Chapter Text
Vox was tired. He’d had a hard day, no, a hard week. Velvette’s departure was a long and complicated process; her brand and work had been so intertwined with his it was getting difficult to untangle. They were both so angry with each other they could barely have a civil conversation, much less end their partnership in a clean way – especially when neither wanted to give an inch.
Then there was Valentino. He wasn’t as easily scared as Velvette, so his studio was still in the V Tower. But the things Vel and Val had worked together on kept going; the love potions, she still advertised his porn on her platforms, he featured her fashion in his movies (not for long, given the nature of the genre, but still). Trying to talk to Valentino led absolutely nowhere; the moth was just as paranoid about Alastor somehow leading to their downfall, and now he too was threatening to take his business and leave. One would think being partners for as long as they had would have meant something. But Vox hadn’t just been partners in business with Valentino, and that meant all kinds of feelings were getting dragged in as well. It wasn’t like they had ever been exclusive; jealousy hadn’t been much of a problem till Vox married Alastor.
Then there were the spies. Security footage had disappeared, as well as keycards and other important items. Vox had caught a guy from Cannibal Town trying to snoop around; clearly on the order of Rosie, and another demon who refused to name his client. He had them both fed to Shock.vav.
He still had control.
He could fix all of this, he just needed more time, and some rest at home with his sweet wife.
It was a blessing to step out of the elevator and see his house. The peace and quiet, the smell of dinner as he opened the door. Vox smiled. “Honey, I’m home.”
Alastor turned away from the kitchen counter. “W-welcome back, darli̴ng.” His wife didn’t look at him; the deer was staring at the floor, hands twisting in the red fabric of his dress. His left wrist was bandaged up, but some blood had seeped through the binding.
Vox hurried inside, taking Alastor’s hand in his own. “Sweetheart, what happened to you!?” He was gentle, but still he could feel how his wife winced at his touch.
“I- I was making dinner and- and the knife slipped.” Alastor mumbled.
It didn’t look like a just a slip of the knife; the damage was to the wrist, not the fingers. This was not how people usually cut themselves cooking. Vox bit his lip. Had Alastor tried to hurt himself again? Vox had thought his wife was past that now. “... you need to be more careful, precious.”
“Yes, Vox. Dinner will be ready soon.” Alastor hung his head and didn’t look him in the eye. Like he was ashamed of himself.
Vox hugged him tightly. “Are you feeling alright?”
“Yes, yes, darling. You just sit down and relax; I’ll finish making dinner.”
Reluctantly, Vox did as he was asked. From the living room, he kept an eye on his wife as Alastor puttered about in the kitchen. He was clumsier than usual today, trembling; and he kept dropping things. The gramophone was playing song after song. After a while, Alastor announced dinner was ready, and they sat down to eat. The table was laden with two large pans.
“I made chicken casserole.” Alastor said. “I hope you like it.”
“Why are there two pans?”
Alastor swallowed. “Mine is ... not chicken.”
“... mhm.”
Alastor seemed to catch on to his husband’s tone. He looked down on his on plate, apparently not wanting to meet Vox’s eyes. “I know you do̴n’t like it, so I made it separate, I – I thought-”
Vox waved the explanation away. “It’s fine, precious. It’s fine.”
Vox’s portion was chicken, right enough. But there was a strange aftertaste he couldn’t place. Still, he ate and complimented the food, like a good husband ought to. Once he’d finished, he returned to the living room, and let Alastor handle the clean-up.
Vox sank down in his chair. He felt ... off. His head had begun to ache, and his eyelids felt heavy. Was he coming down with something? Perhaps everything was getting to him, a little bit. He was getting tired. The song on the gramophone faded out, and no new song started. Blissful quiet began to sink over the living room, until Alastor ran out of the kitchen. He lifted the needle, but not to change to a new record, but to start the same one all over again.
“We can have some quiet time, Alastor.”
“B-but-”
“You’ve probably been playing music all the time while I was a work.” Vox stretched out in the chair. “You can give the gramophone a rest.”
“But I-” Alastor cut himself off, and nodded. “Yes, Vox.”
The deer hurried out of the room, his legs shaking. Vox stared after him; what was up with his wife today? He got out of the chair and followed. In the kitchen, Alastor was fumbling with a knife. With a trembling hand, he tried to find a place on his wrist not bandaged up. For a moment, Vox stood frozen, like his heart had stopped at the sight. Then he ran up to him.
“Alastor, no!”
Vox grabbed the knife from Alastor’s hand. His wife tried to hold onto the sharp side, and the blade slid, slicing up his palm. Blood spilled from the cut, splattering onto his dress. Alastor didn’t really scream, it was just a surprised, pained noise.
Vox threw the knife away and grabbed his wife. “Fuck! We need to stop the bleeding, come here!”
He pressed one hand to the wound, and with a tight grip on Alastor’s arm, Vox dragged the deer to the bathroom. He hurried to get out the first aid-kit. The first bandages got soaked through with blood, but after the initial panic, he managed to wrap it well enough. Only when no more blood seeped through, could Vox relax and sit down.
“Alastor, what the fuck!?”
His wife didn’t look at him.
“Alastor ... sweetie. Why did you do that to yourself?” Vox shook his head. “I – I thought you had stopped this ridiculousness.”
“I’m sorry. I’m so sor̴ry.” Alastor was trembling, his eyes fixed on the floor, like he didn’t dare to look Vox. Like he thought Vox would be angry.
“Why would you do that, precious?”
“I ... I don’t know.” Alastor whispered. He wrapped his arms around himself, shaking.
What was wrong? How had it gotten this bad, this fast? What signs had he missed? Vox’s head ached as he tried to think. Alastor’s appetite had seemed normal at dinner. The sleepwalking hadn’t really gone away, but now that his sweetheart was wearing the pretty little necklace, there was no danger of him trying anything, if the control slipped. Vox was the stronger of the two, after all.
The knives in their home were not angelic steel; the wounds would heal. Still, Vox did not like seeing his wife like this. The last time, he had brought home the gramophone to cheer Alastor up, maybe ...
“... would music make it better?”
“Yes. Please.” Alastor sounded small, like a child asking for comfort. Vox could almost suspect the cutting had been some strange attempt to get his way. Well, if the music was that important right now, they could play the gramophone all evening.
The dishes could wait; Alastor shouldn’t do them with his hand like that. Vox led his wife back into the living room, and helped him put a new record on. Alastor sank down on the sofa, completely transfixed by the gramophone. Vox studied him. The deer was still trembling, but he could help him relax. He bent down, reached out to turn Alastor’s face towards him, so he could look him in the eye.
Alastor’s head tipped forward, leaning against Vox’s chest. “Ho̴ld me?”
Vox melted. “Of course, sweetheart.”
He sat down on the sofa and wrapped his arms around Alastor. The deer was tense at first, but then he moved closer, nuzzling into Vox’s chest. They sat there, listening to music together. Vox stroked Alastor’s hair, letting the soft strands glide through his fingers. Alastor twitched slightly when he tried to scratch his ears, but then he sighed and leaned into the touch. He didn’t seem fully relaxed, and he kept trying to bite at his own fingers, until Vox took his hand and pushed it down.
They played several records. It was nice, sitting there with Alastor in his arms. Outside, the illusion of the sky became darker. Vox kissed Alastor’s hair. “Honey, maybe it’s time we turn in for the night.”
Alastor froze, going still as a statue, yet Vox could feel the deer’s heart speeding up, beating hard in his chest. Alastor swallowed, then he smiled and nodded. “Yes. Let’s go to be̴d.”
Vox took the needle of the record and removed it from the gramophone. Alastor’s hands twitched, like he wanted to stop him, yet thought better off it. He bit his finger again, and Vox took his hand to lead him up to the bedroom. His wife followed obediently, and when they came upstairs, he let go of his hand to take the nightdress he’d used the night before.
“I’ll just-”
Vox pulled him back into his arms before he could reach the bed. “Now, sweetie, we might be going to bed, but it’s too early to sleep, hm?”
Under his hands, Vox could feel Alastor’s heart beating hard and fast. The poor thing was so on edge today. He spun his wife around and tilted his head up; he just needed eye contact and he’d help his sweetheart relax. Instead, Alastor closed his eyes, and almost crashed his face into his screen, trying to kiss him.
Alastor didn't kiss like this, all desperate and needy. Vox was always, always the one who initiated any form of intimacy, and his wife accepted his affections. The kiss was clumsy, like Alastor didn’t quite know what to do when Vox didn’t guide him. When the deer pulled back, they were both shaking.
“I- I-” Alastor looked anywhere but at Vox. He sounded embarrassed.
“-Alastor-”
Alastor swallowed, and lifted his skirt, squeezing the fabric with trembling hands. “I ... was th̵-thinking of you when I dressed today.”
The lacy underwear was covered in embroidery, letting everything underneath be seen in-between the fine, white threads. Small bows on each side held the panties up, ready to be tugged loose. Vox stared, trying to remember how to breathe properly.
Alastor wanted him.
He wasn’t laying back and allowing Vox to touch him, he wanted him to. His little wife had picked out these undergarments while thinking of him, was trying to clumsily entice with inexperienced kisses. Vox fell to his knees before Alastor, stroking his hands up the long legs, feeling the silk of the stockings until they rested on Alastor’s hips.
“You were thinking of me? I’m always thinking of you, Alastor. Always, always.” He rose on his knees, lifting his head to kiss his wife’s cock through the delicate lace. Alastor squeaked, and lost his grip on the dress, and the fabric fell over Vox, covering him to his shoulders. Vox laughed. “I love you so much.”
“I- I love you too, Vox.” Alastor tried to move towards the bed. He was so eager today, no patience at all. Vox let him turn, then tightened his grip around him. Alastor’s tail was in his face as Vox nuzzled up to his ass.
“Mmm.” Vox pulled at the little bows, watching as the tiny strips of fabric came apart, and the panties fell to the floor. “Say that again.”
“I love you so muḀ̴̎Ḧ̵̱!” The words ended in a scream when Vox pushed his tongue into Alastor’s ass. “Vox!”
“Oh, sweetheart. Relax and let me spoil you for a bit, hm?” He could give his wife pleasure; he didn’t need any potions now to get Alastor willing and gasping for it. He pushed the ass cheeks apart to get better accesses to the sweet little hole, licking at the quivering rim.
“Y-yes, d-dar̵̾ling.” Alastor whimpered.
Vox dove in, licking and sucking till his wife’s legs where shaking. He let go for a moment, and Alastor stumbled forward, bracing himself against the edge of the bed for support. Then he tightened the grip on Alastor again, spreading him open so he could feast on him. He couldn’t see much with his head underneath his wife’s dress, but oh, he heard. Alastor was making the most delightful noises; gasping and sobbing as Vox ate him out.
“You taste so good, Alastor.”
Vox pushed his tongue deep inside his wife, searching for that sweet spot. He knew he’s found it when Alastor’s body stiffened, and a strangled cry pierced the air. He began relentlessly attacking that spot, drawing more cute noises of out of the deer.
“Ah! Aah̷̊! Ah-ng̵͔̊h! Hn̵̼̍g̴̦̃-”
Alastor’s legs were shaking so badly he couldn’t stay in place anymore; he sank down to his knees. Vox slipped his tongue free as the dress slid off his head, and he could see the result of his efforts. Alastor had collapsed over the edge of the bed, his head in his arms. He was biting and sucking at his fingers again; more blood had spilled from bites of the sharp teeth. His eyes were squeezed shut, and his breath was coming in ragged gasps.
Vox rose and began to push the dress up, over Alastor’s ass, his torso, till it turned inside out as he pulled it over his shoulders. The moment it was off, Alastor grabbed it, clutching the fabric and burying his face in it. Underneath the dress, he was wearing a camisole matching the panties; white and nearly see-through with fine embroidery and cute little bows.
Vox unbuttoned his shirt and threw it off, then unbuckled his belt. His cock was straining against his pants. While he undressed and grabbed the lube, Alastor slowly crawled up onto the bed with shaking limbs. He was almost at the top, his hand reaching for the pillow when Vox joined him on the bed and pulled him back into his arms. Vox licked along his neck as he pulled Alastor’s legs apart.
Alastor pushed a hand up against him, his voice barely a squeak. “W-wai̴t! I- uh I w-want to- to-”
“What do you want, precious?” Anything, anything his sweet wife asked, now that Alastor so clearly wanted this. Wanted him. Alastor’s eyes did not meet his husband’s, nor did he speak, too shy to voice his wishes. Instead, he pushed against him again, and Vox leaned back to give him space. His wife turned around, planting himself on his hands and knees. The tail was up, flashing that pretty white underside, inviting his husband to touch.
Vox chuckled as he stroked over the soft little thing. “Oh, you are ready for me.”
Alastor bowed his head. “Y- y- y̶̫̚es, Vox.”
Vox had opened his wife up quite a bit with his tongue, but he took his time fingering him, making sure to brush over the sweet spot as he did so. Despite so clearly wanting it, Alastor was nervous and not familiar with this position. He kept trying to crawl up the bed, so Vox had to pull him back and hold him in place. Finally, Alastor buried his face in the crumpled-up dress, resting his head on his arms; he was trembling, but stayed in place.
The deer was slick and open when Vox finally entered him. Inch by inch, slow and careful until he was fully seated inside. He draped himself over Alastor’s back and began measured, almost lazy thrusts. Alastor’s shoulders shook. He sobbed, biting his fingers again and again. Blood dripped onto the bedsheets.
“Oh, Alastor, you’re doing so well.” Vox whispered. “Such a good little wife for me.”
“Ah- all f-f̴o̵r you, Vo̴x.” Alastor gasped, his voice muffled by the dress he’d buried his head in. “L-love you s-so mu̶ch- a̵͈̐h̴͝!!”
Vox wrapped one hand around Alastor’s cock, stroking it while he rocked in and out of the deer’s ass. He snuck his other hand in underneath the lingerie to play with his wife’s chest; he could feel Alastor’s heart hammering under his fingers. He kept Alastor’s thighs open with his own, but as he began to thrust into him with more force, the long legs were shaking so badly Alastor was almost collapsing. Vox put his hands on his hips to keep him steady.
“You -ah- you like that, Alastor?”
“Uh- u̵̲͒h̵g – y-ye̶͝s!” Alastor sobbed. “I l-like it, I w- ẘ̶͆-wa̵͋n̴t it, I l- l̷̰̂h-lò̵͇̮͛v̶̆̚e yo̴u-”
Vox fucked into him, harder, faster, burying himself in that sweet hole, feeling the climax building. He squeezed Alastor’s hips so hard his claws broke the skin, tiny drops of blood running down the long legs. He pulled out almost all the way, till just the head of his cock was buried in that tight warmth, then grabbed Alastor’s tail hard, using it to drag the deer back onto his cock.
“P-ṕ̵̧̭lea̴s̵̔e- ple̴a̵̘̽̕se̴- ple̴͒as̴̑è̴̳-”
He didn’t know what Alastor was begging for. Vox pushed himself inside as deep as he could go and came. He gasped, panted like he had run a mile. His limbs weak, he all but collapsed on top of Alastor, who sank down into the mattress underneath him. Alastor pushed against him, and Vox rolled off to give his wife some space. He closed his eyes, blissed out as Alastor moved away from him.
Finally, Alastor wanted it. Wanted him. He reached out blindly, wrapped his arms around Alastor’s legs and pulled him closer, his head up against the deer’s thighs. He could stay here forever, the soft fuzz brushing his screen. In bed with the love of his after-life.
Then the knife was in his back.
“Wha-”
It took a moment for the pain to fully register through the pleasant fuzz of his mind. Then the knife was dragged through his flesh, tearing open a hole in his back, and Vox screamed.
The knife slipped out of him, only to sink in a second time. Vox opened his eyes; his face was still pressed up against his wife. He tried to move, but Alastor grabbed his head and held him tight up against his body. The knife was pulled out of Vox’s back, and the next moment it sank into his neck, tearing through wires and flesh.
“Ahg!” Vox coughed up blood. He managed to push himself away from Alastor. The knife dug through his flesh from the neck to the shoulder until it slipped free. Vox saw Alastor raise his hand again, raise the knife again, and tried to move out of the way. Alastor buried the knife to the hilt into Vox’s chest, pulled it out and stabbed him again, and again.
“-Ala-uhAAGH!” Vox managed to grab Alastor’s right wrist, holding the knife at bay. “Alastor, look at me!”
Alastor’s eyes were squeezed shut. With his right hand trapped, he dug into Vox’s stomach wound with his left hand, grabbing onto cables and tearing them out with his claws.
“Alastor, stop!” Vox managed to roll them both over, so he was on top of the deer. He grabbed for the free hand tearing him apart, and just barely managed. Alastor couldn’t see exactly what he was doing with his eyes shut, he was fighting blindly.
“Alastor! You love me, remember!” Vox pushed both wrists down over Alastor’s head, digging his fingers into the bandages on the left hand. Blood gushed forth, painting the bandage red and dripping down Alastor’s arm. Alastor groaned in pain, but did not open his eyes. Instead, he drove his knee hard into the open wound in Vox’s stomach.
“Ahgh! You d-damned-” Vox shocked him, sending electricity through the demon underneath him. Alastor screamed. His body froze up; his fur stood on end. When the shock ended, he sank down onto the bed, breathing hard. But still he kept his eyes shut.
“Open your eyes!” Vox yelled. “You’re mine! Look at me!”
He pressed his face up to Alastor’s, the light of his screen bathing the deer’s face in a blue glow. They were both in pain now. Blood ran from every open wound in Vox’s body, cables and intestines was hanging out of his stomach, entrails fell out, slid over Alastor’s stomach and landed on the bed. The blood dripping down the deer’s left wrist made it slippery, harder to hold on to.
It happened so fast. Alastor managed to get his left hand free, and grabbed the knife from the right. Then he stabbed it into Vox’s right eye. Vox screamed and let go of him to clutch his face. Immediately, Alastor kicked him off, pushed him hard so he fell backwards on the bed, and crawled on top of him. With both hands on the hilt of the knife, he stabbed into his stomach, pushing the knife deep, tearing it open. Blood gushed out of the open hole, splattering both of them, and spilling over the bedsheets.
“Stop!” Vox screamed.
But Alastor didn’t listen. He shifted his grip on the knife, let his left hand be free to tear apart Vox’s stomach as he stabbed into Vox’s screen with his right. Vox’s vision broke into dozens of images, each one of the knife coming down again and again. He raised his hand to try and shield himself, but Alastor stabbed him right through his palm.
“St- stop!” Vox gasped.
Alastor was crying. Or was it laughter? Vox couldn’t tell, his wife kept on stabbing in a desperate frenzy as he screamed, tears streaming down his face. “Stop? S-so you d̶̀ō̵ know w̵̖̎hat th̶́͜ä̴t word means̶̜̃?” Alastor dug his hand into Vox’s stomach, his claws tearing into soft organs. “I had nȯ̴͓ iḋ̶̘e̸a!”
“Stop-”
Alastor buried the knife in his neck again, so deep it nearly tore Vox’s head from his body. “Yo̷̽ȗ̵ ne̵̜̒ve̴͋r stop̴̨̍ped! Disg̵͈͘ust̵̼͂i̷̖̎ng, fil̶̞͝t̷hý̴ bâ̶ș̵͂́ta̷̻̖͘r̵̤͚͘d!”
“A-ah-lastor-”
Alastor stabbed his face again, and something short-circuited. Everything went black; Vox couldn’t see anymore. But he felt the pain; felt the knife in his face, felt the hand tearing at his insides. Heard Alastor sob how much he hated him. Screaming for him to die already.
Alastor.
His love, his friend, his wife-
The Radio Demon.
He’d broken out of the control. When? How long had he pretended? Since Vox came home? Before? He had hidden the knife. He had planned this. Planned to kill him, that damned, ungrateful, beautiful, wild creature.
“-astor- I- love yo-”
He couldn’t feel the pain anymore. The sounds were muffled somehow. Darkness waited with open arms. Vox sank into it, and then he didn’t feel anything else.