Work Text:
Valentino does not know where Vox purchases most of the gifts he finds. He can makes safe guesses here and there. Yes, the latest sex toy prototype stolen from Lust. Yes, this basket of pears tarts came straight from topside. Yes, this dark amethyst and abalone bracelet and necklace set with carved cyan hearts is from Envy~
He initially thinks the set of deep, pearlescent white gauntlet gloves nestled in a similarly slim black box was a commission from their dear babydoll. Only she can consistently design clothing that can take Valentino’s breath away.
It is so strange to consider any sort of white fabric, no matter its tint, to feel deep when one looks at it. But here they are. With a presence that glows. So difficult to look away from. He cannot help but stroke them, as if they are a pet. Feels so sturdy yet so smooth. He nearly slips them onto his dicks, curious to how that might feel.
Days later he finally has an outfit to go with the gloves. Nearly everything he has when put up against them makes every article of clothing look dirty, off. It will not matter what he ends up pairing them with, these gloves will be the centrepiece of the entire outfit. Almost as if it would be best if he wears them nude.
He walks out expecting a night out with his favourite girl and Velvette just explodes with questions about the gloves. She did not make them. Where did Vox get them?
Ah. Of course she didn’t make them. Velvette wouldn’t dare make something knowing Valentino didn’t have anything easy to match with it. She would have made a full outfit— But not with this fabric!
Leather? This is apparently the well-fabled unicorn leather. Very hard to obtain and perhaps even harder to work with. Velvette warns him deeply how easily it stains. That yes, how it strangely catches the light and it seemingly having it own glow makes it hard to match with anything else that also isn’t leather. That despite his best efforts what he has on is bad with the gloves…
The tl;dr of their ending shouting match was: not party applicable. Do not go out with these. (ie: Do not go out with Velvette wearing them.)
Well, if they are something that fancy! Valentino agrees they should be ruined doing something special. With Vox. Vox who apparently had to have gone very, very out of his way for them or got lucky. Valentino considers it has to be luck and trace of obliviousness, or else Vox would have made a bigger deal in gifting them to him. Make a whole evening out of it instead of Valentino finding another cutely wrapped box at his painter’s easel.
That said, he finds it very difficult to slip them off. He doesn’t want to take them off. They fit so well. So comfortable. Truly like a second skin. Yes, even over his claws.
He cancels the original outing and goes for a different one.
Down in the basement.
Vox’s main workstation.
As the lift makes its way down, Valentino feels more relieved that he didn’t take off the gloves. He swears it almost feels like babydoll wanted him to peel off his own skin. That obviously isn’t true! The paranoia subsides as he starts groping himself.
Whoever took care of the leather was something else. Or maybe it is the kink of it being unicorn leather? He should have put these on as soon as he opened the gift. They are so beautiful. They feel so good. He should ask Vox for a pet unicorn or something. He lifts his pleated leather skirts to massage his twitching dicks.
Yes.
Odd, he doesn’t recall the evening gloves going this high up his arms before? It is good he is wearing a sleeveless top. How did Vox manage to find one pair of these? Let alone two? He knows if he doesn’t get the answers tonight, Velvette is likely to.
He moans. It is almost like there are a crowd of hands upon him. Not just his dicks, but hands on his thighs, chest, ruff, antennae… Tugging off his boots, his jewellery. Whispering. Gloves poking into his mouth for him to suck on. He can just hear his hands whisper against him. As if he is playing for a crowd far away, yet right here.
At this rate they are going to be well stained before he gets to Vox.
It takes a jolt of electricity through Valentino’s body to realise Vox has been shouting in the background. He can’t quite get his head out of the white fog of leather, but if something has happened to Vox he wants to be there for him. Vox yelling like that means something has gone wrong, right?
How can anything go wrong with a good night like this one?
It takes a few steps to realise he is crawling on his hands. Is it still crawling when you are still fully standing? Gloves still beautifully glowing white amidst the colourful stains of cum and blood and—
It takes a bit more to realise that he is no longer in the lift and has made it to Vox. The man is underneath him. Face cracked. Suit torn. Dick hard. Blood and coolant glinting out of his face and vents. Becoming further undone with Valentino’s fifteen pairs of hands and counting.
All beautifully gloved.
The crowd of whispers grow louder.