"A po'boy!" Alastor answered immediately, taking a sip of the blood. "Short of frying away every drop of water, it's hard to spoil fried shrimp or crawdads."
He'd mentioned something like that some time back, but he was wracking his brain on not only the context, but the definition. Perhaps he didn't think to ask, too enamored drunk to focus.
"Not a poor boy, a po'boy. A sandwich with fried seafood, a remoulade, some tomatoes... simple, but delicious. Louisiana had the best seafood around, bar none."
Many, many places claimed they did - Alastor wouldn't hear a whit of it. Nawlins or nothin', in his opinion.
"...Who gives a shit about simple? I'm hungry already!" He knew what remoulade was. He loved remoulade. But a shrimp sandwich with a tangy, spicy sauce? Or a crawfish sandwich? He could tear that UP.
"I'm... going to look into this tomorrow, I think. There's got to be some kind of place kicking around down here that's got that."
"Have to be VERY mindful of where that's sourced. Rules, rules, so many damned rules..." Alastor complained, twisting his wrist and summoning that pamphlet. It's already half marked up with extra notes tucked inside from his other reading. "I wager my Maman ate seafood PLENTY. ...But this isn't New Orleans - it's Hell. The food - and the people - from Greed taste wretched at the best of times."
He turned his eyes to the pamphlet. The snippets he got lined up with things he'd read, too. There were a LOT of rules of what was and wasn't okay, and that included a lot of seafood.
But Vox leaned his arm upon the back of the sofa and canted his head, the smirk cheeky.
"D'aww," he cooed. "So grumpy. You have any idea how many runners I've got up top...? I rarely eat seafood from Greed."
The smirk spread to a full grin as he leaned closer. "...Say the word. I can get you a po'boy straight from the source by lunch tomorrow."
"I give you a couple of kisses as a reward and now you're even more eager to earn another? Aren't you cute!" Alastor teased back. Buuuut he won't argue about the po'boy - he'd probably enjoy it.
Instead, he relaxed back against the sofa, flipping open the booklet.
"It really doesn't get into how growing out makes your sides ache. Not enough to be painful, hardly anything serious, but just sore enough to be impossible to ignore."
...Is he having fun griping? Is it his little way of consistently Getting Back at Vox? Who can say!
His color brightened, and the cocky grin shrunk back into something bordering on fond. Calling him cute was to mock him, certainly, but it still never failed to make something flip in his stomach. Meanwhile, with just a little ping, he'd sent a message to a couple of inboxes in some little corner of Hell somewhere...
"I think they like to keep the expecting in some level of suspense. Experience the joy without being spoiled."
But okay. Okay, you brat... Vox rolled up his sleeves and took a little revenge of his own: A relatively broad arm scooped behind Alastor and he shifted, taking the deer into his lap.
"But there's a way around basically everything, if you do enough digging..."
His hands truly were ridiculous. But despite the claws and all, he still managed to find a way to manage them, including a gentle knead along his sides and the small of this poor, suffering demon's back.
Ohgod. Ohgod- he'd never had to trigger his own mute function so quickly (or at all, really), but he just managed before he'd potentially blow a circuit holding it back.
Forgive the bit of steam leaking from a vent in the back of his monitor. Fortunately for him- and Alastor's shortening temper, but mostly him- his hands hadn't stopped moving, questing for a troublesome area he should focus on.
"I can feel your body shaking with laughter, you--!!"
HARUMPH... Alastor pouted fiercely, the worst his temper could manage with the relief of thumbs pressing into the lower back muscles. He'd felt heavier in general... he hadn't realized how much his body wasn't used to ANY weight.
Welp. Busted. But he needed just a little more time before, with a great gasp, he turned his volume from 0 back to normal.
"Sorry... I'm sorry... seriously, I'm..." Another breath. The tears had been streaming down his face, but there was nothing he could do for it other than take one of his cables and dab them away.
"H-how's this...? Am I hitting a good spot...?" A sniffle. He was fine. He'll be right as rain eventually. Aw, don't be mad...
"Softer along the sides..." he finally mumbled, the tightness of his pinned ears easing a bit. "...You'll end up doing this quite often, in the months to come."
He glanced down, looking at his middle - the sweater swallowed up and hid everything for now, Vox's claws still very large and able to engulf him. Why did he have such big hands...
He really always was blown away with how... fucking small... his waist was. Or maybe his hands were fucking massive, who knows? Yet despite working those little knots out of the small of his back, ease a little tension in the middle, each run up the sides eased and was more a caress than anything.
"You know, I'm of half a mind to have you beg for it sometime..."
"Oh, don't play that game. I'll find out firsthand how skillful your moth's hands are instead," Alastor replied immediately - a little vengeful, yes, but maybe he wanted to hear Vox growl territorially at him.
His eyelid twitched. Two of his cables slithered along, winding around the Radio Demon's legs. Broad arms went around his middle, claws curling against the sweater. A palm pressed covetously against the belly.
If Valentino wanted a demonstration of just how Alastor was in bed, how he got to be in his present conditions...
"Well, then I'd have to consider if maybe having one less Vee in Hell should be added to my schedule..."
Leaning back against Vox, Alastor grinned - there was such a satisfaction in making the man so possessive, his stomach twisted in pleasant little knots with that possessive paw covering the entirety of the bump.
Those hands really are so large... something about imagining the little fawn in the palm of his hand was..........
He was leaning, oh god, he can't believe this was happening...!! His heart could barely take it now, beating hard enough in his chest with mingled this and adrenaline from the teasing that there was no way in HELL Alastor couldn't feel it. But he didn't care...
But his old friend was being the absolute worst right now, and his knee started bobbing a little again. He lowered his face against the other demon's hair, growling: "...You know damn well I would..."
That heart was pounding... Vox was letting off a harsh, buzzing signal... those hands were clasping him tightly...
...What a good mate you make, old pal...
"You'd kill your dear little friends for me?" Alastor chuckled at the thought, resting his temple against Vox's head and peeking at him from the corner of his eye. He gently caressed at the frame of the screen. "You're cute... hah. Good boy."
That harsh, buzzing signal seemed to smooth a little, just as he angled his head to nuzzle in contrast to his threats. He was by no means a good boy at all, but when he said it like that, he liked to believe that- in some twisted and satisfying way- he most certainly was.
He needed to stop.
He needed to slow down. His body was starting to feel so bunched up, so tight, enough that he wondered if he'd simply burst at the seams if he tightened up any further.
But wouldn't it be so easy to just... ask? Offer? Come to bed with me. Mine or yours.
He wanted to bite. God, he wanted to be bitten. The glass' contents were foul in his eyes now, for he had that taste that had him understand why Alastor did what he did regularly, a taste that was akin to the best wines he'd ever had pass his lips. ...Was that what he was like for him, when he went for the throat upon his desk...?
The throat... that's what hung in his mind as his eyes closed, and his teeth had found warm skin just beneath the other man's jaw. They wouldn't pierce, but they held. But it came with the smallest pulse underneath the buzzing signal of a madman twisted up in knots: An ask.
Because of Vox's face, because of his head, Alastor had to drop his shoulders and crane his neck for Vox to be able to press those teeth. Alastor's heart was racing, a bit... that rare hunger coiled in the pit of his belly, the smell and sight of blood on Vox's tongue, of that possessive growling...
When the teeth didn't claim, Alastor chuckled. Wonderful... even now, he waited. Like a dog with a treat balanced on his nose - exactly the way Alastor wanted.
"You're giving me too much power, Vincent..." he breathed, craning his neck even more to press the skin against the sharp teeth. "Bite."
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divinetree2025-10-07 08:11 pm
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He'd mentioned something like that some time back, but he was wracking his brain on not only the context, but the definition. Perhaps he didn't think to ask, too
enamoreddrunk to focus.no subject
Many, many places claimed they did - Alastor wouldn't hear a whit of it. Nawlins or nothin', in his opinion.
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"I'm... going to look into this tomorrow, I think. There's got to be some kind of place kicking around down here that's got that."
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"Have to be VERY mindful of where that's sourced. Rules, rules, so many damned rules..." Alastor complained, twisting his wrist and summoning that pamphlet. It's already half marked up with extra notes tucked inside from his other reading. "I wager my Maman ate seafood PLENTY. ...But this isn't New Orleans - it's Hell. The food - and the people - from Greed taste wretched at the best of times."
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But Vox leaned his arm upon the back of the sofa and canted his head, the smirk cheeky.
"D'aww," he cooed. "So grumpy. You have any idea how many runners I've got up top...? I rarely eat seafood from Greed."
The smirk spread to a full grin as he leaned closer. "...Say the word. I can get you a po'boy straight from the source by lunch tomorrow."
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Instead, he relaxed back against the sofa, flipping open the booklet.
"It really doesn't get into how growing out makes your sides ache. Not enough to be painful, hardly anything serious, but just sore enough to be impossible to ignore."
...Is he having fun griping? Is it his little way of consistently Getting Back at Vox? Who can say!
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"I think they like to keep the expecting in some level of suspense. Experience the joy without being spoiled."
But okay. Okay, you brat... Vox rolled up his sleeves and took a little revenge of his own: A relatively broad arm scooped behind Alastor and he shifted, taking the deer into his lap.
"But there's a way around basically everything, if you do enough digging..."
His hands truly were ridiculous. But despite the claws and all, he still managed to find a way to manage them, including a gentle knead along his sides and the small of this poor, suffering demon's back.
God, he was glad to see the corset off...
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He couldn't hold back the startled little bleat.
Alastor's ears pinned back, but he didn't say anything - those hands almost immediately felt nice, soothing tense and aching muscles. Just.
Don't. Ruin it. With a comment...!!!!
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...
But there was a snort of suppressed laughter, before the Media Demon had to bite into his lip to stop anything more.
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He let out an annoyed LOUD EXHALE from his nose, but he refused to move.
"And don't you dare stop massaging."
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Forgive the bit of steam leaking from a vent in the back of his monitor. Fortunately for him- and Alastor's shortening temper, but mostly him- his hands hadn't stopped moving, questing for a troublesome area he should focus on.
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HARUMPH... Alastor pouted fiercely, the worst his temper could manage with the relief of thumbs pressing into the lower back muscles. He'd felt heavier in general... he hadn't realized how much his body wasn't used to ANY weight.
"Bastard..."
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"Sorry... I'm sorry... seriously, I'm..." Another breath. The tears had been streaming down his face, but there was nothing he could do for it other than take one of his cables and dab them away.
"H-how's this...? Am I hitting a good spot...?" A sniffle. He was fine. He'll be right as rain eventually. Aw, don't be mad...
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He glanced down, looking at his middle - the sweater swallowed up and hid everything for now, Vox's claws still very large and able to engulf him. Why did he have such big hands...
"...When touch is permitted, at least."
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He really always was blown away with how... fucking small... his waist was. Or maybe his hands were fucking massive, who knows? Yet despite working those little knots out of the small of his back, ease a little tension in the middle, each run up the sides eased and was more a caress than anything.
"You know, I'm of half a mind to have you beg for it sometime..."
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"Or maybe you would enjoy that too much!"
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"...I mean- his touch is rough," he swapped gears, immediately breezy. "He's also pretty handsy on a normal day, Mr. Touch-Averse."
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Dig those claws in, cut him up, claim him again--
Gah. Damn hormones, it must be them to blame.
"What if you had to sit and watch, hmm?"
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If Valentino wanted a demonstration of just how Alastor was in bed, how he got to be in his present conditions...
"Well, then I'd have to consider if maybe having one less Vee in Hell should be added to my schedule..."
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Those hands really are so large... something about imagining the little fawn in the palm of his hand was..........
"You would kill for me~?"
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But his old friend was being the absolute worst right now, and his knee started bobbing a little again. He lowered his face against the other demon's hair, growling: "...You know damn well I would..."
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...What a good mate you make, old pal...
"You'd kill your dear little friends for me?" Alastor chuckled at the thought, resting his temple against Vox's head and peeking at him from the corner of his eye. He gently caressed at the frame of the screen. "You're cute... hah. Good boy."
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That harsh, buzzing signal seemed to smooth a little, just as he angled his head to nuzzle in contrast to his threats. He was by no means a good boy at all, but when he said it like that, he liked to believe that- in some twisted and satisfying way- he most certainly was.
He needed to stop.
He needed to slow down. His body was starting to feel so bunched up, so tight, enough that he wondered if he'd simply burst at the seams if he tightened up any further.
But wouldn't it be so easy to just... ask? Offer? Come to bed with me. Mine or yours.
He wanted to bite. God, he wanted to be bitten. The glass' contents were foul in his eyes now, for he had that taste that had him understand why Alastor did what he did regularly, a taste that was akin to the best wines he'd ever had pass his lips. ...Was that what he was like for him, when he went for the throat upon his desk...?
The throat... that's what hung in his mind as his eyes closed, and his teeth had found warm skin just beneath the other man's jaw. They wouldn't pierce, but they held. But it came with the smallest pulse underneath the buzzing signal of a madman twisted up in knots: An ask.
A plea.
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When the teeth didn't claim, Alastor chuckled. Wonderful... even now, he waited. Like a dog with a treat balanced on his nose - exactly the way Alastor wanted.
"You're giving me too much power, Vincent..." he breathed, craning his neck even more to press the skin against the sharp teeth. "Bite."
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