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His boy. Vincent was his boy, a thought that often overcame him with love. His boy he ought to protect from the world and all the people in it who could hurt him.
Yes, he was a grown man. Yes, he has lived a whole life before finding his guidance.
That smile urged him to do otherwise.
"Come here, boy."
Vincent turned his head from where he was sitting on the couch, making use of Alastor's TV; a relic barely used. He insisted on nothing too flashy, and seldom gave it life outside of the times he intended to see Vincent gracing its screen.
But Vincent, himself, was an avid watcher. Who else would point out where the competition faltered, how he could do so much better on two hours of sleep and amphetamines? Surely not Alastor, too intent on watching the man's expression soften when faced away from the well-dressed men on screen and meeting his eyes with a soft huff.
Better.
"Now?"
"Yes." Alastor motioned towards himself, watching the man stand. "I have something I wish to discuss with you in the other room."
Obeying as he ought to, Vincent hobbled over, leaning into the other man's shoulder. "There's no one else here"
"I don't trust that device."
A soft laugh wracked Vincent's chest, in motion as a hand of Alastor's rested on his lower back. "Fine, fine. We can go to the other room to... talk."
"That's a good boy."
Effortlessly, Alastor led the larger man into his bedroom. The man who could navigate his home blind, drunk, or while incredibly dazed by now. Knowing the bedroom best, too often retiring to it before Alastor even invited him to stay in his home.
Pulling his tie only added intimacy. He would follow him regardless if he meant to find his sheets or the ends of the earth.
The moment he found his mattress and sat down on it, Vincent leaned forward, snuggling into his neck.
"Oh you darling boy." A chuckle left his throat, instinctively raising a shoulder to block him. All that did was make Vincent whine, hair ruffled up. "You clearly need comfort."
"No, I just... want." He butt his head against Alastor, gripping his other shoulder. "Are you going to talk or do I get to fuck you?"
"Patience, Vincent! Haha!" The older man smiled widely, pushing Vincent's arm away and taking in his pout. "Surely you know we must prepare, and I'm never quite ready from the get-go."
"Grmm. Fine."
It was Vincent who pulled himself off the bed, hunched over the night table to rummage for something they could use. In the meantime, Alastor laid back, shoulders creasing the pillows as he made work of his top. One button at a time.
Ever so slowly, always casting an eye in Vincent's direction. Noting right away when the man saw him, hummed, and gripped onto his belt.
"Vincent, dear."
"What?" It clicked off, disregarded to reach for his zipper.
"You're quite hasty."
"Well if you don't want this, just tell me."
"I never said that." A singular finger curled, earning the obedience of Vincent as he sat next to him. "You are just too hasty, my dear friend. That is all I meant to say."
"Tch, never stopped us from–"
A rough pull by the shirt forward shut Vincent up as he crashed into his lips, only giving a soft "Mmh" to vocalize his surprise.
It is something that made Alastor chuckle regardless, pushing lightly on Vincent's chest. "I do have instructions for you."
"What, you want me to get on my knees and worship the ground you walk on?"
"Have you ever neglected to do that before?"
"..." With a pout, he licked his teeth. "You're an asshole."
"No need for that." Another chuckle left Alastor, as if this was all just so funny to him as he adjusted himself on the bed below. "No, I just want you to strip until you're comfortable."
"For what?"
"For whatever feels right."
"What's your game, Al?"
"I wish to observe you in a natural state of mind."
The final button on Alastor's shirt came undone, parting the fabric comfortably so with a lazy drag of his right hand. Seeing as Vincent neglected to remove his tie, Alastor pulled it again, drawing the man closer.
"Mmgh." Vincent's legs shuffled between his own, head rocking as he expected a kiss from Alastor. Earning one, another, before licking his bottom lip.
A man ever so obedient opened his mouth. A fool he became, as the blood-hungrier of the two bit him.
"Ah."
"Mmh, you taste divine, dear Vincent." An apologizing hand cradled his cheek, trailing down to his chin, lifting it enough to meet a softer, genuine kiss. Even if his tongue trailed along the blood, dipping past Vincent's parted lips.
"Ah-hah... hhmn..."
"Such a good- nnkh!"
In all his eager wit, the other man pushed forward, gripping onto his arms as his tongue dipped deeper, forcing Alastor's back.
"Mmghhnk..." An almost choked noise, head rocking with his partner's as Vincent took what he wanted, blood smearing against Alastor's bottom lip every time they met. It made him moan against his tongue, seeking breath where he could, eyes fluttering shut and caressing the other man as far as his grip allowed him to reach.
Something that soothed him for a good long while, enjoying the whine out of Vincent's throat as he toyed with him, the earned whine that confirmed older age would not deter his arousal.
The firm front of Vincent's half-undone pants rutting against him only proved it further. It would be oh so cruel to keep his sweet boy waiting much longer.
To bump him out of his focus, Alastor nudged his knee into Vincent's middle. Not rough, not enough to hurt; cushioned, in part due to his help caring for him all this time.
Listening deserved a reward.
So as his boy inched away, he smiled through every desperate gasp for air, all too charmed by the other man's tongue lolling out like an exhausted puppy. "Vincent, cher – your excitement amuses me." A finger trailed his bicep, oh so lightly. "But I know you want more than just my mouth tonight."
"Anything... if you let me."
"Why of course! That was the plan." He pushed him on his shoulders, watching as Vincent sat back on his ankles. "Now strip. If that is what you so desire."
When given a clear task, Vincent did not need to be guided. So often a leader in his home life out of state, he took it upon himself now to follow Alastor's instructions, almost rushing to get his shirt off.
“Good boy.”
“Fucking tease…”
Vincent became grumpier when he didn't get what he wanted right away, but it was oh so adorable to witness. Pulling buttons away from their slits, fumbling with and ripping his tie off like it offended him. How quaint.
Alastor hummed, foot tapping as Vincent shuffled to the side enough to remove his pants. Vincent wasn't prepared, angering himself. He wasn't the one already half-dressed and hovering over the less horny of the two, waiting for a yes or no answer.
He hated when Alastor prompted these little romps. This wasn't how things were supposed to go.
Because the older man always knew when the younger needed that little bit of a push to unwind.
Vincent's cock sprung out of his boxers when he slipped them down. Not leaking quite yet, but knowing the man, it would not take long. Still laying back, Alastor watched with interest as he held back from pouncing, gathering the strength to leave his clothes in one pile on the floor as he stood.
When he veered back over to grab a bottle from the night table, Alastor tsked.
“I don't suppose we'll be needing that.”
Vincent made a face, brows scrunching. Nearly cringing, as if he thought over all the implications in a mere few seconds. “Al…”
“Oh relax, Vincent, I'm not asking me to forgo preparation in favor of speeding up the process.” He giggled, curling a hand under his chin. “In fact, I'm feeling rather tired and would rather not bother with having to be stretched, or even undressing at all…”
“Hmph, then what do you want?”
“I want you to get creative."
Alastor's legs kept themselves parted, but propped upwards, inviting the other man in. While Vincent spoke of enjoying his mouth, the older man kept himself comfortably planted on the mattress. If he wanted a hole, he would have to earn it.
But after gauging the sincerity in Alastor's expression – alongside that ever-common mischievous smirk – Vincent's eyes panned downwards, and stayed there, shared saliva from earlier pooling down his chin.
What he wanted was kept down below, even if Alastor kept himself concealed.
It is why it came to the surprise of neither when Vincent shuffled back into bed, knelt between those parted, inviting thighs. “I can think of something…”
“I'm sure you will, eager little– mmh.”
What Alastor didn't expect was for Vincent to pick up his legs, put them together, and start thrusting between the gap in his thighs.
“H-hah… fuck, Al.”
“Oh you… mmmhn…”
The hands previously relaxed curled over to rest on his own chest, nearly gripping towards his throat. Just… breathing softly, watching the other man's needy cock slide between his thighs and coat the fabric of his pants with pre.
Eyes already shut, concentrating on his own pleasure. All while Alastor stared.
“My my, you're rather eager.” Something mused in a soft tone, breathing in a constant shaky flow outwards.
One half aroused before the ordeal began could not ignore the tightening of his own pants. And he would watch, as every whimper-earning graze helped the older man grow where concealed, making Vincent's cock angle itself upwards instead of straight ahead.
Forever rutting, forever warm. Amazed that Vincent's strength, the commitment to keeping him comfortable.
As much as Alastor wondered now how much he could allow.
“Fuck, your thighs are so soft…” The man above still looked dazed, keeping that consistent thrust. How could he not, when it clearly gave him the relief he needed, the friction he craved?
Clothes against his cock never bothered this man. Either men, really; far too used to it, intrigued by how far they could go.
“So plush… warm…”
“Oh dear, you are adorable when you lose your senses.” Though Alastor looked, observing himself; seeing how much Vincent was right. How despite the gap, despite wearing pants that fit him well, there was a softness to his thighs he could not claim had been there ten years earlier.
Damn the man above, forcing him to care for himself as much as he cared in return.
“Wanna… fuck you…” Vincent mumbled some more, clearly not thinking. And it was quite cute, seeing him try to talk in a moment that did not necessarily require it. How he entertained Alastor with his voice endlessly, showing the man he loved that he could focus.
And Alastor would just chuckle along, using the sound to hide his softer moans. Though, barely, as a good thrust here and there caught his breath, smile stupidly wide throughout. “You're already doing quite a good job at that… a-ah…”
“Wanna do better, all for you.” A common promise, knowing Alastor's occasional aversion. Though one could barely call it that when he invited Vincent; invited him to explore, to basically hump and mount him for any chance at relaxation.
And the sweet boy knew this well enough that he hardly needed permission to advance his motions from here. Even if a small squeak would be earned as Vincent pushed quite forward.
One arm wrapped around Alastor's legs, holding him there, keeping the ankles rested on his shoulder. The other hand ventured to his hip, large and firm, yet only to hold Alastor in place as he leaned in and started thrusting faster.
“Fuck, mommy, you feel so good…”
M…
Mommy.
…
“...Say that again, Vincent.”
“Mommy…”
The weight of the word did not catch up to this man quite yet. Not with how his eyes fluttered, normally shut as he grunted, too happy to earn even the friction of a zipper against his tip.
So blind to what he has caused. What he has started.
Thrusting, working fast, panting like a dog. All as Alastor's eyes blew wide, chest working slower than before. Heart pounding so loud it reached his ears, blood flow working overtime all over.
Mommy…
Fuck.
Fuck it.
“C-call me that aga-ain, Vincent,” he practically panted out, a near mewl to his voice. Not giving him a moment before his fingers forked into his hair, gripping on. “Now.”
“Yes, mommy.” It sounded whinier now, needier, still no thoughts as he practically pounded between Alastor's thighs. The ones he called plush and soft earlier. Surely feeling his cock against his own; surely not forgetting who he laid with, even with his eyes closed.
Dear Lord, why must he think?
“Ah, Vincent–” A whiny sound of his own, rocking with the man above. Wondering almost if this would work, if relief would come to more than one.
If he wouldn't be anxious, heart fluttering in his chest as he simply wondered why.
“Please.”
“Alastor…”
“N-no, not now.”
“Mmh…” The message reached him one way or another, aching, more pre coating the front of Alastor's slacks as Vincent managed to look at him. “Fuck… mommy, you're so– jeez.” He bit his lip as the thrusting continued, stupidly warm, stupidly needy. “This is stupid–”
“No.” Another pull. “It is wonderful, please continue.” A twitch at a thought. “Fuck mommy faster, dear boy.”
“Please!”
The word felt so foreign, but just so right on his tongue. Commanding the desperate man, clearly so entranced he didn't think, so eager all he could do is follow his lead.
And follow, Alastor would make him.
“Grind down on me.”
“Yes mommy.”
“Fuck me like you'll never fuck me again.”
A tall order, but Vincent submitted all the same. He held him, so tenderly, and yet all so rough as he thrusted more and more. Coating him, smothering him, leaving that undeniable mark.
Reaching into his heart and tugging at the connective strings by just looking at him with those glossy eyes.
“M-mommy…”
“Vincent– grmmh.” A rough grumble. “Vin– aH–!” Reaching over and pulling the man as close as possible, eyes shut as his legs bent back and nearly met his chest. “Please!”
“I-I got… mmh!”
He came in between thrusts, painting Alastor's clothes with his spill, panting and gasping and whining and spent. Yet Alastor could not care when white hot pleasure overcame him, clenching his thighs around the other man's cock, draining him for every last drop.
Breath even slower, shakier. Fingers clawed into the other man's skin, even as his legs naturally parted, resting from that grip that so easily overpowered him.
Never quite as much as Vincent's endlessly surprising vocabulary, though.
“Ah. You… damn it, you silly boy.” A chuckle couldn't help but leave him, even if his best interest remained in catching his breath. Ignoring the ruffled, tainted, changed state of himself in favor of looking Vincent over with too amused of a smile. “Whatever am I to do with you? Clearly all you… hah.” Another few breaths. “All you do is think with that ever-unsatisfied appendage of yours.”
“Mmhgm…” Vincent shook, settling now between Alastor's legs. “Fucking… asshole.” And flopping on top of him, subject to head rubs the second he was close enough to justify the action.
“My my, none of that.” Just another soft chuckle as he earned a groan, scraping his scalp softly. “Mommy isn't quite pleased with that language.”
Hard it would become, to ignore how he twitched at his own words used. Not when Vincent laid right on top of him. Neither quite used to the speed in which the older man's cock could stir in interest when it normally took its time.
It simply didn't make sense. If he had to guess, he would pin it on a… mutual interest they had. Spoken about in passing.
Though Alastor could never guess he would become the subject of this particularly delightful word.
“Hm. Perhaps you are on to something.”
It was the only satisfaction he would grant Vincent now, still intent on keeping this simple despite the… newer feelings now blossoming.
All too tempted to try it again.