[Romantic is one word for it, certainly—it's one of those things that Vox intends to be romantic, in his way. Lucky for him that Valentino is on board with it, all things considered.]
Don't dawdle.
[There'd be a little heart emoji, but he's an old man, so there's an affectionate spark sent directly to Val's phone instead. A Love Zap, if you will.
In any case, he's waiting in the office, and his little eel assistant is nowhere to be found. No more distractions.]
[Dawdle. He really is an old man. Val rolls his eyes fondly behind those red frames, but his lips quirk into a pleased expression at the little shock. It sends a shiver down his spine that quickens his pace, stepping over the mess and leaving it for Kitty to dispose of.
He preens briefly just outside the office doors, pretending like he's not aware of the nearest camera, and finally he strolls inside.]
[No fucking dillydallying, babe!! He is the oldest man in Hell (based on vibes), but that's immaterial. He has the youthful vigor to handle Val, which is what matters, especially in times like these. He's reclined in the office chair with his feet up on the desk when Val comes in—his own, like, businessman-style preening, technically.]
Besides all that shit before? Come here.
[He crooks a finger at Val at the same time one of his wires slinks up to curl around one of Val's wrists and give it a tug. Come here, come here, his desk isn't sexy enough yet.]
[It's a good look on him, and Val drinks it in with only a small pout.]
Tsk. Like you didn't enjoy the show~
[He grins, playing at a carefully measured amount of resistance to the tug of those wire, as if he wasn't going to arrange himself where ever and how ever Vox wanted him in the end.
He nudges whatever else Vox might have out of his way with a careless air (though not the sweeping shove to the floor he'd prefer, Vox can be so sensitive about his work shit), draping himself gracefully over the tabletop with a toothy grin.]
[Not that he's ever really stopped Val from doing whatever he wants, when it comes to his conquests, not as such. He'd have definitely wrung Angel's stupid skinny neck by now if he thought that would fly—point being, he'll complain, but it doesn't matter once he has Val where he wants him.
In this case, on his desk. Hey babe. Vox unwinds that wire from Val's wrist to bring it up and tip his chin up instead, fondly.]
But come on, Val, what do I have to be mad about? Did you do something bad on the way up here?
You should really test them on this stuff when you're interviewing.
[It would save them a lot of wasted time. It's true though, Val might be willing to be told off about the rest, but Angel was a different matter. Somewhere in the same vein as Vox's obsession with the The Radio Demon. Better they let both those things be.
He hums, looking into that shining face with an adoring smile.]
Pfft. When am I ever bad? [Don't you dare start another clip show.] Just thought you might be jealous, Cariño.
[He scoffs and rolls his eyes at that suggestion; he isn't running the porn business specifically, so like, ew. Like he has time to add mediocre head to the interview process.]
We wouldn't be here if you weren't bad.
[Not the obvious, the "here in Hell" part, but here as Vees; imagine if either of them were simpering fools better suited to that hotel—laughable! No, it's better this way. Vox shifts, swinging his feet back down to the floor so he can lean in and sink his fingers into Val's fluffy collar.]
Aha, hmm, jealous. [Hmm!] What for? You know who does it better for you.
[It's possible Val would nobaly volunteer to take on that arduous task. Vox is always saying he needs to get more involved in the business side of things.
He leans into the touch with a pleased little moth squeak, almost a purr, red smoke twisting to caress Vox's screen.]
No one does it better than you, Papi. [He shifts, the toe of a boot resting between Vox's thighs, uncaring about whatever fancy designer furniture he might be scuffing as he teases just shy of giving Vox something to grind against.]
[Maybe they can workshop that later— For now, the squeak is cute, and who cares at all about this office chair; he shifts forward again, shamelessly pressing against Val's boot with a low chuckle.]
Tell me more... Why don't you tell me what this position means to you?
[You know. Like an interview, not that Vox has ever asked that question in an interview, because who cares what the rank and file think. But do play sexy interview with him here and now; he slides his other hand up Val's thigh - the one not busy stepping on him - and digs the tips of his clawed fingers in just so, just enough to leave runs in Val's fishnets. He'll replace them.]
Oh, its everything to me, Sir. I'd do anything to show you just how badly I want this job.
[Sharp teeth catch at his lower lip, a play at coquettish innocence. He misses being on the other side of the camera. He rocks the toe of his boot slowly, his legs falling open.]
The opportunity to work under someone like you-
[The moth bends at the waist, antenna ghosting along Vox's screen, breath hot as he presses a kiss to the glass, his own claws reaching to start loosening that bowtie.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
for i_own_you
--
[Romantic is one word for it, certainly—it's one of those things that Vox intends to be romantic, in his way. Lucky for him that Valentino is on board with it, all things considered.]
Don't dawdle.
[There'd be a little heart emoji, but he's an old man, so there's an affectionate spark sent directly to Val's phone instead. A Love Zap, if you will.
In any case, he's waiting in the office, and his little eel assistant is nowhere to be found. No more distractions.]
no subject
He preens briefly just outside the office doors, pretending like he's not aware of the nearest camera, and finally he strolls inside.]
Quick enough for you, Papi?
no subject
Besides all that shit before? Come here.
[He crooks a finger at Val at the same time one of his wires slinks up to curl around one of Val's wrists and give it a tug. Come here, come here, his desk isn't sexy enough yet.]
no subject
Tsk. Like you didn't enjoy the show~
[He grins, playing at a carefully measured amount of resistance to the tug of those wire, as if he wasn't going to arrange himself where ever and how ever Vox wanted him in the end.
He nudges whatever else Vox might have out of his way with a careless air (though not the sweeping shove to the floor he'd prefer, Vox can be so sensitive about his work shit), draping himself gracefully over the tabletop with a toothy grin.]
Still mad?
no subject
[Not that he's ever really stopped Val from doing whatever he wants, when it comes to his conquests, not as such. He'd have definitely wrung Angel's stupid skinny neck by now if he thought that would fly—point being, he'll complain, but it doesn't matter once he has Val where he wants him.
In this case, on his desk. Hey babe. Vox unwinds that wire from Val's wrist to bring it up and tip his chin up instead, fondly.]
But come on, Val, what do I have to be mad about? Did you do something bad on the way up here?
no subject
[It would save them a lot of wasted time. It's true though, Val might be willing to be told off about the rest, but Angel was a different matter. Somewhere in the same vein as Vox's obsession with the The Radio Demon. Better they let both those things be.
He hums, looking into that shining face with an adoring smile.]
Pfft. When am I ever bad? [Don't you dare start another clip show.] Just thought you might be jealous, Cariño.
no subject
We wouldn't be here if you weren't bad.
[Not the obvious, the "here in Hell" part, but here as Vees; imagine if either of them were simpering fools better suited to that hotel—laughable! No, it's better this way. Vox shifts, swinging his feet back down to the floor so he can lean in and sink his fingers into Val's fluffy collar.]
Aha, hmm, jealous. [Hmm!] What for? You know who does it better for you.
no subject
He leans into the touch with a pleased little moth squeak, almost a purr, red smoke twisting to caress Vox's screen.]
No one does it better than you, Papi. [He shifts, the toe of a boot resting between Vox's thighs, uncaring about whatever fancy designer furniture he might be scuffing as he teases just shy of giving Vox something to grind against.]
no subject
Tell me more... Why don't you tell me what this position means to you?
[You know. Like an interview, not that Vox has ever asked that question in an interview, because who cares what the rank and file think. But do play sexy interview with him here and now; he slides his other hand up Val's thigh - the one not busy stepping on him - and digs the tips of his clawed fingers in just so, just enough to leave runs in Val's fishnets. He'll replace them.]
no subject
Oh, its everything to me, Sir.
I'd do anything to show you just how badly I want this job.
[Sharp teeth catch at his lower lip, a play at coquettish innocence. He misses being on the other side of the camera. He rocks the toe of his boot slowly, his legs falling open.]
The opportunity to work under someone like you-
[The moth bends at the waist, antenna ghosting along Vox's screen, breath hot as he presses a kiss to the glass, his own claws reaching to start loosening that bowtie.]