Chapter Text
A jag of electric-blue flared at the edges of his vision, and Valentino stilled, his claw curled over a bare thigh.
Like f*cking clockwork.
“Good evening, Valentino!”
He looked up, squinting.
Vox - media demon, fellow Overlord, and Valentino’s television-headed partner in crime - stood just inside the lounge door on the far side of the room, casual and composed - like he hadn’t just zapped out of the room’s lone surveillance camera unannounced, a solid two hours before he was supposed to be there.
“Vox!” Val greeted, teeth grit. “Wooow!~ You’re. Early.” Again.
“Hm? Yeah.” Vox fiddled with his cuffs and caught Val’s gaze with his own, disregarding the busty fox demoness straddling Val’s lap. “The script presentation meeting didn’t last as long as I expected - let's just say I cut a few of the presenters short.” His teeth were bared in his trademark sh*t-eating grin. “I’m not interrupting, am I?”
Yeah, he was. Vox knew he was, Val knew he was. If she had two brain cells to rub together, the vixen in his lap knew he was.
Valentino imagined telling him so. Even better, imagined telling Vox he could either stand there and watch Valentino f*ck his whor*, or f*ck off until Valentino was good and goddamn ready for him. Vox was the one who'd zapped his ass into Val’s private room. Vox was the one who was early.
And Vox was the one who'd been pulling this sort of sh*t for weeks now. He wasn’t even being subtle about it anymore.
Val tilted his head, considering. Vox raised an eyebrow.
Something had to be done about it.
“...Nah,” said Valentino. He took a pull from his cigarette and blew the smoke in the fox sinner’s face. Watched her expression go soft with a little bit of frustration. He’d been looking forward to getting his claws in her. “Go on, baby,” he added to her, punctuated with a slap on her ass. “Go open a tab. Daddy might be a while.” He shooed her off his lap.
“Yes, Mr. Valentino. Of course.” She adjusted her skirt and padded quickly, silently across the room to the door - tail flicking to the side to avoid brushing Vox as she passed. Val and Vox both watched her go, appreciating the view in brief camaraderie.
The door shut behind her with a click.
“Don’t think I’ve seen that one before.” Vox turned back to Valentino. “Another new hire?”
“New enough,” Val agreed.
“I thought so. Got her under contract yet?”
Valentino snorted. “Of course not. You can’t rush these sorts of things, babe. You gotta find out the right approach. You know how it is.”
“Sure.” Vox’s grin brightened, squinting his mismatched stare. “So, how’s the night treating you?” He unbuttoned his suit jacket as he crossed the room, in that idle way of men who were used to wearing suits. The little sh*t looked amused; considering it was likely at Valentino’s expense, he didn’t much appreciate it.
“Sorry about...” Vox flapped his hand at the door, like Val’s interrupted sex life was barely worth the afterthought. “But, anyway. That meeting was a trainwreck. I don't know how these idiots find the nerve to pitch some of this sh*t. It’s absolutely wild - like - do they want to get fried?”
“Ha. Well, they might,” said Val. He doubted Vox wanted to hear his thoughts on erotic e-stim, though, so he didn’t elaborate. It was fine; Vox kept talking like he hadn’t spoken at all.
“I literally had one asshole present an alternative talk show. Right? An alternative. Talk show. f*cker really stood there in front of everyone and said, ‘People get tired of looking at the same face every day’ to me.”
The media demon barked out a sharp, derisive laugh. Valentino took another deep drag from his cigarette. “So, ya know, I said I understood, I was already tired of looking at his. ...Then I fed him to the sharks. Anyway,” he plowed on, “I just got the reports back on your latest–”
“Vox. Babe. What are you doing here?”
Vox paused. A single simulated eyebrow quirked to give him a look. “...If you’d been listening, you’d know if you’d waited a second, you’d have the answer to that question,” he said in his best condescending-asshole voice.
“Mm. Would I? I don’t think so.” Val bared his teeth in a rude grin. Pink smoke spilled from between his fangs. “An excuse, maybe.”
Vox blinked at him. “...Is that a joke? We’re...having a meeting. We’re going over your latest numbers to decide what to focus on next quarter? ...We talked about this?” His shark smile took on a strained edge.
Valentino tsked, tapping ash onto the floor. “Sure,” he agreed. “But that’s not why you’re here right now.”
“Yes it is. What the hell are you talking about?” Vox chuckled, confused. He seemed thoroughly taken aback.
“No,” Val insisted. “That’s what we were supposed to be doing a couple hours from now.”
“Wh- ...Really, Val?” Vox dared to make it sound like Valentino was the one being ridiculous. He gestured with one clawed hand, the other tucked behind his back. “I had an opening. You said I wasn’t interrupting anything. And if you’re not busy, what’s the issue? We knock out the business talk early, and then you’re free to do whatever you want with the rest of the night.”
It sounded reasonable. It would have been reasonable, if Valentino didn’t know better.
Valentino tilted his head to drag his gaze down the length of Vox’s body. Narrow shoulders, given the illusion of broadness by his suit. Even narrower hips. He really was a twink. A seven-foot tall twink with a screen for a face. It wasn’t a bad aesthetic. He was such a pissy little sh*t, though.
He’d been thinking about how he wanted to approach this. He didn’t know for sure why Vox had suddenly decided he was against Valentino having sex, which made things a bit more complicated than if it were just a power play or jealousy issue.
Then again, Valentino did some of his best work when he went off-script, so to speak. He rolled one shoulder in a shrug.
“I’m just saying,” he drawled. “I thought maybe you wanted to give me a blowj*b or something.”
The following silence was pretty funny.
Vox put his hands down and squinted at him. He grinned back. “...How f*cking high are you?” Vox asked.
Very, Valentino thought. If he weren’t, he’d be way more pissed off.
“Look. I'm gonna give you a chance to...re-evaluate that statement. Okay?” A faint hum of high voltage burned in Vox’s voice. “Try to remember who you’re talking to.”
Ooh, spicy. Val took another long drag, blowing the smoke out in a lazy, heart-shaped stream. “Not into blowj*bs?” he teased.
Vox’s grin faltered, then dropped. He turned away and paced over to the room’s full-length window, where he glared out over the club. The darkly-tinted glass reflected his scowl pretty clearly. “Val,” he said. “You seem confused. I’m not one of your f*cking whor*s.” Valentino watched electricity spark and leap from the television’s arms, tightly clasped behind his back.
“Never said you were, babe.” Val leaned back on his chaise and stretched out his legs. “You think only whor*s give blowj*bs?”
“I thi̷N̷̷K̷,” Vox started, voice blaring with distortion before he caught himself. His screen glitched - subtle enough that Val probably wouldn’t have seen it, if not for the way Vox’s face dimmed and brightened. Vox took a deep, careful breath. “I think I deserve a little more respect,” he said, “as your business partner.”
Valentino’s grin widened. His antennae twitched forward. “You think I can’t respect you and want you to blow me?”
“Can you shut the f*ck up about blowj*bs?” Vox snapped. His left eye’s hypnotics began pulsing as he whipped around to Val again, mouth a jagged shark’s snarl. “The point isn’t blowj*bs!”
“It’s not?”
“The point is,” Vox said, even louder, “I don’t want you acting like I’m no different from that furry bitch who just left. Like I'm the same as any of that garbage down there.” He flung out a claw to encompass the clubgoers below. “We’re Overlords. Both of us. We’re partners. Equals.”
“Sure,” Valentino said with another long drag. “But I don’t see how that means I can’t put my dick in your mouth.” Vox’s expression turned grim, murderous, so he added, “Aw, c’mon, Vox. You knew who I was when you approached me, yeah? I don’t know why you’re getting so prickly about it now.”
A thread of electricity flashed on Vox’s antennae, a buzzing spark that hopped from one ear to the other in a bright arc before fizzling out. “You know, Val?” Vox bit out. “I honestly didn’t think I would have to personally field your endless f*cking libido.”
“Really?” Val blinked. “Why not?” His libido was a factor in every single interaction he’d ever had. And that was without someone sabotaging a good portion of his attempts to get off. If Vox were anyone else, Valentino definitely would have f*cked him or shot him by now.Vox gave him a flat look, mouth still twisted in a scowl. “Setting aside that I’m not interested,” he said, “you really can’t imagine how us having sex could f*ck our business relationship?”
“I’m not talkin’ about f*ckin’ our business relationship,” Val said. “Just you. ...And not even you!” he piped up as he saw how poorly that was sitting with Vox. “I’m just talkin’ about a blowj*b. It ain’t like I’m askin’ if you wanna go steady, babe.”
“Valentino, I want you to try using your brain for a second, here.”
Val absently considered the guns he had, tucked beneath his wings.
“On one hand, you’ve got an entire legion of dancers, strippers, p*rn stars, and prostitutes ready to jump on your dick at the snap of a finger.” Vox held up one hand - palm-up, like he was presenting something. “On the other, you’ve got me.” He flashed a decisively unfriendly smile as he gestured appropriately with his other hand. “I’ll repeat: I’m not interested. And I will f*cking electrocute you.”
“It’s true, I’ve got options,” Val agreed, easily enough. “But none of them are here now. You’re here now. Instead of a sexy foxy puta on my lap, I have a sexy pinstripe papi claiming he wants to talk business, don’t I?”
Vox’s screen flickered with interference. It was funny; for a demon so good at manipulating the masses, Vox’s smooth salesman’s charisma went out the f*cking window the moment things slipped out of his control. Val couldn’t imagine having a face that would literally broadcast every slip-up. How exhausting.
Vox’s scowl thinned, shifting into something more cautious. “That’s what this is about? Val, if it was gonna be a problem,” Vox said irritably, “you should have asked me to come back later.”
Valentino quirked a brow and took one last drag off his diminishing cigarette. “Maybe. But I don’t think that’d solve our real problem, amorcito. Come on, we know what's happening here.”
The snorting sound Vox made then was doubly annoying considering the flat-faced asshole didn’t even have a nose. “Tch, yeah, you’re throwing a fit and trying to piss me off because you didn’t get to f*ck someone for probably the tenth time today.”
Valentino let out a leisurely exhale, watching the pink smoke trail through the air. “Please, baby. Don’t be coy - that’s my game.” He paused. “Just like how your game is every time I’m about to bend someone over, you show up, or you call, or there’s an emergency, or the sprinkler systems malfunction-”
“If you’re f*cking someone every hour on the hour, Valentino,” Vox interrupted, “then there’s gonna be some overlap.”
“Oooh, overlap,” Val said. “You’re a terrible liar, Voxy.”
That got under Vox’s skin, maybe more than anything else so far. Genuine anger flashed across his screen, then quickly buffered his glitching snarl into something more presentable. “Uh, ex̷-x̷-x̷-CUSE me? No, I'm not-t. And you are not going to call me–”
“It was your little cámaras,” Val sang, leaning into his accent. He sat up to extinguish his cigarette, now that they’d come to the root of the matter. If he kept one lit, he’d want to use the smoke to put Vox in his place. Tempting, but that’d probably start a real fight. “The blinking light on their fronts turns blue when you’re hijacking one to do a little voyeurism.” He tucked the cigarette holder away and sat up with a smile. “I guess you didn’t know that.~”
Valentino knew he didn’t. Val himself hadn’t noticed until recently. It didn’t happen with any other tech, either - just Vox’s newest surveillance camera models.
Vox froze. He looked precisely like a man who’d just been caught lying. “...What?” Interference burst across his screen, obscuring his expression, and cleared to show an uneasy, doubting grin. “That can’t be-- I mean, it– It’s not voyeurism,” Vox scoffed, the tone so affected Valentino was pretty sure one of his actors could’ve done a more convincing job. “I don’t know what you thought you saw, but it’s probably just part of routine surveillance. My monitors–”
“What I thought I saw?” Valentino interrupted, tone clipped. He clicked his tongue. “I know what I saw, papi. You think I don’t notice your cameras when they follow me? You think I wouldn’t notice it happening more often? How about every time I call in one of my slu*ts? What was it you said? We’re partners? Equals? I’d love to know where co*ckblocking comes up in our contract.”
Val stood, relished the way Vox had to crane to look up at him as he did so, and began to approach the other demon. “I feel like that’s something I would have noticed, mi amor.” His antennae flicked.
Something sharp and deeply-frustrated flashed in Vox’s flickering glare. That, alongside the scent his antennae had been picking up on, confirmed what Valentino had suspected.
Most times, Vox smelled of nothing more than ironed suits, menthol cologne, and warm electronics. Right now he smelled like petrichor and ozone - like the air just before a bad storm. Static in the room made his antennae tingle, almost like an itch.
The media demon presented a bit differently from other sinners, but Valentino still should have recognized it before now - he was scenting Vox’s arousal. The little business-twink came in acting like a patronizing prick, and he was just f*cking horny.
Well. Valentino could do horny. That was for sure.
“So you’re deaf now, too?” Vox snapped - always meaner when he was on the defensive. “I said I wasn’t–”
“You know,” Val said, “if you wanted a little attention yourself, aaaaall you had to do was ask.”
“Val. Come on,” Vox said. His grin returned, strained. His voice took on a would-be placating tone. “You’re great. You do g-” his screen flickered through a glitch, “-great work. But we both know you’re not my type.”
“Oh?” Valentino purred. It was such an obvious lie that he didn’t even bother being insulted. He stopped in front of Vox, awash in the glow of his backlight. He leaned in, just a little. “I’m not?”
“Don’t take it personally,” Vox said. “Most of Hell wants to have sex with you. But I’m... It’s just not...” Whatever he saw in Val’s expression made him falter. “Look, Valentino. Val. This whole conversation is a mess. Maybe I should come back ll̷a–”
Valentino caught Vox’s gesticulating hand by the wrist, and the media demon cut off so sharply his audio let out a short burst of distortion. He stared at Val’s claws like he had never considered this could happen, red eyes wide and expression blank. The view, Valentino decided, was much better up close.
“Val,” Vox said with a disbelieving little chuckle. “L-L-Listen– I’m not–”
He could see Vox’s sharp pupils, darting from Valentino’s face to the grip on his arm, and the more subtle glitches that displaced random pixels across his screen.
“You can’t just–” He could track the uneasy scowl of his mouth, blue shark teeth barely visible where his screen opened, impossibly, incomprehensibly, into his mouth. He could appreciate the faint warmth radiating from Vox’s head, and enjoy the bright, steady light his face provided. Vox’s voice pitched up, manic. “Do you wanna get fried?”
Valentino reached for Vox’s other wrist as well. Caught it before Vox could pull back, and held it pinned at Vox’s side. A sharp shiver of static swept between them. Vox’s pitch fluctuated as he continued - wavered like he was reaching for an out-of-range signal. “V al. I’m serious. And, you know, I feel like– I’m getting the sense that–'' Val dragged a third claw up the tech demon’s hip, traced it across his chest, and let it settle on his shoulder. Vox’s gaze watched, wide with disbelief. “–that you aren’t f*cking list–̷s̷̷t̷–ening–”
“Sure I am,” Valentino said. He turned lightly and shoved Vox back against the full-length glass.
That static-laced ozone scent flared.
Pinning Vox in place... It simultaneously soothed something in him and made him feel f*cking feral. There was a reason he hadn’t let himself even entertain the idea, before. Valentino had never been good at putting on the brakes.
Once he was going...f*ck if he wasn’t gone.
“Voxy, baby–”
“–f*ck’s sake–” Vox said.
“–if I'd known you were this hungry for it, I would've f*cked you up ages ago.”
“You’re a fu–̷c̷̷k̷–cking moron.” Vox’s arms pushed against him, and static electricity bit at Val’s fingertips, everywhere he held Vox tight - but Val knew what the other demon was capable of. “I’m not-- and you’re not--” This - this token resistance - wasn’t it. This was practically a f*cking tease.
“You're right,” Val murmured, leaning in close. “A blowj*b wouldn't be nearly enough, would it?”
“That’s not what I said!” The office lights flickered. Vox’s eyes met his, then darted to one side. “Let go,” Vox ordered. “If someone f*cking looks up here–”
Valentino caught an undercurrent of fear in Vox’s tone, now. Not of Val, probably - shame, that - but for his image. Like anyone here gave two sh*ts about how Vox f*cked.
“They won’t see anything, babe. That’s what the tint is for. Ya know. Privacy.” Val’s fourth claw reached up, skimming the bottom of Vox’s screen with his fingertips. The demon was putting off heat like a little furnace. The electrical pulse just beneath the skin at Vox’s wrists thrummed erratically, and it made Val want to laugh. He hadn’t even done anything yet.
“̷V̷̷A̷̷L̷.” Electricity bit at his fingers.
“Easy, easy,” Val crooned. “No need to get pissy.”
Val’s claws dropped from Vox’s screen to curl around his neck instead, gripping lightly. Testing. And Vox let him. He could feel Vox’s pulse jump, hammering hard against his claws.
The next time Vox opened his mouth, Valentino ducked down and caught him in a kiss, still holding him tight against the window. The claw at Vox’s throat tilted his screen back, angling it for easy access.
The sound Vox made - low, shocked, hungry - went straight to Valentino’s dick. Vox’s mouth was wet, warm, and tasted like a battery. Vox kept pushing against his grip, but his tongue curled downright desperately against Val’s like he’d been dying for this. Valentino grinned against Vox’s screen, shoved his tongue deeper, and dragged a moan out of Vox’s mouth before relenting. The television demon leaned after him for a moment, caught himself, and swayed back. Valentino’s claw cinched tight, just enough to keep Vox from knocking himself silly against the window glass.
“Ah,” Vox rasped - both eyes wide, pupils darting, red pixels streaking from his mouth the same way blood dripped from sinner’s mouths in moments of surging demonic power. He looked stricken. “...Uh. f*ck.”
Val knew that look. ‘Oh, sh*t,’ it said. ‘I wasn’t supposed to do that.’
The easy lust and amusem*nt Valentino had been indulging twisted, sharply, into a very real, predatory hunger of his own.
Oh.
