caught his breath. He put a claw on Valentino’s waist, drawing them closer together. 

Calming his breathing down, Valentino sneered at the blatant casual treatment. Who the fuck did this nobody think he was, butting in and standing next to Valentino like he was anything but a means to come? With a roll of his eyes, he decided to let the underserved possessiveness go. Someone had to stay calm, and with that tense smile on his face that reeked of bullshit, Valentino knew it wasn’t going to be Vox. 

“Woah, you’re that VoxTek dude, right?” The tiger said with a lazy slur. “Love your stuff man. Didn’t think I’d get to see ya. My baby here says you hardly come out of your office.” 

“Right.” Vox crossed his arms, spatula in hand, looking entirely unimpressed. “Guess I made an exception tonight. You two going up then?”

“Yeah, we going up, baby?” The tiger purred into Valentino’s neck fur before refocusing on Vox. “We’ll try not to make too much noise, boss man.”

Valentino sighed, feeling his libido start to flatline. He wriggled out of the tiger’s embrace with a disgusted look. ‘Baby.’ Absolutely fucking wretched. Valentino hadn’t been called ‘baby’ since his streetwalking days, and this nobody certainly couldn’t hold a candle to his old macquereau. 

“I’ll clean up the mess.” He mirrored Vox’s position, crossing his arms and leaning against their staircase. “You made dinner? That’s rare for you, especially on a work night. Gracias.”

“Whatever.” 

“What were you going to say earlier?”

“Nothing.”

“Jesus Vox, what is it—”

“—Nothing,” Vox snapped through gritted teeth. “Just go.”

Valentino frowned. Fine. If Vox wanted to be a little bitch, he could go right ahead.

With a shrug, Valentino took the tiger’s hand in his own, feeling it squeeze, before they headed upstairs. From the corner of his eye, he could see Vox angrily making himself a plate in the kitchen, slamming their China and silverware, before marching off to watch TV in the den. 

Pissy, much? 

“Whatever,” Valentino muttered.

Feeling a heated bulge rubbing against his ass again, Valentino’s mind eventually drifted away from his huffy roommate. Moaning as his hole clenched damn near immediately, an overwhelming need filled Valentino’s body, threatening to overflow.

Cockiness be damned, this prick was hot and Valentino wanted that cock of his ruining his insides and staining them white.

“God, I can’t wait to sink my teeth into you…” the tiger moaned, grinding and bucking his hips. 

“Don’t make me wait then, handsome,” he whispered back, fully reciprocating. “Fuck me like you love me.”

As they approached Valentino’s boudoir, the tiger sank into his collar fluff from behind, biting at his neck before laving at the hickey with a sandpaper tongue.

Smirking, Valentino turned around, pulling in for a hot wet painful kiss. The door slammed shut just as those thick claws ripped away at his lace panties. 

After the messy deed was done and Valentino had his fill and a shower—which he’d so kindly let the tiger prick stay in his bed to wait for—he was quick to let his visitor out. He didn’t pull out his gun this time, feeling surprisingly gracious. Valentino even used the back door of the house to let the wretch out. No risk making a mess with the press now. Vox should show some damn gratitude. 

“Hey, so…”

“Hm?”

“I’d really like to see you again. Can I get your number—”

“—Fuck off.”

He slammed the door right in the sinner’s face and punched the code to lock it. 

Perfect. Nice and quiet. God, he felt good. And hungry. 

Fresh as a daisy and more than satisfied from the sex, Valentino quietly made a plate for himself in the kitchen before joining his roommate in the den. 

“Hey, I watched this when it came out in theaters.”

Vox looked over at him from their tiny sofa, glass in hand and unamused. On the coffee table, he could see a partially drunk alcohol bottle with its cap popped off. 

“What, did your boyfriend not want to stay for the movie?” 

“What a doting daddy you are, all pissy because of baby’s flings.” Valentino stretched his upper arms pleasantly, fingers grazing the ceiling. “Was that the big thing in the 50s?” 

“Very funny.”

Balancing his plate, Valentino sat on the other side of the couch. Unceremoniously, he stretched out his legs and plopped his feet up, calves resting directly on Vox’s thighs. His roommate snorted, but didn’t make an effort to push him off. 

It wasn’t an uncommon position for the two of them. Valentino liked to spread out when he watched TV and after having lived together for so long—even sharing a bed together at one point back at their old flat—Vox never made a real effort to stop his antics anymore.

He looked over at his roommate, whose arms were crossed and rested on top of Valentino’s legs like a table, then smirked. 

“Thank you for cooking, Mr. Vox sir.” He held out his hand. “Share the glass por favor.”

“Fine, fine.” Vox handed him his drink, half-filled with ice and whiskey. Not exactly Valentino’s weapon of choice, but it would do fine. As he took a swig, feeling the cool liquid go down smooth, Vox cleared his throat. 

“… And thank you. For stitching me up, I mean,” Vox muttered, taking the glass back when Valentino finished. Slowly, he leaned over to pour another, almost hugging Valentino’s legs. He wiggled his feet.  

“What are business partners for, hm? Just try not to almost fucking bite it when I have a guest over next time. I liked that one way better than this one.” 

“Whatever. Just eat your goddamn food and shut the Hell up.” 

Valentino smiled before he dug into his meal. Vox had made burgers, one of his favorite foods. Undoubtedly, this was a discreet way for the CEO—who almost never cooked—to show his thanks. A small part of Valentino did actually feel a twinge of guilt that he hadn’t been here earlier in favor of getting dicked-down, but he brushed that feeling aside. He was here now, wasn’t he? And that tiger prick was long gone from both of their lives. 

Vox took a sip of his whiskey, apparently still focused on the movie, but Valentino knew better. He could smell turmoil in those motors. Chewing his food, he peered at his roommate through half-lidded eyes, blinking as he saw his screen face shift into a snarl. 

“Goddamn fucking commercials,” Vox muttered, reaching for the remote. 

Valentino rolled his eyes. It was a VoxTek commercial of all things. Vox had no right to be angry when he purposefully added them into his cable package shows at the worst fucking times. 

‘It’ll be funny, see,’ Vox had told him once on a night in with drinks and drugs, ‘Putting a commercial here at this cliff-hanger. Those idiots are gonna writhe, just watch.’ 

Idiota. And you’d think Valentino would be the inconsequential one of the two of them, but Vox sure did have his shining moments. 

“No, wait,” he said mid-chew, holding Vox’s shoulder and squeezing. “I haven’t seen this one yet.” 

“I hate this one.”

“You say that about all of the ones you’re in.” Valentino clicked his tongue, watching Vox’s smiling commercial face get cut off as the real one fast forwarded back to the movie. “Dick. And here I was, actually thinking about buying that.”

“You shouldn’t. But I’ll happily put you down for a payment plan if you’re serious.”

“Funny.” He snorted, letting out an airy chuckle. “Are you camera shy? Is that it?”

“No.” Vox shrugged. “I just… hate looking at myself like that.” 

“Good God, Vox. You’re old, but not ugly—”

“—Not because of that, fucker,” Vox hissed, putting the remote down. “Because it’s not real.”

“Duh? It’s a fucking commercial. The average sinner would be inclined to like you a whole lot less if they knew the real you.” He patted the top of Vox’s fat TV head condescendingly. “I know I sure would.”

“Yeah, but. You like me.” Vox huffed, slapping his hand away. “Somewhat. I think.” 

“I do.”

Vox blinked. Valentino held back a laugh. Was he actually surprised? They’ve lived together for how long now? 

“But I’m not your average sinner,” Valentino continued, raising a brow. “And I’ve known you a whole lot longer than those nobodies stupid enough to buy your shitty goods. We’re…” he rolled his head. “… friends, no? Outside of business partners and roommates, I mean.”

“Of course,” Vox answered with a snort, like that fact was the most obvious thing in the world. That lack of doubt pleased him, but Valentino wasn’t exactly sure why. Why had he thought otherwise again? His chest briefly twinged, but he brushed whatever that feeling was aside.  

“See?” He smiled, grin pleasantly sinister. “Why worry about being fake on the clock when you have someone you can let loose to at home? A job’s a job. But this is real. Be as shitty as you want here, partner. I don’t care.” 

“Hm.” Vox stared into the TV, eyes unblinking, but the corners of his mouth quirked into a tiny smile. “Thanks, I guess.”

“No need.” 

Chewing his food as the movie played, a comfortable silence had formed between them. It was nice. One monster quietly enjoying the company of another. Valentino withheld a comment on how Vox’s hands had taken to roaming his legs, boldness aided by the whiskey. The tips of his claws traced unknown images into the fuzzy purple skin and Valentino fought back a wiggle. 

“… I’m not old.”

He blinked mid-chew, then swallowed. “What?”

“I’m not old. You always say I’m old. We’re probably the same age, give or take. Just died at different times.”

Valentino leaned forward. “Hm. This might not end well for you if you’re wrong, Señor. I wouldn’t wanna have to stitch you up again,” he cood, words laced with a dangerous edge. “Or break that screen.” 

“Please. You certainly act like a fucking child, but you’re probably just as—”

“—35.”

Vox blinked. “… What was that?”

“35,” Valentino echoed slowly, stretching out each syllable. “I died at a beautifully tragic 35, if you’d care to know. My own little secret I’m sharing with you.”

Vox’s mouth opened and closed, like he was searching for the right words. “… Shit.”

Valentino laughed, kicking his legs. He felt Vox give a huffy pinch to his thigh, which only made him laugh even harder. 

“No, no, let me guess—”

“—Fuck you, Val—”

“—56?”

“55 and a half, thank you.”

He wheezed, laughter bubbling out in folds. 

“Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up, you dick.” Vox rolled his eyes, but his mouth quirked up in the ghost of a smile. “You’re not gonna think it’s so funny the next time you need something fixed around the house and come whining to me.”

It took a few moments for Valentino’s laughter to fade into quiet chuckles. Once he calmed down, he put his empty plate on the coffee table next to the whiskey bottle. It was always so fun, riling Vox up like this. He made it too easy. 

“I can always just call someone, y’know.” He hummed pleasantly. “Not like we’re strapped for cash anymore, thank fuck.”

“Absolutely not.” Vox crossed his arms resolutely, sticking his metaphorical nose up with a huff. Valentino thought it looked more cute than anything. “I refuse to pay someone else to fix something in my home that I could easily do myself.”

“See? That’s the mentality of a middle-aged father.” 

“Suppose that makes you my spoiled bitch of a cheating wife, then?” Vox rolled his eyes, slapping his palm against Valentino’s knee a few times. “Kidding, of cour—”

“—Sure.”

Vox blinked. “… What?”

“I’ll be a good housewife, if you’d like. Nice and demure. Wear a pretty dress. Have a warm meal ready for you when you get home, my dear sweet marido.” He allowed his voice to lower, deep and haughty. “Let you spank me when I’ve been bad.” 

Valentino delighted in the expression on Vox’s face, like he wasn’t sure whether to bite back with an insult or chastise Valentino for his innuendos. Either way, Valentino got his amusement from Vox’s huffing and the way he pinched his thigh again. 

“You’re such a little shit for someone that’s 10 feet tall,” Vox answered with a snort. “I know for a fact you’d burn this place down if you ever tried to cook something.”

“I can cook, you know.” Valentino raised a pointed brow. “I just choose not to.” 

“I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“You can believe it when you taste it,” Valentino challenged, already making a mental list of things palatable for Vox’s American midwest gringo tongue. “I’ll make you eat those fucking words.” 

“I’ll eat my words just as soon as you can cook up something that’s not shit and have it on the table when I get home from work.” 

“You’re on. Tomorrow, then.” 

“I’ll be counting the minutes, shithead.”

“Watch it. I’ll secretly add that on the side. Disguise it as chocolate.”

“God, you’re vile.” As they watched their movie, no care being paid to the actual plot anymore, Vox continued softly tracing unknown patterns into Valentino’s legs, clinging to them in an almost intimate way. Valentino smiled, discreetly sinking into the warm embrace. 

“Of course. But you love me, anyways.”

It was an endless cycle. 

They argued. They ignored each other. They came back together to argue some more. Sometimes they broke things. Sometimes they ‘broke up.’ Eventually they’d break the bed. Ad infinitum.

But someway, somehow, under whatever circumstance that briefly tore them apart in the first place, Valentino always managed to come back to this exact spot to look at this picture. 

He reached for it. Mindlessly, Valentino trailed his fingers along the skeleton of his antenna, and his knuckles throbbed in dull pulses from underneath their bandages. For a brief moment, the smirking victor in the picture disappeared, replaced by a fresh-faced pauper with hope in his heart and an anxious tick in his step. 

Sometimes, Valentino couldn’t believe he’d ever been that goddamn fucking naive. It was Hell. The place where kindness went to die. Why had he ever thought otherwise?

“I’ve got connections, Tino. To Lucifer himself. You don’t deserve this life. I knew from the moment I saw you. You have heart. A beautiful one, just like you. Redemption isn’t just a dream for the foolish, you know.”

“… Really? Do you mean it?” 

“I do. And I can make it all better. Transform you. Guide you. Just trust me, and you’ll be a butterfly ascending to Heaven’s light yet.” 

He sneered. All things aside, that sweet-talking fucker taught him well. You trap far more flies with promises of honey than vinegar. And delusional little butterflies with their sights set on leaving the eternal inferno were no different. 

Valentino deserved this, really. His power. His status. He crawled gravel roads paved with glass and shit right out of the gate and still ended up on top. 

Sometimes he thought it was funny. Downright fucking hilarious, actually. A big chunk of the bitches he had under contract had been down here for years. Far longer than Valentino. They had decades to learn the ups and downs of this cesspool. To grow jaded and cautious overtime—unlike him who got caged damn near immediately—but they all still fell into an obvious honey-laden trap anyway, like morons. It pleased him. 

Just like back then, people wanted him. Wanted what he could give them. Got addicted to Valentino’s love and words and body and take what they could get. But this time, Valentino always took something back.

He was the one that trapped others now. And the mindless idiots that fell for it deserved all the shit he threw at them. They deserved to be his property. And who knows? They’d probably end up leashed by someone else much less giving on the freedom aspect than him. 

Blinking back into reality, Valentino smiled a sinisterly pleased smile, matching the successful version of himself in the picture. 

Yes. In a selfish world, the selfish succeeded. He didn’t need anyone else. 

And yet… 

He frowned, focusing on the one other person in the frame. His lip curled, wanting to be bothered by the TV fuck-face shaking his hand, but Valentino just couldn’t muster up the energy to stay angry anymore. The cocktail of emotions swirled in his gut, but tired cracks from overflowing memories and pent-up emotions allowed it to seep into the tendrils of Valentino’s heart. 

The most prominent ingredient in the mix wasn’t a blind seething rage anymore. Not disgust either. No, what Valentino found there was a feeling of… bereftness. Emptiness. And it was harder to swallow. Valentino was in his home—luxurious and grand and plush and everything he’d always wanted—but for some reason, it didn’t feel like home right now. 

Vox’s smiling face stared back at him from the past, and from the corner of his eye, Valentino peered into one of the many cameras in his room. His mind drifted back to the day everything changed, and the two of them began their slow ascent from rock bottom to the top. 

“Do you… need a ride?” Vox looked comfortable in the driver’s seat. Tired and beaten, but comfortable. Almost at peace.  

Tino looked over into the open road he was about to tread, feeling the remnants of the fire still warm on his skin. He inhaled the scent of gasoline just as his heels brushed against the gravel pavement. 

“I can walk. Thanks.”

Vox hesitated. “… It might be more advantageous if we stick together, you know.” Tino blinked, looking at him. Their eyes locked. Vox continued, the car’s engine quietly humming in the background as the smoke began to clear. 

“A lot of people might be out for us—out for you. We could watch each other’s backs. At least just for a little bit longer.”

“Oh? You think so, huh?”

“Yes. I mean. We’ve been living together for more than a little while now. I’m sure we could put up with another shared living arrangement for just a few more miles until something better turns up.” 

Tino snorted. “Better than that piece of shit cardboard box of a flat that barely had running water on a good day, you mean?” 

“It had character, thank you very fucking much. Before we burned it down at least. I want our next home to be a bigger one. A better one.”

Our next home? Hm. 

For the first time in a long time, Tino—no, Valentino—allowed himself a real smile. 

“…Ok. Scoot over, partner. And just call me Val.”  

He opened his phone. 

One New Message: 

Babydoll <3

>Piece of shit^^

>Fuck you! 

Lets go shopping<

<3<

Ill pay<

>Yay. Meet u downstairs XOXO

“Jesus, you really need to loosen up. Here.” 

Finally, the time was here. After being slated to become official Overlords come morning and high off the power rush rippling through their skins, the two of them had gone out to a club. More of a throwaway suggestion on Valentino’s end, but Vox had actually agreed, surprisingly. He’d even been somewhat happy at the start, so Valentino wasn’t exactly sure why the little TV man was being so pissy now. 

He slid a shot over to his drinking buddy. Though, Valentino’s ‘drinking buddy’ was being more of a wet fucking blanket if he was being entirely honest. Eyes softening, he cood. 

“Why so glum, abuelito? This is supposed to be a night to celebrate! To drink from the fountain of youth with our dicks out, so to speak. We’re here to have fun, sí?” 

“Sí! And trust me, I know. Believe me.” Vox threw back the drink with a huff before slamming the glass on the table. “I just didn’t think you’d ditch me for some nobody’s dick half an hour in.” 

“Don’t be such a fucking baby, I’m not ditching you for a dick-down.” 

Yet.

Swaying to the beat of the club music from his chair, Valentino took a whiff of the mystery drink in his hand. 

‘Courtesy of the gentleman at table 3,’ he’d been told. 

Shrugging, he gulped it down before glancing to the other side of the club. Said gentleman—a well-toned bird demon with pretty tail feathers—had been undressing Valentino with his eyes for the last 5 minutes, and with the pangs of excitement and pure fucking giddy bubbling in his chest, it crossed his mind more than once to ask the handsome stranger for some entertainment on the dance floor.

Eventually they looked at each other from across the room. Gentleman from table 3 shot him a wink, pretty blue eyes half-lidded and lusted out. 

“I’m gonna go dance,” Valentino announced, slapping Vox’s shoulder. 

“With him?” Vox bit back with a snort, peering into his empty shot glass. 

“Yes. Does it fucking matter?” Valentino let out his own snort, rolling his eyes up. “Look. He’s hot. He’s clearly interested. And I wanna dance with someone.”

“Whatever. Have fun.” 

He scoffed. Valentino just couldn’t wrap his mind around it. They were about to be Overlords for Christ’s sake. Something that they’d always wanted, ever since their days of pinching pennies back at the old flat. How Vox couldn’t get out of his own fucking head to let loose and enjoy himself over that fact was actually astounding. 

“Alright.” Valentino crossed his arms. “What the fuck’s going on with you? You didn’t have to come out, you know.”

“I have a lot on my mind.” 

“Yeah? Well don’t.”

“Jesus, just fucking go already!”

For a moment, Valentino considered his roommate. Tensed up shoulders, clenched fists, deep frown. He rolled his head, going through his options. 

“You want me to call up one of my girls—”

“—No.”

Not even sex? Jesus, fuck this guy! How the Hell he and Vox were still friends was beyond Valentino. 

He looked at his roommate again, thinking. Considering. For all the shit he talked, Vox wasn’t too terribly devastating on the eyes. Not really Valentino’s type per se, but there was an appeal to him when he got angry or downright sadistic—something of a twisted ‘je ne sais quoi’ on Valentino’s end truth be told. Maybe a joke to get him pissed off and huffy would spark up some energy in that flat face? 

Valentino smirked. “Would you wanna dance then?”

Vox looked up. “… What?”

He shrugged, repeating, “Would you like to dance—”

“—Yes.”

Huh. 

Valentino blinked. Suddenly, there was a hand in his, sweaty and clammy and tinged with blue, locking their fingers together and leading him to the dance floor. Vox squeezed them together ever-so-slightly, and, giddy with a rush of unexpected adrenaline and feeling on top of the fucking world, Valentino squeezed back. 

Immediately they danced and gyrated in messy circles, pushing and pulling away from each other as far as the expansive crowd around them allowed. He twirled in a drunken tambour, falling back into warm and comforting—familiar—arms.

As he turned, Vox’s other hand interlocked with Valentino’s and they danced together like there was no tomorrow. He smiled at Vox. And for the first time tonight, Vox gave him a genuine smile back. 

Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe it was the heat. Maybe it was the thrill of Overlordom, but Valentino found that ‘Gentleman from table 3’ was slipping far far far away from his thoughts in favor of this sloppy dance. No one else mattered. Not right now at least. Right now, it was just the two of them. Vox and Valentino. 

Vox tripped on his feet, cursing, and Valentino—finding it more funny than he should—cackled, wrapping his other set of arms around the shorter man’s neck, drawing them close. 

“How graceful, Señor.”

“Eat shit.” 

“With the way you’re tripping over your own feet, I’d say you first. It’s good to see that ugly frown of yours in any case.” He pinched Vox’s screen, wiggling the fat TV head back and forth. “Thought I’d never get to see it tonight.”

“Fuck you.” Vox undid one hand to slap Valentino’s extra one away, mouth quirked at the corners. 

“Your place or mine?” He pulled the slapping hand back, this time guiding it down to his waist. Blue-tipped claws immediately grabbed the exposed middle with just the right amount of pressure, hand resting on top of the extra set of arms. ‘It fits nicely there,’ Valentino thought to himself. They spun in another circle, breathless and giddy and powerful. 

Valentino was on top of the world, and it actually felt nice sharing the view with someone. 

Chest puffing in and out, Vox looked up at him. His eyes were pretty in this light. Red and hypnotic. Valentino looked down, pulling them closer together until he could feel Vox’s heated breath on the skin over his heart. 

 “… Look, Val. I need—I need to tell you something—”

Suddenly, the sound of glass erupted, breaking the moment. Immediately after, one sinner screamed, followed by a symphony. 

“Fuck! Get down!” someone in the crowd yelled. 

In a near instant, bullets exploded through the walls, trailing every which way, hitting the lights, hitting the glasses, hitting the people. A bullet just barely grazed Valentino’s arm, nicking it.

Warm blood splashed at his back from where one of the other club attendees had taken the bullet instead, falling to the floor in jerky spasms. More and more once-dancing bodies plopped to the ground and jerked as bullets flew, eventually becoming temporarily lifeless and unmoving. 

“Let it fucking wait!” Valentino shouted. 

He grinned for some reason, adrenaline pumping in spades. Taking Vox’s hand in his again, Valentino led them off the bloody dance floor, twisting and jumping around bodies and bullets. 

Before they could beeline for the exit, something that felt like wet downy fingers wrapped around Valentino’s ankle, holding him back. He looked down. 

Gentleman from table 3, ugly, bloody, and prone on the ground, gasped for life, beseeching him with those pretty eyes. For a moment, Valentino was hooked. Enamored. Being stared up at like an almighty God, blood soaking the heel of his shoe, ready to be licked off… fuck, that was hot. His skin tingled. 

“Pl… please h-help me…” 

Immediately, the tingle vanished. Valentino sneered, wiggling his leg. 

“Get the fuck off m—”

Suddenly, the bird demon was pushed back with a kick to the face. Valentino blinked. 

Did Vox really just fucking do that?

Then, like he was answering Valentino’s question, Vox kicked again. And again. And again and again and again, and Valentino just couldn’t look away.

Grinning like the devil with a sinister cackle to match, his roommate was beating down the already beaten bastard over and over, blood and feathers staining his suede shoes, and could Valentino feel that tingle in his skin return full-force, spreading out and breaking into goosebumps. 

Before Valentino knew it, Vox was the one taking his hand this time, squeezing it as he led them out of the doors. Behind them, bullets kept flying, and bodies kept dropping one by one until no one was dancing anymore. Inappropriate laughter bubbled out from both of their mouths as they raced into the darkness of the empty streets. 

“Why… the fuck are you laughing?” Vox panted, laughing in manic pants like a deranged lunatic as their hands squeezed together and they bolted around a corner. “…Huh? Fucker?” 

“You’re one to talk! Ha… Fuck, you’re… you’re so fucking lucky I wore heels tonight,” Valentino spat, laughing and panting and bloody. “I’m slowed down here… I’d be running so much faster than you!” 

“Sounds like—like a fucking excuse to me!” 

Ducking behind a dark alleyway to rest, the two panted in and out, slowly coming down from their adrenaline-induced high. They slumped together against a garbage can that smelled like rotten sardines and onions. Valentino let out a laugh despite the smell, heaving in and out as he curled into Vox’s warm, sweaty body. He grinned when Vox leaned back into him.

It wasn’t really any surprise who’d attacked the club. That one extremist group had been on a fruitless manhunt for Overlord candidates for a while now, and on their last vie to overthrow the regime before being inevitably crushed out by the approaching forces of Zestial and Carmine, they’d attacked in the neutral zone between territories. Vox knew their audacity well first-hand. 

Being only this night away from that title, it dawned on Valentino that they might have flown just a bit too close to the sun this time. And he knew he should be more serious right now, but… 

“It smells like our old flat,” he panted, laughing as he wiped away a smear of blood. 

“Better, actually.” Vox pinched his thigh, smiling between his own panting. “God, you’re the fucking worst.”

“I know. But you love me anyway.” Valentino smiled back, peering at his equally blood-stained partner before looking around the corner. “Look, the streets are empty. Those chicken-shit bastards probably had this planned from the get-go.” 

“Probably.”

He hummed, thinking about that. Thinking about Vox. 

“… And you knew this might happen, no?”

In the distance, bullets and screams fired off, drawing closer and closer. 

Vox kept his hand on Valentino’s thigh, warming the skin. It tingled again. He liked the feeling.

His roommate maintained a cool silence for longer than Valentino had the patience for, and, feeling bolder than usual and surprisingly emotional tonight, Valentino placed his hand over the one on his thigh and squeezed it.

They looked at each other. Vox looked very handsome like this, actually. Covered in someone else’s blood and smiling up at him. 

“You knew it’d be dangerous,” Valentino continued, looking Vox in the eyes. “I know you. So why come out?” 

“… You like going out.” Vox blinked. 

“Please. That’s a fucking joke. Your interests and what I like never overlap.” 

Valentino could see the moment something in Vox deflated, and he actually felt a twinge of guilt come over him for some reason. Had he said something wrong? He watched as Vox closed his eyes, slumping against the garbage can like a soldier with his back to the wall.

Valentino considered him for a moment, softly humming the opening to his favorite song as the right words formed in his head. Gentle guitar strums and wailing violins. It’d be nice for a slower—more intimate—dance, he thought. 

“I had fun tonight,” he said, softness hidden by a tired croak. “Dancing with you.”

Vox blinked, eyes fluttering open. Valentino almost felt pleased at the way that screen brightened. 

“… Really?” 

“Are you surprised? I mean, sure it was sloppy and messy as shit. Probably one of the worst dances I’ve ever had.” Valentino shrugged, tracing his fingers along the back of Vox’s hand. “But we can practice more and try again in the future.”

“Next Friday?”

Valentino blinked. Eager, much?

“If I didn’t know any better, I would think you were asking me out, abuelito.” Ever-so-subtly, he tucked away a smile.

“Jesus, never mind. You don’t have to be such a fucking d—”

“—Sure. Next Friday. Bail and I’ll bite your dick off.” 

“I’ll pencil it down.” Vox snorted, leaning back with a relaxed sigh despite the circumstances. “Not sure my footwork’s gonna improve too much by then, though.”

“I have time. I mean. We have all of fucking eternity in this shithole, right?”

“Right. Although…” Eventually, Vox lets a tired smile creep onto his screen. “… We probably need to go home first before we can think about Friday, right?”

Home. 

Yes. They needed to go home. 

“Right.” Valentino lifted off the ground, Vox following suit. He kicked off his bloody heels, tossing them into the garbage can. Shame, but at least this gave Valentino an excuse to buy a nicer pair if they managed to survive after tonight. 

He blinked in surprise, laughing quietly at what he was watching.

“You don’t need to throw yours away too. This’ll just help me run faster.”

“That asshole got them dirty anyway,” Vox explained, tossing his own expensive suede shoes into the garbage next to his. Valentino hummed again. Then he reached for Vox’s hand, looping the bloodied fingers together and squeezing. 

“We can go shopping together. You can buy me new shoes.”  

“If we make it,” Vox answered simply, squeezing back as he looked up at Valentino. 

“We will.”

“And you know that, how exactly?”

“I don’t. You’re just gonna have to trust me on this one, partner.”

Silence filled between them, but it was comfortable. Familiar. Like the warmth of their kitchen tiles in the early morning or the worn fabric of their sofa in the den. Like the feeling of Vox’s arms around him. 

In the background, as the night crept in, screams and bullets fired off, drawing closer and closer. Valentino could smell rusted metal and smoke floating in the breeze, mixed with the underlying chemical bite of mustard gas. He squeezed Vox’s hand again, missing the faint smell of cherry tobacco and acrid metal that clung to their walls. He wanted to sink into that scent. Sink into the place Valentino could safely call his home. 

Vox looked at him. Valentino looked back. 

Nodding their heads, Vox counted to three under his breath. Valentino’s heartbeat briefly slowed in that short gap of time between one and three, where nothing else existed—nothing else mattered—but the two of them and that place they need to be. 

Home. 

They raced into the night, hands still intertwined, not once ever looking back.

“Are you fucking joking? How much is this?” 

His jaw dropped. Jesus fuck, that was pricey. Even for him. 

Valentino glared poison-laced bullets at the store clerk, tempted to reach for the gun he hadn’t actually brought with him and pull the hypothetical trigger. Eventually, biting his lip and swallowing the bitter taste of his pride, he nodded and pulled out his card. 

It was a good find, in any case. Valentino had to remind himself of only that point and not all the cash he’d just lost. A nice find. A perfect find. Valentino never settled for anything less than that, especially not this time around. Taking his card back with a huff, he peers at the small embroidered box in his hand, admiring it in the light. 

“Hey, I’m back.” 

He clicked his tongue, ignoring Velvette’s approach. 

“Damn. And here I was, hoping you’d get kidnapped by thugs,” he said with a pleasant hum before his tone shifted to a well-placed bitter. “Find something else, princessa?”

“One, they would probably be employed by you, and two, even if they weren’t, you would be the one paying my ransom anyway, pendejo.” Velvette jutted out her hip, flipping back her ponytail. “And yes, actually! Some shoes for myself. I needed new heels. ¡Gracias, Señor Valentino!”  

Valentino sneered at her cheer. Little goddamn cunt. Was this how Vox felt? With how much Velvette was milking his funds for this little impromptu shopping spree, the thought crossed Valentino’s mind that he might actually need to hop back on the saddle and take his missing work seriously once they got back home. 

“You’re sucking me dry, my muñequita,” he said with a sigh. “And not in a good way.” 

“You were the one that offered to pay,” Velvette reminded him with a hum, readjusting the bags in her arms filled with the expensive shit Valentino had already bought her. “And I really expected you to buy more things for yourself, like always. What’d you get? Just that? Really?” 

Slowly, he opened the box, admiring the glimmer of stainless steel in the light. He smiled victoriously seeing Velvette’s eyes widen as she looked at it too. 

“That’s quite lovely, actually. Must’ve been a lot. Oh, I know that brand! That explains it. It’s a good one.” 

“The best.” 

“But it honestly doesn’t suit you.”

“No?” 

Humming, Valentino closed the box, keeping it safe in the pocket near his heart. After readjusting the collar to his silk cheetah-print button down and patting his chest, he eventually curled his wings back into their signature coat, adding another layer of safety to his find. 

“The colors don’t match, no,” Velvette continued with a thoughtful drawl. 

“Good thing it’s not for me then. Now. Which stores are your shoes at? I wanna make sure they aren’t horribly disgusting before I let you run wild with my card again.” 

Eventually, the two strutted along the mall’s glossy linoleum, not paying any mind to the dozens of sinners ogling the two infamous Overlords.

Valentino took the time to lazily window browse each store, taking brief pauses at things that somewhat interested him before the interest flickered out like a candle in the wind. Velvette followed right next to him, not exactly window browsing, but focused simultaneously on walking and looking down at her phone. 

“That’s sweet of you, you know.” 

“Oh, but of course.” Valentino blinked at the words before looking over with a Cheshire grin. “Honestly though, you shouldn’t be surprised, baby doll. Big daddy Valentino can’t have you wearing ugly shoes to go out—”

“—No.”

Raising a brow, Valentino looked down at the little fashionista. 

“That you bought that for Vox.” 

He made a face. God, Velvette and her annoying fucking need to to pry were gonna be the extended death of him one day. Going through a mental list of excuses that she wouldn’t be able to see through, Valentino cursed his shitty luck when he found nothing coming to mind. Whatever. He’ll just stay quiet and pretend he hadn’t heard her—

“—I’m sorry.”

“Excuse me?” Valentino’s eyebrows pinched, tone laced with an uncharacteristic worry. “What the fuck’s wrong with you? Are you sick? Do you need to sit down?”

“I’m trying to be genuine here, you moronic fucking tart.” Velvette clicked her tongue, waving freshly-coated nails in the air. “I didn’t realize the thing that happened at Zeesi’s actually bothered you. Usually I enjoy taking the piss out of you, but I didn’t think you’d take it to heart this time. And I’m sorry.” 

“Well, you can save it, luv,” Valentino answered with a mock British accent. “‘Cuz it didn’t botha me one fookin’ bit.”

“Oh, of course! So you lock yourself away in your room, get into a screaming match with Vox, fucking hurt yourself,” She hissed, pointed at the bandages around Valentino’s knuckles, making him flinch, “All because you weren’t bothered?”

“… I was taking a much-needed vacation, thank you very fucking much.”  

“A vacation with no sex or drugs?” 

Valentino frowned and crossed his arms, more annoyed that Velvette had actually made a damn good point. 

Eventually she led him inside a store. Illuminated by bright lights and sequined dresses with a synthetic pop song playing in the background—Verosika Mayday, he was pretty sure—Valentino didn’t even have to look at price tags to know this place was expensive. He felt a swell of pride watching how the store clerks quaked with fear at the arrival of the Vees little diva. 

Lazily browsing the merchandise on display, Valentino immediately pointed to one pair of shoes in particular. 

“The ones on that mannequin over there are sexy, no? You’d look best in those. Everything else is dog shit.” 

Not good. Not great. Best. 

“See, this is why I like shopping with you, Val,” Velvette answered enthusiastically, picking up the exact ones in her size. “You actually know my style! These were the ones I had in mind, actually.”

“Perfecto. Have at it,” he mumbled, tossing Velvette his card. “Let me know if you need anything. Or don’t. I don’t give a fuck.” 

Watching Velvette retreat back into the club dresses section, Valentino aimlessly wandered the other aisles of the store, looking for things to occupy the time but not really his mind.

Rubbing his fingers against the different textiles of the passing clothes, smelling the different perfumes to guess what the predominant scent was without reading labels, pausing at every mirror to take a look at his ass. At every one, it felt like his knuckles were throbbing from underneath the bandages. At least there were no cracks in these. 

Eventually Valentino’s feet slowed at one empty section of the store. Glancing up, he could see the familiar surveillance camera brand predominant in this shopping district. 

“He missed you, you know.”

Valentino clicked his tongue, itching for the burn of tobacco in his lungs. To his side, Velvett’s heels clicked on the ground as she marched up to stand next to him. 

“Please. He missed the sex.” 

“He missed you.”

“That, my dear muñequita, is the same fucking thing.” 

Valentino swallowed the lump in his throat, hoping Velvette hadn’t noticed. The camera wasn’t moving. But it was on. It was clearly working. Was Vox watching them right now? Could he hear what they were talking about? Could he guess what Valentino was thinking about? 

“… Not to him, it’s not,” Velvette answered after a few moments before reaching into her bag and pulling out her phone. “You want to see the messages he sent me about you?”

“That’ll piss him off for sure.” He snorted, holding out his hand. “Pero sí. Dámelo.” 

Taking Velvette’s phone, he scrolled and lazily browsed through her and Vox’s messages. 

“He’s not gonna take those outfit suggestions, you know,” Valentino mumbled, scrolling past a few messages with Velvette sending Vox an outfit he would theoretically look good in—which he would, in Valentino’s opinion—and Vox replying with either nothing or disliking the comment. “He should, but he’s not going to.”

“Not those ones, you fucking tart. The ones at the bottom. Read those ones.” 

“Fine, fine. Whatever.”

Scrolling, Valentino quickly skimmed through the last dozen of messages about him. 

Vox Darling >:}

>He’ll calm down eventually. I’m not worried. 

Sure ur not<

Scroll. 

>God he’s such a fucking baby. 

No shit, Sherlock<

Scroll.

>Has Val messaged you at all? 

Wtf do u think<

?<

>Whatever. Fuck him. 

>We’ll have our meeting regardless. Here are PDF links with today’s agenda. 

Scroll. 

Yk u can just fuck some other dick right?<

>I know.

>I probably will. 

Scroll. 

>It’s not just the sex

Pause.

?<

What then<

>He is. 

>Jesus I don’t fucking know

>home

Corny<

>Watch it

>I’m going to talk to him. 

Paused in time, Valentino stared down at that one message. 

Home. 

He swallowed, more obviously this time. Then, looking back up into the camera and feeling more aware of the weight of the box in his pocket pressing into his chest, Valentino felt his chest lurch again. 

“Are you done?” He finally asked. “Shopping, I mean. Actually, you’d better be fucking done since I’m not buying anymore shit for you.”   

Giving him a look, Velvette eventually took her phone back. 

“Yeah,” she answered with a soft smile. “I’m done.”

“Let’s go home then.”

The home was a base, the doorway a finish line, and the break of morning light a signifier to their victory. The extremists weren’t going to win this one. A nice try, but doomed to fail from the very start. Such was Hell, afterall. 

After years—decades—of accumulated losses, they had finally won. 

“Holy shit… We’re… we’re actually alive!” Valentino wheezed with a rush of giddy, dripping with blood and sweat, leaning against their staircase. “Vox, we’re alive—”

“—I know.” His roommate punched in the code to their home security defense systems, back turned from him and voice clipped. “I’m well aware.”

Valentino blinked. Then his eyebrows pinched. 

“Excuse me?”

“Shut the fuck up, Val.” 

Valentino raised a brow, confused and surprisingly disappointed. Vox was really going back to this cold act of his again? They were back home. They were winners. Guaranteed Overlords now. He should be fucking elated. Valentino had been so sure they even had something of a heart-to-heart by that garbage can, so what the fuck was with that tone? Frowning, he marched up to his roommate. 

“Alright, what is it now—”

Suddenly, Vox grabbed his wrist, pulling him down, and Valentino immediately zeroed in on the sensation of kissing a screen. 

It felt pretty fucking bizarre, actually. Like his lips were being pressed against a hot wall of glossy plastic. Staticky. He leaned in.

Prickles of tiny shocks tingled around his mouth the closer he got. Valentino wasn’t entirely sure if he liked the sensations. Vox’s eyes were closed, and a flash of pity hit Valentino that his eyes weren't. Half-tempted to pull away, he paused when Vox’s tongue eventually extended out, prodding his lips apart. 

Oh. Hang on. 

Without hesitation, Vox’s tongue pushed further in, swirling and exploring around every inch of Valentino’s mouth. Hot and vrmmming with energy, the wet appendage grazed the sharp edges of Valentino’s teeth, licking at the gums.

Most people that Valentino fucked avoided his teeth. They wanted to avoid the pain that came with shedding blood, obviously. But in his mission to taste, tongue plunging deeper and deeper into the cavern of Valentino’s mouth, almost wriggling into the back of his throat like a hot wet blow job that made him dizzy for air, it felt like Vox wanted to be punctured. Wanted to bleed. That’d be a sight. Vox plundering his mouth like this—tongue, dick, fingers, whatever—thrusting in and out, eyes lit up and screen bloody—

“Mmm…” Valentino moaned, eventually closing his eyes too.

Digging his nails into Vox’s shoulder blades, making him let out a delicious hiss, Valentino pulled the CEO in, letting his own tongue slip out. Electric prickles danced on his taste buds as their tongues met. Metallic. Warm. Faintly bloody. Valentino liked how Vox smelled like a mix of how he tasted. Licking more into those flavors, he inhaled that aroma of sweat and blood and metal. Their tongues wrapped around each other, tugging back and forth and swirling in a messy dance. 

Slowly, they eventually pulled away, pink saliva pooling at both of their mouths as they gasped for air. They blinked at each other. 

“So,” Valentino was the first to say, in-between puffs of heated breaths. “That’s what your kisses taste like?”

“Shocking, right?” Vox answered, playing off his windedness with a bullshit bravado and pearly smile. “Impressed?” 

“Hardly.” He snorted, mindlessly playing with Vox’s antennas. “It felt like I was swishing soda fizz in my mouth. I bet your cum tastes like battery acid too.”

Not without a grin on his face, Vox slapped Valentino’s hand away, chest heaving in and out. “Fucker.”

“You should fuck my mouth.”

“Wh-really?” Vox’s eyes widened like dinner plates. 

Valentino smiled. He thought it was cute.

“I’d love to test my theory,” he cooed, leaning in to whisper hotly. “I lay on the bed, panting and writhing for you. You kneel over my face, legs spread, with that cute little ass of yours in the air, flexed and taut.” He could feel Vox shiver at his litany, only making Valentino more audacious with his words. “Then you’d thrust into my mouth over and over and over. I’d lick and taste you, swallow every drop you have to offer—”

“—No,” Vox interrupted suddenly, voice low and heady.

“‘No?’” Valentino echoed in a normal tone, offense taken to his interrupted erotica. “What the fuck do you mean ‘no?’ What, is the closet too fucking comfortable to get out of—ah! Fuck!” 

Clinging onto Vox’s shoulders, desperate hands reached around Valentino, hitching his black mini-dress up. Immediately the sharp claws dug right into the fleshy mounds of his ass without little care. Valentino hissed, instinctively bucking his hips at the painful pleasure. His nipples began to harden from beneath the thin fabric of his dress as his thigh brushed up against the hot tent in Vox’s slacks. 

“Oh, is this for me?” He whispered through puffs of air, purposefully grinding slowly. 

Vox only groaned at the friction, pressing closer to Valentino’s chest, puffing hot breaths on his nipples and bucking right back as he kneaded his fingers in deeper, scratching at Valentino’s ass cheeks before spreading them apart. Valentino arched into the invasive touch with a pleased sigh, spreading his legs. 

“I want to be here,” Vox whispered hotly against him. “Inside this.” 

Moving the strap of his G-string aside, Vox dipped one finger in, moving past the flesh, just barely circling the rim of Valentino’s hole.

Valentino shivered at the satisfying pain of the claw slowly going inside him dry. His asshole throbbed at the small intrusion, puckering as the digit pulled out—reluctant to let go—only to plunge back in again. Letting out a deep groan, Valentino closed his eyes. He wanted more of it. That painful pleasure. He was desperate for it, and without any sort of struggle, he let Vox’s debauched ministrations wash over him. 

“I’m going to come inside of you,” Vox panted, bucking harder against Valentino’s thigh. With a low growl, he used his free hand to rip Valentino’s collar down the middle, revealing his heart-shaped nipples before immediately sucking one into his greedy electrified mouth. Giving tiny shocks to the dappled skin, the sensations ran like a live wire shooting from Valentino’s nipple straight down to his cock. 

“Mmm… ah, fuck…” Valentino managed as Vox suckled at his nipple like it was his last meal in Hell, letting hot trails of pink saliva spill down his chest to trail into his underwear.

A vicious bite to Valentino’s pectoral sparked his nerves to life. It hurt so fucking good. And it was definitely going to leave a mark. But Vox, uncaring and attractively feral, only swirled his tongue around the pert nub before teasing it between his teeth. Lightly biting down, Vox let out a few more hot breaths before slowly pulling away. 

“I want to bury my cock deep inside you,” Vox puffed, planting electric kisses on Valentino’s chest between words, before digging his claws into Valentino’s waist so tight he could bruise. “So deep that you’ll never think to ever bring another man into the walls of my home again!”

Trailing his hands down, Vox kneaded at Valentino’s left ass cheek before slapping it with the flat of his palm. Valentino groaned. God, it hurt so fucking good.  “I hated every single no-name that’s infested this place. Infested your bedroom.”  

‘You could’ve been one of them, you know,’ Valentino could say, but why staunch Vox’s jealous flames? Jealousy only made the sex better, and he knows sex is indeed the CEO’s prerogative for tonight.

Valentino groaned as his ass was slapped again before being roughly cupped. Lifting his head up for a moment just to lavish his other nipple with attention, Vox pushed Valentino further back to the wall with a ‘thud’ that shook the hanging photos. Vox took in a sharp breath before leaning forward to suckle and bite and swirl. 

“A-ah… Fuck…”

“Fuck whatever nobody your twisted little heart wants outside, but this is my home. Our home,” Vox eventually managed, voice slightly muffled by the skin of Valentino’s chest. Slowly, he pulled away once more, letting go of his iron grip on Valentino’s ass for a brief moment just to slap it again, making it burn. The hand lingered there a bit longer to scratch the skin, running welts along its surface. “When we’re here, I’m to be the only one to touch you. To mark you.” 

Letting out high pitched groans of submission, Valentino bucked his hips. The rapid onslaught of pain was spreading a rush of endorphins throughout his entire system, and Valentino’s mind was overwhelmed by fantasies of Vox fucking him every which way, on every surface of their house, whispering degrading, possessing words, thrusting inside him until Valentino sees stars, filling him to the brim with his hot cum over and over. Breeding him over and over.  

“Jesus, what the fuck are you waiting for then?” Valentino whispered lowly, a grin breaking across his face. Deciding to entertain Vox’s little dominance show, he cooed. “Let’s let all of Hell know who the man of this house is, hm? Who takes care of things?”

Vox let out a groan. Valentino just grinned. 

Bingo. 

Bucking his hips again, Vox fucked against Valentino’s thighs with the urgency of a madman, and the moth pimp knew immediately that the old man was more than pleased with Valentino’s words of submission.

“Make me yours, daddy,” he whined, relishing in another delicious moan. 

“Oh, believe me, baby,” Vox eventually answered with shallow breaths. Valentino tucked away a smile at the pet name. “Daddy intends to. And he won’t stop until day breaks. Wrap your legs around me.” 

With a playful hum, doing as bidded, Valentino blinked when Vox actually managed to lift him up and navigate them up the stairs. 

“You’re pretty strong, old man,” Valentino whispered hotly, rolling his body to make Vox quiver. “I love that in my men—oh.” His words trailed off.”

“What?” Vox answered more normally this time, pausing to open the door. As it opened, he looked up at Valentino with a small, albeit somewhat confused, smile. 

“My room? You’re finally coming inside?”

“Oh… I suppose I am,” Vox said, eyes faraway, before snapping his attention back up to Valentino with a wicked grin. “In more ways than one. Why? Did you want to do it in mine?”

Valentino only smiled back, lightly stroking the edges of Vox’s head, before leaning in to press his lips against the flat surface. His room was fine. This kiss was fine too. And he liked it a lot better this time. It felt good, actually. Really good. His body was heated. Excited.

Valentino always loved the familiar excitement that pooled in his stomach before sex that he actually wanted. But for the first time, among his numerous bedroom experiences and sexual encounters in the hundreds, Valentino’s heart was swelling too. It was almost uncomfortable. Bizarre, but he was sure that it would pass. Probably just the heat of the moment. 

“It’s good to be home,” he whispered, almost forgetting himself. 

“Yeah.” Vox readjusted Valentino in his arms. Valentino circled his arms back around Vox, inhaling the sweet familiarity of his scent in their heated embrace. “It’s good to be home with you.” 

Flashing Vox a grin, Valentino’s chest swelled again. They leaned their mouths closer and closer until they touched. As their tongues swirled about each other, Valentino fumbled with the buttons of Vox’s bloody, sweat-soaked shirt, roving his hands along the blueish-gray skin before teasing at the nipples. Almost simultaneously they bucked and grinded. It pleased Valentino how well Vox could match with him. Were they actually in-sync? Maybe Vox could read better into his heat than he’d thought. 

For a split second, Vox hesitated by the door frame. 

“This can be part of our home too,” Valentino whispered, placing a kiss on top of Vox’s head before lavishing it with his tongue. 

Vox only looked up at him then smiled before entering the room with Valentino comfortably held in his arms. Roving a hand downward to toy with the straps of Valentino’s underwear, Vox kicked the door behind them shut.

“You know, I’ve always been curious as to how you two even met.” 

“Online.” Valentino didn’t bother to look up from his phone. 

“You’re so full of shit. You and Vox. He says the same thing when I try asking.” Glaring at him from across the limo, Velvette crossed her arms with a huff.

With the sparkling bags of expensive goodies strewn on the seats and fuzzy pink carpet around her, Valentino really thought she looked like a little demonic diva. 

He clicked his teeth. “You know I hate sharing things, my muñequita. My past is one thing I’m not especially keen on giving up to others.”

Looking out the tinted windows, Valentino watched the desperate wretches crawling about streets littered with used needles and condoms. Some even looked happy. Actually content to live eternity as nobodies at the bottom. Disgusting. His expression shifted to a smile as he refocused on Velvette. 

“Why focus on the ugliness of back then when the future is a shining oyster, ready to be cracked and dominated. No?” 

“So you hate your past?”

“Fucking duh. The me of the past and the beautiful one you see before you,” Valentino said with a roll of his head and a pleasant hum, as though he was speaking casually about the weather. “Well, he’s already been killed off. Shot point-blank and burned.” 

“Vox, too?”

He raised a brow. 

“Vox was a part of your past. A big part of it. I can tell that much. So do you hate that Vox too?”

Valentino thought about that. If Valentino had the chance to go back in time and change things, would he? Decide not to take Vox’s hand—to never get into that car—and live life as a free bird out of its cage. Not a happy bird, per se. But a content one. An alive one. But being stuck living like one? Like one of those lowlifes outside trapped at the bottom with no drive to reach the top? Disgusting. Down-right fucking unsettling. This was his throne and Valentino would gladly have his wings ripped off a million times over if it meant he got to keep it. 

He looked back to Velvette. Her attention was already back on her phone because of course it was. 

“… Vox was the one good thing that came out of the shithole I used to call a life,” Valentino eventually answered, making Velvette look up. “And loath as I am to admit, I don’t see myself living any other way without him.”

Velvette smiled, sticking out her tongue. “He’s your home?” 

“Sure, whatever.” Itching for a cigarette, Valentino clicked at his teeth again. He roved his thumb over the bandages wrapped around his knuckles, thinking. His chest twinged again. “Home was never about the house, you know,” he felt like he needed to add. 

Velvette fixed him a look. Valentino just shrugged.  

“I survived being a street walking bitch at the bottom, I thrive as a king at the top. After a while, my home became…” Eyes lazily tracing along the familiar streets of the entertainment district back to the tower, he finished quietly. 

“… Wherever Vox is.”  

Hm. Velvette actually looked surprised. That was rare. Valentino smiled. 

“And you too, baby doll.”

Near immediately her pretty face dulled, eyes shifting to unimpressed. 

“Be serious.” 

“I am.”

“Vox hired me in. I’m not included in this little home of yours. We’re coworkers—” 

“—Don’t be fucking stupid, it’s out of character for you. Of course you are.” Velvette gave him another look. Valentino looked up to the fuzzy pink ceiling of the limo to avoid it. God, he fucking hated being serious about his affections. 

“Yeah, as what?” Velvette pressed, puffing out her cheeks. Valentino thought it was cute. Somewhat. “If Vox is your little home, then what am I?”

“You?”

“Yes.”

“You’re…” He blinked, then looked over at the little doll. 

A garden was what came to Valentino’s mind first, oddly enough. Velvette could piss him off almost as much as Vox, but the moth pimp genuinely couldn’t think of Velvette as anything else but a lovely garden.

One full of sweet scents, pretty hues, and poison-laced thorns. Something demanding. Something that Valentino liked to take care of. Something that brought fresh air into his tobacco-stained lungs, a thing that brought him comfort. Like the tune of his favorite song playing in a peaceful loop. Like the soft trickles of acid rain that poured down while he slept in his warm bed. 

Like the prickly firs that once brushed his skin as he stood in a field of migrating butterflies in central Mexico, admiring the setting sun and the chill of the October air just before he pulled the trigger. 

“The little shit stains in the walls” he finished, grinning at how Velvette frowned. “Something that annoys the fucking shit out of me whenever I have to see it but can’t get rid of.” 

“Fuck you, you fucking tart.” Velvette rolled her eyes, the ghost of a smile tucked behind the focus of a cell phone. 

“Pay me first.” 

Hm. He should get Velvette flowers again. And whatever else she wanted once Valentino spat a few solid movies out of his ass and filmed them. Besides. How could he consider the little doll—a constant reminder of Valentino’s biggest victory over Vox for one thing—something not to be proud of? Something that Valentino wouldn’t consider as part of his home? She was a somebody too. A beautiful somebody among a bottomless Hell full of nobodies. And only those types of people will ever be worthy of Valentino’s time and respect. 

Yes. 

His bright, beautiful twisted home of somebodies.

“I want to expand this place.”

Valentino’s eyes fluttered open. With a small grunt, he readjusted himself, shifting from his previous position lying on Vox’s stomach to a new one, with his head nestled in his arms on top of Vox’s chest, looking down at the CEO with half-lidded eyes. Mindlessly, he traced a finger along a deep bite mark on the blueish-gray throat and smiled, feeling it swallow. 

“… Meaning?”

“I want to make this area ours.” A hand meandered down, softly kneading at Valentino’s ass cheek. Valentino arched into the touch. Did Vox want to go again? He hardly pulled out of Valentino at all last night, and the only times he had were when he wanted to fuck his mouth or chest or any other area of his body instead.

For a middle-aged tight-ass who had only just recently gotten out of the closet—or so Valentino thought—the little CEO had a decent amount of stamina in those old bones. 

“Isn’t it already?” Valentino said, letting out a content sigh at the way Vox mindlessly dug two fingers into his ass, spreading it, making frothy cum spill out. A sharp-clawed digit languidly swirled the fluid about, making Valentino wiggle. 

“Yes, but I’ve always wanted to be more than a brand. I want to be big. Bigger and more powerful than anyone else. Bring order to this side of Hell and make it a district of sorts. ‘Entertainment.’ What do you think?” Vox’s fingers stopped their mindless toying, but did stay comfortably sheathed in Valentino’s ass. Valentino hummed, thinking. With the slightest tinge of regret, he grabbed Vox’s wrist and pulled the fingers out, keeping Vox at a distance as he hoisted himself up on his palms.  

“What do I think?” He raised a brow at him. 

It all seemed a bit too much, was what Valentino thought. Too ambitious. Changing all of this area into a controlled territory for only two people to run—Overlords, but still. Valentino already had a good thing going for him with his red light zone and rapidly growing strip joints, anyway. Why change a good thing? The thought also crossed his mind that Vox’s plan sounded just a bit too familiar. Something he’d been thinking about for decades with someone else in mind. 

“I think this sounds like a re-hashed scheme planned for someone else by your side. Someone that didn’t want it.” 

In a flash, Vox’s eyes turned dark, with a matching curl of his mouth to match. “I don’t want to mention him here.” 

“Hard not to.”

“I’m going through with my plan. Do you understand me?” 

Valentino just let out a sigh. He needed to get up. Slowly, he rose to sit, letting expensive sheets slink down to his waist. Looking at the window from the corner of his eye, Valentino could see the shining ray of Hell’s mid-afternoon sun peeking in through his sheer curtains. They’d really been at it all through the night and morning.

The thought bubbled into Valentino’s head that he should kick Vox out. He frowned, realizing that for one thing, he couldn’t really since Vox lived right down the hall, and for another, Valentino didn’t really want to. 

He rubbed at his chest absentmindedly as it twinged. Maybe Valentino had made a mistake, letting Vox fuck him? Maybe he’d made a mistake, saying yes to whatever the Hell they have planned for next Friday? Maybe this was all just a mistake? 

“I’m gonna take a shower,” he announced curtly. 

‘Be gone by the time I’m done,’ he’d add had it been anybody else. 

Before Valentino could make good on his intent to leave, Vox rose from the bed with a grunt and wrapped his arms around him from behind, squeezing tight. Against his better judgment, Valentino leaned back into the embrace, letting himself be held captive by the warm arms. 

“I refuse to conquer Hell with anyone else but you,” Vox muttered against Valentino’s back, making the exposed skin tingle with static pricks as he squeezed tighter. “And I refuse to let you say no. I’ll cage you here with me forever, if need fucking be. Do you understand me?” 

In a twisted way, the words made Valentino smile. He was truly trapped. In these arms. In this home. But it was a cage of his own choosing this time, wasn’t it? Vox might be the one in control for now, but Valentino had the key to unlock this cage whenever he wanted. Sticking his ass out, Valentino grinded against the new erection with a smirk. 

As he thrusted back against Vox’s grinding, letting out a submissive whine of his roommate’s name, Vox eventually let out a groan, his hold around Valentino loosening. Instead of escaping, Valentino just turned around, guiding the arms back to wrap around him, allowing Vox to face him this time as he held his waist. 

“We’ll talk about it when I’m done.” 

“Will we now?” 

“We will.” 

Vox looked up at him. After a few moments of staring into the other’s eyes, challenging in a way, Vox gave a rare nod of acquiescence before letting go.

Valentino smiled at his victory, pecking the top of Vox’s head in a chaste kiss. As he headed into the bathroom, Valentino watched Vox carefully put his clothes on before bringing order to the mess on Valentino’s bed, bundling the cum and blood-stained sheets into a ball and dumping them into the hamper with soft grumbles. 

After his shower, Valentino did eventually meander downstairs, greeted by the smell of food. 

“You made breakfast.” He glanced over at the dossiers and blueprints spread about their table in front of the CEO, who was noticeably dressed down in a fluffy robe and slippers with a mug of coffee in hand.

He acknowledged Valentino with a grunt. Valentino leaned down, inhaling the exposed skin of his collar, liking how it slowly broke into goosebumps. “You smell good, too. These are your plans?”

“Correct. I think a collective tower would suit our needs, for starters.” 

“Your taste in design is ugly.” Valentino made a face. 

“Well, I think it looks sleek. Simple. Intimidating. Demanding resp—”

“—I’m redesigning it.”

“Sorry, baby,” Vox answered damn-near immediately, adding a dry snort for effect. “But no.”

“If you want us to actually work together on this, daddy,” Valentino retorted, raising a petulant brow. “I’m redesigning it. This can’t be at the center of an Entertainment district if it’s going to look so… boring. It’s supposed to be a mix of both of our tastes, no?” 

Vox clicked his teeth, lolling his head back and forth. “…We can renegotiate the design.” 

“Perfecto. Make room.”

Instead of taking his usual seat next to Vox, Valentino decided to plop down on his lap with a pleased hum, smiling as he felt the tips of his claws immediately brush past his robe to trace lines into his thighs. He wrapped his arms around Vox’s neck, eventually resting his head on top of Vox’s fat one. 

“Even if you’re the one spear-heading this,” he muttered before letting out a yawn. “I want someone else on-board with this shit. Three’s always a good number, don’t you think?”

“Surprisingly, I actually agree with you on that. And, I already have it covered.”

“Always one step ahead, aren’t you?”

“You need to be,” Vox said with an agreeable hum as he held onto Valentino’s waist. “I sent out some applications a few months ago and got some good ones back. Here, take a look. Tell me what you think.”

From another folder, Vox brought out pictures of various impressive-looking demons. Long descriptions of each of their work histories and feats fill up the spaces at the bottom, but Valentino didn’t care to read any of them. None of these people had what he was looking for.

He could see why Vox would like them, based on his preferences for business-moguls and tycoons and others in his playing field, but Valentino’s tastes were much harder to place. None of these sinners had the look in their eyes that he wanted. That conniving look that told him they’d do just about anything and everything to will their way up—

“Hold on.” Valentino paused, pulling out a single profile wedged underneath the others. “Who’s this little doll?” 

Vox frowned. “I’ve already rejected that one. Take a look at these other ones.”

“No. I think this one’s gonna be good.”

“‘Good?’ Her profile barely has anything of substance and she’s only just recently died. She’s too young.”

“Doesn’t mean she can’t be good.”

“And just how do you know that?” Vox rolled his eyes, discreetly trying to weasel the profile out of Valentino’s hands. “I know you haven’t read a single word regarding any of these sinners’ histories. You probably just saw a pretty face and went with that.”

“Don’t need to read to scope out what I want. I like that look in her eyes.”

Valentino hummed, smacking Vox’s hands away while keeping an iron group on the doll’s application. He skimmed through the blurbs. She’d be good for PR. The way she wrote her answers… so youthful and catty. Social media.

That’d be a good fit. Valentino knew Vox and he weren’t as well-suited on those points, and with more and more modern-day sinners kicking the bucket, they could use a more youthful touch. Fuck if Valentino knew anything about chemistry either, but for some reason, her also having an interest in that field might help them in the future. Just an inclination.

“Not backing down on this one, daddy. I want her in.”

“That gonna be your little pet name for me from now on?”

“Until I find a better one that suits you, sure.”

“Will you at least look at the other profiles?”

“Of course, but my mind isn’t changing.”

“Of course it isn’t.”

Valentino hummed, swinging his legs. “But you knew that already, didn’t you?” 

With a sigh, Vox shoved the other profiles off to the side, keeping the doll’s front and center. Mindlessly, he rubbed his hand up and down Valentino’s waist, along the skin of his lower arm, working downwards to caress the mound of his ass. Valentino let out a sigh, both at the hand and the warm feeling of Vox’s face pressed against his chest, making it vrmmm with warmth and static.  

“Of course.”

Valentino closed his eyes, leaning into Vox. He thought about it all again. A business conglomerate. Entertainment. He’d really break through the movie scene with this. Get more contracts. Make more money. More power than anyone could ever imagine. It was enticing. It was thrilling. It was—

“—I’m gonna miss this place.” 

Ever-so-subtly, Valentino felt Vox’s hold on him tighten, and he can’t help but reciprocate the squeeze out of a need for comfort. 

“The tower is still in the works,” Vox said quietly, tracing his nails along Valentino’s skin like the tenderest of lovers. “We won’t have to leave for a while.”

Valentino pressed his mouth onto the surface of Vox’s head. It was nice. Somewhat. Sharing this peaceful moment of victory and loss. Absorbing the electric warmth and lingering smell of burnt plastic through his lips like it was normal. They stay like that for a moment before the reality of their position strikes him. 

He blinked. 

Ah. Too much. That was too much. 

Lifting his head from Vox's, Valentino peered down with half-lidded eyes. A knot formed right in his chest, but he brushed it aside. Just like he brushed aside any sentiments he might have for this old house. It had been a good place. Served its purpose. He wouldn’t want to burn it to the ground, at least. But the future was brighter than ever. Why should he concern himself with the past? 

“We should make use of all the living space then, no?” Valentino said with a bargaining grin. “What do you think?”

Vox blinked, looking up, before his own face breaks into a devilish grin. More quickly than Valentino could have anticipated, Vox lifted him into the air and steered the both of them into the den. 

“I’ve been wanting to fuck you on that sofa for as long as I can remember,” he leaned in to say right before pushing his screen up, intent on a kiss. Valentino needed no further invitation before letting his tongue slip out to intertwine with electric blue again. 

The new tower would be his home in no time. Why should he worry about it? At the very least, the last moments Valentino would have with this old place would be spent on a happier note.

Sometimes, Valentino really did think about it. 

On lazy days where he and Vox weren’t working or particularly busy, they would lounge about their plush sofa on the highest floor of the tower. Valentino’s legs would be draped over Vox’s as they sat in a comfortable silence, scrolling through their phones or mindlessly watching the TV until Vox would break the silence by looking over at him and asking if he wanted something to eat. Valentino would look back and agree, of course, staring into those two hypnotic red eyes, and in those small moments, he would genuinely think about it. 

Maybe only being with Vox—only fucking Vox and letting Vox fuck him—could actually make Valentino happy. Holding Vox’s hand. Letting Vox hold his waist. Sharing a warm bed together. Indulging in simple, genuine love like it wasn’t only a privilege for the bastards up above. Those thoughts always filled his chest with an alien warmth. Not uncomfortable, exactly. Just unfamiliar. 

But then the warmth would turn cold, and the harsh hand of reality would slap him in the eye, the chilling rings on its spindly fingers bruising marks into his skin.

Reality’s voice—ghostly and reminiscent of something he’d tried so hard to forget—would yell at him. Tell Valentino that putting himself first was all that was ever going to matter, and Valentino, ever chained to his own demons because he was in Hell and that was where he’d forever stay, would listen. 

Maybe.

Maybe not today though.  

“Why are we stopping here?” Velvette took a confused look around the old block of the Entertainment district, not filled with much except the run-down homes of sinners that refused to leave and VoxTek storage houses. “This was yours and Vox’s old place, wasn’t it?”

“Just wanna pop in and visit.” 

“Feeling sentimental, are we?”

“Watch it. You coming?”

Velvette made a face, taking another glance about the embarrassingly empty section of their side of Hell. Valentino didn’t blame her. This place was much less glamorous than he’d remembered. Vox hadn’t demolished their old house outright once the official Vee tower got built, just kept it more of a relic for nostalgia’s sake. Not that either one of them really took the time to visit it though. 

“No, then?” Valentino continued, looking about the neighborhood with an agreeable nod. 

“I’ve a few more errands to run. Call the house when you need to be picked up.”

“Sure, sure.” 

The two nodded at each other, something of a mutual understanding without words or the need for any useless thanks, and Valentino took his time watching the pink limo dash off back towards the inner part of their sparkling Entertainment District before disappearing altogether behind more shiny modern buildings. 

Taking a few steps along the cracked sidewalks, he inhaled the air. It still smelled like he remembered, although maybe more chemically-tinged now.

Cutting across the yard, memories resurfaced in Valentino’s mind on how he’d passed out drunk plenty of times on this prickly surface of Hell sod. Surprisingly, it didn’t look half-bad considering it had been… Jesus, how many decades since they’d moved?  

Punching in the defense old code to the house, which he was actually surprised he still remembered, Valentino blinked at the sound of the TV in the den immediately greeting him. Slowly, he made his way further inside, tracing his hands along every long-since forgotten crack and crevice he could find. 

Not saying a word to the lone sinner hunched over on the sofa with a drink in his hand, Valentino blinked as the audio to the movie was unexpectedly silenced. Clicking his tongue, he moved closer to see what movie Vox could possibly want to be watching here of all places. 

Ah. A horror from the looks of it. Made sense. He and Vox did love their gore. But Valentino had never seen this particular film before despite being quite the movie-watcher.

In a classic fashion, the sinner was tied up to a chair with a tattered bag over their head. Their nails looked to have been long-since pulled out and skin fried to a crisp from what looked like hours of non-stop electricity. 

Suddenly, the audio returned. Valentino blinked.

This… wasn’t a movie. It was real-life footage of torture. And he knew that tortured sinner’s voice too. Deep, rich, with the slightest rasp. It had charmed Valentino on a night out at one of his clubs and for the first time in years, he had let that voice wash over him, screaming out in ecstasy as Valentino allowed him to come inside.

Like a light going off in his mind, Valentino immediately realized that this sinner, who had once been so handsome and charming and confident, had been the last one to top him outside of Vox. And just as quickly as he realized that, it dawned on Valentino that he also hadn’t seen him at all these past few years, even though this sinner had once been a frequent guest to his favorite club around the corner. 

“William Boyd Bailey,” Vox quietly slurred, eyes glued to the TV in a peaceful haze as the sinner wheezed out for help. His lip quirked into a sneer. “You called this one—”

“—Willy,” Valentino finished at the same time as Vox. He inched closer to the sofa, eyeing the strewn-out piles of old VHS tapes, DVD’s, and flash drives on the coffee table, all marked with specific dates and initials. 

“There are lots of these.”

Vox only shrugged and downed the rest of his drink, letting himself recline back on the sofa with a sigh.

“You’ve slept with a lot of people.”

Valentino laughed. “I’ve slept with way more than this.”

“I know,” Vox agreed with a huff. He lolled his head back and forth in a silent contemplation before finishing, “… But only a certain number of them have ever been inside you.”

Valentino hummed, watching with a twisted curiosity how the sinner’s screams were finally silenced by a final slice across the throat. For a brief moment, the screen glitched with electric blue and he could briefly make out the familiar claws holding the bloody knife.

“Where’d you dump the bodies?” Valentino asked as he finally took a seat on the sofa. Gesturing to the glass in Vox’s hand, he poured himself a drink with what was left of the opened whiskey bottle.

“I used to burn them,” Vox said with a shrug, watching the ‘film’ play out into static. “Chop them up, bury them. I found out a few years back that Vark likes them so I suppose I should thank you in a way for saving me the headache of buying treats for him.”  

Not saying another word, Valentino reached over for the remote and played the next ‘film.’ He couldn’t for the life of him remember the name of this sinner having his fangs carefully pulled out one by one, but it wasn’t like it mattered. No. The only one that mattered right now was sitting right across from him. Dangerous, possessive, obsessive, jealous. Just how Valentino always liked him. 

Staring at Vox, Valentino raised a brow at the CEO asking him a question first despite the recent twisted discovery about his movie-making proclivities. 

“I suppose I’ll ask again then.” Vox stared at him with unreadable eyes. “… What’s wrong with me?”

“What’s wrong with you?” Valentino echoed, voice low. Slowly, he inched towards the other end of the sofa, not without noticing how Vox was mirroring his motions. He smiled. 

“Everything, really.”

“Funny. I would say the same about you.”

“You’re twisted.”

“You’re no better.”

“Sadistic.”

“Coming from who exactly?”

“A real piece of work.”

“Now that’s a laugh.”

“But…” Valentino hummed as he slowly positioned himself to straddle Vox’s lap. Smiling at the forming bulge poking at him, he wiggled into the claws that moved in to caress the outside of his thighs.

Gazing down into Vox’s hypnotic spirals, Valentino leaned down for a kiss, secretly overtaken at just how much he missed this. The feeling of static on his tongue and lips. The taste of metal and cherry coming together to form a deliciously toxic cocktail. The smell of Vox’s cologne that hid any trace of blood that might have clung to his skin. He missed it all so goddamn much.

Gasping as they pulled apart from each other, Valentino smiled through gulps of air.

“… I like that about you.” He hummed, fiddling with the zipper of Vox’s slacks to pull out his cock just as Vox damn-near ripped Valentino’s own pants off him. 

“Do you?” Vox asked as he looked up at Valentino, eyes clouded over and half-lidded with lust. “That’s pretty fucked up, don’t you think?”

“Sure,” Valentino said with a shrug as he pumped Vox’s cock up and down, biting down his desires to sink to the floor and pull Vox into his mouth. He wanted Vox inside of him, actually, filling him up to the brim. “But I wouldn’t have us any other way.”

Pulling out a small container of lube from his coat, Valentino hummed and closed his eyes as blue-tipped claws invaded his mouth, begging to be sucked. 

Lightly biting down on them, he smiled at the hiss he received. Not wasting any time, Valentino coated one set of his fingers with the lube and began to stretch out his hole, moaning at every impatient thrust Vox was pushing between his thighs.

Moving his coated fingers out of Valentino’s mouth, Vox spat in his hand and pumped his cock with the mix of their pink saliva, gasping at the harsh jerks and tugs he gave to his need.

Fuck, it made Valentino hard hearing him whine. Deciding his sloppy preparation would have to do, the moth pimp began to slide the head inside him. Impatient and painfully pent-up from the last week, Valentino gasped at the pain and pleasure completely overriding his system as he pushed down, forcing Vox completely inside him. 

“Fuck!” 

“Ah… fuck, finally,” Vox huffed, leaning his head between Valentino’s pectorals as he looked up at him with diluted eyes. “God, I missed you.”

“Oh? That’s an unexpectedly sweet thing for you to say.” Valentino hummed, circling his hips down as he rode Vox’s cock in a hard, beautifully familiar rhythm. 

Grabbing Valentino’s ass and forcing it down, Vox began to thrust up, hitting the moth pimp’s sweet spot just right. 

“Don’t get used to it.” Vox grinned up at him. 

Valentino smiled down, pleased by the words and the quickened pace. Before he could say anything an ear-biting scream erupted from the TV, making both of the overlords turn their heads.

Vox clicked his tongue at the TV, halting his thrusts ever so slightly. “Jesus, I can’t believe you actually let this one inside you. His voice was so goddamn grating. Hang on, I’ll turn it off—”

“—No, keep it on.”

Vox raised a brow. 

Valentino just shrugged. “I think it’s hot.”

“God, you really are fucked up.” 

“But…?”

Vox rolled his eyes, mouth curling into a smile as he continued to thrust to sound of the sinner’s tortured screams. 

“I wouldn’t have you any other way.”

“There we go, that’s better.” 

Valentino looked back down, peering into Vox’s eyes again. 

He really wouldn’t have it any other way, would he? Watching Vox’s eyes shut as he thrusted hard into him in ecstasy, Valentino realized that these feelings pouring out of him now, the same unfamiliar ones that poured out of him that night they first slept together after the attack, were the closest things he would ever get to feeling real, genuine love.

Loving someone outside of himself… that thought alone was damning. There was no room for feelings like that when you’ve made yourself a place at the top. But maybe—just for him—Valentino could make an exception. It wasn’t like Vox needed to know in any case. No. These feelings he would lock away and keep to himself. They were fine just like they were. Like they’ve always been. 

But…

“Come inside me,” Valentino gasped, knowing Vox was close to finishing. “Mi amor,” he felt he needed to add.

Looking up at the words, Vox came inside with a final thrust, riding out the waves with hot puffs of air against Valentino’s chest. Pumping Valentino’s cock with his hand, the moth pimp followed soon after, groaning in pleasure as he was finally filled and his own cum splayed over Vox’s stripped shirt. 

As their breathing slowly died down and the once-heated air cooled, Valentino blinked at the weight on his chest he forgot didn’t belong there. Carefully, he slid himself off Vox, not caring about the cum sliding out of his hole and making a mess on the floor. 

“I forgot,” he spoke up. “I got you a present. Hold out your hand.”

Vox only rolled his eyes as he tried wiping off the cum from his shirt, but eventually did as ordered. “What is it? Another one of your ‘1 free favor’ coupons?”  

“No.” Acting nonchalant, Valentino placed the box in Vox’s hand, discreetly watching how the CEO’s eyes lit up at the unexpected present. 

“… A watch? You got me a watch?”

Valentino hummed. “Pretty, no? I saw it and immediately thought of you. Try it on.”

Not needing to be told twice, Vox strapped the impressive silver watch to his wrist, admiring it in the late afternoon sun. 

“Hm. I like it,” he said, admiring it again and again. “I… wow, I love it actually. What the Hell? When did you get so thoughtful?”

Valentino shrugged off the backhanded compliment. “Well don’t look at me like that. I know what you like, mi amor. Inside and outside of the bedroom.” He raised a hand, stopping the words from coming out of Vox’s mouth. “Don’t thank me. Velvette tried to apologize earlier and I still feel fucking weird about it.”

Shoulders briefly deflating, Vox gave him an unreadable look. He focused his eyes solely on Valentino. 

“That one’s new.”

“What is?” Valentino said as he reached for a cigarette and put it between his lips. 

“That pet name,” Vox answered as he lit it like clockwork. “You’ve never called me that before.”

Valentino paused, thinking on the words. He looked back at Vox, who seemed to be waiting for an answer that would probably never satisfy him. 

“It suits you.”

Vox hummed flatly. “Well it’s better than daddy.”

Valentino smiled as he exhaled a pink heart cloud into the air. “Do you want me to stop calling you that?”

“I didn’t say that.” Collecting his pile of twisted films and ordering them, Vox spoke up. “It’s Friday, you know.”

Valentino blinked, counting how long it had been since he’d locked himself in his room. Huh. It really was Friday. 

“Let’s go dancing then. I miss dancing with you.” 

“And here I was thinking that you were gonna be the first one of the two of us to bail out on this little tradition of ours.”

“Me? Never,” Valentino answered with a mocking raise to his voice. 

“Shall we then?” Vox said as he put his box back next to the TV. 

The two said nothing as they exited their old house. I’m a comfortable silence, Valentino leaned against the worn wooden beam of their porch as Vox punched in the code to lock the doors.

“I never would have guessed that you would be the one visiting this place,” Valentino noted.

“I’m allowed to be sentimental, you know.”

“Sure, sure.” Valentino rolled his head, remembering. “But you always seemed to be in a rush to get the official Vee tower finished and us moved out though, if I recall. No? I thought you never liked that old home of ours. Something about the walls.”

“Well,” Vox said quietly as they walked side by side, discreetly reaching for Valentino’s hand and squeezing. Feeling the bumps and ridges and remnants of scars just like he remembered, Valentino smiled as he squeezed back.

“It’s not like home was ever about the actual house.”

- “He is more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.”