A Passionate Turn of Events (Vox/Alastor)
The Overlord Meeting
The overlord meeting had descended into its usual chaos. Alastor leaned back in her chair with a smug smile, her sharp teeth gleaming as she casually whispered something into Rosie’s ear. Vox glared at her, electric energy flickering around her, visibly agitated. Rosie laughed at whatever Alastor had said, her fan fluttering in front of her face.
Vox’s glare shifted to Rosie before she snapped, “You’re as insufferable as ever, Alastor.”
Alastor’s crimson eyes gleamed with mischief as she leaned forward, her grin widening. “Oh, darling, it’s not my fault you’re easily provoked. But do keep talking; your jealousy is positively adorable.”
Vox’s fists clenched, sparks flying from her fingertips. “Jealousy? Over you? Please, sweetheart. You couldn’t intimidate a toaster.”
The room grew tense as the two women squared off. Rosie raised her fan to her lips to stifle a giggle; she knew her dear friend harbored feelings for Vox, but Alastor was utterly clueless about what she felt for Vox. Valentino raised an eyebrow, then smirked, clearly entertained by the escalating spat. Velvet, sitting on the other side of Vox, had her phone out, recording the entire exchange with barely concealed glee.
Before anyone could intervene, Vox slammed her hands on the table and stood, jumping onto it and stomping over to where Alastor sat. She towered over her, electric energy humming ominously. “You’ve got a lot of nerve showing your face here after last time,” she growled.
Alastor stood as well, completely unbothered by the electric hum surrounding Vox. “And yet, here I am. Perhaps you should consider getting over it, darling.” She paused, her voice dropping to a whisper as she looked into Vox’s eyes, a flicker of vulnerability showing through. “I have, Voxxie.”
The tension snapped like a taut wire. Vox grabbed Alastor by the collar, yanking her forward. The room collectively gasped, expecting another heated outburst, but what happened next shocked everyone. Instead of continuing to argue, Vox pulled Alastor into a fierce, heated kiss.
Alastor’s eyes widened briefly before she melted into it, a soft moan escaping her as she kissed Vox back. As she began to close her eyes, Rosie’s fan clattered to the table as she covered her mouth in shock, her cheeks pink with surprise. Valentino chuckled, leaning back in his chair with a knowing grin. Velvet, snapped picture after picture, her phone’s camera clicking furiously.
Vox deepened the kiss, pulling Alastor closer, her electric energy crackling and sparking around them. The kiss grew more passionate until Alastor pushed Vox down, pinning her onto the table. Both women moaned as Vox wrapped her legs around Alastor while Alastor’s hands roamed down Vox’s body.
The room remained frozen in stunned silence until Carmilla, who had been silently fuming throughout the exchange, finally screamed, “Enough! Stop this madness at once!”
The two women froze, their faces now inches apart, panting heavily. Alastor’s eyes shot open, her cheeks flushed a deep crimson, while Vox stared up at her, equally stunned. Slowly, they disentangled themselves from one another with awkward coughs and flushed faces.
Alastor returned to her seat beside Rosie, who was now laughing behind her fan, her eyes twinkling with amusement. Vox sat back down between Velvet and Valentino, who wasted no time teasing her. Velvet nudged Vox playfully, showing her the pictures she’d taken, while Valentino chuckled, whispering something that made Vox groan in irritation.
Both women avoided each other’s gaze, their cheeks still tinged with embarrassment. When their eyes did meet, they quickly looked away, the faintest hint of a blush on their faces. Carmilla pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration and waved a hand dismissively. “Meeting adjourned. Clearly, we’re not accomplishing anything today.”
As the overlords filed out, Vox lingered for a moment, glancing back at Alastor, who was chatting with Rosie. Their eyes met again, and this time, neither looked away. Vox smirked, her confidence returning, and Alastor’s grin widened in response.
Later That Evening
The soft glow of the hotel lobby was a welcome reprieve from the day’s chaos. Alastor sat in her plush armchair, absently toying with a book she hadn’t bothered to read. Her crimson eyes flicked to the clock—late enough that she really should head to bed. With a sigh, she adjusted her hair, smoothing the unruly curls that always seemed determined to defy her.
Just as she rose to retire for the night, a knock echoed through the room. She froze mid-step, a flicker of irritation crossing her delicate features. Who could it possibly be at this hour? It’s not like any sinners were showing up to check in. Smoothing down her dress, she walked to the door. With a sigh, she opened it.
Leaning casually against the doorframe, wearing a cocky smirk that practically screamed trouble, was Vox. Her suit jacket hung loose, her tie slightly undone and resting on her chest, and her white shirt tucked haphazardly into her slacks. On the screen of her face, lust simmered in her glowing eyes, an intensity that made Alastor’s breath hitch.
Alastor’s heart betrayed her with a stuttered beat. Her fingers twitched against the doorframe, and her mind reeled, replaying their earlier encounter. The faint tingle on her lips lingered like an unspoken secret. She should slam the door. She should. But as her gaze locked with Vox’s, her body betrayed her, and she stood rooted in place, heat creeping up her neck.
“Well,” Vox began, her smug grin widening as she casually tilted her head. “Aren’t you going to invite me in, sweetheart?”
Before Vox could finish, Alastor surged forward, grabbing her by the tie and yanking her inside. The door slammed shut behind them, echoing through the hall.
“To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure, darling?” Alastor purred, her tone low and teasing, her lips curling into a wicked smile. Her fingers gripped Vox’s tie tightly, pulling their faces mere inches from each other. Warm breath brushed against Vox’s cheek as Alastor’s gaze burned with amusement—and something more.
For a split second, Vox’s confidence faltered. Her smirk wavered, her screen flickering faintly before narrowing with intent. “Shut up,” she growled.
In a blur of movement, she pushed Alastor against the wall, caging her there. Their lips crashed together with bruising intensity, a clash of dominance and need.
Neither noticed the audience behind them.
At the far end of the lobby, Lucifer stood with his arms crossed, one eyebrow raised in amused curiosity. Beside him, Charlie stood frozen, her wide eyes blinking rapidly as if her brain were struggling to catch up with reality.
Angel recovered first, letting out a low whistle as he leaned lazily against the bar. “Well, damn. Never thought I’d see the day where Alastor got some action,” he quipped, a sly grin tugging at his lips.
Husk snorted, swirling his drink with practiced indifference. “Knew it,” he muttered, shaking his head. “She’s had a thing for Vox for ages.”
Vaggie, meanwhile, sat at the bar, a forkful of salad suspended mid-air. Her expression contorted into a mix of disgust and disbelief as she glanced between the couple and her plate. “Are you kidding me? Right in front of my salad?” she snapped, shoving the dish aside with a scowl.
Charlie finally broke from her trance, grabbing Vaggie’s arm. “Come on,” she muttered, dragging her girlfriend toward the stairs.
Vaggie whispering under her breath, “I can’t unsee this.”
Angel plopped down beside Lucifer, who had a bucket of popcorn in hand. “This is better than reality TV,” Angel mused, popping a handful into his mouth.
Lucifer chuckled, reclining with casual elegance. “Indeed,” he murmured, his gaze never leaving the scene. “The evening just got much more entertaining.”
Alastor and Vox remained oblivious to their captivated audience—or perhaps they simply didn’t care. Their focus was entirely on each other, lips and hands exploring with unrestrained fervor. For once, the chaos of hell faded into irrelevance, eclipsed by their shared passion.
It was a night no one in the hotel would ever forget—especially not Vaggie, who swore she would never look at salad the same way again.