△ on the air △

Vox rolls his eyes at Alastor's contrarianism. Like he's not so used to the Radio Demon's mastery in disagreement just for the sake of stealing away small victories. Even seeing through it, it still irked him. So. Seemed the intended effect still landed.

Feeling Alastor squirm, Vox wondered if this was it, if Alastor would finally push him away and end the absurd string of events they'd just shared. But. No. Somehow that hadn't happened yet. So Vox, pathetic asshole that he was, buried closer, ready to milk the moment while it lasted. He told himself it wasn't an Alastor thing. It was just that he was generally lacking person to person contact lately.

It wasn't a particularly strong excuse, and he was mildly aware it would fold under any deeper scrutiny.

"They're not an erogenous zone, asshole- Or. I mean. They kind of are. But that's not the point, okay! Either way it's fucking weird of you to stick your fingers in them. That's even more 'not normal' if you want to go there-- Woah!"

Vox's spine firmed up as he felt the shift down below and the sticky crusting suddenly turned to dry freshness, his eyes widened and he blinked a couple times processing.

"Why would I want your underwear?" Alastor shot back, staring at the other incredulously. "No! I just replaced it with something that does not make me look like a deviant by association while you continue to cement yourself to me." A final acknowledgement of Vox essentially sticking to him like a rather insistent glue.

"You could have kept me from putting my hands in there any time, by the by. You are not helpless."

If he was going to be blamed for chasing a curiosity, then he would turn that right back around on the other, reaching up with a hand that still lightly tingled from the earlier shocks to flick at one of those stupid antennae.

Ears still folded back, he stared at Vox from where they were. They could not just stay like this, he thought with a grunt of acknowledgement.

"Speaking of - are you planning on staying here, because I am going to smell like you if you remain for much longer."

Not that he could not free himself - or dip into shadow - if he were truly frustrated by it.

Mood rather instantaneously brightened, Alastor accepts the nuzzle rather graciously, nosing a bit against her strands of hair that filled his vision.

"Seems as though you've planned out a much more preferable evening. Though I have my doubts on whether or not they realize or are reminded of much of anything."

It took Valentino about half an hour to get everything sorted out. He booked the skating rink for the evening, rounded up some of their lower-paid employees for a surprise outing, and made sure transportation was ready to go.

By the time he finished, a limo was waiting outside.

He'd even found something cute to wear. The dress was flowy and, honestly, covered a lot more than most of the things he owned. It wasn't exactly conservative, but it wasn't one of his usual attention-grabbing outfits either. The one exception was the large heart-shaped cutout over his chest.

And yes, maybe that had been intentional. He knew Alastor had a particular fondness for that part of him.

Valentino gave himself one last look in the mirror before heading out to find his partner. The second he spotted him, his face lit up.

"Look at yooouuuu, you look so cute," Valentino cooed, reaching up to straighten one of the points of Alastor's collar. "You know how much I love you in pink." He lingered for a moment, admiring the outfit with obvious satisfaction before patting his chest.

He had to admit - he did appreciate the fawning, his tail giving a light waggle as Valentino approached and fiddled with the collar of his neatly pressed shirt. Similarly, he found himself eyeing the other's outfit with some significant appreciation, the hand that was not holding his staff reaching out to smooth palms over the fabric.

"I figured you might appreciate an opportunity to wear the same color," he replied, knowing that Val had a tendency to favor pinks. Beyond that, they made the radio demon seem a bit less... intimidating - a trait that was not necessarily needed if it was just they two (and whatever employees Valentino saw fit to conscript).

The mention of the picture prompted from Alastor a small, apologetic smirk.

"My control over it is a bit minimal. I may be able to diminish it some, but... Only if that picture does not make its way anywhere aside from your own collection."

"Romantic is not usually a word used to describe me."

Valentino's presence washes over him like the smoke that emanates from the moth at any given moment, his own cold stare watching the other's approach. Alastor's ears give the smallest of twitches, undeterred by the question posed to him, though he can feel a quiver of awareness at the back of his neck.

But then the radio demon breathed out, gave in, and Worth's shoulders relaxed a little.

Yes.

He waved a hand to indicate that he didn't really mind when he was repaid.

"Take yer time, take yer time. I'm in no hurry. Let's say.... get both to me within th' next, ohhh... three days?" Three sounded like a pretty number to bargain with.

He also didn't think to specify a certain kind of secret that he wanted from Alastor in particular. To him, anything that an overlord demon from Hell would consider a secret should be interesting enough. Probably. He assumed.

"I guarantee that I will not need three days," Alastor fired back as a retort. If Worth were getting dealmaking experience, he would need to have a bit more nuance for what to offer and when. But the radio demon did not think it need be that serious a topic, and he began to make his way, already, towards the entrance of the room.

If nothing else, he could certainly find the old bartender and shake him down, first and foremost. And that would at least take care of that little bit of responsibility. Money was inconsequential, anyway.

"I will find you again tomorrow. In the meantime, I would appreciate if you remained on the down low about this entire exchange. I do not need anyone huffing and puffing over what amounts to little more than a flesh wound."

Though, in giving it some thought... he did not think that anyone really would. Very few had bothered to even express any amount of concern about much more serious wounds of his in the past. He doubted that would change now.

He pulled back slowly swallowing loudly and then got another pleased toothy grin seeing the puddle on Alastor’s midsection.

Already starting to undress himself, he gave a half nodded gesture to it.

“Take whatever you want to save off now.. or you’ll have more to address then a stain.”

Shedding his own clothes immediately at least best he could with the tendrils in the way, and kicking his boxers away, Vox pulled the other closer by the hips impatiently. His own two deep navy dicks pushed right up against Alastor’s. Regardless if he had completed undressing fully.

He might have been more cautious about letting his guard down, maybe he should have. But the comfort that was hovering around his brain was leaching all the hesitations right out of his head. Soothing the edges away like a tide.

Vox Leaned down and helped(hurried) the other in getting the shirt off. Then pressed his palm to Alastor’s furry stomach, and slid it up against the colic. Then pulled his hand back abruptly. His eyes widened again and his antenna bounced forward like a rabbits ears snapping to attention.

"You are gross."

The words might have seemed a biting insult, but given how lightly Alastor spoke them, followed by the smallest of amused huffs, the radio demon was not truly bothered by it. He was too occupied, apparently, with watching the other undress, his eyes momentarily resting on the wounds he bore. His brows gave a momentary furrow and a pinch as the moment threatened to sully with his own trepidations and fears -

But he swallowed it back.

Not right now.

Instead, his own hands came up to begin the unbuttoning of his shirt, slow and steady and appreciative of the assistance until it fell away from his shoulders and over the side of the couch where it would not restrain him further. It was not the first time Vox had seen his nude form, but evidently, the other had never once deigned to truly feel him in that way.

The question caught him by surprise.

Alastor blinked, once or twice, still a bit in a haze from the earlier climax as he glanced down to where Vox's hand had been. At first, he'd thought that perhaps the other was speaking of a new scar or... something Alastor himself had not noticed. But eventually, it clicked, and he snorted, though it was not an irritable sound.

"For someone with such large eyes, you are not very observant," Alastor said, extending his own hand to take Vox's in his own. He brought it back down to his midsection, drawing those claws back over where those peaks remained, hidden beneath his fur. He was not so foolish as to think that Vox might refrain from some smart or otherwise joking commentary, but he was feeling decent enough to let it slide.

For now, anyway.

"Just another bit of nonsense from my descent."

But the display, hopefully, showed that he was trusting enough to permit the other access to them. At least in the moment.

⨻ // I've grown a mouth so sharp and cruel / It's all that I can give to you, my dear / I will only break your pretty things / I will only wring you dry of everything //⨻

RADIOIACI ; an independent, non-exclusive, and canon-divergent roleplay blog for ALASTOR of HAZBIN HOTEL . dark themes such as gore, violence, and abuse . 18+ . est feb 2024 . penned by Pascall (they/them | 34 ) . ABOUT/RULES .

Simon manages to withhold gasps and other utterances for a short moment, but a hot breath escapes along sound as soon as Alastor's curious lips touch his neck. It's a sensation he can compare to no other, and one he desperately wishes to continue. To advance, even - Even if he does not exactly know how to do so.

Being well-read and educated does not help him here; he runs on instincts that compel his arms to reach around Alastor and arch his neck back so his companion may reach further and caress nerves that have never been touched before.

And when Alastor proposes to stay, Simon shudders from the pleasure that sparks at such a lovely, forbidden request. He responds in a heated whisper before he even thinks about the very possible consequences and risks they will be taking.

"Yes. Please stay. I invite you to."

His room is bloody big enough to hide the other man if worst comes to worst. Under the bed, inside his desk, or his wardrobe... or the bath. Maybe even behind the curtain.

Simon does not care to think about it much deeper than that. All he knows and cares about is Alastor. Simon wants the other to remain in his hold beyond the night; he wants to keep touching him. He wants Alastor to touch him. He wants Alastor to rest beneath silken sheets and above a mattress that's not too small or thin.

The young lord's hand inches down to where Alastor's hip lies beneath worn fabric. His blue eyes descend too as he leans back for a moment to observe the other's travel attire, and then return up to meet Alastor's. A pause, coy and expectant.

"Let me help you."

Beneath the warmth of his own exhalations, he is close enough to see Simon's skin turning red where he wanders, listening to the response to his question. Alastor quells the small bit of anxiety within that tells him there is a risk of Pen refusing him - turning him out and away for the evening for fear of being caught in the midst of such behavior in the very den of lions he is looking to escape. But it elates to hear a yes instead of a no, a small sound of acknowledgement escaping him as he remains pressed in close, eager to carry on with his soft appreciation for the pale flesh beneath his lips.

Curiosity, however, pulls him back enough to glance down inquisitively at Pen's wandering hands; until the other is slinking down from the bed and focusing instead on the laces of his boots.

"...You don't have to do that," he says, quick to protest, but not to pull away if Simon is so insistent. But perhaps he is not excluded from the pull and reality of their stations. Alastor is meant to be seen as lesser - for any number of reasons. But here is his friend, down on his knees and undressing him like a servant might his master.

Different, he reminds himself.

This is different.

So it is a quick relenting of what the other intends to do, until his boots are pulled off and set aside with a steady slowness that makes the gesture seem much more intimate than it might be otherwise. And in spite of himself, Alastor breathes out a small sigh of contentment, glancing down at the slightly blurry display before him.

"...You look rather nice down there."

A hand, outstretched, again reaches to card fingers through the darkened strands of Pen's hair, appreciative of how soft they feel to the touch; how familiar and comforting the sensation is to be able to touch and be trusted to do so.

"But I do so prefer you up here."

And, as if to add just the smallest inch of true flirtation to the dynamic, Alastor smirks.