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The Contract	By : Turkaholic Category: -Misc Cartoons > Slash - Male/Male Views: 262 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Hazbin Hotel or Helluva Boss. I do not make any money from this story

Chapter List
- 10
- 11
- 12
Note:
This one took a while, apologies.
Next chapter shouldn't be as long coming. I've been dealing with some irl stuff while I wrote this chapter, so it's taken longer than normal.
I found Vel and Val pretty tough, so go easy on me xD
Thanks for continuing to read! As usual, drop me a comment if you're enjoying.

“For Fuck’s sake, Vox!”
Vox narrowed his eyes at the dawn rising out of the tower window as Velvette’s voice snapped through the air like a gunshot. He drew his coffee mug closer to his chest, warming his fingertips as the neon signs below the tower began to blink out one by one.
“Calm yourself, Velvette…” He drawled, his voice tired and lazy. He took a sip of his coffee, fully aware of the venomous glare Velvette was pouring into his back. “...yesterday was just a minor setback. It changes nothing.”
Velvette sat up from the pink chaise-lounge and lowered her feet from the coffee table. Her pink and purple hair was pulled into a long, swooping fringe this morning and she narrowed her glowing eyes through her bangs. “...A minor setback? Are you having a laugh?”
“Come on Vel,” muttered Valentino’s soft, lilting voice. He was draped bodily across one of the chairs, hunched and squinting into the luminous screen of his phone. “so he might have given away some territory, made himself look like a scared little bitch in front of Carmine, and then wrecked his fucking office like a toddler…” Vox dug his fingers into the mug and scowled at his own reflection as Val droned on, “but I’m sure he knows what he’s doing.” Val finally looked up from his phone and tilted his head back, gazing at Vox’s back upside down. “...Right, Papito?”
“Val…” Vox gritted his teeth. “Stop trying to help me.”
The moth demon shrugged and turned his attention back to the phone in his hands, tapping away furiously once more. “Have it your way, baby.”
“He might have less than half a brain inside that fat head, but for once, the piss baby is right.” continued Velvette, placing both of her slender hands on the coffee table and half-standing, hunched forwards in anger. “You made our entire bloody organisation look like a pushover; giving away our foothold near Cannibal Town to that Bambi-wannabe old fuck! And what exactly did we get out of it?”
Vox’s eyes subconsciously lifted away from the neon streets of Downtown below him and floated towards the horizon, picking out the sinister shadow of a crooked tower just on the edge of sight.
“Vox?”
He was so utterly, miserably tired this morning. He hadn’t slept – his brain flipping between overwhelming, mind-blowing sensory memories of Alastor underneath him on the desk, to almost insane fury at the way the Radio Demon had just got up and dismissed the whole scenario; dismissed Vox. Just like he always fucking did. The prick was probably standing at that window right now, laughing at him.
And now, he had to carry on as though nothing had happened. He was left to deal with Velvette and Val, and their predictable pissing and moaning, with no explanation for the loss of territory. As far as they were concerned, he'd simply handed it over to Alastor to get him out of the building. He’d been expecting this kind of reaction, but he had been hoping it would happen later in the day, when he’d had enough caffeine to make up for the lack of sleep. He raised the coffee mug and took a long, steadying gulp, then suddenly caught the wording on the front.
Fuck Alastor.
He felt a dizzying lurch as that single, solitary moan played for the hundredth time inside his mind.
“Vox are you even fucking listening?!”
Vox’s scowl turned into a deep, glitching snarl. He had next to no patience this morning, not after yesterday. He spun on the spot.
“I’m so very sorry you’re unhappy with the outcome, my dear…” He laughed coldly, stalking away from the light of the window and back towards the sofas. “But correct me if I’m wrong: I’m not the one who let Carmilla Carmine and her cronies just waltz in, and then left me in a room with the fucking RADIO DEMON!” he shouted across the table, his voice distorted, screen glitching in anger. Two thick red lines bled through the display at his mouth.“Thank you so much you pair of fucking traitors.”
There was a moment of near silence. Vox and Velvette glared silently across the table at each other. The only sounds in the room were the low murmur of one of the TVs on the wall, and the furious tap of Valentino’s fingers as he typed out another message on his phone.
“Don’t blame me, baby.” Sighed Val, still focused on his phone. “I was in the middle of a shoot. You got any idea how hard it is to get that many bitches to cum at once? We had to do so many takes.” He suddenly snarled, voice turning sharp and spiteful. “I swear I work with such fucking amateurs.”
Vox raised a hand to his forehead, grinding his teeth furiously to hold back his temper.
“Thanks for that valuable input, Val. Don’t you have somewhere to be?”
“Oh yeah,” he replied absently, “Angel will be here in an hour. I gotta go make sure the cameras are waterproofed.”
“So maybe you should get a move on?” growled Vox.
Valentino sighed and inclined his head slowly away from the phone screen, looking up into the still distorted face of the Television Demon. He inspected him over his heart shaped glasses.
“Ooh, someone woke up on the wrong side of the wrong bed this morning.” He said playfully, then slid from the chair and stood up, wrapping his wings around himself like a cloak. He leaned over and slid a finger down Vox’s chest, then purred lowly: “You should have come up to see me last night, Papito. I could have done so many things to make all that stress just melt out of your pretty little head.”
Vox continued to glare, unmoved as Valentino gave him a final, smutty smile, then turned his back and sashayed away towards the door.
Velvette sat herself back on the sofa comfortably as the door to the lounge clicked shut, snatching up the glass of water in front of her. Vox continued to glare as she swirled the water idly round the glass, the morning light glinting off the liquid and sending sparks of red across her face.
“This is your own fucking fault anyway.” Velvette continued “If you hadn’t been so gung-ho going after the bloody Radio Demon, that old bitch wouldn’t have had to get involved in the first place.”
Vox snorted and sat gingerly down in the now empty chair across from her. His back was still deeply sore, the scratches burning. The wounds hadn’t stopped bleeding til the early morning. He stared into Velvette’s face, deadpan. “Are you finished, Vel? I mean do I have time to get a refill on my coffee, maybe order in brunch while you carry on bitching?”
Velvette merely smiled at him sweetly.
“No, I think I’ve made my point, babe.”
“Yeah, well I have a ratings review to handle before lunch, so I’m -
Velvette suddenly laughed, the sound cruel and sharp as she leaned back on the sofa and began twisting her hair around her fingers slowly.
“I don’t think so. Val’s got an all day shoot, and I’ve got a dress rehearsal. We need you on damage control. You made a right royal balls up of the whole situation yesterday, you can deal with the shitshow downstairs.”
One side of Vox’s mouth dropped into a half-frown and he raised an eyebrow.
“The- the what downstairs?”
“The other news channels want to know why exactly we handed over territory to someone you’ve been publicly calling a loser for months.” She hissed, her voice sickly sweet and mocking. “You better put on your game face and come up with a reason, or we’re going to be a laughing stock.”
The Television Demon let out a long, exhaustion-fuelled sigh as the red glitch on his face flickered slowly back to blue. He tried to sink back into the chair, before suddenly jolting forwards again, suppressing the urge to hiss in pain. He saw Velvette register the discomfort, curiosity creeping into her face, and felt a shockwave of anxiety as he realised she was about to ask the question.
“Fine.” he conceded quickly, trying to move the conversation away from anything that might lead back to the Radio Demon. “I guess I’ll go down and deal with the fucking press. I’ll handle everything. As usual.”
“Good.” snapped Velvette shortly, turning her attention instead to her phone. “And don’t take too long, babes. Those arseholes down there are circling like sharks.”
Vox forced a cold, dark laugh up his throat and straightened his tie, straining his features almost painfully back into the traditional sinister, charming smile. He spread his arms out confidently.
“My dear Velvette, I’m sure I can handle it. The only shark in this town is me.”
____
Vox waited for the doors of the elevator to hiss shut before he let go. His entire posture collapsed, the bags under his eyes visible as he let the smile drop. He leaned back against the rear wall and squeezed his eyes shut, ignoring the furious stinging pain in his back and shoulder.
“...Fuck.” He sighed.
A press conference was more than he wanted to deal with this morning. He felt like he was going insane.
Alastor had been here less than 12 hours ago. In this building, legs clutched around Vox, panting in pleasure. Vox had fantasised about that for years – all the time hating the fact that he was fantasising it, and now against all odds it had finally come true.
He’d been expecting to feel… satisfied. Some sense of closure. Even if Alastor never came back, even if that was the single and only time he ever saw the bastard truly give in to something, he’d thought that screwing the Radio Demon at least once would finally get it out of his system.
But it hadn’t. He’d had a taste. If anything, knowing now that it was possible, knowing exactly what Al looked like when he came, how he smelled, how he sounded; knowing how unbelievably, intoxicatingly good it felt… and knowing that Alastor – despite Vox fucking knowing that he’d enjoyed it - might never come back for more - made the Television Demon feel so much worse.
And Alastor had just got up, sneered at him and walked away. Again.
Vox opened his eyes and stared, dazed, into nothingness. He slammed one of the buttons on the wall with unnecessary force and the elevator droned to life, descending down the tower with a static hum. He stood in silence, anger stirring up from under the confusion.
“Fuck you, you old prick.” He muttered as the elevator began to slow. The doors peeled open and he stepped out onto the darkened walkway. Cold air blew through his antennae, the comforting hum of electricity surrounding him as he made his way to the large swivel chair at the centre of the chamber.
Velvette could piss and moan all she wanted, Vox wasn’t going to run around on her timetable. He needed time to clear his head before he dealt with the political fallout of yesterday. He removed his hat, sat forwards and stuck a hand under his screen, clicking miserably through the plethora of channels and CCTV cameras, trying to find something to take his mind off everything in his head.
A flash of glitching red…
Vox sat suddenly bolt upright, eyes widening as he stared into one of the screens to his left. He transferred the picture onto the main screen in the centre of the console.
The Radio Demon had emerged from the hotel. Even if it weren’t for the telltale distortion that followed Alastor around, Vox would have recognised that stupid skinny waist and the ridiculous pompous walk anywhere. His eye twitched in another wave of rage as he zoomed in, registering the completely calm and easy smile on his face as he walked out of shot.
Bastard. Less than a day had passed, and Alastor had already forgotten all about it.
Unable to help himself, he panned the camera a little to watch him walk out of view. Alastor stopped in his tracks.
Vox held his breath as the Radio Demon very slowly turned towards the camera, coming to a halt staring straight down the lens. The Television Demon’s angry glare softened into a look of confusion as the overlarge image seemed to stare down at him. And then something strange happened.
The distortion stopped. Completely. For a brief moment Vox was staring up, wide-eyed and breathless at a perfect, crystal clear image. Some tiny, unnameable expression was flickering behind the Radio Demon’s eyes. Vox leaned subconsciously closer to the viewer, his fingers twitching.
The distortion sprang back into life with a vengeance.
The glitching smile suddenly widened horribly. Vox’s brow furrowed and he sat back again as the Radio Demon calmly raised a red-tipped middle finger to the CCTV camera and was gone, enveloped in shadow.
Vox sat staring at the now empty hill outside the hotel for a few moments of absolute stunned silence. The expression on his face seemed torn between fury and deep hurt.
It was obvious now; it had been obvious the whole time, but Vox had simply refused to admit it. How could he have even expected anything else?
Al was never coming back. It had just been a transaction.
He gritted his teeth and sagged bodily in the chair, tilting forward until his tired forehead hit with a resounding thud against the edge of the console.
- 10
- 11
- 12
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The Contract