Chapter Text
“Knock, knock!” a cheerfully comical chipper slid through a crack in the doorway from outside the entrance of the Hazbin Hotel. The fluff of Alastor’s ears perked at the commotion, his shadow whispering in hissed curiosity.
He strode to the door, peering through the peephole momentarily, before scowling to himself. But as quick as it happened, he plastered a contradictory smile and swung open the door to greet the King of Hell.
“Your Grace ! To what do I owe the pleasure?” Alastor questioned, his words jumbling together with how quick they were.
Lucifer laughed, his teeth tightening beneath pulled lips. “ Oh ! It’s you.” Lucifer’s voice depleted with every word. “Is er- Charlie around?”
Alastor chuckled. “No, the Princess is not here, Your Grace. May I take a message?”
Lucifer frowned. “It’s family business,” he turned a shoulder in the direction of the door. “I shall be going then.”
Alastor’s claw reached out to grasp his sleeve, pulling Lucifer back a few steps in surprise. “Apologies, Your Grace, but you can trust that I’ll give her the message, since she may not be around for a while. News is always best spoken through radio. ”
Lucifer’s eyes flared as he jerked from Alastor’s grasp in a very non-climactic way. “Well the news is not for radio,” he snapped. “It’s private .”
Alastor sighed, but quickly gave a charming smile. “If you insist Your Highness,” his eyes gleamed. “I’ll inform you when the Princess is present. Have a nice-” SLAM
“Golly, well fuck him then.” He chuckled in frustration to himself, his shadow curling in discontent. “I guess we’ll have to find out the hard way, hm?”
His shadow preened; it liked Alastor’s plan. “Who knows, maybe it will be nothing useful, and we’ll have done it all for nothing besides your own sick enjoyment.” He gazed at his shadow; contradicting himself with a tone that seemed scolding but eyes so filled with so much affection. “But before we get to do what you want, let’s focus on my desires , shall we?”
───※ ·❆· ※───
Alastor’s moans echoed into the ears of no one as his cock slid in and out of a dismembered corpse. He was going fast, blood squelching in and out as more and more pooled out from the hole Alastor was filling with his pleasure juices. His shadow was pressed behind him, helping him stay upright as he towered over his latest victim; a small henchman of an overlord Alastor was planning on overtaking. A meaningless life, no one would notice he was gone, but Alastor knew he would remember exactly how every single cut open hole felt around his dick.
Alastor didn’t like live organisms. They were too warm, too hot, too fleshy. Corpses were cold, like an ice pack over his overheated body. They soothed him, and he knew he had complete control over them. He knew one wasn’t going to turn around and stab him in the back, or touch him in a way he didn’t want. He was the one doing the touching. His way. The only thing that was hot was fresh blood, but once that ran cold, that was when Alastor could dive in.
He never kissed the corpses, or did anything that would be considerately “romantic” in any way. He didn’t entirely like having to do what he did, but it was better than having someone grope and pull him into an act he didn’t desire. He craved control, he craved someone beneath him, someone who wouldn’t move. Someone who just wouldn’t touch him. He truly didn’t want to violate the corpses in any way, he didn’t completely want to become a monster. He saw it as a carnal urge, a need. This was how he fulfilled it, and then he was done. He didn’t linger, he did what he needed to do. Then he left.
He hated seeing their eyes, so he would always close them. It made him feel like they were watching him. It made him feel shame for wanting the dead things in the first place. But that shame only lasted moments, before desire overflooded him, along with his orgasm. Staring down at closed eyes was a lot better than open ones. Because then Alastor could imagine those eyes were closed in ecstasy, that the corpse actually wanted this, and was allowing it. Rather than him giving into weakness and taking something that was never his.
When he was finished he stood up, white dripping onto the henchman’s torso. Alastor teared his eyes away from the sight. He grinned maliciously at the field, littered with bodies he’d killed, and he almost was aroused again but he shook his head out of a flurry. He stepped over the corpse, daintily dropping a handkerchief over the freshly fucked hole and walked away, his shadow curling behind him, arousal hot on its breath.
“Okay, okay. We can worry about you now.”