[ah, now that's just cheating. vox's eyebrows go up, giving alastor the calmest look he can muster while hearing his real name makes his heart flip in an instant. he doesn't stop alastor from touching him - as if he would, as if he'd ever want to - but as always, he knows the score, holding his hands behind his back no matter how badly he wants to touch the younger man's hands in return, his face, his waist.]

You're pushing buttons, [he murmurs, a protest without any seriousness behind it. his name, the glide of alastor's hand, god-- it's almost as if alastor knows precisely how to get anything he wants! and vox will hand it over with a smile.

he shivers minutely as fingers curl around his neck, and he still doesn't press forward to touch, but he tilts his head slightly one way and then the other, like he's testing out how alastor's hand looks around his throat. here's another moment where he should probably feel at least a fraction threatened, he thinks, but leaning almost imperceptibly into alastor's grip, he feels--welcomed home.

and increasingly turned on about it, so thank god he put his coat back on. he swallows, gaze tracing over alastor's face, so very close. vox has never wanted to kiss him as badly as now.]

Of course.

[he lifts a hand finally, only to not actually cup alastor's cheek, merely to hover close in a pantomime of the affection he'd like to deliver.]

You could crack me open and I would let you, and you'd find how I feel about you all over the damn place. Every bone, every sinew.

[he shuts his eyes and shakes his head, like, but that would be Leaving, and he couldn't do that.]

I'll just have to show it some other way, in the meantime. Why would I ever want to leave?