Absolutely not. He'd gone through this fucking season every year before this without succumbing, and this year would be no different. A week and about four mass slaughters in, and he was keeping his self-control - and more importantly, his reputation - intact.
"Listen, Al - you're my pal, of course we'll keep this under wraps. And if you need a little hand in dealing with it..."
Augh. He'd looked so eager and hopeful.
Alastor's claws dug into shattered concrete, carving deep trenches into the dead earth below, letting the blood from the massacred Sinners flow into the cracks.
Fuck.
Something deep and ugly had twisted in Alastor's gut when Vox offered that, and immediately he'd brushed it off - he wouldn't dare be so weak, and what a horrid misunderstanding it would cause, compared to when he's truly himself. ...But his mind craved, hungered for it, the scent of blood dull in Alastor's nose as his subconscious fixated on that sharp electronic smell that Vox always had.
...
Melting away and hiding himself in his radio tower, he sent a single ping through the radio waves, straight to Vox - come to me.
Holy shit, of all the days to take that detour and run into an old, old friend... well, imagine if something like letting animal instincts rattle the brain got out, right? Especially one that hit on a schedule... there'd be no end to the poor Radio Demon's torment by any rivals or enemies he'd come across!
Vox of VoxTek was always a generous man. He'll keep it quiet. That's fine. Sure, the two of them had their differences, but something this juicy- er, compromising- just couldn't see the light of day! And if, say, Alastor needed a hand... he could give him a call. No threats. No blackmail. If Vox knew anything, he knew Alastor's ego. His pride. Besides, if he ever dealt with this sort of thing, he knew the Radio Demon would do the same damn thing. But he didn't need raging animal hormones to know that fucking him would be SO much fun.
So he kept a calendar. Each day, a little scratch off. Velvette asked a few times what it was for. It wasn't any of her business, of course. He'd also put up about about a dozen proxy layers to muffle his... research into things involving rut. Maybe it won't be a 1:1, but it never hurt to get some book-learnin' in.
When things seemed to line up the following season, Vox got curious. Would Alastor take him up on the offer? Should he call, make a few jokes, ask how he's holding up? Did he have to do deer things?
It wasn't until he'd settled down, finished his coffee and tried to get a little extra work done than when something buzzed through his antennae. It made him sit up, goosebumps rolling up his back. He hadn't done anything like that in a while. That was the beauty of what they were, unlike everyone else in Hell: They had their own means of communication. Like two halves of a whole... pity Alastor never saw it that way.
He quietly shut down his work. It was no longer important. But as he stood and straightened his coat cuffs, he sent a signal back:
Say 'please'.
His work station was connected to all corners of Pentagram City and beyond. He could dive in, ride the electric currents, and get to where he was needed. ...But he needed to know he was needed first...
Alastor had intended to be civil about it, but he was already digging long gouges in the metal walls of his radio tower, pacing back and forth. His damned cursed brain - kill, run, fuck, eat-- so vulgar, so infuriatingly dizzy.
He didn't... think he would actually lose control and eat Vox.
Why, yes. That was terrifying. But that also had to be the hottest broadcast he'd ever received.
Vox was gone in a blink. Saved money on cab fare, expedited things a little, something he clearly needed to do before Alastor chewed off his own legs or something.
Chasing! He could chase. Not sure of what sort of scene he would be coming in on, he opted for one of Alastor's many consoles, a few sparks dancing across so many switches and dials before they coalesced and formed into the navy-skinned demon that was already rolling up his sleeves.
The dance of electricity through the room - it made Alastor's hair stand on end, bristling as his nerves rippled chills up and down his spine. The Radio Demon hardly realized how dark his space was, how absolutely shredded the curtains and walls were, how even Alastor's prim-and-proper coat had been thrown to the floor and his button-up and slacks slashed and clawed halfway off, the wild wiry fur sticking out from the fabric.
Some tiny corner of Alastor's mind recognizes that Vox is the first 'candidate' to read to his feral mind as 'worthy', in any of his experience with this damn heat.
"I don't have the wits about me... to banter," Alastor warned, voice dense with static crackling. Given how flush he was, how labored his breathing - a little taming was probably precisely what was called for. "I B̴̗̙̗̰̘̅̊̈́̈́͝Ư̵̻̈́͑̕R̵̥̼̪̀̆͜N̴̝͇̎̉́... a flame is growing inside of me."
The dark of the space didn't matter much any more. His monitor offered a soft blue glow, interrupted by the red of his eyes. They flickered briefly when Alastor spoke- Things must have been trying for him if he didn't have time for banter that was always their thing- but he recovered quickly enough.
He breathed a sigh as his fingers flew to his jacket, and with a shrug he slid it down. After whipping it aside, he stepped forward, his cables unfurling from his back. A current of power ran through them, giving them a gentle glow, a contrast to his shadow tendrils. Several red eyes joined his monitor above that accursed left that enjoyed digging into the minds of the masses, yet none of them saw fit to twist and change... no. Their gaze was one of an unmasked hunger.
"Then start ṙ͖ŭ̹ͦnn̢̓̑inͫg̵ͭ.̴̈́͆.̼͑ͪ.͔́̚" Red pixels trailed from his mouth as the cables shot out to seek purchase. Limited space? Didn't matter... make this interesting, little Doe...
Truly, sincerely, watching Vox take off his jacket made his hideous, beastly body THRUM with an excitement that Alastor never felt otherwise. His mind spun, an elk bugle emerging from him unwittingly.
Run.
Something sang in Alastor's heart, hearing that Vox not only knew the game - but understood it. His antlers grew out even more, branched and frenetic in a threat display. His tendrils emerged and swiped at the cables, granting him the chance to leap back and away from his suitor, even as every fiber of his being wanted Vox to catch him and wrestle him down.
On a normal day, he liked this. But tonight there was nothing short of a gut-deep joy sparking in his brain with the sensation of each cable meeting shadow. How many did Alastor have? Could he make more than him?
Only one way to find out. With a low and husky laugh, Vox rushed forward in a literal flash, an arc of lightning that sprung high. When he reformed, his body 'shed' the power he'd gathered, lances of electricity to rain down. But with a twist of his wrist and the thrilled widening of his extra eyes, he sent it all dancing in a pattern. Funnel... funnel the Doe...
Meanwhile, his cords began to regroup. He just needed to create an opening to get those pretty legs.
The flashing bolts of blue were serious, threat, a thrill - Alastor practically danced with each lunge out of the way, lacking his usual cocky poise but still cackling from an enjoyment and excitement that made his body shake like it was the dead of winter.
More... more!!
Alastor wanted to bite him. Wanted to throw Vox to the ground and dig his claws through those guts and cables, wanted to get fried with electricity, wanted Vox to pin him and rearrange his guts--
Vox would find Alastor putting up less resistance than usual once a cable finally snagged at the deer's ankle. If he wanted, he could just as easily melt into the shadows as Vox could dissolve into light - but he thrashed, claws brandished, laughing madly as his 'speakers' crackled and bugled. Come get him.
Whether or not it was the usual, the moment he felt some connection with one of his cables, his own laughter was breathless, loaded with adrenaline. Vox only produced more, sparks glittering along the lengths of them as they went to join the first: That ankle, then the other, and others sought the wrists of the Radio Demon.
The Media Demon could leave it at that, but no no no, he'd take the risk. He rushed forward, grin widening, claws outstretched. Why let only the cables have their fun when he could get his hands in on the action? They couldn't get down to business until he had him on the floor.
Alastor instinctively lurched to make a leap away, to flee - and with the resistance of the cables grasping him his brain snapped right back to fight, claws reaching out and stretching out to grasp at his mate pal.
Kill him. Wring his neck, slice him open, bite and tear and chew and kill kill kill kill--
Through self restraint and Vox's manhandling, Alastor only chomped down on air before he growled, melting to shadow and sliding out of a window. Chase, chase, chase, chase, not eat--
He closed in fast, but his shoes skidded against the polished floor when claws stretched out. He'd known him for the entirety of his afterlife, knew exactly what the claws, the teeth were capable of.
He was flattered, enough that a rush crept up his back. Immortality came with perks, and he wondered how far they could go without pushing past a point of no return. That weird, weird, weird little corner of his brain wondered if there was a way he could let himself be opened up. Would Alastor perhaps be swayed if he could SEE his heart, and just what he was capable of even after all of these years-
His cables closed around nothing as the deer dissolved to smoke. He turned to catch him rushing out the window... tricky...
With a breathless chuckle, he was gone in a literal flash. Stray tongues of electricity leaped and skipped over the window frame as he made his way out, but he got himself an idea... a very big idea...
Vox reshaped and the wires were like spider's legs, carrying him along like extra limbs as his hands and feet sought purchase against the Hotel's architecture. But as he re-entered his pursuit, there was the sharp shred and pop of finely-tailed cotton- Velvette was going to be pissed, but that wasn't his problem- as he tapped into all the power he drank traveling through Pentagram City's power lines. His spine stretched, the tail of a shark jutting from beneath his coattails. Arms and legs elongated, ending in curved claws that left deep trenches in the earth once he reached the ground level.
He shook off, shedding ruined stretches of fabric. The fin on his back stood proud, glowing seams pulsing with a deep blue light in myriad patterns. With a sickening crack, his monitor split into four sections and clicked back together, shaping a slender head covered in red eyes, opening to a pair of shark-like jaws filled with teeth. Years of curiosity, years of looking over old and distorted photos of Alastor in that horrifying form left Vox with just one more thing to innovate: Himself.
Because what better way was there to face a beast than to become one yourself?
What a funny little moment to feel pride in something besides himself. Or was that wrong - because behold this beast, this wretched monster crackling with power and devilish light, yet another mimicry of his own powers.
That's his mate.
So long as Vox can catch him, that is - but if Alastor truly wanted to get away, he would simply slink into shadows and vanish into the crevices of the overly dense city. But that wouldn't be any fun.
Alastor's shadow emerged from between buildings, growing and blooming into the gangly, wretched form he preferred for making snacks of large crowds of Sinners. Let the chase resume - the maze of buildings and dense spires of brimstone surrounding the crater city were the trees for the 'doe' to duck and weave through.
Initial tests involved so much pain when he first gave it a try years back. But tonight that pain had been so, so dull, just a beat of discomfort that preceded so much liberation, so much hunger and bliss. He understood why Alastor took such a form, something so twisted yet so beautiful in some alien fashion that the CEO always failed to describe. Velvette had long gotten tired of hearing him fucking rattle on about it-
Two big, red eyes turned and burned brighter, delight unmasked as he spied the telltale shadow. He moved like a shot, as a shark gliding through water, in pursuit of something particularly tasty. He knew these streets. This was HIS city. Cars shuddered as he stormed past, and lights within surrounding businesses and outdoor fixtures blinked and pulsed with the rhythm of the blue lines running down the bared sections of his body.
He plotted a climb. That building...? No. This one. No, this one... he lunged and gripped tight against masonry and glass before he swiftly began scaling. Wires erupted from his back to add more grip to his climb, pull and secure. Once up top, he would leap from rooftop to rooftop. With a higher vantage point, he could widen his field of view.
Ah, what a wish it was of his to be able to do this every night...
Oh, how swiftly things went to utter chaos, like this!! Alastor clawed and kicked his way through buildings without care, cleaving a path of destruction that scratched an unscratchable itch in him that always reared its ugly head in the late autumn.
Scatter, vermin!! You wretched Sinners - murderers, rapists, cruel and pathetic little worms!
The draining of the power, ironically, gave Alastor so much more darkness to hide and dart through. His claws crunched through brick, mortar, glass - Vox would only have the light to see once he caught up, and until then, only the screams of startled or dying Sinners accompanied by Alastor's manic cackling led the way.
It's their song, Alastor... just like old times. Many eyes crinkled in glee, laces of drool connecting glowing teeth as he found himself laughing as well.
Broken glass glittered in stray light, brick and mortar would just gum up traffic for weeks... like that mattered compared to the hunt, and the way the scent of blood always seemed to compliment him. It would turn so many stomachs, but it never failed to put butterflies in his.
Vox lunged down a building, and his wires ripped massive trenches through the walls to slow his descent. But he kicked off the structure to send him forward, landing on all fours in the darkened streets, illuminated only by his glowing lines and the red of his eyes.
His shark's tail whipped and sent a half-dozen cars airborne, while others still crunched underfoot as he began a full-on sprint on all fours. Some couples enjoyed a frolic in the woods. Better ones enjoyed marauding through a crowded city with no goals other than finding each other.
His wires crept ahead, reaching, craving, embedding in any structure they can as he moved in his single-minded focus in closing the gap.
All worries were unreachable in Alastor's mind - any missgivings, any fear of reputation, any concept of exposure or lewdness - all that mattered was the rush as they tore through buildings and mountainous spires alike, the scent of blood and electricity and raw power they exuded.
Alastor saw the glow of blue surrounding him from behind before wire and claw caught him - perfect. Perfect, perfect, perfect. He was caught, fair and square, the two of them almost explosively powerful together - every part of his heat-addled body craved.
But the predator in him still had him whirl around, antlers branching out and crackling with sickly green sparks like massive transmission towers, swiping towards Vox along with elongated arms and claws, demanding wordlessly for Vox to not back down, to wrestle him down, to make his CLAIM--
The wire what sought purchase wound and gripped tight before more of the length snaked further up the calf, a slow and relishing touch. To be kept at such a distance for so long, for as much as they fought, slowly killed him inside no matter how much he enjoyed the cat and mouse game.
His heart lifted when he saw those antlers grow, countless prongs twisting and threatening to gore. Alastor turned and swung full force when Vox crossed that finish line, and he only just managed to duck those wild antlers. One set of claws raked and tore his pitifully ruined jacket and what remained of his vest, bit into skin and added fresh dribbles of red to the crumbled streets beneath them, but his hands were free to set upon him: One to seize an opposing arm of the Radio Demon, and another to clutch where that bow tie always was. The Media Demon advanced, applying full weight to a wrestling match.
More wires flew from his back to thrust into the ground and secure him, while others couldn't help themselves. To be so close like this again was such a rare opportunity, the tingle of electricity his own excitement as technological tendrils set around the red demon's middle, his thighs, a long stroke up his back.
Still more slithered down his own body in kind, tucking beneath and rending what remained of his own clothing asunder. Terrified masses could enjoy a combination wrestling match and undressing session, but it'd be their one warning before this strange blue amalgamation of man and machine would give a sound that was a combination of an electric buzz and a purr. Amid the hard coating painted over countless wires and the bite of clue claws, something softer, hotter began to grind against him, seeking and searching in the struggle. Then a second. He really was more shark-like...
Here. Now. Backed by alarmed screams and some distant car alarms that wailed and gradually died as battery damage in the collateral slowly ebbed the life out of them.
Alastor's free claws and hooves slashed at him, shredding cloth and spilling more and more blood.
It looked good. Red, red, deep angry visceral lively red, it made Alastor feel hungry... and wanting in a way that was still so foreign to him. His body fought because that is all Alastor has ever known... but those wires answered that hunger in spite of his thrashing, tearing at what shredded clothes were stifflingly hot and bringing something of such an unbelievable texture to grind between his legs, against dampened fur, something that Alastor was only ever dead silent about in his right mind.
Well. As 'right' as this madman ever is, that is.
Alastor's bloodlust poured from him, relishing the beauty of it raining down on him from where he cleaved it from Vox, but expanded further as the Radio Demon's shadow stretched and grabbed at those too close, tearing them apart in a glut of violence.
His wounds bled and throbbed but he didn't care. The pain added to his pleasure, the joy of being touched again, even like this. In their struggle against the street, his claws ran up those ribs, ruffling fine fur.
To the chorus of screams and fresh blood letting fly, Vox gripped tight as he lined himself up, then entered in one smooth motion. A few candles lit in a soft and cushy bedroom was something he was accustomed to, but he could see the vision here... this game, this chase, had its own immense allure.
He purred his bliss as he thrust deep, more wires winding around Alastor's thighs, easing him just a little further apart. If they were to give half the city a show on how this shit got done, the two best showmen in Hell couldn't go only halfway, now could they...?
The feeling of abrupt fullness, painful and utter bliss all at once, something FINALLY quenching the hungry flame assailing him - Alastor's deep, guttural keening was accompanied with the whine and sputters of microphone feedback. The scratching grew shallower, less aggressive and more clingy.
God, he fucking NEEDED this. Alastor spread his legs and hooked his claws into Vox's shoulder blades, drooling as he took Vox in and squeezed him greedily.
His screens flickered briefly into black and white snow when he felt that tight squeeze, the huff of breath from his jaws a steam. God... tighter than he'd ever experienced before.
The bite of claws was such a thrill, and each sound from Alastor was music to his ears. His grip adjusted, one set of claws taking to the ruined earth below for that precious balance while the other seized hold of the base of one of those impressive antlers.
Vox's pace would keep slow for a time, and he would use that antler to ease the other demon's head away. That long blue tongue traced the length of his neck, drawing along stray flecks of blood from the city-wide carnage and a little of his own in that coppery tang.
But once he felt things ease, his teeth grazed that throat. He tasted him as he started filling him faster.
Held down, grasped by an antler, his neck bitten and torn into by sharp serrated shark teeth as his body was claimed--
Alastor's teeth gnashed, equal parts frustrated, embarrassed and thrilled and proud. The raw animal need being met, that impossible itch being scratched, the scent of blood and fizzling electricity making his fur stand on end or even burn - what a luxury this heinous rutting was.
Lacking his natural pride, at least at the levels it normally held at, Alastor bared his throat for Vox to tear at even more - tear, bite, eat him, claim him...
This was the first time in so, so long that he actually enjoyed it. He didn't know what that said about him, and right now he didn't care. His heart sang in a primal victory, a successful chase, and it blended with an old, old feeling he only struggled with in the beginning of his damnation: Bloodlust.
Like a shark sensing blood in the water, he hungered with each little touch of it upon the air. But tasting it now as his teeth delved into the flesh of his prize, feeling the warmth of it on his tongue sent a hard shiver through him, right down to the newly-formed tail.
His free hand slid across the concrete, found his. Covered it, curled fingers. There was a ping that sang through the air, a single-minded signal of MINE. Monitors over half the city forcibly changed to a marquee of that word. No sounds. No music. It'd drown out the screams... it'd drown out the sounds he made beneath him...
The way his throat was torn out - leaving Alastor gargling, leaving his body screaming with the high of pain and desperate survival, the fire in his nerves from the desperate spark to survive clashing overwhelmingly with the crackle of pleasure of being rutted into, being so vulgarly filled and pushed to the limit.
And to top all of that off, Vox held his hand? Their claws scratched against each other, but nonetheless, amidst the chaos of feeling the little hint of softness connection tipped the buck over the edge completely. Alastor wetly growled, arching his back and gasping as his body orgasmed - a feeling he rarely chased at all - drawing all it could from the shark that had pinned it.
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sugaronthecream) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
divinetree2025-10-07 08:11 pm
Stubborn idiots and Heat
Absolutely not. He'd gone through this fucking season every year before this without succumbing, and this year would be no different. A week and about four mass slaughters in, and he was keeping his self-control - and more importantly, his reputation - intact.
"Listen, Al - you're my pal, of course we'll keep this under wraps. And if you need a little hand in dealing with it..."
Augh. He'd looked so eager and hopeful.
Alastor's claws dug into shattered concrete, carving deep trenches into the dead earth below, letting the blood from the massacred Sinners flow into the cracks.
Fuck.
Something deep and ugly had twisted in Alastor's gut when Vox offered that, and immediately he'd brushed it off - he wouldn't dare be so weak, and what a horrid misunderstanding it would cause, compared to when he's truly himself. ...But his mind craved, hungered for it, the scent of blood dull in Alastor's nose as his subconscious fixated on that sharp electronic smell that Vox always had.
...
Melting away and hiding himself in his radio tower, he sent a single ping through the radio waves, straight to Vox - come to me.
no subject
Vox of VoxTek was always a generous man. He'll keep it quiet. That's fine. Sure, the two of them had their differences, but something this juicy- er, compromising- just couldn't see the light of day! And if, say, Alastor needed a hand... he could give him a call. No threats. No blackmail. If Vox knew anything, he knew Alastor's ego. His pride. Besides, if he ever dealt with this sort of thing, he knew the Radio Demon would do the same damn thing. But he didn't need raging animal hormones to know that fucking him would be SO much fun.
So he kept a calendar. Each day, a little scratch off. Velvette asked a few times what it was for. It wasn't any of her business, of course. He'd also put up about about a dozen proxy layers to muffle his... research into things involving rut. Maybe it won't be a 1:1, but it never hurt to get some book-learnin' in.
When things seemed to line up the following season, Vox got curious. Would Alastor take him up on the offer? Should he call, make a few jokes, ask how he's holding up? Did he have to do deer things?
It wasn't until he'd settled down, finished his coffee and tried to get a little extra work done than when something buzzed through his antennae. It made him sit up, goosebumps rolling up his back. He hadn't done anything like that in a while. That was the beauty of what they were, unlike everyone else in Hell: They had their own means of communication. Like two halves of a whole... pity Alastor never saw it that way.
He quietly shut down his work. It was no longer important. But as he stood and straightened his coat cuffs, he sent a signal back:
Say 'please'.
His work station was connected to all corners of Pentagram City and beyond. He could dive in, ride the electric currents, and get to where he was needed. ...But he needed to know he was needed first...
no subject
OR I WILL HUNT YOU.
Alastor had intended to be civil about it, but he was already digging long gouges in the metal walls of his radio tower, pacing back and forth. His damned cursed brain - kill, run, fuck, eat-- so vulgar, so infuriatingly dizzy.
He didn't... think he would actually lose control and eat Vox.
Fuck, his body was burning.
no subject
Why, yes. That was terrifying. But that also had to be the hottest broadcast he'd ever received.
Vox was gone in a blink. Saved money on cab fare, expedited things a little, something he clearly needed to do before Alastor chewed off his own legs or something.
Chasing! He could chase. Not sure of what sort of scene he would be coming in on, he opted for one of Alastor's many consoles, a few sparks dancing across so many switches and dials before they coalesced and formed into the navy-skinned demon that was already rolling up his sleeves.
"Fortunately, I know how to deal with brats..."
no subject
Some tiny corner of Alastor's mind recognizes that Vox is the first 'candidate' to read to his feral mind as 'worthy', in any of his experience with this damn heat.
"I don't have the wits about me... to banter," Alastor warned, voice dense with static crackling. Given how flush he was, how labored his breathing - a little taming was probably precisely what was called for. "I B̴̗̙̗̰̘̅̊̈́̈́͝Ư̵̻̈́͑̕R̵̥̼̪̀̆͜N̴̝͇̎̉́... a flame is growing inside of me."
no subject
He breathed a sigh as his fingers flew to his jacket, and with a shrug he slid it down. After whipping it aside, he stepped forward, his cables unfurling from his back. A current of power ran through them, giving them a gentle glow, a contrast to his shadow tendrils. Several red eyes joined his monitor above that accursed left that enjoyed digging into the minds of the masses, yet none of them saw fit to twist and change... no. Their gaze was one of an unmasked hunger.
"Then start ṙ͖ŭ̹ͦnn̢̓̑inͫg̵ͭ.̴̈́͆.̼͑ͪ.͔́̚" Red pixels trailed from his mouth as the cables shot out to seek purchase. Limited space? Didn't matter... make this interesting, little Doe...
no subject
Run.
Something sang in Alastor's heart, hearing that Vox not only knew the game - but understood it. His antlers grew out even more, branched and frenetic in a threat display. His tendrils emerged and swiped at the cables, granting him the chance to leap back and away from his suitor, even as every fiber of his being wanted Vox to catch him and wrestle him down.
no subject
Only one way to find out. With a low and husky laugh, Vox rushed forward in a literal flash, an arc of lightning that sprung high. When he reformed, his body 'shed' the power he'd gathered, lances of electricity to rain down. But with a twist of his wrist and the thrilled widening of his extra eyes, he sent it all dancing in a pattern. Funnel... funnel the Doe...
Meanwhile, his cords began to regroup. He just needed to create an opening to get those pretty legs.
no subject
More... more!!
Alastor wanted to bite him. Wanted to throw Vox to the ground and dig his claws through those guts and cables, wanted to get fried with electricity, wanted Vox to pin him and rearrange his guts--
Vox would find Alastor putting up less resistance than usual once a cable finally snagged at the deer's ankle. If he wanted, he could just as easily melt into the shadows as Vox could dissolve into light - but he thrashed, claws brandished, laughing madly as his 'speakers' crackled and bugled. Come get him.
no subject
The Media Demon could leave it at that, but no no no, he'd take the risk. He rushed forward, grin widening, claws outstretched. Why let only the cables have their fun when he could get his hands in on the action? They couldn't get down to business until he had him on the floor.
no subject
matepal.Kill him. Wring his neck, slice him open, bite and tear and chew and kill kill kill kill--
Through self restraint and Vox's manhandling, Alastor only chomped down on air before he growled, melting to shadow and sliding out of a window. Chase, chase, chase, chase, not eat--
no subject
He was flattered, enough that a rush crept up his back. Immortality came with perks, and he wondered how far they could go without pushing past a point of no return. That weird, weird, weird little corner of his brain wondered if there was a way he could let himself be opened up. Would Alastor perhaps be swayed if he could SEE his heart, and just what he was capable of even after all of these years-
His cables closed around nothing as the deer dissolved to smoke. He turned to catch him rushing out the window... tricky...
With a breathless chuckle, he was gone in a literal flash. Stray tongues of electricity leaped and skipped over the window frame as he made his way out, but he got himself an idea... a very big idea...
Vox reshaped and the wires were like spider's legs, carrying him along like extra limbs as his hands and feet sought purchase against the Hotel's architecture. But as he re-entered his pursuit, there was the sharp shred and pop of finely-tailed cotton- Velvette was going to be pissed, but that wasn't his problem- as he tapped into all the power he drank traveling through Pentagram City's power lines. His spine stretched, the tail of a shark jutting from beneath his coattails. Arms and legs elongated, ending in curved claws that left deep trenches in the earth once he reached the ground level.
He shook off, shedding ruined stretches of fabric. The fin on his back stood proud, glowing seams pulsing with a deep blue light in myriad patterns. With a sickening crack, his monitor split into four sections and clicked back together, shaping a slender head covered in red eyes, opening to a pair of shark-like jaws filled with teeth. Years of curiosity, years of looking over old and distorted photos of Alastor in that horrifying form left Vox with just one more thing to innovate: Himself.
Because what better way was there to face a beast than to become one yourself?
no subject
What a funny little moment to feel pride in something besides himself. Or was that wrong - because behold this beast, this wretched monster crackling with power and devilish light, yet another mimicry of his own powers.
That's his mate.
So long as Vox can catch him, that is - but if Alastor truly wanted to get away, he would simply slink into shadows and vanish into the crevices of the overly dense city. But that wouldn't be any fun.
Alastor's shadow emerged from between buildings, growing and blooming into the gangly, wretched form he preferred for making snacks of large crowds of Sinners. Let the chase resume - the maze of buildings and dense spires of brimstone surrounding the crater city were the trees for the 'doe' to duck and weave through.
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Two big, red eyes turned and burned brighter, delight unmasked as he spied the telltale shadow. He moved like a shot, as a shark gliding through water, in pursuit of something particularly tasty. He knew these streets. This was HIS city. Cars shuddered as he stormed past, and lights within surrounding businesses and outdoor fixtures blinked and pulsed with the rhythm of the blue lines running down the bared sections of his body.
He plotted a climb. That building...? No. This one. No, this one... he lunged and gripped tight against masonry and glass before he swiftly began scaling. Wires erupted from his back to add more grip to his climb, pull and secure. Once up top, he would leap from rooftop to rooftop. With a higher vantage point, he could widen his field of view.
Ah, what a wish it was of his to be able to do this every night...
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Scatter, vermin!! You wretched Sinners - murderers, rapists, cruel and pathetic little worms!
The draining of the power, ironically, gave Alastor so much more darkness to hide and dart through. His claws crunched through brick, mortar, glass - Vox would only have the light to see once he caught up, and until then, only the screams of startled or dying Sinners accompanied by Alastor's manic cackling led the way.
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Broken glass glittered in stray light, brick and mortar would just gum up traffic for weeks... like that mattered compared to the hunt, and the way the scent of blood always seemed to compliment him. It would turn so many stomachs, but it never failed to put butterflies in his.
Vox lunged down a building, and his wires ripped massive trenches through the walls to slow his descent. But he kicked off the structure to send him forward, landing on all fours in the darkened streets, illuminated only by his glowing lines and the red of his eyes.
His shark's tail whipped and sent a half-dozen cars airborne, while others still crunched underfoot as he began a full-on sprint on all fours. Some couples enjoyed a frolic in the woods. Better ones enjoyed marauding through a crowded city with no goals other than finding each other.
His wires crept ahead, reaching, craving, embedding in any structure they can as he moved in his single-minded focus in closing the gap.
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Alastor saw the glow of blue surrounding him from behind before wire and claw caught him - perfect. Perfect, perfect, perfect. He was caught, fair and square, the two of them almost explosively powerful together - every part of his heat-addled body craved.
But the predator in him still had him whirl around, antlers branching out and crackling with sickly green sparks like massive transmission towers, swiping towards Vox along with elongated arms and claws, demanding wordlessly for Vox to not back down, to wrestle him down, to make his CLAIM--
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His heart lifted when he saw those antlers grow, countless prongs twisting and threatening to gore. Alastor turned and swung full force when Vox crossed that finish line, and he only just managed to duck those wild antlers. One set of claws raked and tore his pitifully ruined jacket and what remained of his vest, bit into skin and added fresh dribbles of red to the crumbled streets beneath them, but his hands were free to set upon him: One to seize an opposing arm of the Radio Demon, and another to clutch where that bow tie always was. The Media Demon advanced, applying full weight to a wrestling match.
More wires flew from his back to thrust into the ground and secure him, while others couldn't help themselves. To be so close like this again was such a rare opportunity, the tingle of electricity his own excitement as technological tendrils set around the red demon's middle, his thighs, a long stroke up his back.
Still more slithered down his own body in kind, tucking beneath and rending what remained of his own clothing asunder. Terrified masses could enjoy a combination wrestling match and undressing session, but it'd be their one warning before this strange blue amalgamation of man and machine would give a sound that was a combination of an electric buzz and a purr. Amid the hard coating painted over countless wires and the bite of clue claws, something softer, hotter began to grind against him, seeking and searching in the struggle. Then a second. He really was more shark-like...
Here. Now. Backed by alarmed screams and some distant car alarms that wailed and gradually died as battery damage in the collateral slowly ebbed the life out of them.
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It looked good. Red, red, deep angry visceral lively red, it made Alastor feel hungry... and wanting in a way that was still so foreign to him. His body fought because that is all Alastor has ever known... but those wires answered that hunger in spite of his thrashing, tearing at what shredded clothes were stifflingly hot and bringing something of such an unbelievable texture to grind between his legs, against dampened fur, something that Alastor was only ever dead silent about in his right mind.
Well. As 'right' as this madman ever is, that is.
Alastor's bloodlust poured from him, relishing the beauty of it raining down on him from where he cleaved it from Vox, but expanded further as the Radio Demon's shadow stretched and grabbed at those too close, tearing them apart in a glut of violence.
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To the chorus of screams and fresh blood letting fly, Vox gripped tight as he lined himself up, then entered in one smooth motion. A few candles lit in a soft and cushy bedroom was something he was accustomed to, but he could see the vision here... this game, this chase, had its own immense allure.
He purred his bliss as he thrust deep, more wires winding around Alastor's thighs, easing him just a little further apart. If they were to give half the city a show on how this shit got done, the two best showmen in Hell couldn't go only halfway, now could they...?
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God, he fucking NEEDED this. Alastor spread his legs and hooked his claws into Vox's shoulder blades, drooling as he took Vox in and squeezed him greedily.
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The bite of claws was such a thrill, and each sound from Alastor was music to his ears. His grip adjusted, one set of claws taking to the ruined earth below for that precious balance while the other seized hold of the base of one of those impressive antlers.
Vox's pace would keep slow for a time, and he would use that antler to ease the other demon's head away. That long blue tongue traced the length of his neck, drawing along stray flecks of blood from the city-wide carnage and a little of his own in that coppery tang.
But once he felt things ease, his teeth grazed that throat. He tasted him as he started filling him faster.
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Alastor's teeth gnashed, equal parts frustrated, embarrassed and thrilled and proud. The raw animal need being met, that impossible itch being scratched, the scent of blood and fizzling electricity making his fur stand on end or even burn - what a luxury this heinous rutting was.
Lacking his natural pride, at least at the levels it normally held at, Alastor bared his throat for Vox to tear at even more - tear, bite, eat him, claim him...
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Like a shark sensing blood in the water, he hungered with each little touch of it upon the air. But tasting it now as his teeth delved into the flesh of his prize, feeling the warmth of it on his tongue sent a hard shiver through him, right down to the newly-formed tail.
His free hand slid across the concrete, found his. Covered it, curled fingers. There was a ping that sang through the air, a single-minded signal of MINE. Monitors over half the city forcibly changed to a marquee of that word. No sounds. No music. It'd drown out the screams... it'd drown out the sounds he made beneath him...
Too close. Fuck. FUCK. No, he wanted more...
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And to top all of that off, Vox held his hand? Their claws scratched against each other, but nonetheless, amidst the chaos of feeling the little hint of
softnessconnection tipped the buck over the edge completely. Alastor wetly growled, arching his back and gasping as his body orgasmed - a feeling he rarely chased at all - drawing all it could from the shark that had pinned it.(no subject)
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