Chapter Text
Author’s Note: Hello readers! I apologize in advance for this smutty nonsense. Please heed all the warnings listed and don’t proceed if any of them squick ya.
Trigger Warning:
There is a little bit of grabbing and groping that may make some readers uncomfortable. The consent to this behavior is dubious at best, but ultimately it stops and consent is affirmed before sex proceeds.
Regardless, remember if anyone manhandles you like this in real life it is absolutely not okay.
That being said, if you are comfortable continuing, please enjoy.
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Angel Dust felt like such a fuckin’ idiot.
All that boasting and he had nothing to show for it. Zilch. Nada. He’d wagged his ass, plumped up his tit fluff and used all the sexy lines he could muster, but that prissy bastard never caved. Not a lick. Not an inch. He felt like some sort of cartoon cat chasing a grinning mouse, except with even LESS sexual tension somehow.
Sure, he’d managed to get SOME negative attention— a grinning scowl once or twice, a scoff here and there, and maybe a couple eye rolls, but the illustrious Radio Demon never fucking caved. Angel was used to fellas throwing themselves at him, handing him fistfuls of cash to see what he had under the skirt, and this change of pace was just so…pathetic. Contrary to what anyone at the hotel might have thought after watching his wanton little displays for Alastor fail time and time again, he did not generally…chase fellas. He wasn’t some joke to be pitied.
Men wanted him.
Usually.
“I just feel like maybe you should give Alastor a little more…space?” Charlie said, fussing with a bar napkin as she teetered on a stool. Her usual marionette features were pinched in a picture of awkward dismay. “You’re making him feel uncomfortable and… He—.”
Holy fucking shit. Was this really happening? Was Charlie seriously playing defense for that goddamn deer? Had Alastor asked her to intervene? He felt like the walls were closing in around him, as he tried to look…well…anywhere but at Charlie’s concerned face. He didn’t need to see that shit. He’d rather stare at that tacky red brocade wallpaper… even if it made him feel more trapped.
“Relax, toots. I won’t try chattin’ up the prude again.” Angel said, cutting her off, flashing his biggest, toothiest smile. He knew one thing: when in doubt, deflect criticism with nonchalance and make a joke about the problem. He could feel a buzzing in the air, a strange hum of a radio tuning somewhere, growing steadily louder, the soft tap of light steps descending the staircase. Damn. He needed to hurry this shit along before that bastard got downstairs and saw him sitting around with Charlie, looking like some guilty kid being chastised by his mother. The fluff on his cheeks and chest was turning a pale shade of pink. The words spilled out, faster now, “I got plenty-a gentleman callers, ya know. I ain’t fuckin desperate. I wasn’t SERIOUS, just... playin around.” He glanced at Husk who was mixing a drink and probably pretending not to listen. He’d wait until after she left to ask for a double. “I’ll keep ta that “5 foot rule” he’s always bitchin’ about, so go on and tell him he’s safe from the itsy bitsy spidah. I ain’t even interested in him anyway.”
That should do it. He thought about bringing up that Alastor had led him on a little, but that would just sound… ugh. Deluded? Desperate? Gross? How could he explain to Charlie the way the Radio Demon grabbed and tossed him about? Alastor certainly didn’t follow that 5 foot rule of his. If he wanted to grab, spin, dip, or toss you around, he would. But Angel knew any argument he had on that front would be 90% bullshit. Alastor seemed to like control. He could touch you, but you couldn’t touch him.
And the way he touched Angel was nothing different or special.
“Oh, thanks so much for being so understanding, Angel!” Charlie sighed in relief. Had she expected him to argue, to act offended and shit? Fuck, did she really think he’d crawl and simper after some uptight asshole? Her arms wrapped around him suddenly, all warmth and maternal affection, blonde hair all up in his face. “I told him I was sure this was just a misunderstanding—that’s just your sense of humor! I’m sure you’ll be best friends soon!”
Angel very much doubted that.
He watched, mortified, as Charlie pranced off to inform the Radio Demon of their conversation, sinking deeper and deeper into the bar stool. Could ya even sink into a bar stool? He felt like he was sinking for sure. “Husk…”
“Already got you covered.” The gravelly-voiced cat slid a glass in front of him with a flick of his tail. It was bright pink, something fruity and frothy but with a double shot of whatever alcohol it usually contained. Angel didn’t ask what it was, just grabbed the concoction and gulped it down. A sweet smack to the taste buds with a kick that made him gasp.
He liked Husk well enough. The fella exuded a nice gruff presence, if mostly from a drunken stupor. At least he was perceptive in his own way.
“I could fuckin kiss ya, Husky!” He forced a little flirtatious laugh, leaning over the bar to give the other man a nice peak down the front of his v-neck. Husk never seemed to mind the flirting. He never reciprocated, but always seemed to take it in stride with a detached amusement or even a fun little bickering comment.
“Husker, my dear friend! How are you doing on this fine morning?”
The booming, staticky voice really shouldn’t have surprised him. After two months, he should have been used to it by now in all its transatlantic, overly enthusiastic glory. Unfortunately, it always managed to catch Angel off guard— make him nearly jump out of his skin. He wondered vaguely if it reminded him of the past… of the way respectable men in suits spoke when he was alive…all self important and refined. Fucking bastards. A clawed gloved hand steadied him when he jumped, the briefest touch to his waist that left his skin feeling hot, but the moment he looked down towards it, the hand was gone, flitting away as Alastor settled on the bar stool furthest from him, dagger-toothed smile never faltering from his lips. “I see our fellow resident has already set his sights on a new victim for his wanton unwanted affections. Ha! Ha! Ha! Better you than me, I’m afraid!”
He could shoot him. Really, he could shoot him.
But he had to play nice. He was, after all, in the wrong here…
“Awe, Al, ya don’t gotta be so uptight,” Angel crooned, crossing his long legs and resting his chin delicately in his hand as he leaned over the bar. He gave Al a nice peak at his chest as he spoke, but Al’s eyes, those dangerous glaring eyes, remained fixed on his own. His smile never reached his eyes. “Don’t ya worry a damn bit. I didn’t know I was scarin’ ya so much with all my flirtin’ and teasin’. I won’t botha’ ya again. I got plenty-a sexy daddies who’d kill ta play with me, just thought it would be a fun story ta say I rode the Radio Demon’s dick. Ain’t no big deal.” He paused as Alastor’s sharp laugh smacked him. His eyes seemed narrower, the pupils distorted. The smile never left his face but the lines of his yellowing teeth seemed sharper— daggerlike. The air crackled. Had Angel said something wrong? Maybe he shouldn’t have brought up Alastor’s dick. Yeah, that was probably it. He continued on a bit more reservedly, awkwardly tugging up his top to hide the fluffy cleavage, feeling the Radio Demon’s eyes catch the movement. “Anyway, 5 foot rule from now on, aight? I won’t touch ya and ya won’t touch me and I won’t flirt with ya neither. Sorry I made ya…um…uncomfortable. Deal?”
He watched the way Alastor took a glass of dark liquor from Husk and drank it slowly, savoring the taste. Why wasn’t he responding? Didn’t the Radio Demon love making deals? The silence stretched. Angel squirmed.
“Angel,” Alastor finally purred, setting down the empty glass and dabbing his mouth lightly with a handkerchief.
“Y-yeah, Smiles?”
“If you ever talk about “riding my dick” again, as you put it SO very crudely, I will rip out your spine and make you swallow each vertebrae.”
Well, fuck. He couldn’t fucking win, could he? “Yeah yeah. Sorry, Smiles... Won’t happen again.” Angel slid off the stool, feeling the uncontrollable urge to tug down his skirt suddenly. He could really use a little something… some kind of high. Val would give him something if he picked up a shift. “Anyway, let Charlie know I’m headin’ ta work if she asks.”
“Mmm, I thought it was your day off. Am I wrong? Already hankering for sin, Angel Dust? Miss Magne will be disappointed if she hears you are running off to your dealer/pimp for a cheap high.” Alastor’s words were light and mocking, but the shadowy hand that leapt out and grabbed Angel’s wrist was firm and a little painful, tugging him in until his back touched the bar and he found himself too close to the seated Radio Demon for comfort.
“Listen, handsome,” Angel purred, leaning towards the Radio Demon whose ears flicked back while his smile shifted from one with teeth to one of close-lipped disdain. He could feel the other man distancing himself already, leaning away as he leaned in. “I’m just doin’ us both a favor. I’m real fuckin horny fa dick right now and unless ya wanna take care of that, well, I suggest ya let me go ta work and leave Charlie outta my business. Got it?”
He didn’t wait for an answer, just took the opportunity to bolt before Alastor recovered from his words. Mistah Val would be real happy with his work ethic that night, because he suddenly… really craved the stage where he was wanted, surrounded, and adored.
-
Over the next week, he tried his best to ignore Alastor.
He kept his conversations with the Radio Demon simple and curt; he backed away from any impromptu musical numbers so as not to end up being dipped, grabbed, or spun by Al’s overzealous theatricality; and he bit his tongue when any innuendos threatened to spill from his lips. He really tried, but there were moments when it really wasn’t his fault, when the Radio Demon teased him with a dad joke or appeared behind him out of nowhere and peppered him with light small talk. He usually managed to duck away quickly, but the fact that he was avidly avoiding the Radio Demon became more and more obvious to the point that Charlie started looking all pinched and concerned again. Not to mention, Alastor himself seemed…
Angel couldn’t get a read on how he seemed, but it was definitely off.
“Ah, Angel Dust!” Seven days. It had been seven days. Angel hadn’t expected to be assaulted with a toothy smile the second he stepped out of his bedroom, but the moment he shut the door behind him there was Alastor, grabbing him around the waist, marching him down the hall, and prattling in that disarming way of his. “Just the man I wanted to see, though it seems I’m seeing more of you than I bargained for.” Al spun him around, manipulating him like a rag doll. “Really, there isn’t much fabric to this, is there? Walk with me. Walk with me. We have much to discuss.”
“What the fuck, Smiles. Mind ya own business! I’m goin ta work, I’ll have ya know, and I’m runnin’ fuckin late, so I don’t have time fa whateva bullshit ya wanna chat about. I don’t need ta get ya fuckin approval on my outfit!” He used four arms to swat at Alastor, backing away as best he could in high heels. “Five foot rule, rememba’?”
Alastor’s laughter filled the hall. His skin looked darker than usual, the faintest hint of a flush. His eyes seemed glazed. He laughed too loudly, moved too uncoordinatedly, and grabbed too feverishly. Was he…?
“Al, are ya fuckin drunk—“
The sudden sharp turn into a dimly lit bedroom made Angel lose his footing. He was usually great in heels, but the Radio Demon moved too quickly, too haphazardly, too dizzyingly round and round. He might have fallen on his ass if Alastor hadn’t caught him and then unceremoniously shoved him towards a plainly made bed. The door slammed. A lock clicked.
“A-Al, you’re scarin’ me—“ he whispered. Shadowy tendrils tugged at his shoes and clothing, trying to slide off pieces, but only managing to get his shoes. He smacked one when it went for his stockings under the booted heels. He had his limits.
Alastor removed his own coat calmly, rolling up his shirt sleeves. The Radio demon had a trim physique and very broad shoulders. Angel had not seen him without his coat on. Something about Al in just the dress shirt and rolled up sleeves felt strangely intimate.
A pause.
The other demon moved closer, grin unwavering. Angel was taller… and yet he suddenly felt tiny.
A week of mostly avoiding the Radio Demon had him quaking under the man’s mocking gaze. Why was he turned on? Al was just some red-obsessed smiling freak with a Karen haircut and yet… he kept remembering how he’d used those black tentacles of his to crush a blimp into scrap, the way he made the air sizzle, the way his eyes promised some kind of mischief.
Why had Alastor pulled him into his bedroom? Was he going to make Angel change or something? Was he going to eat him? Maim him? Was he really that pissed about Angel’s getup? Maybe tonight’s costume was a bit much, but Angel liked it. It was… sexy… kinda little bo peep meets stripper ho. The white corset laced over his stomach and stopped just under his chest, creating the illusion of a magnificent bust size. The skirt, a frilly scrap of white and pink lace, had a nasty habit of riding up over his ass at the slightest provocation. He hadn’t bothered with underwear.
“Listen, Al, I get that ya like bein all mysterious and intimidatin, but can I get some kinda idea of what ya want from me, cause— hnnnn,” Alastor pounced. The kiss tasted like spice and heat. All fire and tongue and hunger. Angel barely had time to mentally catch up to what was happening before a pair of clawed fingers were combing through the fluff on his chest to find and pinch his nipples while another hand pulled his skirt up over his hips. “Woah…woah…wait! Stop, Smiles! Fuckin’ slow down. I said STOP!”
Alastor’s face was hot, his eyes glazed and shuddering between dials and dilated pupils. He leaned away from the kiss just barely, hastily unfastening his pants. “Is there a problem, my effeminate fellow? I was under the impression you wanted this and as I am currently in… rut… as it were… I thought perhaps we could both benefit from a short and temporary little arrangement.” Al could use fancy words, but they tumbled out too quickly. He was a like a violin chord about to snap. Wait. Wait. Hold up.
“Ya thought… listen, asshole, I ain’t some fuckin pocket pussy. I ain’t always ready ta go and ya made it real clear ya weren’t interested… so maybe I ain’t interested no more neither! Eva think about that?”
Al looked down between them at Angel’s unimpressively sized but desperately dripping cock, standing tall and obvious now that the skirt had been lifted over his hips. Angel followed his gaze and felt his whole body heat up. “That don’t mean I’m fuckin’ down fa this shit and you know it!”
“Very well, mon cher. I will pay you. What is the going rate?” Al sat back, stroking a hand through Angel’s chest fluff idly.
“Don’t wanna.” Angel wiggled and writhed out from under the baffled Radio Demon, then straightened his outfit. “Go find someone else ta take care of ya weird deer shit. I got a numba of big spenders waitin ta watch me dance and throw cash at my feet. Ya money ain’t any betta’ and neither is ya fuckin dick.”
“Angel, I don’t think you understand. I won’t make this offer again. You are welcome to go, but this is a one time chance.” A one time chance… Angel would be lying to himself if he said he didn’t want to take the offer. Seeming to sense his reserve crumbling, Alastor casually removed his cock from the confines of his prim and proper dress pants.
Holy hell.
Angel sat back down heavily on the bed.
The Radio Demon was…huge. The rod, large, pulsating, and gray in color with a reddish hued tip, looked like it belonged on a much larger demon. It was thick, intimidatingly so, and long. If he had a cock like that why didn’t he use it all the time?
Of course this fucker was hung like a horse.
“Fuck. Whateva. Fine.” Angel grumbled, reaching for the dick. He wanted to taste it.
A tendril of shadow wrapped around his wrist. “No. No. On your stomach, now. Bottom up, if you please.”
“Ya serious, Smiles?” Angel crawled back onto the bed, awkwardly settling on his stomach, propping his soft white ass in the air. “Well, whateva’ ya want.”
There was a quiet rustle as Alastor moved behind him. A clawed hand cupped each round globe, spreading the cheeks apart. Angel was used to men… well, making a show of ogling his bits for the camera. It wasn’t like Alastor was the first to really take his time, but this felt different. It felt measured, uncertain, and calculated. The way the man’s hesitant, darting tongue teased the puckered hole and then gradually grew more insistent, pushing into it like a wet piston as his lips closed over the outside, made Angel keen and shudder. Then, it stopped.
Angel glanced back at Alastor, who seemed lost in thought, maybe a tad irritated, certainly sobered from the fog he’d been under. Whatever arousal the Radio Demon had been experiencing before was… gone. Limp, as it were.
“Smiles, ain’t no problem,” Angel whispered, rolling onto his back. “If ya ain’t feeling it no more, we can stop.” He offered his best winning smile to the Radio Demon, patting and tugging down the front of his skirt lightly to hide his disappointment.
Alastor climbed over top of him, lips pressing against Angel’s throat briefly. “No. Give me a moment.” He said, wrapping Angel’s thighs around his waist. He looked down at Angel with sharp eyes, seeming to devour every feature, to dive into his soul. The eye contact. That was something new. Angel felt pinned to the mattress by those eyes.
Angel couldn’t help but giggle as he felt Alastor’s rod rise gradually between his thighs. “So that’s what does it fa da big bad Radio Demon? Ya like my eyes?” A hand slid around Angel’s throat, squeezing gently, but firmly, like a quiet threat. “Nnnn. H-hey, Al. Can ya…” He didn’t have to say it. The hand squeezed harder, claws digging into his flesh, just as the mushroom-shaped head of the meaty cock pushed inside him.
It hurt. Fuck it hurt. Breathless burning in his chest while a hot poker spread open his slutty hole. He tried to rock his body to meet each thrust, tried to put on his usual show of loud, fake moans, but it hurt so good and Al’s grip on his throat had loosened to let him breath, and fingers were pinching and rolling his nipples.
He couldn’t focus on being sexy. He couldn’t focus on anything.
He was thrashing under Alastor, panting and whimpering, barely able to comprehend the strange husky words Alastor breathed into his ear. They sounded somewhat French. Soft little endearments in another tongue.
“Ahhh hhnnn nnnn, Al. Ah.” The thrusts moved faster. His back arched and his ass tightened when they hit something magical inside him, brushing his prostate. “Fuck. Ahhhh.”
He came between them with a desperate little moan.
Alastor continued well after. When he did finish, Angel was surprised to find his ass filled with hot cum. The final, powerful thrust and groan caught him off guard, as did the jizz overflowing from his hole. Sure, plenty of dudes wanted to raw dog him and then cum in his ass, but he generally didn’t allow it unless he absolutely had to. He felt… claimed? He hadn’t even thought to ask Alastor to wear a condom.
The Radio Demon slid quietly out of him and began dressing immediately. Cold. Distant. Out of reach.
“So, uh… is that eva gonna happen again? I mean, no pressure. It just wasn’t half-bad fa a sloppy fuck and I wouldn’t mind another go at it.” Angel said, reaching for his skirt while Alastor rigidly sat, already fully dressed, with his back to him. “I mean, I know ya said it would be a one time deal, but…”
A short burst of laughter. “Ha! No. This was merely an unfortunate lapse in judgement caused by untempered hormones. I do hope you will keep this little… mistake… quiet.”
Mistake? Well fuck you too.
“No problem, Smiles. It’ll be our dirty little secret.” He felt, rather than saw, Alastor shooting him a sideways glance. “Ha! Looks like I’ll hafta change inta’ clean getup fa work. We made a mess of this.”
Alastor went very still. He seemed to be calculating something in his head. He turned and looked at Angel, climbing on top of him and pushing the spider demon back into the mattress. “Then again, I suppose this may prove… beneficial… to continue. With certain terms and conditions, of course.”
Angel shuddered as hot lips trailed down his neck, teeth nibbling lightly. “Conditions? Like what? Listen, I really should get ta work. Val’s gonna throw a fit.”
Claws dug into his hip. From the corner of his eye, Angel saw a stack of cash appearing on the nightstand, materializing from the shadows. The teeth and lips trailed down his chest. Alastor’s face buried into the chest fluff.
“Smiles? H-hey, the nipples are…. Nnn… sensitive. Stop bitin’. I can’t—“
The stack of cash doubled in size.
Oh. So that’s how Alastor wanted to play this.
“Fine, I’m listenin’” Angel grumbled.
“Fantastic!” Alastor sat back, shadows twisting around him as green lights circled one of his hands. His grin was wide, half crazed as always. “Simply sign your afterlife over to myself and that should suit just fine.”
“Ya seriously think I’d sell my soul ta ya fa sex?” Angel balked. “I ain’t that stupid. Besides, Val—“
“I can make all of that go away~ Your obligation to Valentino. Wouldn’t you like to be your own man again? To feel free? I won’t make so many demands on you, not as many as he does anyway, and if you need a quick high,” a bag of glowing red dust hung in the air between them, sparkling and strange. “You will find I can provide that as well. What do you say?”
Angel hesitated. He didn’t know why the Radio Demon suddenly wanted to… fuck him…or to own his soul. He was fucking famous because of Val, for better or for worse. He was a star. Would Valentino let him leave? He doubted it. Maybe Alastor knew something he didn’t know. Maybe the Radio Demon had his ways. Maybe it was worth a try. The kisses were so intoxicating. Angel’s head was swimming.
At least there was a possibility he would be free…he could escape the abuse and the pain… among other things.
Would he be trading one gilded cage for another? Could Alastor even dissolve his arrangement with Valentino?
“I don’t know. I—“ Another slow deep kiss. Spice and heat. He didn’t know how he ended up shaking Alastor’s hand. It just… happened. At least Al didn’t pull a bait and switch on him. At least the kiss continued. Al’s forehead pressed against his own. They both exhaled…Shuddering sighs.
The handshake felt like shackles.