Chapter Text
“Then I expect the Vs to send troops to fight off the next wave of Exterminators sent to attack the Hazbin Hotel, just like our deal stated. Twice as much as we initially agreed on, since you asked for more, remember?”
Vox winces, attempting to cover up his disappointment with a casual smile.
“Right.”
The exhilarating euphoria that was once there swiftly faded away, now an empty void slowly picking at Vox's insides.
That's right. Like always, Alastor hadn't actually reached out to him because he wished to have 'sex' with the other, but because he needed something of Vox's; be it manpower, or information, or money, or..
His face fell, slightly. He reached out with his left hand to graze the ports at the back of his head, where Alastor's tendrils had previously invaded his system. They still tingled, sensitive due to the ruthless abuse Vox had just put them through.
By the time Vox'd managed to get his head together, Alastor had gone off into the bathroom, presumably to fix his puffy hair. Vox snapped himself out of it and shuffled awkwardly off the bed, pants still uncomfortably wet. Thankfully, he'd remembered to bring an extra set of clothes with him (not like last time, thank God), and so made his way to the small duffel bag he'd brought with him.
Does Alastor even like engaging with Vox in this way? Or does he have to “tolerate” Vox's pitiful need for physical pleasure, just as a way of upholding his end of the deal? Does this even mean anything to him?
He barely registers the bathroom door open, and nonchalantly steps in to change, not bothering to look at the other man, or remembering to close the door behind him.
He glances up at his reflection and notices how off-put he looks, if not absolutely pathetic. He's sweaty, and his clothes are all ruffled, not to even address the big stain in the middle of his crotch. Christ. Is this really what he's letting himself be reduced to?
He sighs. Keep it together, for fuck's sake.
The image of Alastor looking at Vox's way, completely and utterly apathetic towards his clear state of sexual ecstasy, can't seem to escape his mind. Vox's shoulders fall as he starts unbuckling his belt.
Alastor's cheerful humming can be heard from the bedroom, coated in the usual radio filter that complements his voice. Vox casually listens in while undressing, new set of clothes set carefully on the side. He remains quiet.
He's a mess- he knows he is, this isn't exactly a situation you get yourself into if you're a normal person; practically begging your arch rival to strip you of your dignity and leave you bare, while he's sitting comfortably right across from you, lofty and unbothered. Sure, there've been times when it's bothered him, boiling rage building up inside him and an urge to grab the Radio Demon by the neck and rip him in half for even daring to so blatantly disregard him, but now?
Now, he's just... sad. “Bumped out”. No intense hatred, no overwhelming urge for revenge, like usual. He just feels tired, and … confused. What's wrong with him?
A quick look at his reflection again, and only now does he notice how strained his eyes look- weak frown plastered all over his flat face. He scoffs. Maybe....
“Oh, why so glum, old friend? Did tonight not live up to your expectations?”
Vox internally jumped out of his skin. Thankfully, he just managed to pull off a careless façade before embarrassing himself.
He looks at Alastor with a relaxed smile. “ 'f course it did. You know how much I like what you do with those tentacle things of yours.” Vox breaks eye contact and looks back into the mirror, desperately trying to seem preocuppied with wiping something off his screen. “I keep telling ya it'd sell big time in the industry, too bad you're not interested in the whole thing.”
Alastor is leaning on the bathroom's doorframe, one hand behind his back, the other holding unto his microphone. He eyes Vox with amusement, his grin growing.
“Then perhaps it's the payback that's troubling you so much? I say, I'd be a real shame if Voxtek isn't resourceful enough to follow up on their own side of a deal.. ”
Vox wheezed out an exaggerated laugh. “As if! I'm not so stupid as to make a deal I can't keep, jackass.”
Alastor didn't seem to react to Vox's response at all, preferring to passively inspect his sharp nails instead. “Hmm..”
Vox stares for a moment, conflicted, then decides it's not worth it trying to decipher whatever that was. Instead, he turns to the pile of clothes he'd left on the side of the sink.
He then notices just how underclothed he is, only in his fresh pair of boxers and undershirt.
He hastily attempts to cover his screen, red flashing at its bottom, before realising it'd be worse for his pride if Alastor saw him lose his composure.
He grabs his pants and tries to casually put them on, while Alastor is still just standing there, for some reason. His stomach turns and he senses a feeling blooming in his chest.
“W-What's your deal, anyway?” he says, failing to sound collected.
The taller man finally looks at him, eyebrow raised. He stares him up and down, making Vox sweat.
“My deal?”
“Yeah, what 'cha standing there for? Wanna join me?”
Alastor cackles, stock laughtrack hollering in the background. “Haha! Hah, no.”
The rejection stung more than it should've. It's not like Vox has never heard a 'no' from Alastor before. The pit in his gut continues to grow. “But-”
“My dear fellow”, Alastor cut him off, “there will never be a time nor place in which I'll ever want to 'join'. No matter how many times you so hopelessly ask me to!”
Alastor sounds on edge, his voice getting higher and his hands swinging in all directions. He seems to get more animated by the second as he steps closer to Vox.
“But I do admit, it is simply too entertaining! Watching you battle your own desires, trying so desperately to hold unto your morale. Ç'est passionnant! ”
Alastor is close now, their chests being merely a few inches apart. Vox's heartbeat has increased, palms sweaty and eyes locked on the demon towering over him.
“Besides,” he taps Vox's head with his staff, “with a picturebox as ugly as yours, I'm amazed any sane sinner would be willing to have intercourse with you. But what do I know!”
Alastor chuckles to himself and takes a few steps back. He shoots Vox a smug look, before finally turning around and exiting the bathroom- closing the door behind him.
Vox is stunned. Even after the other demon is gone, he still stares straight ahead into the door, heart beating out of his chest. He takes a moment with his head in his hands before being able to form any coherent thoughts.
He's not- He doesn't-
He can't keep doing this. He can't go on like this, knowing that however much his heart aches for the other man, he will see him the same way. He's- He's a joke to him, a fucking bizarre little man with obsessive fantasies who he only keeps around for his own entertainment.
Vox chokes.
Alastor will never understand, will never feel for him the same way Vox does, and he can't keep hiding away from that fact.
Maybe this deal isn't for him any more.
.
Vox puts on the rest of his clothes, and opens the bathroom door.
Rain has picked up outside, windows now being closed to keep the cold out. The bed's also been remade.
Alastor is sitting at a small coffee table in the kitchen, cup of black coffee in hand and a slightly more modern mix of Rube Bloom's “St James Infirmary” playing on his own radio frequency. He notices him immediately, his smile widening.
“I'll be going now, the marketing department needs me for their financial-”
“It was a pleasure seeing you, Vox! I take it we'll be meeting again, sometime soon?”
Alastor takes a sip of his coffee.
Vox rolls his eyes, but keeps his charismatic front. He feels his insides groaning, pressing him to spill all his thoughts and feelings to Alastor right then and there. His fingers trickle with energy as the urge to grab him by his stupid coat and kiss him on the spot starts becoming too much.
“Sure thing.”
Vox picks up the rest of his stuff, both he and Alastor knowing fully well he hadn't brought an umbrella with him.
He quietly leaves through the front door without looking behind him or saying goodbye.
A chuckle, “Orevwa, cheri mwen~!”