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Alastor isn’t completely sure how she got here – lying on Vox’s bed with her legs spread, the other woman between her knees.
“Are you still okay with this?” Vox asks her. Her tone is reverent.
Alastor sighs theatrically. “Just get on with it,” she says, and Vox beams. She shuffles a little closer to Alastor, wearing only shorts and an oversized t-shirt – when Vox isn’t dressed for business, she’s dressed like a teenage boy.
The it in question is a proposition, of sorts. Made by Vox. They’d both been a little tipsy, and Vox had asked if Alastor had ever had sex.
“You know that those things don’t interest me.”
“Well, I dunno, Allie. You’re so secretive about your life up top,” Vox said. She was wearing a navy vest – Alastor had complimented it earlier, and her screen had flushed bright cyan. “Who knows? Maybe you had a husband or something.”
“Thankfully,” Alastor said, “I managed to avoid marriage.”
“Yeah, probably for the better,” Vox said. “Poor guy would’ve ended up as dinner.”
Alastor laughed a little and took a sip of her wine. Vox watched with intent eyes, then moved her seat closer. The stool scraped against the bar floor. “Would you ever want to?”
“To…?”
“Have sex.” Alastor’s thoughts must have shown on her face, because Vox said hurriedly, “It – it doesn’t have to be anything serious. You can just do it because it feels good.” She swallowed. “I could make you feel good. If you wanted.”
“Hm.”
“C’mon,” Vox said. “You’ve never wanted to try?”
Alastor had taken her in: her big, hopelessly earnest eyes, her silly picture box display. Her best outfit, even, selected for a weeknight in a bar.
“Oh, alright,” Alastor replied.
And now they are here.
“And you know you can tell me if you wanna stop, right? Any time. At the start or in the middle, and if you don’t like anything you can say–”
“Vox,” Alastor says. “Just get on with it.”
Vox nods. She pulls off her t-shirt and shorts unceremoniously, leaving them a crumpled heap on the floor. She’s wearing a matching set under her clothes; electric blue bra, matching panties. Alastor knows from countless sleepovers that this is not Vox’s usual attire, and wonders vaguely if Vox had dressed up for this.
“I suppose you want me to undress as well?”
“It’d help, yeah." Vox's eyes dart up and down Alastor’s form. “Can I do it?”
“Undress me?”
“Yeah.” A blue blush colours Vox’s screen.
Alastor inclines her head. Instead of using her prehensile wires, the way Vox uses them to dress herself, Vox uses her hands. She guides Alastor’s jacket off of her shoulders, unties her silk scarf from around her neck. Alastor lifts her hips so that Vox can slide off her skirt.
Finally, Vox unbuttons Alastor’s blouse for her. Once she gets to the final button, she stares. Alastor doesn’t wear a bra; she’s never really needed to, with her breasts as small as they are. Vox looks transfixed. Alastor fights the urge to pull her shirt back to cover them.
“You’re so pretty, Allie,” Vox says, a phrase Alastor has heard before from her in countless ways. She slips the blouse from Alastor’s shoulders. “Your tits are so cute.”
“Don’t be crass.”
“It’s true.” Vox guides her back down so that Alastor’s back is against the bed and shuffles between her thighs. “So fucking pretty.” Her fingers dance over Alastor’s underwear, slip under the waistband – then pause.
“Actually,” Vox says, “I don’t think we need to take these off.”
Alastor meets Vox’s eyes and wills her face not to betray any confusion. She’s – she’s not an expert in matters pertaining to sex, obviously, but being naked is surely a prerequisite?
Vox smiles at her. “It’s okay, Allie. We’ll keep your panties on,” she says. “You’re a good girl, right? You’ve never done this before. So it’s okay if you don’t want to be naked in front of me.”
Alastor does not mention that she is, for all intents and purposes, naked – bare-chested on Vox’s bed, not even wearing any shoes.
“Okay. You ready?”
Alastor nods.
“Okay.” Vox looks down between Alastor’s legs, and swallows. “Okay. I’m gonna start now.” Taking hold of Alastor’s thighs, she rocks her hips forwards so that they meet Alastor’s, and—
And Alastor’s thoughts fizzle out.
It’s hot where Vox grinds against her. The heat pools in her stomach at the same time it zips up her spine; Alastor’s leg twitches. Vox grins at her. “Yeah?” she says. “Does that feel good?” She rocks up against her again, and murmurs, “Oh, fuck, I can’t believe we’re actually doing this. Fuck.”
Alastor had assumed sex would be – uncomfortable, and complicated in a sense, based on Angel Dust’s complaints about Valentina’s gruelling schedule; based on the billboards around Hell advertising convoluted sex toys; based, even, on people’s obsession with the act. But despite the dizzying sense of unknown, this feels straightforwardly good. The regular grinds send zaps of heat up her spine, like Vox is using electricity on Alastor instead of her body.
“You okay if I go faster?” Vox asks. Her eyes are soft, unfocused.
Alastor nods. “Mm, thanks, Allie,” Vox says, her hips speeding up. “Fuck, that’s it… Can I touch you?”
Her hands hover over Alastor’s chest. Alastor nods. Vox kisses her thigh in thanks – an innocent, sweet gesture that surprises Alastor as she does it – and cups her breast.
No one has ever touched Alastor here before. Alastor exhales as Vox’s hand traces over her skin. Truthfully there’s not much to grope, but Vox seems interested enough anyway, and then her palm brushes over her
Alastor’s breath hitches.
Vox pauses. She takes her hand away, then thumbs over Alastor’s nipple. Alastor can’t help the tiny noise that escapes her.
“Oh?” Vox asks, a slow grin spreading over her face. “Does that feel good?”
It does. The feeling dances under her skin, light and barely there. Static thrums through her.
“Do you want me to do it again?” Alastor nods, tightly. Vox runs her thumbs over her nipple at the same time as she rolls her hips, and Alastor’s breath escapes her in a shaky, quivering exhale. “There we go,” Vox murmurs. “Fuck, you have such cute little tits. “You’re so sensitive here, huh?” She dips her thumb in her mouth, coating it with spit, before she rubs it over Alastor’s nipple. Alastor lets out a noise in the back of her throat. “Aww, is that good? Yeah? Here, I’ll give them both some attention…”
It feels so good. It feels so good, Alastor thinks dumbly, losing all higher vocabulary, all her sophisticated words. She's lost in the pleasure.
“Guess I’ve found your favourite,” Vox murmurs. She’s rubbing both nipples as she grinds against Alastor, and the pleasure is building – building – Alastor feels her body tighten up –
Vox stops and pulls away. “I think we could take the panties off, huh?”
Alastor blinks at her. She’d forgot that was even an option, but as Vox touches her fingertips to the fabric, it’s-
“You’re so wet,” Vox says delightedly. She pulls her hands away, and a trail follows. She laughs. “You soaked through your panties, oh Allie, that’s so fucking hot.”
Alastor bares her teeth at her.
“Don’t be embarrassed,” Vox says. “I mean it. It’s so hot, can’t believe I made you this wet, fuck.” She hooks her fingers around Alastor’s waistband, eyes dark and deep. “Can I?”
Alastor nods tightly. Vox pulls her panties down, shifting so that she can guide them off Alastor’s legs entirely, then just stops and stares.
The wetness inside her. It – Alastor realises with deep humiliation – is slipping out.
“Allie,” Vox moans. Her eyes are fixed on the space between Alastor’s legs. “Fuck, Allie, you have such a pretty pussy.”
“Don’t say such ridiculous things,” Alastor snaps.
“I mean it. Ohh, fuck, Allie.” Vox sounds like she’s in despair. “You’re so pretty.” She swallows. “Don’t worry. This is gonna feel even better, okay?”
She moistens her fingers and lines them up to rub Alastor’s nipples. When she starts grinding again, Alastor lets out a little cry, shocked, and covers her hand with her mouth. It’s far more intense this way, with Vox’s bare cunt against hers, flushed and wet and rolling against her like she’s trying to see how close she can get.
It’s hot all over. The pleasure in her core, zipping up and down her spine, making her arch, making her close her eyes.
“There we go,” Vox says. “There we go, oh, good girl, d’you like that? Does it feel nice? Yeah?” She doesn’t slow her pace. “F-fuck, you’re making me feel good too, Allie. So hot, fuckin’ – grinding against you like this, you lying on the bed, making you – fucking – take it –” She punctuates the last few words with thrusts, sending heat shooting up Alastor’s spine. “Fuck. You don’t know how long I’ve wanted this.”
She moves her hands away from Alastor’s chest. “Give me a second. I’m just gonna change position. It’ll feel better this way, I promise.” She wraps her hand around Alastor’s calf, raising her eyebrows. Alastor acquiesces. She leans back, allowing Vox to hold one of her legs up and to the side. Her face burns hot as Vox stares between her legs.
“Fuck,” Vox says. She runs a hand down the sensitive skin on the inside of Alastor’s leg, making her twitch, and thumbs at the highest point of her inner thigh. She’s so close to – to touching –
Vox moves her hand away. She grasps Alastor’s hip instead. Alastor refuses to use the word disappointed to describe how she feels.
“Okay,” Vox says. She grinds against her again, and with this angle they get even closer. Vox’s cunt drags against Alastor’s, coaxing out a horrible, humiliating, keening little whimper.
Vox moans with tandem. “Fuck, the way you sound,” she says. Her cunt rolls in a steady rhythm, slick with their combined fluids, while she plays with Alastor's tits. The feeling is electric, overwhelming, expanding everywhere in her body. “Must feel s-so intense for you, huh? Is it a lot?”
Alastor’s quickened breath seems to answer for her.
“Yeah, it’s a lot,” Vox murmurs. “Can’t even imagine how sensitive you are. I bet you never touch yourself, huh? I’d go fuckin’ crazy if I couldn’t, but you’re such a good girl, it makes sense.” She dips a hand between them, runs her fingers up Alastor’s sex. Alastor twitches. “Bet you never reach down and touch your cute little clit.”
Vox rubs her fingers over her. Alastor’s breath hitches.
Vox looks delighted. “What? Did that feel good?” She does it again, rubbing in harder, faster circles. Alastor’s hips buck without warning, and Vox coos at her. “Aww, Allie, see what you’ve been missing out on? You’ve been so well-behaved, never even touching yourself – were you scared it was a sin? It’s okay, honey, you don’t have to worry about that now. We’re in Hell anyway, we can indulge. I’ll make you feel good. I’ll make you feel so fucking good, I promise, gonna take care of you, show you how good you can feel.” Vox punctuates this with a slow, slow drag of her hand down Alastor’s cunt, slipping her fingers between her folds. Grinding her palm against Alastor’s clit.
And that’s it, Vox has found the one soft part of her, the one vulnerability she has – and – and she’s making Alastor feel good there. Everything is so slick and hot and wet, and Vox is shushing her soothingly. Like this, Alastor doesn’t feel like the Radio Demon, doesn’t feel like the Overlord who rose to the top with blood on her hands and the bones of fellow demons splintering her teeth. She just feels like Allie, Vox’s best friend, her pretty fawn, worthy of being dreamed about and doted on and pleasured. Maybe this is how Vox sees her, Alastor thinks dazedly.
“So fucking cute, Allie,” Vox says. “You’re so wet. Do you always get this wet? I guess you wouldn’t know, huh? Hot to think about, though. Wonder if you’ll always leak this much when I touch you.” She grinds in a slow, languid roll, digging her claws just a little into Alastor’s flesh. “Or maybe it’s just for me. I’m a lucky girl, huh?”
“Dig your claws in deeper,” Alastor says. Vox does, and Alastor sighs, her head tipping back against the bed. Pain has always had something of an addictive quality for her, and coupled with everything else, the sharp bite of Vox’s claws sends her soaring.
“Should’ve known you were a little masochist,” Vox mutters from above her, but Alastor isn’t listening. Coupled with the dizzying pleasure, the pain is so lovely, the bite of Vox’s claws a perfectly sharpened knife. She drifts in the building sensation.
“Are you close?” Vox asks, and Alastor opens her eyes. Vox swims above her. “Oooh, yeah, you’re close. You’re right up in space, huh? Who knows a little pain would do it for you…”
“Deeper,” Alastor manages.
“Yeah?” Vox tightens her grip, driving her claws further into her skin. Alastor moans.
“Oh, fuck,” she hears Vox mutter. “I’m gonna be your first.” Then, louder, “It’s okay, Allie. I’m gonna make you come. It’s gonna feel really good, okay? I promise.”
She quickens the pace, and Alastor winds her claws into the bedsheets, twitching as she feels the rub – well, the slide, there seems so much – so much wetness between them – as Vox grinds up against her and gropes her chest. Vox’s fingers slides over her nipples, a little tease, but it’s so good, so good, and even better once Vox starts rubbing them in circles, saying all the while, “Fuck, you’re so cute like this. You like me playing with your tits? Tell me, Allie, tell me how much you like it.”
The thought is preposterous. Alastor shakes her head tightly, and Vox laughs, a fond noise. “Okay. You don’t have to t--zz-ell me.” Her voice wavers a little. “Y-you feel so good, Allie. I’m gonna come soon too.”
All the pleasure is building to something. The static dancing under her skin, the dull ache Vox’s claws have left behind. The something Alastor is thinking of feels a little terrifying, teetering on the edge of a cliff’s drop, and she registers distantly that her breath is coming out a little quickly. Like a panicked animal. A deer in the headlights, and suddenly Alastor is tipping over – right over the edge–
The pleasure makes her hips jerk sharply, once, then twice, then again, and again, she can’t stop it, and the next time her hips move they catch against Vox, and the two of them moan in tandem. Vox drops her head and mutters, “Fuck.” The pleasure is tight and hot and unfurling something within Alastor, making her gasp. It’s all-consuming. It takes hold of her. She’s helpless to stop it as it crashes through her.
“Vox,” Alastor manages. “Vox, Vox,” and she’s digging her nails into Vox’s shoulders, sending bloody trails down her navy skin as the pleasure zips up and down her, white-hot, making her toes curl, her legs tremble, and her cunt is pulsing so hot and she needs it, she needs more, she can’t help the moan she lets out as Vox pushes her down on the bed and humps her like an animal.
“Fuck, Allie, take it, take it, such a good girl, oh, fuck, your first time ever, I’m making you come–” Vox is rambling. Alastor closes her eyes, focuses on the static dancing under her skin, the dull ache of residual pain, and the pleasure, taking hold of her, capsizing her.
When Alastor opens her eyes, Vox is just watching. Mouth a little open, eyes half-lidded but undeniably focused on Alastor. Her hips twitch weakly. “Oh, Allie,” Vox says. She cups Alastor’s face, twining her fingers through her curls. Alastor’s eyes meet Vox's, and they watch each other as the aftershocks wrack through Alastor’s body. Alastor opens her mouth a little and finds nothing coming out. Wordless.
“You’re so pretty when you come,” Vox says. “So fucking pretty, so beautiful – I wanna watch you come all the time, wanna make you come every hour – wanna make you feel good. Oh, Allie.” She kisses Alastor’s shoulder. “Thank you for letting me make you come. Did it feel good? Yeah? You feel good?”
Usually Alastor always has something to say. She’s made a living off of her voice, after all. But now she searches for words to say and finds nothing. She stares at Vox wordlessly.
Vox smiles at her. “Your first,” she murmurs. “Oh, Allie, thank you.”
They lie together for a while before Alastor starts squirming, upon which Vox rolls over and disappears to the bathroom. She comes back with a hot cloth which she uses to clean Alastor up, wiping at her sticky inner thighs, then between her legs.
“How are you feeling?” Vox asks. “Was everything okay?”
“Alright,” Alastor says. “Tired.”
Vox huffs a laugh. “Yeah, that’s normal. Takes it out of you.” She peeks up at Alastor. “Did you like it?”
“I did,” Alastor says.
Vox smiles. “That’s good. It was new to me too, you know. What we did.”
“How so?”
“The scissoring.” At Alastor’s raised eyebrow, Vox says, “You know, the–” She thrusts her hips a little. Alastor wrinkles her nose. “Sorry. But, yeah, that. I’d never done it before, but I’d always fantasised about it, to be honest. With, uh, with you. I thought it’d be good for your first time. No penetration, you know?”
“It sounds like you’ve fantasised about a lot of things with me.”
Vox laughs, cyan heating her screen. “Oh, you don’t know the half of it, Allie.”
“I suppose you have a great deal more things that you’d like to try, now that we’ve done this.”
Vox's digital brow wrinkles. “No, I mean – well, yeah, of course. But that doesn’t mean…” She sighs. “Listen, Allie, just ‘cause we’ve done it once, doesn’t mean we have to do it again, you know? I mean, if you want to that’s great, obviously, that’d be fucking awesome, but if you don’t want to it’s fine.” Her expression is very earnest. “If we never do it again, I won’t care. You’re still my best friend. This doesn't change that.”
Alastor tilts her head. “Who says I wouldn’t want to?”
Vox blinks. Her eyes are very big. “I – do you?”
“I would be amenable,” Alastor shrugs. “I wasn’t lying, you know. I did like it.”
“Yeah?”
“You always have had a very vivid imagination, Vox,” she says. “I suppose I’ve always been curious about what rattles around up there.” She taps on Vox’s monitor. “I got a taste of it tonight, but I expect there’s more.”
“Way more,” Vox says breathlessly. “Fuck, Allie, you’ve no idea how much more.” She peers up at her. “You’d really want to do it again?”
“Not all the time,” Alastor says. “Probably not often, actually. But I'm always open to new forms of entertainment.”
“Cool,” Vox says, her smile a mile wide. “I mean, great. Yeah. We could do that.”
“Good,” Alastor says. “Now fetch me some pyjamas. Preferably without any sharks on them.”
“It’s me you’re talking about! No promises!” But Vox does return a few minutes later with a plain oversized t-shirt and plaid pyjama pants. They get under the covers together, lying face-to-face on their sides the way they do when they’re having a sleepover at Alastor’s.
“I had a really good time tonight, Allie,” Vox says. “Thank you.”
Vox reaches out and clasps her hand. She squeezes, just briefly.
Alastor squeezes back. “Go to sleep, dear.”
Alastor watches Vox’s screen dim until it fades to black. For a moment she lies awake, thinking. Tonight felt good, in a way she hadn’t much expected sex to feel. It’s still not her favourite activity – most everything pales in comparison to dancing, or jazz music, or flaying a sinner open on live radio.
But she’d liked it. She’d liked how Vox had held her like she was something precious; touched her like all she’d ever wanted was to make Alastor feel good. It’s with that thought in mind that Alastor lets herself slip into sleep, soothed by the sound of Vox’s cooling vents and the warmth resting beneath her skin.