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Some time passed before Alastor took the lead again, trying once more. “Are you going to get up?”
Letting out a deep sigh, Vox lifted his chin and stared at the kitchen ceiling, acting as though he were praying to the Heavens. Or perhaps cursing his own husband. There was really no way to tell. “If I say I will… will you shut your damn mouth?”
“I believe you already know what my answer will be.” The corners of Alastor’s smile stretched wider, his yellowed teeth seeming sharper.
“Unfortunately, I do,” he muttered to himself. Then Vox looked at him with an expression of obviously fake displeasure before suddenly saying, “Give me your hand.”
Alastor raised a brow, mildly curious about whatever Vox had in mind, but complied anyway. Behind him, the shadow detached itself again and watched them, just as curious as its owner.
Vox pretended not to notice and took the offered hand, his fingers wrapping carefully around the deer’s wrist. Alastor noticed the care he took around his claws, though he knew better than to comment on it.
“Help me up. My feet are killing me.”
Alastor huffed quietly to himself, slightly incredulous at the sudden shift. Still, the fondness hidden in the sound was noticed by both of them. Even so, he helped him up effortlessly, his smile intact and posture impeccable.
Vox stood, bracing one hand against the counter. But he never let go of him.
“Good little deer.” An arrogant grin crossed his screen, his teeth practically gleaming.
Alastor rolled his eyes. “Adorable, though not particularly creative,” he said, attentive to the other demon’s reaction. Seeing there would be no explosion, he added, “I’m sure you can come up with something better.”
“That’s not what you said last night.”
“Well, of course.” With his free hand, he tapped his cane against the floor once, gripping it lightly afterward. The smile on his lips turned gentle in a distinctly malicious way. “I was at the hotel, dealing with a last-minute crisis.”
Vox’s smile dropped. “Oh, go fuck yourself. You ruin everything.”
“I prefer that over being called little deer. But coming from you… it’s almost a compliment.” Behind him, his shadow moved closer to the couple and waved; their grin widened into something distorted while their antlers stretched beside their ears, so long they looked like branches.
Out of the corner of his eye, the Radio Demon glanced briefly at the Shadow, the two of them exchanging a quick conversation through a single look.
Vox ignored the strange exchange between them with irritating ease. “Great. What would you rather I call you, then? Bambi?” The rhetorical question came paired with a skeptical expression. “You’ve never even seen that movie.”
“Both insults are in remarkably poor taste.”
“Still better than picture box.” Vox crossed his arms, shooting him a displeased look. But Alastor considered it progress, seeing as no cutlery had been thrown in his direction.
His ears perked up, tilting toward the technological demon in curiosity as he studied his husband’s behavior, making sure this wasn’t resentment disguised as teasing. Deep down, Alastor found himself missing the touch on his wrist.
He tightened his grip around the microphone, lightly stroking the object while thinking of a response. “It wasn’t an insult. I genuinely couldn’t distinguish your demonic form back then,” he explained sincerely. At the very least, he hoped Vox could hear the honesty in his words. “It was… an observation.
Vox didn’t respond for a long moment. He simply kept staring at his partner, the displeased expression firmly planted on his face. The seconds stretched around the couple like a rubber band.
Until a small, closed-mouth smile appeared at the corner of Vox’s mouth. “Good answer. Nice save.”
Alastor raised a brow as he recognized the tone; it was the exact same one Vox used whenever Shok.wav learned a new trick and earned himself a treat.
Internally, he wondered whether it had been intentional or if it had slipped out naturally, because both possibilities seemed entirely plausible with the current version of Vox.
Despite his doubts, the Radio Demon chose to change the subject. “Now then! Returning to the topic we were discussing earlier… what do you think about my previous suggestion?”
“I think it’s a stupid suggestion.”
He didn’t give up. His smile widened as he stepped closer, pleased when Vox didn’t move away. “I’m not saying you should eat nothing but vegetables for the rest of your pregnancy. That wouldn’t be fair to either you or the baby. But surviving solely on chips, fast food, and wedding cakes ordered from… Madame Gulosa is hardly the healthiest choice.”
Alastor didn’t miss the way Vox’s lips pressed together, very obviously holding back laughter at the suffering woven into the pronunciation of his favorite bakery’s name.
It was always like this whenever either of them mentioned that shop. Alastor’s disdain for the place was painfully obvious despite every stubborn attempt he made to hide it.
Ignoring Vox’s amused look, the deer simply continued, his fingers lightly brushing against Vox’s forearm. “A bit of fiber or carbohydrates in your diet would leave me feeling… more at ease regarding your health. You could at least try.”
Vox raised a brow, giving Alastor a look the Radio Demon could only interpret as evaluative. “Learn that from the princess, huh? Damn, that sounded smooth. Almost got me hard.”
“Charlie didn’t—” he tried to begin, but stopped the moment his husband’s expression turned reproachful. Raising a hand, Alastor cleared his throat and reflexively tightened his grip on his cane once before trying again, accepting that lying or dodging the subject would lead nowhere good. “Alright… perhaps I may have spoken with Charlie about a few things.”
“That’s practically a miracle coming from you. You hate asking people for help,” Vox commented as though it were the simplest thing in the world. Then his expression turned sarcastic, almost malicious. “Aw, look at your character development. How adorable.”
Alastor was fully aware of what Vox was doing. He had known that stubborn television long enough to recognize its patterns. It was a provocation. A jab at his ego.
And even so…
“I do not hate asking people for assistance. That sounds so…” He looked away toward some random point in the kitchen, fingers tracing the curve of the microphone as he carefully considered his next words. “Dramatic when phrased like that. There are other ways to say it.”
Having no patience whatsoever for the performance, Vox rolled his eyes. “You are dramatic, Alastor. And theatrical.”
Alastor frowned, offended. He parted his lips, ready to defend himself against every baseless accusation. Behind him, his shadow laughed, clearly enjoying its owner’s suffering.
Vox simply kept piling on. “You’re also a little controlling. But so am I, so it’s fair. We’re even.” He shrugged. “Still, you’re way too puritanical. You’re over a hundred years old, not forty.”
“We both died in our forties, Vox.”
He immediately raised a finger. “Ah, no, no! I died at thirty-nine. You died at forty.” He pointed that same finger at Alastor with a seriousness that absolutely did not belong in those words. “Those are completely different things.”
Alastor’s expression remained perfectly blank. “I died at forty-four.”
Vox froze, blinking several times before frowning at the deer. “You lying bastard. I’m old, not senile. Is that the kind of example you’re setting for our daughter?”
Alastor parted his lips, drawing air into long-dead lungs while at least seven different questions crowded the tip of his tongue. In the end, however, he gave up on arguing and simply answered, “Yes.”
Vox looked horrified—his eyes widened in terror, one hand flying to his chest while his mouth fell open, a dramatic gasp echoing through the kitchen. Both of them knew it was nothing but theatrics.
Realizing Vox had no intention of saying anything else, Alastor took the lead again, returning to the main topic. “And the vegetables?” He met Vox’s gaze, actively ignoring the expression of disgust immediately thrown his way. It was as though the question itself were the single most irritating thing in all of Hell. “Would you truly be unwilling to at least think about it?”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake! Let it go already!”
Ironically, the mention of letting it go reminded Alastor of the other option. Which was every bit as important as vegetables, of course.
“Oh! Right. I nearly forgot about that subject. Would you be willing to eat more meat? Proteins are extremely important!” Seeing the sheer intensity of disgust on Vox’s face, Alastor decided to play the only card he had left. “I could even prepare some of the dishes I read about in a book I purchased recently. You have my word that your new palate would adore them. If you’d prefer, of course.”
Surprisingly, Vox paused and rested a hand against his chin, genuinely considering the possibility. “I’ll think about it.”
“Perfect!” His smile widened, becoming noticeably more genuine. Behind Alastor, the shadow waved again, visibly excited by the possibility of the offer being considered.
That caught Vox’s attention. He frowned and looked past the Radio Demon, staring at the shadow for a moment. He didn’t seem irritated—merely curious. Perhaps about what exactly that reaction meant.
Alastor stepped closer and gently squeezed Vox’s shoulder, silently conveying his gratitude. “That’s all I ask.”
Blinking, Vox snapped out of his thoughts and looked back at him. He studied Alastor for a little longer, still appearing deeply unconvinced by the entire concept.
Then another sigh escaped him, and something in the sound made Alastor’s ears tilt slightly forward in interest. Uncrossing his arms, Vox let a certain emotion flicker behind his eyes. “You could ask me to kill someone instead. I’d be a lot happier about that.”
Raising a hand to his mouth, Alastor allowed a quiet, amused laugh to slip out; he didn’t miss the smile growing across the technological demon’s screen, though he chose not to comment on it. “I thought you preferred choosing your own targets, Vox.”
“I do,” Vox agreed with a tilt of his chin. Alastor mirrored the movement without thinking, though the next thing Vox said caught him somewhat off guard. “But I also like it when you give me options. You know how to pick good targets.”
Something in his tone immediately put the Radio Demon on alert. Still, he tried to ignore the feeling curling inside him and cleared his throat. “Now, I—”
Vox didn’t let him finish. He stepped closer and grabbed one of Alastor’s wrists, his other hand resting against the counter near the deer’s waist. It blocked any easy escape, enough to keep him there for hours if necessary. Their gazes locked, their faces close enough to feel each other’s breath.
A smile filled with implication spread across Vox’s screen at the sight of surprise flashing over his partner’s face.
Against every instinct he possessed, Alastor neither stepped away nor melted into his shadows. He stayed exactly where he was, waiting to see what the other demon would do next.
“Excellent targets,” Vox whispered in a tone that sent something burning through Alastor’s chest; his body ached for something, and he knew exactly what it was—both because of the familiarity and because of how sudden the shift had been. Even so, the only thing he managed to do was tighten his grip on the kitchen counter, painfully aware of Vox’s breath so close to him, their bodies nearly pressed together.
Vox noticed immediately, his gaze dropping toward Alastor’s hand—the same wrist he was still holding. His smile widened further, stretching so far his eyes became thin slits.
The deer swallowed hard, his body stiffening as he weighed his options. Escaping through his shadows was still possible, though it might leave his husband deeply irritated. Or upset. Or disappointed.
With pregnancy hormones involved, it was incredibly difficult to predict which reaction Vox would have.
It was torture not knowing what to do, how to react, which words to use. He could barely tell whether this was even serious considering how much Vox had complained during the past few weeks about pain—in many places, enough to leave the Radio Demon drowning in questions and purchasing an absurd number of books just to understand.
Not to mention his own self-control in that moment, because resisting the urge to indulge the flirting was just as difficult. Even so, Alastor was placing Vox’s comfort above everything else.
If only he could be certain… it would spare them both a great deal.
“I can hear you thinking.”
Dragged back to Hell, the deer wasn’t surprised to find Vox staring at him with a strange expression lighting up his screen—almost bored, if not for the irritation lingering beneath it.
Against everything he would normally do, Alastor replied, “A commendable ability.”
Both Vox and the Shadow scoffed at the exact same time. Vox, however, followed it with a dramatic roll of his eyes. “For fuck’s sake… can’t you stop thinking for five seconds?” He didn’t give Alastor time to answer. “I mean… I don’t know! Relax a little!”
“I am perfectly relaxed.” Even if it had sounded convincing—which it absolutely had not, though he wasn’t focusing on that right now—the tension in his smile betrayed the false confidence behind the words. The rigidness in his posture and the way his claws dug into the counter were not remotely subtle either.
The sound Vox let out landed somewhere between an annoyed grumble and a curse muttered in another language. “For a demon, you’re a fucking terrible liar.”
Even knowing it was an awful idea, Alastor found himself studying the sound carefully; there was something beneath Vox’s words that made him tilt his chin and narrow his eyes in curiosity. The tips of his ears twitched just as attentively.
Vox noticed immediately, judging by the way he rolled his eyes again. Then, much to Alastor’s surprise, he said, “If you’re going to analyze me during sex, at least try to be subtle about it.”
“I wasn’t—” He cut himself off at the deep sigh Vox released. And the moment he realized Vox was about to pull away, Alastor reached out and touched his arm, keeping him exactly where he was. He knew the microphone would be taken by the Shadow anyway, so there was no point worrying about it now. “Very well. I was analyzing you, but not in the way you think.”
Vox slowly raised a brow, silently waiting for an explanation.
“Let us say I am… hesitant to do anything. Not because I do not want to, but because you are sensitive right now, and I pay attention to the signs. Yesterday you were dealing with severe pain in your pelvis, and I distinctly remember you complaining that your hands have been swelling more and more.” Alastor found himself mildly horrified by the sheer amount of words leaving his mouth, though now that he had started, he decided to continue. “The past few weeks have been difficult for you. That much is evident both in your mood and your behavior.” He paused briefly before finishing, “What guarantees me this will not hurt you further? That the pain will not worsen?”
Vox frowned, though he did not seem irritated—only confused. He stared at Alastor for so long the deer began expecting anything; insults, anger, perhaps even being thrown out of the tower entirely.
Instead, Vox let out another sigh and glanced up toward the ceiling for a brief moment before looking back at him.
“First of all, that was kind of cute. Not very cute, but enough that I’m not telling you to fuck off. Second, your honesty is touching and your concern is adorable, but you talk like I’m made of glass!” The frustration bleeding into his voice at the end made Alastor’s ears lower instinctively in embarrassment. “I have a mouth, you know. I can tell you if something’s wrong. Couldn’t you just ask me?”
“Vox, we…” He began slowly before stopping himself, his smile suddenly looking smaller and far more strained. Out of reflex, he squeezed his husband’s shoulder once while carefully weighing his next words. “I mean… do you truly think that…?”
A lightning discharge made every light in the apartment flicker, making Vox’s feelings painfully obvious. “Stop overthinking and just say whatever the fuck you’re trying to say! What are you so worried about? The choking? Or the blood kink?” He didn’t let Alastor answer before continuing. “Actually, forget I said that. It wouldn’t even be that dangerous. We’ve done way worse shit than that before.”
They both knew it was true. After all, immortality and Hell’s regenerative abilities came with the courage to try whatever they wanted, however they wanted.
Even knowing that deep down, Alastor still couldn’t stop himself from frowning in indignation. “It wouldn’t be that dangerous?! You cannot sound that calm while talking about cutting yourself with knives, especially while pregnant!”
Vox rolled his eyes. “See? What did I say earlier? Add pessimistic to your list of flaws. I was talking about the choking, not the knives. My knives are for special occasions,” he said as casually as if he were commenting on the weather. “Besides, I’d never hurt the baby. You’d be cutting my arm, not my womb.”
“You really just…” His voice trailed off as he realized—and internally accepted that Vox had already thought about all the details of this, which meant he’d been turned on for a while now. Alastor blinked once. Twice. Three times before sighing to himself in disbelief. “Oh, dear God. How long have you been thinking about this?”
“Thinking about what? The knives?” Vox asked, pulling back slightly. Not much, just enough to brace his hands against the counter beside Alastor’s waist. “I hadn’t thought about them at all until now. I don’t even know where my kit is. I only thought about it because of you.”
Alastor wasn’t sure whether that made the situation better or worse. Probably both, in completely different ways. Because it meant Vox had only started thinking about sharp objects because of him.
Oblivious to that realization, Vox continued, “The only thing on my mind is… actually, there are two things. Miscalculation on my part.” A small smile flickered across his screen for a moment before flattening into neutrality again. “The first is going into the living room, turning on the TV, grabbing a huge slice of cake, and eating it while I watch some stupid show. The second is a blowjob.”
“You… could have told me that earlier.”
He shrugged. “I was a little busy throwing a spoon at you. And I can do it again if you annoy me more.”
Despite Vox’s teasing tone and the wide grin stretching across his face, Alastor had absolutely no doubts about that statement.
“Well?” Vox asked again, raising a brow. “Was having this conversation really that difficult?”
Yes. It was absolutely torturous.
The thought came cleanly, without the usual flourish that accompanied his inner voice. And because of that, Alastor’s eyes widened, his shadow turning toward him as if it couldn’t decide whether to laugh at him or worry for him.
Alastor chose not to care about whatever expression his shadow was making. Instead, he widened his smile, doing his best to appear relaxed and composed. Then he reached up, fingers brushing against the collar of Vox’s white shirt, and said with a calmness he did not feel, “It was… a remarkably formidable experience.”
“When you say formidable, you mean horrible.” It wasn’t a question.
The deer’s smile stretched wider as he gave a small, graceful nod.
Vox sighed again. “You’re an idiot.”
“I’m quite certain you knew that before marrying me.”
“Yeah. I did. Doesn’t make you less of an idiot.”
“I agree to disagree.”
A smile curled at the corner of Vox’s mouth and he rolled his eyes, something affectionate forming in his expression. Then, to Alastor’s surprise, he reached up and scratched behind one of the deer’s red ears, carefully watching his reaction. He didn’t seem surprised in the slightest when he saw Alastor gradually relax—his breathing slowed, his body easing out of its defensive tension, claws loosening from the grip they had on Vox’s shirt collar.
It was only then that the deer realized just how tense he had been.
Looking away, Alastor let the silence around them linger for a moment, long enough for him to murmur quietly, “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” He didn’t see Vox’s expression, but the tone was soft and gentle in a way that shouldn’t have suited him. But it did. And it sent a shiver up Alastor’s spine.