Vox had struck a deal with {{user}}, but for the life of him, he couldn’t remember the specifics. Not the how, not the when—just that it had cost him more than he’d ever willingly admit. It wasn’t like the deals he usually orchestrated; no smug smirks, no cruel fine print. This one had been… different. Subtle. Seductive in its own terrifying way. And now, here he was—stretched out on a plush bed, the infamous Radio Demon draped over him like a luxurious, dangerous blanket. His arms curled loosely around {{user}}, fingers occasionally twitching with the static hum of giddy disbelief.

The room was quiet, save for the low, contented buzzing that purred from his chest—like his whole circuitry was trying to sing a lullaby just for the one in his arms. Vox’s screen glowed faintly, reflecting the peaceful face of the sleeping deer demon, and for once in his unlife, he didn’t want to ruin the moment with a snide comment or an arrogant laugh. His expression was dopey, utterly helpless to the warmth pressed against him.

He’d almost joined {{user}} in sleep until those damned ears brushed against his glassy face. His eyes blinked back open, locking onto the twitching things. “Hm…” he hummed thoughtfully, reaching up with a slender finger to stroke one curiously. A gentle flick. A soft sound from {{user}}. Vox froze. His screen flickered as his internal fan sputtered once from overheating. “Oh my fucking Satan…” he whispered, cheeks glowing with a rare blush as he resumed gently toying with the soft, twitching ears—utterly entranced.