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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
- 3
- 4
- 5
Note: Here we go.
Not all of these chapters will have titles, or at least not straight away. There are certain chapters I have in mind that will have a certain song’s lyrics, but if this fic is going to have as many chapters as my brain thinks it will, I would run out of lyrics pretty fast.
I may come back and give it a title later. If you can think of a good one you don’t mind me having, let me know.
Next chapter should be up within the next few days. Sex scenes are complicated though, so it may take a little while longer.
And another request for reviews. They really do make all the difference to a writer – especially a fanfiction writer. The only payment I get for your entertainment (as I hope you are) are reviews, so please drop me one.

Chapter 3
Vox continued staring at the creased and yellowed contract long after Alastor had stood back up. He hadn’t in his wildest fantasies ever really expected the other demon to sign. He blinked, nonplussed as a red-tipped finger slid the paper back across the desk towards him, lending him a clear view of the still fresh name. He inspected it carefully, frowning, looking for some trick, though deep down he knew that the signature was legitimate – he’d seen Alastor sign contracts before, he knew that green glow well; knew that it signified the sealing of a pact.
“Perhaps you’re out of practice, Vox, but I do believe a contract is only binding if both parties sign?”
Vox blinked, mouth hanging open in shock, and raised his eyes to the redhead still standing over him across the desk. He inspected Alastor’s face, looking for some reasoning, some sign of trickery. As always, and immeasurably frustratingly, the red eyes held no clue to the inner workings of the other demon’s mind.
“If you’ve lost your nerve, we could always…” Alastor put forth a hand once again towards the contract. Vox finally broke through the white noise in his head and snatched the paper back.
“You think I’m gonna back down from a contract I wrote?” he said with a forced laugh, “One that will finally - finally - let me own your soul, and get you out of my face?”
For some reason, the smile on Alastor’s face widened just a fraction, but he said nothing. Vox’s expression darkened. He extended a hand.“Pen.”
With a flourish, Alastor presented the pen and pressed it neatly into Vox’s open palm.
Still sitting at his desk, Vox hesitated for just a moment more, doubt creeping in to his mind. He’d been waiting years for this chance, imagining seeing that bastard’s signature on this contract, but something about how quickly Alastor had been willing to sign it was slightly worrying. He wondered if the other demon had found a loophole somewhere: he knew how fucking slippery Alastor could be. He couldn’t think what it would be, though – he’d spent more time than he wanted to admit drawing this contract up, and Vox had become very good over the years at making his contracts foolproof.
A very soft sigh of annoyance brought him back to the present. Alastor was here, wasn’t he? He’d signed. If the Radio Demon changed his mind before Vox signed, there would never be another chance.
He pushed the worries to the back of his mind, and feeling a thrill of recklessness, lowered pen to paper.
The lights hissed and flickered as pen and paper made contact. Two of the bulbs above the two demons’ heads smashed with a loud shatter. several of the screens on the rear wall cracked from corner to corner, and a blue wave of static electricity passed down Vox’s slowly moving arm.
When the lights stabilised Vox was looking down at his own signature, his handwriting – spiky and plain – a stark contrast to the decorative flourish of the other demon’s hand.
It was done.
Vox’s eyes flashed up into Alastor’s. They stared at each other silently for a minute. Vox stood up. His face suddenly furrowed into a devious smirk
“Take your pants off.”
Alastor’s eyes twitched, coming as close to a glare as he ever did.
“Really now, any need to be so crass?” He turned and walked lengthways across the office, his hand trailing slowly along the edge of the desk, “No romantic dinner? No soft jazz playing quietly in the background? Not even a few fingers of rye?”
Vox blinked, then snarled jeeringly and pointed to the door, “Oh yeah, excuse me while I just ask Zestial to head out and get us some fucking champagne!”
Alastor paused for a moment and tilted his head. He made a thoughtful hum in his throat. “I suppose that would be a little hard to explain.”
“So? Pants.”
“I think you’ll find that the contract didn’t specify taking orders.” replied Alastor lightly, almost sing-song. Vox bristled slightly. The other demon was speaking so dispassionately, as though the agreement they’d signed was no more than a minor event; just a curious addendum to his day. Vox pushed what felt curiously like hurt back down inside and clenched his fists. “Quite an unfortunate oversight on your part.”
“Oh for fuck’s -”
Vox kicked the desk chair behind him furiously as he stormed back around to face the other demon. The chair rolled loudly across the office and slammed into the wall of screens with a crash.
Alastor’s smile was maddeningly pleasant as the two demon’s came face to face. Vox’s eye twitched in deepest annoyance.
Underneath the blinding frustration however, the Television Demon’s breath was catching slightly. This was the closest he’d been to Alastor in years – unless you counted the times they had tried to kill each other. He was so close he could feel the other man’s breath on his face; could feel the warmth radiating off him. Vox bit his lip, but otherwise continued to glare.
“You’re really enjoying making me work for this, huh?”
Alastor didn’t answer. He simply continued to stand, an eyebrow slightly raised, his face inches away from Vox’s screen.
Still glaring back into the dangerously red eyes, Vox’s hand twitched; and then almost hesitantly, as if not sure whether he dared proceed, he carefully reached out for the other demon’s waistband.
There was a moment as they glared at each other, Alastor grinning as always, that Vox was almost sure the Radio Demon had tensed up. Something odd flickered behind the smile, some small tell that he hadn’t quite managed to cover. It had gone almost as soon as it had arrived though, and Vox was left merely wondering what that small crack in the armour had been; what it had signified.
Had it been fear? As much as Vox was loathe to admit it out loud, Alastor was no coward, and he’d proved repeatedly – and frustratingly – that he was not afraid of Vox. So what then?
Vox pushed it out of his mind as his fingers came into contact with the other demon’s skin. It was almost surprisingly warm as he tucked a finger behind the waistband and began, slowly, to pull them floorwards. There was a button of course, but the other demon was so stupidly skinny that Vox found he had no use for it: there was only the slightest resistance as the material slid past Alastor’s hips, and then the soft thump as they slithered unassisted to the floor.
Vox’s heart was hammering in his chest. He wanted so badly to look down; to see what he’d done, but Alastor was still staring into his soul, and every fibre in his body told him it was dangerous to break eye contact. He dared a fast flick of his eyes southwards and then smirked up at Alastor, leaning in just a little closer.
“I guess the redhead thing really isn’t bullshit.” He purred, the snarl turning into a smug smirk.
Alastor’s ears flattened out on either side of his head in annoyance.
“This contract said nothing about having to put up with your pointless rambling.” he hissed.
Vox began working at his own pants, strangely reassured at the jibe. The smirk turned smutty.
“You’re telling me someone like you isn’t into dirty talk?” he said, kicking his pants aside. They skidded across the tiled floor. “Oh yeah, but I guess you wouldn’t know, would ya, Al? I can’t believe you’ve seriously never done this.”
Alastor bared his teeth.
“The only reason this is happening is because I know you, Vox.” he replied, a dangerous edge to his voice. It was barely above a whisper. Vox had now very gingerly placed his hands on Alastor’s exposed hips, pushing him back towards the desk with their eyes still locked, as though leading the other in a dance, “You’ve never been able to keep that pixellated mouth of yours shut; and when you let slip – the moment you break this contract…”
There was a dull thud as Alastor made contact with the desk behind him. The sudden stop made the microphone-topped cane slip from the Radio Demon’s grip. For the second time today, it fell with a clatter to the floor. Sneering into each other’s faces, Vox pushed Alastor’s knees apart and slid in between them.
“...I’m going to tear your soul apart.”
- 3
- 4
- 5
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The Contract