Chapter Text
“There's something wrong with Vox,” Velvette said, matter-of-fact.
Valentino huffed rose smoke. “Hm? What makes you say that?” He agreed with her assessment, but he wanted to hear her thoughts first.
The pair lounged around the living room, still drunk and hungover from the previous night, nursing their pounding heads with more booze and drugs as they waited for food to be delivered. One of Velvette's thigh-high boots was hanging from the ceiling fan, along with one of Val's linked nipple ring sets. (He patted his chest blindly and was relieved to feel he'd worn two hoops last night and that they were still firmly in place.) A pizza box with two leftover slices slouched off the couch. Val was sprawled over most of the furniture, the tall fuck, and Vel was curled in a chair like a cat.
A little hair of the dog, a little greasy breakfast, and they'd be fine.
Vox, of course, was not suffering alongside them, having angrily refused their invitation just before he locked himself in his aerie for the night. To work. More.
“Yeah, I wonder.” Vel rolled her eyes. “I haven't seen him in person in nearly two weeks, and only about ten times on a screen. Fucker suddenly has no time for us? Yeah, work. Work, work, work. What happened to his 'work hard, play hard' bullshit?”
Val laughed, the sound curling into a satisfied purr. “Oh, don't worry about that, chiquitita, he'd been playing hard with me. I do love it when my little Voxxie's spicy. But...” He took another long drag off his cigarette holder, letting his lungs fill with smoke.
“Spicy” might be a bit of an understatement. Vox had been aggressive in a way that even Val found slightly unnerving (and fucking sexy), all teeth and power and a savage, feral energy made the fucking more about dominance than simple lust. It was thrilling, erotic and yet...
...it wasn't right, somehow. Val couldn't put his finger on what was bothering him, but even when Vox was brutally pounding into him, claws drawing blood, he also seemed absent, like most of his mind was still occupied with something else, leaving only a sliver of attention on Val. It was a familiar look—many of his whores wore that expression as they worked—but not one that belonged on the man fucking him. Like Val wasn't worth the time or effort to actually be present.
Like something else was more important.
Val exhaled a rolling pink cloud. “...something's wrong with him.”
“Thank you for sparing me details, since I already feel like puking.” Velvette shifted to try to find a more comfortable position. There wasn't one. Right, left, legs over the arm, lean back, roll over, start again. Fuck, they should burn this shitty furniture. She sighed. “It was that stupid fucking radio asshole. What do you think happened?”
“Pinche pendejo rojo...” Val muttered, rubbing his head, then his lips quirked. “What, you don't believe that cute little fairy tale Vox told us?”
“The day he actually manages to fuck the Radio Demon will be the day you're sucking dick in Heaven.”
They both laughed.
How Vox thought such an obvious lie would fool anyone, it was anyone's guess, but he'd had such a hair up his ass when he finally snapped out of his whining that it was just easier to just let the chips fall where they may. Seemed a little suicidal to make a public claim that he'd fucked the Radio Demon—no one would believe it and Alastor was extremely likely to try to eat Vox for the offense—but if Vox was going to be a stubborn jackass about it, well... Play stupid games, win stupid prizes.
A week went by without their associate having to fight to keep his flat head from being crunched like a potato chip in the fanged maw of a sixty-foot Radio Demon. Apparently even Alastor couldn't take that claim seriously enough to bother responding to it.
That was a whole new level of pathetic.
“Oh, yeah, d'ya think he's mad that asshole didn't call him the next morning?” Vel started giggling uncontrollably. “Like, fucking Alastor kicking him out all like, Why thank you for that wonderful adventure into intercourse! Don't call me, I'll call you. Be on your way now!"
Valentino choked on his own smoke at the silly voice she'd used. “Well, he did spend two days waiting and pouting!”
“And then, he releases his lie on social media, expecting it'll piss the geezer off enough to get his attention!”
“But it didn't work!” Val feigned a dramatic hand flop to his forehead, and now they were both nearly howling. Vel was falling onto the floor, clutching her stomach.
“Yes, that's it! That's gotta be it. No wonder he's been a pissy little bitch—he's down so fuckin' bad and, and...” She gasped for air as gravity won and she slithered onto the ground.
Val lifted his head as the enticing scent of bacon and waffles fill the room. “Fuckin' finally. Took long enough.”
The twiggy delivery demon paused awkwardly, long enough that Val stretched out a leg to lift a side of the coffee table, letting everything on it slide off and inadvertently giving the delivery kid an excellent view of everything. They stood staring for a moment, eyes wide, until Velvette snapped her fingers at them.
“Stop ogling this prick's prick and just put the fucking food on the table. Yes, thank you, get the fuck out.”
The next few minutes were filled with ripping paper wrappers, opening styrofoam containers, and the ravenous sound of two still-slightly drunk, hungover Overlords tearing through a mountain of food with the manners of a hyena pack. After most of a stack of French toast and about a gallon of coffee, Velvette paused.
“Okay, but for real: what do you think happened?”