[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?
I am, but you love it because it means I know you better than anyone else. Better than everyone else ever could, now.
[ his voice is soft now, fond. his thumb runs along vox's neck gently, rubbing under his ear like it's a reward for being so good. it is, frankly, and that's on purpose. every single reaction the older man has is electric, and when alastor inhales this time it shakes, just a little. ]
You'd look even more handsome than you already are with my name on each and every inch of you.
[ there's a further reward coming, though: his free hand lifts to press to the back of vox's hand as he tilts his head into the touch with a quiet hum. ]
And you know I'm yours, don't you? I'd never want anyone else. I've never felt like this about anyone before. [ not love, no, and they both know that, but the obsession, the willingness to kill to prove his affection, everything. ] I'll never leave you either. You can touch me, here and now, if you'd like.
[ if you'd like. he knows the answer to that. it's extremely clear he still means nonsexually, but this is the most generous he's ever been nonetheless. ]
[vox can feel his pulse fluttering under alastor's fingers, eyes closed, giving only a hum of agreement to that first assessment. he only needs alastor; he only wants alastor, in ways he didn't even think were possible before they met. it's like alastor came into his life and set it on fire and vox had never before known the word for burning, it's--more than he ever anticipated. so much more.
he opens his eyes again to look at alastor's face, gaze hungry. there's lust in there, he'll admit it, but there's the desire to possess and to keep and, a little out of place, to protect all mingled together as well. he wants and wants--surely alastor's name has carved itself all over his insides, by now, while he was so busy being smitten over his smile.
a quiet noise escapes him, delight and desperation both. alastor doesn't need to be this sweet to him at all, he's already accepted the... incident. vox almost can't stand to listen to all of this, it's too much of what he wants to hear, practically overwhelming.]
Now it's starting to sound like vows.
[haha. unless.......?]
I mean it, Al— my heart in your hands? You won't have to put your name on what's already yours.
[this is, of course, mostly literal, because they're having a little 'crack his ribcage open like a present' moment, but he means it in the poetic way, too. it's fine that their feelings don't run parallel-- alastor just killed a man to keep him, for god's sake. in a hundred lifetimes vox couldn't ask for more.
but, ah, he doesn't need to ask at all--you can touch me, alastor says, and with all the composure of a much younger man, an honestly embarrassing blush rises in vox's face. ha, oh-- oh, alright.
he smooths his thumb over alastor's cheekbone, fond, then slides that hand further back; the side of his neck, into his hair. vox's other hand touches alastor's shoulder, then his elbow, finally settling boldly on his waist and tugging him in closer by a - he thinks - perfectly reasonable half-step.
he wants and wants and wants--but when his grip tightens and it seems like he might cross the line and kiss alastor right there on the mouth, he nudges alastor's head to bow with his other hand, and kisses him chastely on the forehead instead.
he hums.]
You're mine. You're it, you know that? The only thing that makes this shithole world worth anything.
[ and oh, but it feels so good. it's exciting to feel how much power he has over vox, how he can have him almost tumbling over his words with a simple touch, an easy promise. vox is most attractive when he's doting, alastor thinks, when he's so desperate that he'll do absolutely anything to keep alastor with him.
alastor's not going anywhere either way, but it's so, so nice to feel wanted fully, desired, needed.
he huffs a soft little laugh at the commentary of vows—hell, if it made vox happy to stay with him always and it were even possible, they could get married. vows are forever, after all, and what he wants is forever and then some. ]
I love it when you romance me.
[ in response to telling alastor he's already imprinted all over vox, all over his heart, his insides, his every waking and sleeping moment—
—when vox touches him alastor allows it, as promised, and even takes that half-step when he's urged. were it anyone else he would still abhor the touch, have to force himself to stay still, stiff and hating every second of it. but now... or, well, with vox, he's relaxed in his hold, leaning into every brush of his hands like it's what he wants, not the older man.
it's so easy.
when vox's grip tightens alastor doesn't even flinch in the face of it, though he holds his breath despite trusting the other man to not fuck this up in one moment. the hands on him feel like a searing brand by now and he tips his head not obediently, but in an amiable acquiescence.
the kiss to his forehead is so gentle, so sweet, that his breath shakes again. sometimes, he's still unused to the gentleness. no one's been gentle with him but his mother, after all, and now vox.
when alastor lifts his head, he cradles vox's cheek with one hand and smiles at him, indescribably pleased with the outcome. ]
Tell me that we'll always be together. That even when we do die, we'll be together.
[ alastor isn't sure if there really is a hell, but if there is he's sure they'll both end up there. to emphasize his request, he leans close to brush his lips over the flush on vox's face, at the midway point between cheek and lips: just shy of the corner of his mouth. ]
[romance him--he's precious. vox chuckles, not taking it back at all, but taking the extra moment to let how strange a pair they are hover in the air. it's precisely how he wants it; he's tried the whole married with a white picket fence thing and found it lacking, so he's in no huge rush to get married again, actually--a vow murmured over a corpse in the dark hits different than the other kind.
and vox lets himself sink into this so easily, like it happens all the time. he lingers close in the moment after he's kissed alastor's head, breathing in the whole of him; he smells like the sharp tang of blood and beneath it like alastor, warm and familiar and vox's, now and forever. his grip on alastor's waist is firm, a confirmation, a punctuation mark rather than a demand, while the hand cradling the back of his head is as gentle and adoring as the press of his lips had been. he couldn't possibly let this go.
here comes another vow, too, as if on cue-- vox raises his eyebrows, a little surprised. it only makes sense to wade into these waters after, well--this evening, but it still gives him a moment's pause.
just a moment, because alastor leans in close enough for vox to feel his breath on his face and he forgets for a moment how to breathe, himself. really and truly, his lips part and no sound comes out, while he curls his fingers that much more desperately against alastor's side.]
I'll never let you go. [he's--lukewarm, on the idea of an afterlife, but it sounds nice like this.] Whatever comes after death, I'll find you. You'll never be alone again.
[he dares not turn his head any which way, but he doesn't resist letting his fingers slip down to the back of alastor's neck, holding him there.]
[ it's... well, alastor can't stop thinking about how nice it is to feel so needed, so wanted, that vox is so desperate that he can't even speak.
but alastor is still so close, still amiably leaning into the hold, even dropping a hand to rest on top of vox's at his waist. not a reprimand at all, more a welcoming touch that slowly starts to guide vox's hand to the small of his back instead, letting it plant there so he can lean closer, lean right into vox's chest like he belongs there, like he does this every night and not just over a cooling corpse. ]
Good. [ breathed out, barely audible. ] Because I'll find you too. I'd be so lonely without you, I wouldn't be able to stand it. You're the only one who understands me, who respects my wishes. Respects who I am and how I feel. [ the hand at his nape draws an involuntary shiver from him, a soft inhale. ]
I do trust you. I don't think there's anything that could change that.
[oh--and if in ten, twenty, however many years he's got left, someone were to ask vox if he'd ever been earnestly, truly happy - this would be the moment he'd think of. alastor is warm against him, and if vox concentrates hard enough, he's sure he'll be able to feel the younger man's heart beat against his own.
or something sentimental like that. this whole thing is sentimental, and shockingly so--alastor is the only person who's ever been able to get this out of him, to light him up and make all of his wild declarations actually true.]
Nobody else matters but you. Anything you want, anything you need, just say the word. I want to make you happy.
[he can't help but laugh at his own words at the end there, as if to say, isn't that a fun surprise? the only person in the world who deserves all of his time and attention.
he strokes a fingertip down the back of alastor's neck and then draws his hand away just as abruptly, finding alstor's hand to take and then hold up in proper position, while his other hand still sits comfortably on alastor's back. ahem. does he still have touching privileges, for this--]
[ shockingly open, for him to admit that he just might stay even without any of the other incentives. but then he smiles again, secretive and knowing, and adds: ]
You do make me happy, darling. Every day.
[ a part of him hates just how much he likes the way vox's finger trails down his nape, how he shivers again because of it, how a desperate, weak part of him wants to ask for more.
but thankfully, he doesn't have to think about it for long because vox asks him to dance and he lets out a charmed little laugh, stepping into proper position himself, as hands-on as he's ever been. ]
Of course.
[ oh, the romance of it. he can still see the dead man out of the corner of his eyes, but his attention is on vox.
and of course, being the radio man with all the songs memorized, it's alastor's job to hum the tune they'll dance to. something slow and longing, fitting for the moment. ]
[the dead man may just be half the point - or maybe a quarter, something smaller. of course the point is alastor, is them, but the dead man on the floor did inadvertently... facilitate, vox supposes. not that anything they've said in the past handful of minutes is new, or surprising; it's all things he's already known, even if the exact words hadn't been spoken aloud.
still. here's to the dead guy, who went and tried his luck at precisely the wrong people.]
I love it when you talk pretty.
[needing him, happy with him, ah! some part of vox won't completely give up on hearing love thrown into that one of these days, in the very deepest recesses of his heart, but two out of three isn't bad at all.
and a dance feels like the perfect thing to cap off this evening, so points to himself for that. he smiles so very fondly when alastor starts to hum, squeezing his hand a bit and starting the first step into the dance. something simple, so they don't trip over the dead guy; an easy box step. perfect for mostly forgetting about the footwork and focusing on the partner.]
[ the dead man did facilitate it, and alastor finds himself oddly grateful. vox knows him to the marrow now, every last bit of him, and he still loves alastor. if that's not the confirmation he needed that he's in the right place, he doesn't know what possibly could be. ]
Oh, you know how I am about words.
[ he has so many pretty ones, so many lies he tells to other people, but with vox he's always been... mostly honest. and of course, the last secret's out now, so...
he concentrates on their dance a moment, enjoying it, just letting the music play in his head while he translates it into actual sound, but vox's question draws a soft huff of breath from him. ]
Happier than I've ever been. You're the only one who knows this about me. The only one that ever has. I've never told, shown anyone, and I've certainly never been caught. I'm happy it's you. I'm happy you still love me even the way I am.
[a silver-tongued wordsmith who can get anything he wants, but it's alright, because vox knows when he's being buttered up? something like that. getting a fine helping of alastor's honeyed words is always - well, usually - an invigorating good time.
more importantly, though, oh, he's so happy. vox just wants to squeeze him close and let all his affection siphon through, but he settles for a pat on the back down low where his hand sits, instead.
it feels good to be trusted with this, for it to make alastor so happy that he knows. vox doesn't even point out that, technically, he caught him like an hour ago-- that's not important. he wants to take 'happier than i've ever been' and etch it onto his very bones right alongside alastor's name.]
The way you are... You're everything to me.
[said with a smile and a hint of amusement, like alastor could possibly do something to change his mind. hardly! he turns on his heel, leading them into a fun little spin, for emphasis.]
You know? I love you more, now that I have all of you. [this is even the first time he's said it outside the privacy of their own home, so again, thank you to that dead guy.] If you're happy, so am I. You sure know how to keep things interesting.
[ this really is nice. he's quiet for a while, just enjoying what they're doing, even enjoying that little pat. and of course he'd meant caught before, the fact that vox did just makes it even more exciting.
eventually he turns his head to let his cheek rest over the top of vox's, even more open affection. in part because what vox says causes a pleased flush to darken his cheeks, outright delighted with the confession. ]
You do have all of me, and you always will.
[ murmured softly as he squeezes vox's hand, keeps him close. the i love you outside of their home blossoms in his chest and curls around his heart like clinging vines, but surely it's just because he owns vox so wholly that he'll never be left alone. ]
I'm glad it was you. [ he knows he already said that, he's just reiterating. ] You're so indulgent with me, I'm getting so spoiled.
[ he already is. ]
I'd do anything I'm able to for you, you know. Anything at all.
[ the i'm able, of course, for the physical and emotional aspects he can't do. it's not that he doesn't trust vox to understand that's what he meant if he didn't say it, it's just how he chooses to say it. it's not a restriction on his affection, though it may seem like it: in truth, saying it this way is just a reminder of how grateful he is that vox never pushes for more than alastor can provide. ]
[did vox actually get up and follow alastor out here, he wonders, or did he fall asleep and dream this entire scenario? not that alastor has never been sweet or affectionate; this is simply a new level of openness that drives vox a little bit crazy, in the best possible way.
he goes through the simple footwork of this dance on autopilot, so if it turns into just sort of swaying in place while they hold each other close, so be it. he won't complain. after a moment, a quiet chuckle:]
It's precious the way you call it getting spoiled. [he knows precisely how indulgent he is. it's his love language.] You deserve it.
[oh, and if simple words could undo him, he would be putty under alastor's hands. even so, it feels like alastor's little promise tugs at a thread in his heart and if he lets it, it will unravel in its entirety and deliver itself to alastor.
which is silly, because if that could happen, it'd have happened a while ago. still, it's nice, the way a man his age can feel that flutter in his chest even now. he's glad it was him, too - not only because anyone else would have seen fit to take alastor from him, if they made it out alive, he's not thinking about that right now--glad it was him, because it's led them to this.
he laughs again, though. hold on, he's got jokes--] You think so? I could be taller.
[ can't it be a bit of both? well, perhaps not, since alastor is here, saying these things and meaning them with his entire twisted little heart. every affection means so much from alastor, no matter how small, and he's pouring it on vox tonight in a mixture of joy and relief from an anxiousness he didn't even know he'd been holding. ]
Am I not still in the process of being spoiled? It certainly hasn't stopped, my dear.
[ and the dance has slipped into just swaying together now, alastor even having forgotten to keep humming the tune. it doesn't matter: nothing matters but them in this moment, and they both know it. or, he hopes vox knows it too.
the joke draws a fond laugh out of him and he plants his chin atop vox's head as if that's his only answer. ]
I like this height. You fit against me perfectly.
[ he hums contentedly, then speaks softly after a long moment. ]
I have a confession, Vernon.
[ he doesn't let there be a gap in conversation, just continues. ]
I'm sure through this conversation you're well aware this isn't the first time I've killed. In the spirit of openness, I've been doing this about ten years now. [ since he was VERY, very young. ] But... I've done this particular thing before, too. You just never noticed. Men that looked at you too long when they passed, people that tried to cheat you on contracts, anyone that... Well, darling, I'm selfish. If someone was going to try to take you from me, or hurt you in some way, I simply couldn't help myself.
[ah, and he's pulled in close, unable to help squeezing tighter to alastor, like if he moves too suddenly or tries to back up and look at him, the spell will break and he won't be held like this any longer. so that's where he remains, while alastor makes his confession.
vox shouldn't be surprised. he isn't, not really, maybe only in the sense that alastor was so very young when this all started--but the rest, hmm.
he thinks about the dead guy on the floor again and imagines... more of them. a few memories come back to him, people he'd dealt with who'd never returned calls, people who'd tried to flirt with him like the waiter...]
Selfish! [he chuckles, squeezing alastor's hand.] My dear, you're perfect. I should have paid more attention. No one has ever had my best interests at heart like you do.
[best interests here meaning, naturally, the ones that revolve around alastor. now vox leans back to look at him fondly.]
If I could find you, though... well, promise me you'll be careful. I won't have anyone taking you from me, either. [a beat.] And we should get this fellow cleaned up.
[ perfect, he means. he sounds pleased as punch, so obviously he believes it. he gives vox a little squeeze, smells his hair briefly because he's a completely normal person without any obsession issues whatsoever, then draws back from the shoulders up to look at him, eyes searching his face for lying and finding none. he didn't expect there would be any. ]
You found me because you love me. A boy, [ and he was a boy, pathetic and useless and overstepping, ] like that? No one loved him enough to follow. Not like you love me.
[ he presses a kiss to the top of vox's head, just like that, then steps back. ]
Let's clean up the mess and go home. I'm exhausted after all of this activity. I'll stay with you tonight so you don't have to worry about anyone trying to steal me away.
[vox hums a little affirmation; yes, perfect, so wonderful and darling and special. very unlike the dead fellow on the floor, who must have had someone who loved him and cared if he died, but that isn't really their problem.
he smiles, face flushing hot at the kiss to his head. the whole moment is so very tender, even with the body they have to deal with.]
Really, you will? Then let's get started.
[what a wonderful night it is, indeed!! vox steps back and claps his hands, looking at the body and all the blood. he doesn't know how to clean up a body! hm!]
Darling, you'll have to tell me what to do here. I didn't bring any mops.
[ by omission, yes. but not directly. vox is so cute like this... alastor keeps thinking it, but he genuinely is so, so charmed. vox is so happy about sleeping in the same bed, even.
he gives vox's shoulder a little pat, then urges him to stay where he's stepped off to stand. ]
Watch me, darling. I'll show you how it's done.
[ alastor had brought a bag with him, because of course he had. he plucks it off the box he'd set it on, opening the satchel's flap to dig around in it. he glances up once, squints over at the body, adjusts his glasses, and turns back to the bag.
overall, he's quite fast: he has no intention of bothering to hide the body, but he does make quick work of (and shows vox how to) get rid of the incriminating bits, from fingerprints on the body's throat to anything recognizable like hair or a tiny scrap of fabric from alastor's coat.
it's not as though there'd be much to find if he left those things, but he's careful and thorough. it's quite a little crash course for someone who's never killed anyone before. he's very clinical about it to the core.
near the end, however, he looks down at the body dispassionately and shrugs as he packs everything away again. ]
[he's never been more excited to chastely sleep next to someone in his life. it hits different after alastor reveals he's killed multiple people just to keep vox to himself. he's really looking forward to it.
but ah, oh, he wanted to help... he holds his hands up, acquiescing and staying out of the way. it's fascinating to watch alastor work, as it were; a different kind of fascinating compared to watching him kill the guy earlier, but vox watches intently, making a note of all the little things he does. just in case he does have to help, one of these days...
when alastor is ready, vox joins him, offering his arm.]
They're going to close the restaurant for a while when they find him, I imagine. We'll have to find somewhere else to go for our weekly dinner.
[shame. the mediocre breadsticks were a fine tradition.]
[ yes, well, there will be plenty of chances for vox to help in later instances, and now he knows what to do. alastor is, if nothing else, a good teacher in the art of murder, and once they're ready to go, he links their arms easily to head out into the night. ]
Mm, you're right.
[ he considers, as they walk. ]
Perhaps that new place that opened across town? I've heard good things.
[just two ordinary, normal citizens, on their way home at the witching hour for reasons totally unrelated to murder. vox keeps an eye out for any errant pedestrians, if only to remember to let go of alastor should they run into anyone.]
Have you? Let's try it. It's too far to walk, though, and you always complain about my driving.
[of course he drives like a maniac. endure him, for date night.]
[ thankfully, there doesn't seem to be much of anyone around. they do have to create a little distance once or twice, but overall the walk isn't unpleasantly burdened by it. ]
... Mm. For you, I'll make an exception.
[ he's been making so many of them tonight, but. ]
[another exception to add to the growing list, everything really is coming up vox. he is delighted, genuinely beaming about getting to wacky drive across town.]
I'm supposed to be spoiling you. We'll go next week. Maybe even sooner! Tomorrow! A-- [he snaps his fingers, searching for the right word,] a palette cleanser, after tonight's meal.
[now to just figure out how to imply to any and all wait staff that neither of them are interested without letting slip why they aren't. he'll figure it out.]
[ alastor finds himself laughing, fond, covering his mouth with a hand to hide just how pleased his smile's turned. ]
Tomorrow, then. A palate cleanser.
[ and that's what it ends up being. it's a nice night, alastor endures vox's driving, and overall, things are good. no one has to die, even, as no one tries to flirt.
life is... good. time passes; they are together more than they are not, and alastor is happy. he can tell that vox is happy too, and things are working with them.
vox's birthday is approaching, and alastor has a plan.
six months previous, they'd gotten a place for alastor's... 'work.' to give him time, privacy, and space so he doesn't have to worry about being caught when he's being the busy little man they both know he loves to be.
the night before vox's birthday (the night of, they're going to dinner. he can't interrupt that.) he calls vox at home just as his own broadcast ends and asks him to meet alastor for a gift. as alastor doesn't give a location, he'll know exactly where.
vox has been invited to watch before, a couple of times, but tonight is special.
tonight, when vox arrives in the warehouse, alastor will have a man tied to a chair in the center of the space, a light focused on him. he's gagged and unable to move, but it'll be clear the purpose with a single glance: the man looks strikingly like vox, down to almost the smallest detail. he's even dressed in what appears to be a replica of one of vox's suits, one that alastor had gotten him the past christmas.
the man seems to have either given up on struggling for now or is mildly drugged, as he simply appears to be allowing alastor to give his hair a trim.
so soon as vox enters alastor lifts his head, beaming. ]
Darling! You're a little early, I'm still preparing. Always eager to see me, aren't you? He's almost ready. Just needed a haircut, you understand.
[as a man in his fifties, vox hasn't put a lot of stock into his birthday for a while. but alastor wants to do something for it, and that's sweet of him, so this time - yes, they've made birthday plans, and he's even excited! things have been going so well, after all, and... educationally, he supposes.
he still just watches, when alastor invites him along. he's fine with that; he likes to be included.
so he's expecting more of that when alastor calls him to meet for a gift. he's already thinking of how to tease alastor a little about giving him a gift early, how enthusiastic, when he arrives at alastor's 'workshop.' he's stopping to hang up his coat first, one moment please...]
Of course, my dear. How are you tonight? And how is our guest-- oh!
[oh! that's him! vox's gaze darts between alastor and the body double, he supposes, eyebrows raised in obvious intrigue. darling. dearest. oh my.
he comes closer to bend down and scrutinize the handiwork a bit, humming.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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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?
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[ his voice is soft now, fond. his thumb runs along vox's neck gently, rubbing under his ear like it's a reward for being so good. it is, frankly, and that's on purpose. every single reaction the older man has is electric, and when alastor inhales this time it shakes, just a little. ]
You'd look even more handsome than you already are with my name on each and every inch of you.
[ there's a further reward coming, though: his free hand lifts to press to the back of vox's hand as he tilts his head into the touch with a quiet hum. ]
And you know I'm yours, don't you? I'd never want anyone else. I've never felt like this about anyone before. [ not love, no, and they both know that, but the obsession, the willingness to kill to prove his affection, everything. ] I'll never leave you either. You can touch me, here and now, if you'd like.
[ if you'd like. he knows the answer to that. it's extremely clear he still means nonsexually, but this is the most generous he's ever been nonetheless. ]
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he opens his eyes again to look at alastor's face, gaze hungry. there's lust in there, he'll admit it, but there's the desire to possess and to keep and, a little out of place, to protect all mingled together as well. he wants and wants--surely alastor's name has carved itself all over his insides, by now, while he was so busy being smitten over his smile.
a quiet noise escapes him, delight and desperation both. alastor doesn't need to be this sweet to him at all, he's already accepted the... incident. vox almost can't stand to listen to all of this, it's too much of what he wants to hear, practically overwhelming.]
Now it's starting to sound like vows.
[haha. unless.......?]
I mean it, Al— my heart in your hands? You won't have to put your name on what's already yours.
[this is, of course, mostly literal, because they're having a little 'crack his ribcage open like a present' moment, but he means it in the poetic way, too. it's fine that their feelings don't run parallel-- alastor just killed a man to keep him, for god's sake. in a hundred lifetimes vox couldn't ask for more.
but, ah, he doesn't need to ask at all--you can touch me, alastor says, and with all the composure of a much younger man, an honestly embarrassing blush rises in vox's face. ha, oh-- oh, alright.
he smooths his thumb over alastor's cheekbone, fond, then slides that hand further back; the side of his neck, into his hair. vox's other hand touches alastor's shoulder, then his elbow, finally settling boldly on his waist and tugging him in closer by a - he thinks - perfectly reasonable half-step.
he wants and wants and wants--but when his grip tightens and it seems like he might cross the line and kiss alastor right there on the mouth, he nudges alastor's head to bow with his other hand, and kisses him chastely on the forehead instead.
he hums.]
You're mine. You're it, you know that? The only thing that makes this shithole world worth anything.
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alastor's not going anywhere either way, but it's so, so nice to feel wanted fully, desired, needed.
he huffs a soft little laugh at the commentary of vows—hell, if it made vox happy to stay with him always and it were even possible, they could get married. vows are forever, after all, and what he wants is forever and then some. ]
I love it when you romance me.
[ in response to telling alastor he's already imprinted all over vox, all over his heart, his insides, his every waking and sleeping moment—
—when vox touches him alastor allows it, as promised, and even takes that half-step when he's urged. were it anyone else he would still abhor the touch, have to force himself to stay still, stiff and hating every second of it. but now... or, well, with vox, he's relaxed in his hold, leaning into every brush of his hands like it's what he wants, not the older man.
it's so easy.
when vox's grip tightens alastor doesn't even flinch in the face of it, though he holds his breath despite trusting the other man to not fuck this up in one moment. the hands on him feel like a searing brand by now and he tips his head not obediently, but in an amiable acquiescence.
the kiss to his forehead is so gentle, so sweet, that his breath shakes again. sometimes, he's still unused to the gentleness. no one's been gentle with him but his mother, after all, and now vox.
when alastor lifts his head, he cradles vox's cheek with one hand and smiles at him, indescribably pleased with the outcome. ]
Tell me that we'll always be together. That even when we do die, we'll be together.
[ alastor isn't sure if there really is a hell, but if there is he's sure they'll both end up there. to emphasize his request, he leans close to brush his lips over the flush on vox's face, at the midway point between cheek and lips: just shy of the corner of his mouth. ]
Please, darling. I want to hear it.
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and vox lets himself sink into this so easily, like it happens all the time. he lingers close in the moment after he's kissed alastor's head, breathing in the whole of him; he smells like the sharp tang of blood and beneath it like alastor, warm and familiar and vox's, now and forever. his grip on alastor's waist is firm, a confirmation, a punctuation mark rather than a demand, while the hand cradling the back of his head is as gentle and adoring as the press of his lips had been. he couldn't possibly let this go.
here comes another vow, too, as if on cue-- vox raises his eyebrows, a little surprised. it only makes sense to wade into these waters after, well--this evening, but it still gives him a moment's pause.
just a moment, because alastor leans in close enough for vox to feel his breath on his face and he forgets for a moment how to breathe, himself. really and truly, his lips part and no sound comes out, while he curls his fingers that much more desperately against alastor's side.]
I'll never let you go. [he's--lukewarm, on the idea of an afterlife, but it sounds nice like this.] Whatever comes after death, I'll find you. You'll never be alone again.
[he dares not turn his head any which way, but he doesn't resist letting his fingers slip down to the back of alastor's neck, holding him there.]
No matter what. Trust me.
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but alastor is still so close, still amiably leaning into the hold, even dropping a hand to rest on top of vox's at his waist. not a reprimand at all, more a welcoming touch that slowly starts to guide vox's hand to the small of his back instead, letting it plant there so he can lean closer, lean right into vox's chest like he belongs there, like he does this every night and not just over a cooling corpse. ]
Good. [ breathed out, barely audible. ] Because I'll find you too. I'd be so lonely without you, I wouldn't be able to stand it. You're the only one who understands me, who respects my wishes. Respects who I am and how I feel. [ the hand at his nape draws an involuntary shiver from him, a soft inhale. ]
I do trust you. I don't think there's anything that could change that.
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or something sentimental like that. this whole thing is sentimental, and shockingly so--alastor is the only person who's ever been able to get this out of him, to light him up and make all of his wild declarations actually true.]
Nobody else matters but you. Anything you want, anything you need, just say the word. I want to make you happy.
[he can't help but laugh at his own words at the end there, as if to say, isn't that a fun surprise? the only person in the world who deserves all of his time and attention.
he strokes a fingertip down the back of alastor's neck and then draws his hand away just as abruptly, finding alstor's hand to take and then hold up in proper position, while his other hand still sits comfortably on alastor's back. ahem. does he still have touching privileges, for this--]
Dance with me, Al.
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[ shockingly open, for him to admit that he just might stay even without any of the other incentives. but then he smiles again, secretive and knowing, and adds: ]
You do make me happy, darling. Every day.
[ a part of him hates just how much he likes the way vox's finger trails down his nape, how he shivers again because of it, how a desperate, weak part of him wants to ask for more.
but thankfully, he doesn't have to think about it for long because vox asks him to dance and he lets out a charmed little laugh, stepping into proper position himself, as hands-on as he's ever been. ]
Of course.
[ oh, the romance of it. he can still see the dead man out of the corner of his eyes, but his attention is on vox.
and of course, being the radio man with all the songs memorized, it's alastor's job to hum the tune they'll dance to. something slow and longing, fitting for the moment. ]
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still. here's to the dead guy, who went and tried his luck at precisely the wrong people.]
I love it when you talk pretty.
[needing him, happy with him, ah! some part of vox won't completely give up on hearing love thrown into that one of these days, in the very deepest recesses of his heart, but two out of three isn't bad at all.
and a dance feels like the perfect thing to cap off this evening, so points to himself for that. he smiles so very fondly when alastor starts to hum, squeezing his hand a bit and starting the first step into the dance. something simple, so they don't trip over the dead guy; an easy box step. perfect for mostly forgetting about the footwork and focusing on the partner.]
How happy are you right now?
[fishing for compliments. maturely.]
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Oh, you know how I am about words.
[ he has so many pretty ones, so many lies he tells to other people, but with vox he's always been... mostly honest. and of course, the last secret's out now, so...
he concentrates on their dance a moment, enjoying it, just letting the music play in his head while he translates it into actual sound, but vox's question draws a soft huff of breath from him. ]
Happier than I've ever been. You're the only one who knows this about me. The only one that ever has. I've never told, shown anyone, and I've certainly never been caught. I'm happy it's you. I'm happy you still love me even the way I am.
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[a silver-tongued wordsmith who can get anything he wants, but it's alright, because vox knows when he's being buttered up? something like that. getting a fine helping of alastor's honeyed words is always - well, usually - an invigorating good time.
more importantly, though, oh, he's so happy. vox just wants to squeeze him close and let all his affection siphon through, but he settles for a pat on the back down low where his hand sits, instead.
it feels good to be trusted with this, for it to make alastor so happy that he knows. vox doesn't even point out that, technically, he caught him like an hour ago-- that's not important. he wants to take 'happier than i've ever been' and etch it onto his very bones right alongside alastor's name.]
The way you are... You're everything to me.
[said with a smile and a hint of amusement, like alastor could possibly do something to change his mind. hardly! he turns on his heel, leading them into a fun little spin, for emphasis.]
You know? I love you more, now that I have all of you. [this is even the first time he's said it outside the privacy of their own home, so again, thank you to that dead guy.] If you're happy, so am I. You sure know how to keep things interesting.
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[ this really is nice. he's quiet for a while, just enjoying what they're doing, even enjoying that little pat. and of course he'd meant caught before, the fact that vox did just makes it even more exciting.
eventually he turns his head to let his cheek rest over the top of vox's, even more open affection. in part because what vox says causes a pleased flush to darken his cheeks, outright delighted with the confession. ]
You do have all of me, and you always will.
[ murmured softly as he squeezes vox's hand, keeps him close. the i love you outside of their home blossoms in his chest and curls around his heart like clinging vines, but surely it's just because he owns vox so wholly that he'll never be left alone. ]
I'm glad it was you. [ he knows he already said that, he's just reiterating. ] You're so indulgent with me, I'm getting so spoiled.
[ he already is. ]
I'd do anything I'm able to for you, you know. Anything at all.
[ the i'm able, of course, for the physical and emotional aspects he can't do. it's not that he doesn't trust vox to understand that's what he meant if he didn't say it, it's just how he chooses to say it. it's not a restriction on his affection, though it may seem like it: in truth, saying it this way is just a reminder of how grateful he is that vox never pushes for more than alastor can provide. ]
Ah, you really are the perfect man.
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he goes through the simple footwork of this dance on autopilot, so if it turns into just sort of swaying in place while they hold each other close, so be it. he won't complain. after a moment, a quiet chuckle:]
It's precious the way you call it getting spoiled. [he knows precisely how indulgent he is. it's his love language.] You deserve it.
[oh, and if simple words could undo him, he would be putty under alastor's hands. even so, it feels like alastor's little promise tugs at a thread in his heart and if he lets it, it will unravel in its entirety and deliver itself to alastor.
which is silly, because if that could happen, it'd have happened a while ago. still, it's nice, the way a man his age can feel that flutter in his chest even now. he's glad it was him, too - not only because anyone else would have seen fit to take alastor from him, if they made it out alive, he's not thinking about that right now--glad it was him, because it's led them to this.
he laughs again, though. hold on, he's got jokes--] You think so? I could be taller.
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Am I not still in the process of being spoiled? It certainly hasn't stopped, my dear.
[ and the dance has slipped into just swaying together now, alastor even having forgotten to keep humming the tune. it doesn't matter: nothing matters but them in this moment, and they both know it. or, he hopes vox knows it too.
the joke draws a fond laugh out of him and he plants his chin atop vox's head as if that's his only answer. ]
I like this height. You fit against me perfectly.
[ he hums contentedly, then speaks softly after a long moment. ]
I have a confession, Vernon.
[ he doesn't let there be a gap in conversation, just continues. ]
I'm sure through this conversation you're well aware this isn't the first time I've killed. In the spirit of openness, I've been doing this about ten years now. [ since he was VERY, very young. ] But... I've done this particular thing before, too. You just never noticed. Men that looked at you too long when they passed, people that tried to cheat you on contracts, anyone that... Well, darling, I'm selfish. If someone was going to try to take you from me, or hurt you in some way, I simply couldn't help myself.
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vox shouldn't be surprised. he isn't, not really, maybe only in the sense that alastor was so very young when this all started--but the rest, hmm.
he thinks about the dead guy on the floor again and imagines... more of them. a few memories come back to him, people he'd dealt with who'd never returned calls, people who'd tried to flirt with him like the waiter...]
Selfish! [he chuckles, squeezing alastor's hand.] My dear, you're perfect. I should have paid more attention. No one has ever had my best interests at heart like you do.
[best interests here meaning, naturally, the ones that revolve around alastor. now vox leans back to look at him fondly.]
If I could find you, though... well, promise me you'll be careful. I won't have anyone taking you from me, either. [a beat.] And we should get this fellow cleaned up.
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[ perfect, he means. he sounds pleased as punch, so obviously he believes it. he gives vox a little squeeze, smells his hair briefly because he's a completely normal person without any obsession issues whatsoever, then draws back from the shoulders up to look at him, eyes searching his face for lying and finding none. he didn't expect there would be any. ]
You found me because you love me. A boy, [ and he was a boy, pathetic and useless and overstepping, ] like that? No one loved him enough to follow. Not like you love me.
[ he presses a kiss to the top of vox's head, just like that, then steps back. ]
Let's clean up the mess and go home. I'm exhausted after all of this activity. I'll stay with you tonight so you don't have to worry about anyone trying to steal me away.
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he smiles, face flushing hot at the kiss to his head. the whole moment is so very tender, even with the body they have to deal with.]
Really, you will? Then let's get started.
[what a wonderful night it is, indeed!! vox steps back and claps his hands, looking at the body and all the blood. he doesn't know how to clean up a body! hm!]
Darling, you'll have to tell me what to do here. I didn't bring any mops.
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[ by omission, yes. but not directly. vox is so cute like this... alastor keeps thinking it, but he genuinely is so, so charmed. vox is so happy about sleeping in the same bed, even.
he gives vox's shoulder a little pat, then urges him to stay where he's stepped off to stand. ]
Watch me, darling. I'll show you how it's done.
[ alastor had brought a bag with him, because of course he had. he plucks it off the box he'd set it on, opening the satchel's flap to dig around in it. he glances up once, squints over at the body, adjusts his glasses, and turns back to the bag.
overall, he's quite fast: he has no intention of bothering to hide the body, but he does make quick work of (and shows vox how to) get rid of the incriminating bits, from fingerprints on the body's throat to anything recognizable like hair or a tiny scrap of fabric from alastor's coat.
it's not as though there'd be much to find if he left those things, but he's careful and thorough. it's quite a little crash course for someone who's never killed anyone before. he's very clinical about it to the core.
near the end, however, he looks down at the body dispassionately and shrugs as he packs everything away again. ]
I think we've spent enough time here. Shall we?
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but ah, oh, he wanted to help... he holds his hands up, acquiescing and staying out of the way. it's fascinating to watch alastor work, as it were; a different kind of fascinating compared to watching him kill the guy earlier, but vox watches intently, making a note of all the little things he does. just in case he does have to help, one of these days...
when alastor is ready, vox joins him, offering his arm.]
They're going to close the restaurant for a while when they find him, I imagine. We'll have to find somewhere else to go for our weekly dinner.
[shame. the mediocre breadsticks were a fine tradition.]
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Mm, you're right.
[ he considers, as they walk. ]
Perhaps that new place that opened across town? I've heard good things.
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Have you? Let's try it. It's too far to walk, though, and you always complain about my driving.
[of course he drives like a maniac. endure him, for date night.]
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... Mm. For you, I'll make an exception.
[ he's been making so many of them tonight, but. ]
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I'm supposed to be spoiling you. We'll go next week. Maybe even sooner! Tomorrow! A-- [he snaps his fingers, searching for the right word,] a palette cleanser, after tonight's meal.
[now to just figure out how to imply to any and all wait staff that neither of them are interested without letting slip why they aren't. he'll figure it out.]
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Tomorrow, then. A palate cleanser.
[ and that's what it ends up being. it's a nice night, alastor endures vox's driving, and overall, things are good. no one has to die, even, as no one tries to flirt.
life is... good. time passes; they are together more than they are not, and alastor is happy. he can tell that vox is happy too, and things are working with them.
vox's birthday is approaching, and alastor has a plan.
six months previous, they'd gotten a place for alastor's... 'work.' to give him time, privacy, and space so he doesn't have to worry about being caught when he's being the busy little man they both know he loves to be.
the night before vox's birthday (the night of, they're going to dinner. he can't interrupt that.) he calls vox at home just as his own broadcast ends and asks him to meet alastor for a gift. as alastor doesn't give a location, he'll know exactly where.
vox has been invited to watch before, a couple of times, but tonight is special.
tonight, when vox arrives in the warehouse, alastor will have a man tied to a chair in the center of the space, a light focused on him. he's gagged and unable to move, but it'll be clear the purpose with a single glance: the man looks strikingly like vox, down to almost the smallest detail. he's even dressed in what appears to be a replica of one of vox's suits, one that alastor had gotten him the past christmas.
the man seems to have either given up on struggling for now or is mildly drugged, as he simply appears to be allowing alastor to give his hair a trim.
so soon as vox enters alastor lifts his head, beaming. ]
Darling! You're a little early, I'm still preparing. Always eager to see me, aren't you? He's almost ready. Just needed a haircut, you understand.
[ to more properly match, you see. ]
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he still just watches, when alastor invites him along. he's fine with that; he likes to be included.
so he's expecting more of that when alastor calls him to meet for a gift. he's already thinking of how to tease alastor a little about giving him a gift early, how enthusiastic, when he arrives at alastor's 'workshop.' he's stopping to hang up his coat first, one moment please...]
Of course, my dear. How are you tonight? And how is our guest-- oh!
[oh! that's him! vox's gaze darts between alastor and the body double, he supposes, eyebrows raised in obvious intrigue. darling. dearest. oh my.
he comes closer to bend down and scrutinize the handiwork a bit, humming.]
That is uncanny.
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