Chapter 5
Alastor's head was blissfully empty. For the first time in nearly a century, it was devoid of thoughts. No plots or plans, no machinations; All he could feel was a strange warmth in his chest, the feel of Vox's still panting body weighing down on him, the taste of his own blood in his mouth, and the sound of his and Vox's gradually slowing breathing. It was peculiar, wildly unfamiliar. He felt… strangely sated. Comfortable.
...Comfortable?
Vox suddenly shifted on top of him, bringing his brain wheeling back into the present. He snapped his eyes open, suddenly full of panic as he heard Vox begin to laugh quietly into his shoulder, feeling the vibrations through his chest.
"Oh, that was…" Vox pulled his head back from the Radio Demon's shoulder, still laughing. Alastor adjusted his face to a nonchalant sneer and lowered the hand from his own hair. "...that was so good!" Vox leaned into his face with a smutty smirk. "Now tell me you didn't enjoy that." He purred.
Alastor narrowed his eyes and shoved him backwards roughly, giving himself enough room to sit up. Vox winced as the clawing hand on his back was torn away. His shirt was ruined, ripped, and stained with still trickling cyan blood.
Alastor ached. Everywhere. Even after all the fights they'd had, ironically this was the most Vox had actually ever affected him: His legs felt unsteady, his stomach still twitching. He was sore as though he'd been fighting for days. The office felt cold as the sweat beaded on his brow. He forced himself into a sitting position, trying not to let his muscles shake under the suddenly bewildered stare of the Television Demon.
"...I believe I've fulfilled my end of the bargain." He said dispassionately, leaning across the desk to retrieve the red monocle. He perched it back in front of his eye as Vox spluttered, now kneeling in front of him.
"...that's it? That's all you have to fucking say?" snapped Vox. The laughter had gone from his voice. He curled his fingers into furious fists on his knees. Alastor stared at him, smiling.
"My dear Vox, what else were you expecting?" He tilted his head curiously. "We signed a contract. I fulfilled-"
"No! No fucking way!" interrupted the other demon savagely. He was snarling again. He slid himself backwards off the desk and stormed across the room, snatching up his pants from the floor and forcing his legs into them. His eyes never left Alastor's face, face full of venom. "You enjoyed it, I fucking saw you, you lying prick!"
Alastor slid himself slowly to the edge of the desk. Gingerly he placed one hoofed foot on the floor, surreptitiously testing whether he could hold his own weight yet. "It was… a passible form of entertainment, I suppose." he said in a forced tone of thoughtfulness. He began scanning the floor, looking for his own pants. He was a deplorable mess, he knew, but a strange sense of panic at remaining here was beginning to rise. He would have to clean up back at the hotel. Preferably as fast as possible.
Vox was watching him in angry disbelief. He'd seen the moment lust had filtered into the Radio Demon's eyes – made him moan – and yet the bastard was trying to play it off as though they'd done nothing more intense than watch a movie together. He gritted his teeth and watched as Alastor stood up, holding to the desk with one hand as he made his way back to the open area in front of the leather armchair and picked up the pants lying discarded on the floor. He grimaced slightly as he bent down.
Vox could feel electricity beginning to build in his fingertips again. If it weren't for the stinging in his back and arms, and the sweaty mess of the Radio Demon's hair, he would have thought he'd fantasised the whole thing.
"No."
Alastor had retrieved his cane from the black tiles. The building static in Vox's body was growing louder.
"Excuse me?" the voice was masked once more, the tone sharp.
"You were into it!" He shouted, sparks pouring outwards. Alastor stepped back from the vicinity, ears once again pinned back in annoyance. "You think I don't fucking know when someone likes what I do to them?" He let out a thoroughly humourless laugh. "How stupid do you think I am, Alastor?"
Alastor tapped his fingers on the microphone, then smiled pleasantly.
"Is that a serious question?"
"FUCK!" Roared Vox. He kicked the chair in frustration. It skidded loudly across the ground and smashed into the wall. Alastor looked down and began smoothing the creases out of the long red coat, as though bored by the sudden outburst.
"So then, if this… tawdry little fiasco is concluded, I believe I have some new territory to survey?" he said calmly. He turned his back on the still raging Vox and made his way – stepping more gingerly than he wanted to – towards the door. He reached out to turn the handle, then stopped and looked back. "Oh… and feel free to tell your fellow Vees exactly what happened here. I am so looking forward to having you as a new guest on my radio show."
With a brief, wide and sinister smile, he swung open the door. Alastor slipped through into the darkness, leaving a crackling, furious, and still bleeding Vox to stare angrily at the empty space.