Chapter Text
It was the scent of Earth and copper, and something distinctly warm that hit Angel first upon entering the hotel. It was the fifth of March; four weeks to Angel’s birthday and five till his annual heat. There had only been a few occasions in which his heat and his birthday had coincided, and thanks to his boss it had been some of the worst birthdays Angel had ever experienced. Not that his birthdays were ever especially thrilling. Valentino didn’t exactly give gifts to his employees, the fact that it was his birthday yet again and he was still stuck in this miserable existence hardly felt like an occasion worth celebrating. Husk had tipped him off a few days earlier that Charlie was planning something. Angel really didn’t want her to do that. He had told her as much in no uncertain terms, “Do not throw me a party.” But as usual, Charlie had apparently taken that to mean, 'I secretly want a party but don’t want to seem needy.'
Angel sighed pushing his hair out of his face, the scent was getting stronger, he noticed as he made his way further into the hotel. He paused, looking around for the source of the intoxicating scent. Across the lobby, sitting at the bar was none other than the Radio Demon, currently nursing a high ball if Angel had to guess. A product of prohibition, Angel was good at guessing cocktails. He couldn’t help but follow the scent, and it seemed, strangely enough, to lead right to the chair Alastor was sitting in. Since when did he smell so good? Angel wondered as he eyed the demon. It was only after he had been standing awkwardly at his side for several moments that it occurred to Angel he had been staring, sniffing the Radio Demon of all people. Shit.
“This seat taken?” Angel asked gesturing to the empty seat beside Alastor. Alastor merely eyed him, then inclined his head by way of reply. Okay, Angel shook his head. Husk was nowhere in sight.
“You’ll find dear Husker is quite intoxicated at the moment. Wagered me his contract he could outdrink me,” Alastor chuckled, knocked back the drink in his hand, and placed the glass back down. “He’s had a lot of practice I’ll give him that.”
Angel stared at the overlord beside him for a long moment. “Why’d ya bet his contract?”
Alastor shrugged, “It’s a little game between us. He always thinks he can outdrink me. Never won yet. But he did come closer I suppose.”
“Didn’ know ya were such a lush, Smiles,” Angel ribbed good-naturedly elbowing Alastor’s side.
Alastor scoffed. “Hardly. These days I barely touch the old demon drink… outside of our little bets, of course.”
“Sure,” Angel replied sniffing the air again. The scent seemed even stronger now, definitely coming from the Radio Demon. Angel swallowed, his shirt was constricting. The collar too tight and the material too scratchy suddenly. Sweat beaded at his brow and it was only then that Angel realized he felt abnormally warm. Had it always been this hot in here? Alastor smiled at him, grinned more like, as though he was in possession of some great secret that Angel could not possibly fathom. Perhaps he was. Alastor leaned in and the scent grew stronger, and for the briefest of moments, Angel thought perhaps Alastor might whisper some secret of the universe to him. His scent grew stronger and headier the closer he got, it felt as though it was wrapped around him now. Caressing him as though it might have hands and a psychical form. Wet leaves, something woodsy, not pine, but maple perhaps, and the tang of copper. Or maybe it was blood. That certainly felt more apt for the Radio Demon. He was a cannibal after all. Or at least—Angel still wasn’t sure about all that. Alastor had never confirmed or denied the whole cannibal thing and thus far they weren’t exactly close enough for Angel to just ask. Although—
“Anybody ever tell ya ya smell like blood?” Angel asked.
At this Alastor laughed, not the fake laugh he offered so many who spoke to him but a real, genuinely amused laugh, and why did that send a shiver up Angel’s spine?
“When one is bathed in it as much as I, it becomes a part of you,” Alastor replied easily, twirling his microphone in his hand. Even in his inebriated state, Alastor was impressively steady on his feet and dextrous. Angel wondered if that wasn't just part of his powers.
And really what could Angel say to that, other than. “Oh.”
“Are you aware that you, yourself, smell like powdered sugar and sweet magnolias?” Alastor asked. Angel blinked, staring at the other demon for a long moment, not sure he had heard him right.
“Magnolias?” It was such a specific scent combination, far too specific to be as random as it felt but for the life of him, Angel had no idea what it meant.
Alastor sighed, taking a deep breath as though he were scenting the air. “It reminds me of my Mamman’s garden,” he said wistfully.
“I think ya need ta get some sleep,” Angel decided, shaking his head as he escorted Alastor up the stairs toward his bedroom. The scent only seemed to be getting stronger the closer they got and the warmth was prickling at his fur. Angel didn’t know what to make of it. And then he felt it, the telltale sign that everything was wrong and fucked up and he was in deep trouble. Slick dribbled down the front of his thighs. Shit, he needed to make an escape and quick, lest he embarrass himself further. Alastor sighed taking a deep breath, and let out a hum. Angel flushed, shaking his head as he stopped outside of Alastor’s door. “Well, here ya go, gotta run.” Alastor didn’t make a move to stop him, he was far too lethargic. Angel ran. He needed to get to his room and fast.
He needed to get out of these clothes, everything was far too hot, too itchy, too much.
🩷 ❤️
Alastor was bored. Maddeningly, transcendentally, unfathomably bored. He didn’t sleep, and the alcohol had long since run its course leaving him with little to occupy his attention. It didn’t hurt that Angel Dust’s scent had been flittering through his mind and his nostrils incessantly for the past few hours. Irritatingly pungent, infuriatingly sweet. Alastor detested sweets as a rule, and yet… Satan help him he wanted to drown in that scent. It was an odd thought, deeply unsettling and Alastor wanted nothing more than to shake that thought free of his mind. Which was perhaps how he had ended up tuning in to the radios throughout the hotel, in search of what he could not say. It was something of a common occurrence for the overlord. Listening in on various radios, a security measure he liked to think. It allowed him to ensure the residents were safe, or at least that had been its intended purpose.
Alastor flicked through the stations at a rapid clip, there were at least a dozen radios across the hotel, each one at a precise location. Charlotte and Vagatha’s quarters, Sir Pentious’ ship, Niffty’s cubby, Husk’s bar, Angel’s room… Alastor paused. It was a sound that had caused him to pause. A moan. Low, drawn out, and absolutely filthy. It sent a shudder down Alastor's spine. He did not watch pornography as a rule, so he was unfamiliar with Angel Dust’s work. He would not know for instance, that despite his boss’ insistence that Angel should be loud and cloying, the real Angel Dust was determined to keep his moans down lest he attract attention. Biting one of his fists in an effort to aid this endeavor. He also would not have known that the breathy, intoxicating sounds he was currently hearing were not common, and many a demon would have paid through the nose to hear such delectable sounds. Sounds that he was hearing for free.
“Fuuuck,” Angel whined, and Alastor knew he should change the station, but he hesitated. He could only imagine what Angel was doing at present. He was hardly familiar with the spider's anatomy and he was not taken to presuming such things or even (really) giving them much thought on a general basis. But those sweet whines made him curious. Alastor considered this as he eyed his calendar. Odd. His rut was not due for another seven months yet, and Alastor hardly liked to indulge in any sort of fornication outside of that. Not that he had ever taken a sexual partner, let alone a mate. There had never really been the desire to. Not in all the eighty-odd years he’d been in Hell. Why then, did he want to take Angel? Why did he want to hear those sounds emanating all around him, from beneath him as he ravaged the spider, claiming him and knotting him? Mating him even. “Mmm, right there, oh, Al…” Alastor’s ears pricked up at that. Surely he’d been mistaken. Surely there was no possible way that Angel had moaned, “D-don’t stop. Al… oooh. Alastor.” The Radio Demon froze in his chair, for a moment he was worried that perhaps he’d been caught listening in, perhaps Angel was teasing him. Alastor was not immune to such jocularity himself, after all. But Angel didn’t seem to be stopping. He didn’t seem to be teasing him either. He had no idea Alastor was even listening, and that made him feel guilty. He could feel his shadow panting, its hunger was as palpable as his own. Quickly, Alastor turned off the radio and pulled out a book instead, hoping against hope it would calm the fluttering in his chest.
🩷 ❤️
Angel Dust had had many many many orgasms over the course of his time in Hell. Some of which had been good, most of which had been fake, but none of them, not a single one had ever been like this, and didn’t that throw him for a loop. For the life of him, he couldn’t seem to stop being horny. It had been three days, three whole days of coming, seemingly endlessly, and nothing had quelled the fire. Angel was starting to think he was going mad.
In the immediate aftermath of that first time, Angel had thought perhaps it had to be a fluke. He was Angel Dust, for fuck sake, he had had lots of sex, it was his job! Surely, surely he could find relief. Someone to scratch the itch. He had gone back to work the next day, aching for more.
Unfortunately for Angel, it seemed that his scene partners couldn’t quite measure up. He couldn’t stop thinking about the Radio Demon. The scent of him filled his mind, and no matter how much he tried, he couldn’t seem to get enough.
Angel groaned.
I just gotta go through my little black book of Johns and find one of my best guys. He told himself firmly.
Few would have known it, but Angel kept meticulous lists when it came to his work appointments. Whole separate books, each color-coded no less. There was the blue one which contained his fine list. Not fantastic but not bad. Serviceable. Then there was the red one which contained his less-than-stellar list. There were about half a dozen red books at this point. Then there was the black book, the one which was the 'absolutely never again no amount of money would make this worth it', Vox and Valentino were technically in the book for the day in which he could somehow, some way tell them to fuck off once and for all. The last book, the book that had very few names on it, was the pink book. His favorite. The best of the best. A handful of Johns who over the decades had been good enough that Angel had actually considered not charging them. It was a small list, five names at most. One of whom was, much to Angel’s surprise at the time, not a man at all, but a very handsome butch alpha named Lex who had worked with Angel on a shoot a few years back (aptly named: Femboy Omega Twink gets Dyked Down by Alpha Butch) who could work a strap on like nobody’s business. Blushing at the memory, he decided to save her for last.
Which meant that the first call would be to, you’ve got to be shitting me. Angel stared at the name on the page, Karl. Karl had been a set up from Val, a deathday gift about a dozen years ago, and if memory served, another fucking deer demon. Nope. Nope nope. Angel sighed. He was cutting his list in half already by taking two off right off the bat which meant he had three more names to choose from. There was Francois a former gymnast and fellow spider demon and that was where he had decided to begin.
Shortly after arriving at his chosen destination for this clandestine rendezvous (a cheap motel where no one asked questions which was, well all motels in Hell), Angel quickly began to wonder how many on his best-of list were lays he'd had when he was high off his ass on about a hundred different drugs. Val always blew that goddamn smoke in his face and (especially in the beginning) the effect was mostly to keep him needy and horny, effectively in heat regardless of season. Omega porn was hot after all, and Angel was a commodity.
No sooner had Francois started in on him than Angel had found himself staring at the headboard, bored. It was not nearly enough, and frankly not doing anything for him. The scent was wrong, the environment wrong, everything about this was just...wrong, after about five minutes, Angel did something he had never ever done before. He tapped out. With apologies, Angel slipped into his clothes and vanished from the motel room, leaving Francois to his own devices. He hadn’t charged him for it anyway so it was just the same.
Angel had tried the other two names on the list all to the same effect, none of them could even come close. Lighting up a cigarette for want of anything better to do, Angel decided to bite the bullet and text Karl.
To Angel’s dismay, however, it seemed that Karl had been offed in one of the last exterminations, which left him with only one choice. Lex.
“Hey sweetie,” she said answering on the third ring. Angel blushed.
“Hey Lex. Listen I’m uh—this is gonna sound weird…” Lex laughed.
“You think you’re the first Twink to get addicted to my strap?” She asked.
“I think I’m going nuts here,” Angel said, scratching the back of his head. “I almost feel like I’m preheating or something.”
“What like an oven?” Lex asked with a chuckle.
“I mean… my heat isn’t due for like a month, but I’m so fucking wet and horny all the time. It’s driving me up the wall, and I keep trying to fuck but it’s never right ya know?”
“I do,” she said easily. Angel sighed, scrubbing his face with his hands. “You still in the biz?”
“Sadly.”
“And I take it your costars have been little help.”
“I’ve even taken to going through my little pink book of all time favs.”
“Naturally I was on the list,” Lex said, confident as ever, it wasn’t a question. Angel had enjoyed that about her. The two had stayed friends, though they didn’t talk often.
Angel laughed, “Yeah yeah babe yer a big swinging dick alpha butch," he was pretty sure that had been a line from their film. "Look the point is. There were like five names on the list including yours. An' none of them are doin’ it fa me.” Usually, during his heat, nearly anyone would do, that was part of the allure after all. But this was different and he couldn't figure out why.
“Aww, you poor thing.”
“Val is gonna kill me, I’m not even sure I can fake it anymore.”
“Wow, sounds serious,” Lex said. “Listen, I’d love to help but I’m kind of outta the biz, plus I’m married. I mean don’t get me wrong, the wife’s a big fan of yours. Who isn’t?” She laughed.
Angel smiled, “That’s great. I’m happy for you Lex,” and he was. Hell, he was jealous too.
“I still know a few dykes who’d be willing to fuck your brains out if ya like.”
“Tempting, but… I think I just have to admit defeat on this one. I’m 0 for 3 at this point, to say nothing of the six guys on the shoot the other night,” he was losing count. “My hands are cramping, all of them, and all I can think about is the scent of this guy.”
“Oh?” Lex asked. “Tell me about it.”
“It’s like… I don’t even know how to describe it. Earthy, I guess. Like wet leaves but in a good way. And warm, and he’s so fuckin’ hot. Every time I think about him I get turned on. Fuck I sound so dumb.”
“You don’t,” Lex said. “That’s how I felt when I met my mate.” Angel snorted, he didn’t believe in mates. Valentino had always told him it was all some fairytale bullshit that wasn’t worth knowing. Too many alphas wanted him to be just another warm hole for their knot. Angel shook his head. “Tell me about him.”
“He’s uh— heh, an overlord.”
“No shit,” he could hear Lex smirking on the other end of the line. “You always did have a type.”
Angel laughed despite himself. “Bad for me? Yeah. But he’s—I dunno, different. He’s classy. Way too good for me.”
“Nobody’s too good for you Angel Dust,” she said. It wasn’t a question. Angel wanted to believe it so badly, but he just couldn’t.
“I’m not even sure if he likes me.”
“Who wouldn’t like you?” Lex asked. Angel mumbled a name under his breath. “What was that?”
Angel looked around to make sure no one could hear him, then said it again, slightly louder though low enough that any passersby that happened by wouldn’t hear it. “The Radio Demon.”
“Ho-ly shit!” Lex whistled. “Isn’t he like… a hardcore killer? Not to mention notoriously a bachelor.”
“Don’t remind me.”
“How did you meet anyway?”
“This hotel I’m stayin’ at,” Angel replied. He hadn’t realized he hadn’t talked to Lex in forever, he’d been so desperately needy he hadn’t even thought how awkward it was to call a coworker he had filmed with once and had talked with only a handful of times since.
“Hotel huh?”
“Yeah, ya know, Princess Charlie’s little redemption gig.”
“No shit. I’ll have to check it out. Maybe me and the missus can get redeemed with ya,” she chuckled.
“Do they let gays into Heaven now? When I died it was pretty much a no-go.”
Lex laughed. “Any club that wouldn’t have us ain’t worth shit Ange.”
“Amen to that,” he sighed. “It was good to catch up by the way.”
“Yeah. And hey we should hang out sometime. I’d love for you to meet my wife. She still cannot believe we worked together.”
Angel chuckled, smiling despite himself. “Thanks.”
“And hey who knows. Maybe someday soon we can go on a double date. You and the Radio Demon and me an’ Beth. I’d love to meet him in person.”
Angel snorted at that. “Don’t hold yer breath on that one babe. I highly doubt we’re gonna run off into the sunset together, considering who he is.”
“You never know. Anything is possible. And fuck if anyone deserves to have a happy ending that isn’t just coming, it’s you.”
“Thanks,” Angel said. Finishing off his cigarette, Angel walked the rest of the way back to the Hotel. He needed a shower. He hadn’t even gotten far with the Johns he’d fucked, he certainly hadn’t come and neither had they but he suddenly felt kind of gross. He wanted their scent off of him lest Alastor get the wrong idea.
After his shower, and his favorite dusting powder one with a bit of sparkle that made his chest fluff glitter, Angel had found himself curled up in his favorite fluffy robe, sprawled out on his bed with Fat Nuggets curled up against his side. Despite himself, he couldn’t stop thinking about Alastor. He groaned, feeling like a complete and total idiot.
He needed to get over this. But how?