Chapter Text
Alastor did not like sweet things. Never had a taste for them. Even the mere thought of munching on a praline sent his hair on ends and his mouth feeling like he had eaten something rotten.
He watched with an utter mix of disgust and something else as Angel Dust continued to suck on a popsicle. The thought of that sweet sugary taste running down his throat made him want to gag. It was just them two sitting in the hotel's lounging room, Charlie and Vaggie had stepped out of the hotel to find more people looking for redemption, Nifty was cleaning the guest rooms, and Husk was nowhere to be found for once, though Alastor had an inkling feeling he was no doubt playing poker and making bets somewhere.
"Angel," he found himself saying, refocusing back on the demon he was stuck making conversation with, "Why in the hell are you eating such a disgusting stick of sweetness?"
The spider demon eyed the grinning one and as usual perked up a bit more. No longer was he sitting in a relaxed, slouched position but in a more suggestive manner, his chest puffing out more and eyelids drooping halfway, "Well, I'd rather I be eating your-,"
"That's quite enough of that," the Radio Demon said quickly, holding a hand up to silence the pornstar. He didn't even know why he bothered asking him questions, he was only ever met with lewd responses.
Angel simply shrugged, "Your loss, Smiles," he said, returning back to sucking on his treat. Alastor thought that would've been the last of it, but to his surprise Angel was speaking again, "To give you a proper answer, it tastes good. A better flavor than most things I've had to put in my mouth," he said, back arching slightly as he threw his head back in a laughing fit.
Alastor's smile never left as he craned his neck slightly to the left, baffled at the other's sudden laughter, his eyes squinted as though trying to find a logical reason to why it was hilarious. Personally he found those jokes to be tasteless, a bit on the lackluster type of what true comedy was. Not that the other demon in front of him would have the slightest idea of what true class and taste was. Alastor had the brief passing thought that perhaps he should educate the other into more beneficial ideals of what true humor was. However, that would require him to actually spend more time with the annoying Spider, and well, Alastor wasn't sure if he wanted to put himself through that whole ordeal.
But it would make things a lot more interesting , his mind whispered and for a moment static filled the air and a thrill of excitement rushed through him. Oh the possibilities; to watch Angel struggle to reach his level and the frustration he would feel from the excruciating task of having him, Alastor, teach him. The disappointment he'd feel, the torture he'd go through... The demon felt his smile widen and his eyes flashed a dark red as he looked towards the other.
Angel seemed to have settled down while he was lost in thought, but his eyes were now staring at Alastor with expectancy to which the Radio Demon felt at a loss for words. He stared back, watching as Angel made a gesture with his hand to signal he was waiting for a reply of some sort. Alastor felt his face heat up and he filed the unexpected reaction away for later to analyze.
"Was there something you wanted, Angel, dear?" He asked. The Spider Demon gave him a look of displeasure and rolled his eyes.
"I asked you what your favorite sweet was," he repeated, slightly annoyed. Alastor's ear twitched as he watched Angel lick at some of the melting popsicle liquid sliding down the side of his gloved hand. Why was the action so distracting for him?
"I've never had a taste for sweets," he finally said, breaking himself from the distracting sight. Angel peered up at him mid-lick before straightening up all the way, eyes wide.
"Whoa what ?" He blinked, giving a small disbelieving scoff, "You're joking right, Smiles? Everyone, and I mean everyone likes sweets! How could ya fucking not!"
Alastor blinked, smile wide but not amused, "I've never liked them. Not even when alive. Sweet things just never tasted as good as the bitter."
Angel scoffed, "Let me guess, you're one of those "I like my coffee black like my soul" kind of people, aren't ya?"
"Perhaps," Alastor mused.
"I can't believe it! Your whole getup screams Strawberry Pimp! Strawberries are sweet!"
Angel had shifted his position so that he was completely facing Alastor, eyes wide and popsicle juice still dripping down his arm. Alastor cringed inwardly at the sight before reaching into his inner coat pocket and pulling out a clean handkerchief. He reached out and took hold of Angel's messy arm and began cleaning it.
"Please refrain from calling me a pimp. I am a Radio Host," he chided sternly, "And as you can clearly see, my ensemble is not that of some earthly fruit, but that of a bloody carnage! Why, my different shades of red are a wonderful reminder of all the poor souls foolish enough to cross my path! The ones who trifled with the wrong foe," his voice dropped an octave lower as the sound of static in the air grew louder and the room was filled with a heavy feeling. Alastor's smile turned darker and his eyes screamed of bloodlust as they glowed with a haunting red that sent shivers up Angel's spine.
The Spider demon placed the sweet treat in his mouth, mindlessly moving it in and out and suckong gently to get the flavor out. He wouldn't deny that the action wasn't done without a certain desire of something else, "God that's hot ," he said throatily, swallowing the cherry flavored liquid with an audible gulp, "I'm usually a fan of sweets, but damn it all if you're not convincing me to switch," he flirted, leaning into Alastor's personal space. The Radio Demon snapped out of his demonic hunger and leaned back instinctively, dropping the dirty cloth.
"Yes, well I can assure you this is one cup of bitterness you won't be drinking from!" He grinned, to which an audible audience laughter could be heard afterwards. Angel looked around briefly, confused.
"How'd you do that?" He asked.
"Do what?" The other asked.
"The laughing schtick!" Angel clarified. Alastor blinked, eyes squinting with mirth and smile twitching up a bit more.
"I'm sure I don't have the faintest idea of what you're talking about," he replied back and just for the hell of it, the audience laughter returned. Angel squinted at him suspiciously and jolted at the laughter.
"You do too!" He said, pushing away from him and huffing, his second set of hands crossing over his stomach as he irritably shoved whatever remained of his popsicle into his mouth.
Alastor once more continued to watch him, chuckling to himself. He was finding that he had rather enjoyed their conversation and had to take a moment to assess the comfortable air between them. Angel was quite vexing in more ways than one and irritated Alastor's nerve to no ends, even his lewd and poorly made jokes were a bane to his existence. But for the briefest of moments, his dislike towards the Spider Demon were gone and his smile didn't feel as forced around him.
"You can be quite the character, Angel dear," he mused quietly.
"So back to the whole sweet thing," Angel continued, having not heard Alastor's soft words, "Would you be willing to try?" He grinned, slyly, nudging him, "Hmmm?"
Alastor laughed and shook his head, "Of course not, my effeminate fellow! Didn't like them alive, don't like them dead! I can assure you that sugar is absolutely-!" He stopped mid-sentence as suddenly a figure was on him, warms lips pressing hungrily against his followed by a sweet, cold something covering his tongue. There was a loud microphone feedback that went off in him and he jerked back as though he'd been burned. His face burned and he felt a mix of emotions flare through him. Anger, confusion, desire, bloodlust-he let out a growl and spat out the sweet taste that invaded his mouth.
Angel sat in his seat smugly, the bare popsicle stick in his hand, "It's cherry flavored! Everyone loves cherry flavored things! Plus it's red like blood!"
Alastor's face was twisted up into a scowl making his smile seem all the less cheery and more frightening, his head seemed to jerk to the side with a crack as he stared at Angel with fury, "I can assure you, dearest Angel ," he spat with a growl, "It tastes nothing of the sort."
Static rose again and Alastor's shadow grew around him. The room seemed to fill up like a tub with water as it filled every nook and cranny until it left a small writhing circle around the spot where Angel was sitting. The Spider Demon tensed a bit, pupils shrinking as he felt his whole body being filled with a sense of horrible dread. He wrapped his arms around himself, feeling as though he was suffocating. Ink black tentacles grabbed and lapped at him from the sides, one of them slithering up his leg and coiling tightly around his chest, making him shudder and let out a sharp puff of air. The thin end of the tentacle wrapped around his neck, squeezing and making it difficult for him to breathe. Alastor walked forward then, the shadows warping and clearing a path as he marched towards Angel.
He half expected to hear the other make some form of sexual comments towards the predicament he found himself in, but like many who come face to face with even a small increment of the Radio Demon's powers, they learned fast to keep their lips sealed. He craned his neck even further to the side, eyes an ominous red and smile dripping with black blood oozing from his lips.
"I'd advise you that next time, Angel dearest ," he said, stopping in front of the other, leaning in close so that his breath was tickling the side of Angel's face, "It would be in your best interest to choose wisely over the decisions you make. I've killed and fed on other demons for less."
He then took a step back, and with it, the tentacles and heavy darkness vanished. Angel sucked in a deep breath, two hands reaching up to rub at his sore neck and clutch his stomach and his other two holding tightly to the countertop behind him to balance his shaky nerves. Alastor resumed his cheery self and clapped his hands together.
"Very well then! I hate to cut our time together short, my dear friend, but I must go and attend to my daily show! Audiences await to hear my carnage!" And with a quick deep bow towards the other, he was gone within a flurry of shadows.
Angel sat in the lounging hotel room by himself. For a moment all was quiet. His mind was blank but one thing was certain, despite the fear that was definitely coursing through his body was a hidden hunger underneath.
"Holy Shit," he finally said to no one, "Tentacles. He fucking used his tentacles !" He took in a deep breath and exhaled shakily, cheeks flushed red as a familiar heat spread through his veins, "Well, fuck . Mark me down as scared and horny!"
-
Unbeknownst to anyone, Alastor sat contemplating at his desk in his radio tower. He stared with his eyes glaring holes into the wall across from him. His ears twitched restlessly, a sign that he was agitated. His hands were clasped tightly together, claws bearing down into his flesh and sending a shudder through him. He exhaled, smile growing wider still till his face muscles began to hurt slightly.
He hated sweets.
But yet.
A memory flashed and he recalled those lips against his and the sweetness that accompanied them. He snapped his fingers and the popsicle piece that Angel has snuck into his mouth appeared in front of him, unmelted. It was indeed red and smelled sickenly of cherries. The sweet scent sent his fur on edge and his eye twitched, smile thinning to show his displeasure.
It's not the sweet that upsets you, is it? His mind whispered. He growled and his lips quivered, twitching in the slightest. He squeezed his hand tightly, claws digging deep into his skin and drawing blood from under his gloves. The piece of popsicle before him flickered into a spark of fire before being enveloped by its monstrous flames. Alastor watched with disdain and mild satisfaction as it burned, wiping away the memory of it until there was nothing left of it. He slunk back in his seat and gingerly lifted a hand to his lips. The sensation of the Spider demon's lips lingering against his.
He snatched his hand away and promptly shook his head. He had more important matters to attend to. He had a show to run and a plan to act on.
There was no time to dwell on such frivolous thoughts. There was nothing to gain from pursuing the pornstar demon and it was a pointless waste of time to do so.
And with that set, he cut off those thoughts and sat back in his seat. His eyes switched to radial dials and a rush of energy fled out of the room.
"Good Evening my fellow putrid fiends! And welcome the show! To start things off, we'll shift tonight's focus on our very own Hazbin Hotel ! So sit back, have a snack, and stay tuned ."