Chapter Text
Part One: Velvette picks her battles and sticks only to vague verbal barbs at Alastor while clicking away on her phone. Backbone of the Vees indeed.
Part Two: Vox begs for mercy in the aftermath of the Extermination and promises Alastor whatever he wants to keep the peace.
Part Three: Alastor asks for Angel's contract under the false pretended of binding his soul to Alastor instead. Which led to-
"I'll give you that little bitch," Valentino snarled as Vox dug his claws into the moth's upper arm, "under one condition."
"Go on," Alastor sniffed, brushing a bit of fur off his lapel.
"Fuck him on that stupid show of yours," Valentino said, wheezing with laughter. "I want to hear you try to fuck Angel fuckin' Dust in front of all your listeners. Bet you're fuckin' done before my Angel gets his boots off."
Alastor had no intention on that but hummed anyway. "I will do my best to keep up with his many talents. May I have that contract, please? I'm a very busy man."
Cackling madly, Valentino handed it over.
Except now Alastor realizes the corner he's backed himself into. He has 72 godforsaken hours to broadcast something lurid and titillating or else Valentino gets full control of Angel Dust for the rest of time.
"Ya know, I don't actually have t' fuck ya," Angel offers with barely 48 hours left on the clock. They're both sitting in the empty parlor as Husk catnaps behind the bar. "I'm real good at fakin' it. Just turn the mic on and lemme moan and groan for a half hour and that's all."
Alastor pauses and a small screech of static slips out of his closed mouth. Angel is not wrong but Alastor's pride seethes with envy at the realization that he didn't think of it first.
"'s gotta be believable," Angel continues, "but I know that ain't your style so maybe give me a kink or two for me to play with. Valentino ain't all that smart and anything that sounds like you're plowin' me six ways from Sunday will get him droolin'."
"My name," Alastor slips before he can think. "Keep saying my name."
"I can work with that," Angel says, unaware of Alastor's flush. "Fill in the gaps with a lotta dirty talk about what you got between ya legs and Val'll eat that shit up."
"Please, let Charlie and I help," Vaggie snorts as she plops down on the plush couch next to Angel. "We've been thinking about shit that could be truly hilarious. If you're both okay with that."
"I may have been up all night watching-- uh. Researching," Charlie stammers. "Just to get some ideas. I wrote down the top 15 that fit and came up with a rough plot for every one! Some fit better together than others, I will admit. The schoolboy thing definitely fits better with begging to be allowed to cu- climax, but I also included 5 scenarios in which Angel could be a dominant partner!"
"No," both Angel and Alastor say at the same time.
"Val ain't gonna believe shit if I'm toppin'. What, am I gonna keep askin' if someone likes my strap?" Angel snorts playfully. "Smiles, you wanna be included in this lil brainstormin' sesh? Boundaries and all that."
Alastor clears his throat but the sound is a hard crack of static. "I can review after you've finished," he says, standing to leave. "I will be in my room if you need me."
The sounds of Angel, Vaggie, and Charlie giggling follows him upstairs. He isn't as upset about it as he would've been a year ago.
Alastor, unfortunately, thinks about it. Angel, proud and pink and blushing beneath delicate peachy lace. Angel, stern and cruel and clawing at Alastor's skin while wrapped in black latex. Six hands, mercilessly teasing Alastor while those long legs pinned Alastor's hips against Angel's quivering body.
Daddy.
Sir.
Baby.
Big buck.
This is. Interesting.
Hmm.
When Alastor goes back downstairs, he feels like he's stumbled into a slumber party. Husk had whipped up a tray full of fizzy alcoholic drinks in every conceivable neon color and the Princess delicately nibbles on electric red and snow white apple slices. Next to her, Vaggie picks through a bowl of chocolates before handing a white chocolate dipped strawberry to Angel. Niffty's doing, if Alastor had to guess.
"Aw jeez, I ain't had this much fun plannin' a scene in decades," Angel smiles. He's wearing a faded sunflower yellow nightdress that Alastor only assumes is a hand-me-down from the Princess. The collar has been slashed off and Angel's ample chest fluff is proudly displayed. "All this plannin' and chattin' and I ain't even gotta take my pants off!"
"Wanna take a look at this?" Vaggie calls when she spots Alastor. "Even if you aren't actually fucking, we want your consent for Angel faking it over the air."
"I suppose it can't hurt. After all, we're supposed to convince that idiotic pimp that I've somehow managed to fornicate with Angel."
"Fornicate," Angel scrunches his nose. "How clinical."
"We reworked Charlie's, uh, original script," Vaggie says smoothly. "With time stamps for what Angel should be saying. We kept it pretty basic, boundaries and all, but it should be enough to keep Angel free."
0:00-0:45 kissing noises (achieved by angel kissing the inside of his wrist)
0:46-2:30: charlie and vaggie help making noises like someone is undressing (optional dialogue of angel asking to take something off?)
2:30-3:15: angel talking about alastor's body (get parameters of what he's okay with)
3:15-10:00: foreplay (popsicle from the freezer can be used to fake a blowjob)
10:00-16:00: angel dirty talking through Position One (on his back?)
16:00-26:00: dirty talking through Position Two (suggested muffling angel in the pillow; may help if he gets giggly)
26:00-29:00: angel faking 1-4 orgasms (keep it to maybe two for realism)
29:00-30:00: using skincare cream to fake the sound of the money shot
"My, my, you have been busy," Alastor hums as he flips the paper over.
POSSIBLE TALKING POINTS:
find an acceptable nickname for Alastor
negotiate body parts he's okay with Angel talking about and what exaggerations are acceptable
ask Alastor for some pre recorded dirty talk to use at points?
"Exaggerations?" Alastor asks, raising a brow.
"How big of a dick do ya want?" Angel asks, a bizarre amount of sincerity in his tone given the question. "You want two dicks? Thick like a can of Vaggie's weird beer? A knot?"
He can't know. Can he?
"Just enough to make Valentino feel inferior. I imagine you're more than capable of doing that. As for this 'pre-recorded dirty talk', I will have you know I am not some kind of harlot capable of these parlor tricks. Record what is necessary and I can handle the facade needed to make it sound as of I'm speaking to Angel in the throws of passion."
"Oh Angel," Angel moans theatrically, playfully rolling on top of the Princess as she shrieks in laughter. "Angel, your perfectly slutty pussy is exactly what I imagined when I snatched you away from Valentino!"
"It sounds like you have it figured out," Alastor says awkwardly. "Please let me know when you truly need my assistance."
"There's my big buck. C'mere. Come play with your new toy. Do you wanna see what's under my pretty new dress that 'cha bought me? Show me how excited you are to play with me, baby."
Yellow lace. Cherries and champagne. One of Angel's hands grips Alastor by the chin as he presses wet, teasing kisses along his jaw while the other hand strokes the base of his antlers. Two more hands working on his shirt, scraping electric red painted claws against the scarred planes of Alastor's chest.
"Wanna show me that knot, big buck? My breedin' stud, gonna make sure everyone knows who I belong to now."
Alastor whining helplessly as Angel's second set of hands deftly undo his trousers. Bitter cherries, sweet champagne on Alastor's tongue as Angel strokes him. He carefully toys with the swollen knot and Alastor gasps shamefully at the sensation.
Pretty little panties shoved to the side so Angel can sink down in his lap. He gasps and giggles, rolling his slender hips as Alastor claws at the magenta satin sheets beneath him.
Alastor whimpers, burying his face into the soft fur of Angel's chest. His hips flex pathetically against Angel's effortless movements and he feels fire licking up his spine.
"C'mon, Alastor," Angel grits. "Fuckin' knock me up. Fill me up. Put a fawn in me. Make me yours. Make me your wi--."
Alastor wakes up with a gasp. Sweat cools uncomfortably against his skin as the bayou seems more humid than usual. He aches between his thighs and his cock throbs painfully.
Hmmm. This is. Unexpected.
Maybe a walk will clear his head. After a very cold shower.