"The house isn't haunted," Valentino drawls, examining his nails. He'd had them done an hour ago and had driven straight here for his boyfriend to admire them, but Vox just wants to be delusional again. It's Valentino's turn to be the delusional one, damnit.
"It is! I saw him!"
"It's literally impossible. You had this house built specifically for us, Voxxy. No one's even died in here."
"But the land isn't new!" Valentino rolls his eyes, finally looking up at his boyfriend. Honestly, the mid-life crisis move to Louisiana was bad enough, but now he's gotta go crazy? Crazy is Valentino's territory, Vox is supposed to be a computer geek. "The land is haunted."
"Nah. Mm-mm." Valentino gives a firm shake of his head, thick hair curling over his forehead. The fucking humidity in this state is going to wreak havoc on any style he tries to put his hair in. He loves his hair, it's his best feature. Well, his hair and his dick. His dick is great. "Land isn't haunted and the house isn't haunted."
"Yeah," agrees a voice behind Valentino. "The fuckin' floorboards don't even creak."
"Exactly. Everyone knows that haunted houses have creaky floors. It's the law." Vox's eyes look like they're trying to bug out of his head, his long arms gesturing at the newcomer gracelessly. "You shouldn't gesture like that, querido. It's rude."
"What do you think that is," Vox demands, pointing at the new guy. Valentino turns, eyes raking greedily over the man's body. He's gorgeous, skinny in a heroin chic way with big blue eyes and blond hair that falls just so across his eyes.
"Hot."
"Don't fucking call the ghost hot!"
"Hey, I am hot," the ghost argues. He turns a sultry smile on Valentino, baring teeth that have no business being that sharp. "I'm also not a ghost."
"See," Valentino says. "Not a ghost."
"I'm a Incubis."
"Just a Incubis." Valentino pauses, smile fading as he blinks once. Twice. He turns to study the man again, noticing that his teeth are more like the fangs of an animal and the whites of his eyes have turned black, the irises glowing a bright pink in place of the blue. "Welp, that's a new one."
"You gonna scream an' run?"
"Not in these shoes." The Incubis snorts out a laugh, surprisingly human-sounding. Valentino had always thought monsters would laugh theatrically, like that evil rat in the movie with the mouse cop. Something refined and booming and lacking in the undignified snorting. "You got a name, handsome?"
"Angel."
"A Incubis named Angel," Vox demands incredulously.
"You really gonna judge my name when yours is Vox? Vox! It's the sound you make when you puke after a night of drinking." Angel snickers again and Vox looks like he wants a void to open up and swallow him whole. If he's very good today, Valentino will swallow him— Nope, not the time.
"I like him," Valentino decides. "He's funny."
"And hot."
"Very hot."
"Tino, what the fuck," Vox demands. The grin Valentino sends him has no comfort to offer, only sharp canines and a promise of danger. Vox swallows hard when he sees that smile, unable to suppress the full body shudder. Valentino knows what his boyfriend likes and it isn't some fairytale, vanilla fuck. "We're not fucking the Incubis."
They fuck the Incubis.
"Well, I'm glad one of us had fun today," Alastor complains. The down home southern drawl does wonderful things to Angel and Alastor knows it. The cheeky bitch.
"You know how long it's been since someone fucked me hard enough that I'm still full? I don't think I'll need to eat for weeks." Angel lets himself collapse on the couch, snuggling against Alastor's side. The Wendigo puts up a good show of being disgruntled, but he still drapes an arm loosely around Angel's shoulders.
"I like seeing you full, dear. Seeing as I can't…." He trails off and Angel can read the distress in the edge of his smile. Well, they can't have that. Angel pops up just enough to press a kiss to the underside of his jaw, followed by a teasing nip.
"You feed me in other ways, Al. Who else will dance with me all night? Or take me huntin' even though I talk all the time and scare away the deer?" Alastor hums, but he looks pleased as punch at the reminder. "We gonna have to have this pep talk every time I eat?"
"I suppose I was just feeling sorry for myself." Alastor lets his cheek fall against Angel's head, nuzzling against the soft fur. "I'm an old man, it's allowed on occasion." Angel snorts but doesn't correct him. They've both been around for so long, seen decades pass into centuries. Feeling maudlin is just something that comes with the territory.
"I love ya even if you're old."
"I love you too, Angel."