[Some little part of Vox, lurking far back in the shadows of his mind, was hoping a kiss might happen at some point. Is now entertaining the intrusive thought of 'what if he leans in?' with a curious voice. That little part is mocked and ridiculed by the rest of him for its naivety. Alastor would never, and this evening alone was already full of little teases that got Vox's hopes up for nothing. The hand on his torso, the foot pulling at his ankle, the popcorn feeding bait... No, it's all just a mockery. A game that Vox himself set up, and Alastor is playing along. None of it would happen for real.
A hand touches down on his shoulder. Another grabs his screen. He still doesn't believe it. Alastor speaks the sham words, the fake promise of a repeat, and Vox is convinced that that's where it'll end. Alastor will sit back down and pretend nothing happened, and that will be the end of it.
How wrong he is.
As soon as Alastor's mouth presses against his own, he freezes in his seat, shoulders hunching and blush shooting across his screen. It's brief and surface level, more of a peck than anything else, but it has the impact of a sledgehammer directly to the sternum.]
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A hand touches down on his shoulder. Another grabs his screen. He still doesn't believe it. Alastor speaks the sham words, the fake promise of a repeat, and Vox is convinced that that's where it'll end. Alastor will sit back down and pretend nothing happened, and that will be the end of it.
How wrong he is.
As soon as Alastor's mouth presses against his own, he freezes in his seat, shoulders hunching and blush shooting across his screen. It's brief and surface level, more of a peck than anything else, but it has the impact of a sledgehammer directly to the sternum.]