acomoth
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Summary
Alastor and Vox have been, for some reason unknown to the both of them, having sex for the past few months. It always begins and ends the same way: they grind against each other, whether in each other’s laps or with one of them bent over the nearest surface, then Vox comes and they go on their merry way. This arrangement, in spite of the several obvious reasons why it shouldn’t, works. Both of them are generally happy by the end, and they each get what they want: Vox the chance to come within twenty feet of his object of obsession, and Alastor the ability to look at his old friend and see the desperation in his eyes as he ruts to completion.
This is how their unspoken agreement works, and how Alastor would describe it to another person if he was tortured into doing such a thing.
The only problem is.
Alastor.
Might actually want to get off.
Alastor has been avoiding Vox's attempts at getting him off for months on the grounds that he isn't hard; which has worked wonderfully given his particular anatomy doesn't allow him to be. He is however, beginning to see a slight problem.
He may be more interested in sex than he previously thought.
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Summary
Alastor was prepared for a lot of things when he handed himself over to Vox.
He was prepared for the victory parade. He was prepared for the press circuit. He was prepared for the smoothie date.
He wasn’t prepared for this.
Alastor arrives at V Tower expecting to finally get some rest after this awful day, or at worst to be tortured a little. He was not expecting Vox to try to make additions to his chair.
OR: Roughly 27k of Alastor being fucked raw while Vox oscillates rapidly between cruel and begging.