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“Ah-ah- Val, please, please- ”
“Jesus Christ, Val, put a fucking muzzle on your purse rat.”
Valentino rolls his eyes from where he’s towering over Angel, Vox peering up at him from the other side of him. He flicks a remote out from the inside of his sleeve and presses a button, and the low vibration that was filling the room comes to a halt.
Angel finally feels like he can breathe again, and his natural instinct is to fall forward, but that’s where Vox is currently standing, staring at him like he’s no better than the brimstone under his boots despite the fact he and Valentino are currently preparing to fuck him.
Together.
At the same time.
Angel wants to question why he agreed to this, but the truth is that he knows he never really had a choice to begin with. It’s always been Valentino’s word as law, even out of the studio where the contract reigns supreme. All Val needs to do is say ‘jump’ and Angel’s asking ‘how high?’
Angel lets himself take comfort in Valentino, for just a moment, and leans back into his chest. His head nestles into the collar of fluff and for a minute, he’s back at the beginning of their relationship- back when he thought they were in love.
Now, Angel knows better- he has to.
Valentino has never loved him.
Valentino loves Vox.
Angel can see it in the way they look at each other, with smiles only for each other and nothing but venom for the rest of Hell. The way they touch- God , when Valentino is touching Angel, there’s no concern about what makes Angel feel good- it’s all about what makes Val feel good and how he can accomplish it faster.
Val wants to make Vox feel good, and tonight? He’s offering Angel up on a platter to do that.
“Now, now, mi amor, ” Valentino coos, all syrupy sweet to Vox with none of the laced venom he usually reserves for Angel, “don’t you think we should be a little nicer to Angelito? Offering himself up like this for us- a delicious. Little. Treat.” Valentino punctuates each word with a vicious little roll of his hips against Angel’s ass, and Angel can already feel his monstrously large cock standing at attention.
Luckily, he’s used to it- but it was a real struggle at first to even manage the tip in his cunt without feeling like he was going to rip apart. Valentino’s the Porn Overlord for a reason, and having the cock to match comes with the territory.
“Plus,” Valentino begins again, reaching over Angel like he isn’t wedged between him and Vox, “think about how good it’s going to feel with my cock rubbing up against yours in that tight little hole, hm?”
Angel freezes.
“Val,” he starts, voice already wavering a little at the prospect of questioning him, “you didn’t say anythin’ about the same hole - I- I ain’t even prepped and-”
Angel doesn’t have the chance to finish his sentence- Valentino is yanking him back by his hair hard enough that he’s worried for a moment his neck might snap. Val gets closer, mouth right up against his ear and breathing hot, red smoke right out against him, like a dragon protecting his hoard.
“I didn’t ask for your opinion, you little slut. You think you’re in charge here? No- all you need to say is yes, Valentino, yes, Vox- thank you for taking pity on my pathetic, little body and including me! ”
Every bone in Angel’s body tells him to fight back, to bite and scratch and extricate himself from the situation but he can’t. His feet don’t move, cemented to the gaudy marble floor in Vox’s quarters. He swallows and it hurts, mouth dry as his lungs try to suck in air at the painful angle Val has him at.
“...Thank you, Valentino. Thank you, Vox.” Angel’s voice is so quiet, so small, and he can tell by the way Valentino’s cock throbs against his ass that he loves it. Loves to reduce Angel to a shell of the boisterous, bright man he usually is.
The smile on Vox’s screen is blinding- staticky and sickly blue, all sharp, predatory teeth. Valentino lets Angel’s hair go and his head lolls forward as he takes in as many relieved breaths as he can. He doesn’t know if Valentino will let him continue to breathe unhindered- there’s never any warning as to what punishment he’s going to inflict next.
“Much better, little araña .” Further smoke seeps out from Valentino’s mouth and Angel feels his head get fuzzier and his will slacken more. He knows soon he’ll be completely out of his mind- high on Valentino’s vapors- and he doesn’t know if he’s thankful for that or not.
“Stop playing with your food and fucking eat it, Val- Christ on the cross- I’m sick of waiting. I’m not here for foreplay.” Valentino laughs at Vox’s sniping and runs his long fingers over Angel’s hair as if he’s nothing but a pet.
“Fine, Voxxy- be my guest.” Valentino’s lower arm hook under Angel’s knees and lift- spreading his legs wide for Vox and putting his cunt on display. Angel’s long given up on wearing panties at V Tower- he never knows when he’s going to be dragged into a shoot or Valentino is going to take his misplaced anger out on his cunt- and it seems to be paying off right now judging by the hungry look in Vox’s eyes.
The moment Vox makes eye contact with Angel, however, his expression changes and there’s nothing but disgust there.
Angel watches, shocked and confused, as wires snake out from Vox’s back and wiggle across the room- almost too fast for him to follow. The plugs at the end seem to be winding around something he can’t quite make out, but he can’t even bring himself to focus when Val’s long fingers are creeping from where they are digging into Angel’s thighs to dip into his pussy.
Then, everything goes black.
Angel inhales sharply, but the moment he opens his mouth to ask what the fuck is going on, a ball gag is being fitted alongside the snug, velvet mask Vox’s wires have roughly tied around his head. He can’t see, he can’t speak- all he can do is try and focus on Valentino’s rough grip on his limbs and what he thinks must be Vox’s cold, sleek fingers roughly pushing into his cunt.
“-fucking sloppy, Val- Jesus- don’t have any tighter souls on your roster? This is who you pick?”
Angel can hear Valentino scoff and shoot back some insult that he knows is lighthearted, unlike the ones that he hurls at Angel, and then Valentino is asking for help- for what, Angel can’t quite make out with Valentino’s vapor finally curling itself around his brain like a warm blanket, but it becomes clear anyway a few moments later.
Valentino’s gripping his wrists one minute, and then the next, something cold and hard is coiling around them tight and holding them above his head. It takes a moment for him to connect the dots, but he realizes that it’s the same wires Vox used to blind and gag him holding his wrists together and now wrapping around his ankles and pulling them roughly apart to ensure he’s spread wide enough for whatever they want to do to him.
It makes his stomach roil that in this moment, with his senses dampened, Valentino’s hands on his thighs are like an anchor to him- something safe and familiar while the cold cables of Vox hold him asunder. Valentino hasn’t been a source of safety for him in a very long time, and he almost feels himself slipping into old habits and wanting to clutch to him like a child seeking comfort.
“Turn him into a real toy, Voxxy- get the- yeah, you read my mind, c ariñito. ” What feels like thick headphones are placed over Angel’s ears- similar to the ones he sees the editors wearing- and the world goes completely silent. All he’s operating on is touch now, and each touch feels heightened tenfold.
Valentino fucks into him first- Angel doesn’t need sight or sound to be able to tell that. His cock is long, thick, and absurdly dextrous- Angel swears he can feel it slithering in like a snake- pressing against every single spot that makes him moan and writhe. Thankfully, Valentino produces enough come to make the slide messy and slick, paving the way for what Angel knows is going to be painful.
The intrusion of Vox.
Inch by inch, Vox slides his cock in alongside Valentino. Although he can’t hear them, he can feel their moans vibrating through their chests, right where they’re pressed up against his back and chest. Without his other senses to rely on, his sense of touch is heightened and the stretch is slow and painful- searing, tearing heat that would have him falling to the floor and sobbing if he wasn’t being held up by a combination of Valentino’s arms and Vox’s wires.
When Vox is finally fully seated in him, it feels like the wrong side of too much. Angel knows his stomach is bulging unpleasantly from the intrusions, his body not designed to take this much this fast.
But Vox and Valentino are treating him like he isn’t even there- like he doesn’t have feelings.
All Angel is right now for them is a toy. An inanimate object designed for their pleasure- to bring them closer together.
They settle into a rhythm fucking him that Angel knows, even if he can’t hear or see, Valentino is orchestrating. Sex is like art to him- a beautiful symphony that he’s the conductor of- so there’s no way he isn’t using a set of his arms to guide Vox’s hips like he’s a teenager about to blow his load in a hot girl for the first time.
Their cocks slide torturously slow against his walls, and Angel knows it must feel incredible for them. He isn’t that self-centered, but he knows he has the best cunt in Hell by far, and getting to experience it like this? Might be better than a one-way ticket to Heaven.
Eventually, thankfully, blessedly, it starts to feel good for Angel. The painful stretch and burn gives way to pleasure- the stretch pleasant and familiar in a way that makes him relax even though he’s effectively floating in a void without the better part of his senses. There’s even a little stimulation against his clit as Vox grinds hard and fast into him, his pubic bone driving in brutally and taking the edge off finally.
Angel knows when Valentino is about to come- it’s a scene he knows well and used to crave on a daily basis. Now, the painful bite of his nails in his skin and sickly hot breath against his neck is just another workday.
Vox is the one who takes him by surprise- howling like a fucking animal, so loud that Angel hears it over the headphones, feels the vibrations shake his chest loose. His come is cold and he figures that makes sense for a weird, electronic bastard like Vox.
Valentino comes right after him, not one to be beaten, and he’s molten lava compared to Vox. The marriage of the temperatures, the sheer amount of come flooding out of him and down his thighs, is enough to send Angel over the edge. His teeth sink into the ball-gag and he comes, the only indication he can give the violent shaking of his body and hot flush that hits him from head to toe.
As soon as Valentino and Vox pull out, Angel feels the wires around his wrists and ankles retract. Not even a second later, Valentino is dropping him unceremoniously onto the floor as if he’s a sack of bricks, and the warmth of his body disappears completely along with the cool, detached feeling of Vox’s.
Angel waits a few minutes before he removes the blindfold and gag, knowing that he needs to continue playing the role of toy for them until they’re both gone from the room. He can’t complain about it, because he doesn’t know that he’d be able to move right away anyway. His entire body feels like a giant bruise- from the rapidly forming ones around his wrists and ankles from how tight Vox had him wrapped up, to his abused, stretched cunt still throbbing and clenching around nothing as it leaks both of the Overlord’s spend out of him.
Slowly and gingerly, after what feels like hours but he knows is probably only about fifteen minutes, Angel starts removing the gear. The blue lights are too bright and the buzzing of Vox’s aquarium is too loud, but he’s fully present again and thankful for it.
As he collects himself, physically and mentally, Angel wonders if they’ll want to use him again like this. He wonders if it’s something he’d actually want, or if the pain of knowing he once thought he and Valentino had what Vox and Valentino actually had would be too much.
Regardless of what’s to come, Angel knows he has no real say in the matter.
Valentino will say
‘jump’
, and Angel will ask ‘
how high?
’