Adult-FanFiction.org : Cartoons

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
- 4
- 5
- 6
Note: Here’s the good stuff. This is the first sex scene I’ve written in years, so please be patient.
I always find characterisation in these scenes a little difficult, which is why they always take me the longest. Hopefully I’ve done them both justice.

As always, please drop me a quick review if you can. It’s good to know if someone’s enjoying the (and I kid you not) literal days I struggled writing this particular chapter.

I can only… apologise for the chapter title. I couldn’t resist, and it’s the only time I’m going to get to use that line xD

Otherwise, enjoy the smut!

Chapter Four – I’m Visual, He’s Barely Audible

Alastor turned his head away from the sneer and looked behind him, examining the position he’d found himself in – pressed into the desk, Vox’s fingers clinging deeply to his tanned, scarred hips as though determined to stop the Radio Demon from slipping away. He felt as Vox nudged himself closer, pinning him with his body weight, bare flesh pressed against bare flesh.
Snarling even more deeply, he snapped his eyes back towards the Television Demon and leaned in ever closer until he could feel the sting of static against his lips. Vox’s snarl faltered momentarily. His eyes travelled across Alastor’s features, almost confused.

“I think you’ll find this scenario should be the other way around.” hissed the redheaded demon, his voice unfiltered now that he no longer clutched his cane. He snatched his long fingered hands out from behind him and grabbed at Vox’s wrists, still clinging hard to his hips. Vox’s expression shifted again, returning to the hateful sneer.

“You?” He snorted derisively, resisting the tug at his wrists surprisingly easily. Alastor was at least as strong as him, and if he’d sincerely wanted Vox to let go he was sure he would have made him. Vox pressed himself harder against the other demon, trying desperately not to reveal how much he wanted this. His eyes threatened to lid as he felt his already half erect member brush up against Alastor’s. “You wouldn’t even know what you’re doing.”

“It can’t be that complicated if you can manage it.”

Vox growled and pulled at Alastor’s hips, grinding himself against the other demon in half lust, half frustration. With a sudden jolt of pleasure he watched as Alastor’s eye twitched. The snarl faltered very slightly, and he felt the fingers encircling his wrists dig sharply into the skin.
A shudder ran down Vox’s back, partly because of the intense sensation of skin on skin, but partly because of the response he’d managed to elicit from the other demon. Alastor had always been a smug, arrogant prick, and almost completely unflappable by anything the Television Demon ever did. Now – finally – Vox had drawn out something more than a sneer, even if only for a second.

He bit his lip, trying to stop himself from smirking and tugged the Radio Demon towards him again, grinding himself slowly; purposefully. It was taking all his mental strength not to close his eyes and give in to the sensation he’d waited so long to feel – the intense warmth of Alastor’s hips pressed up against him; the rising excitement in the pit of his stomach that he was finally going to have the thing that had eluded him. He forced his eyes to stay open, his face barely a hair’s width away from the other demon, taking in the half-snarl and feeling the fingers piercing painfully into his flesh. He wanted to see that mask fall again; that chink in the frustratingly thick armour that meant he was having an effect – any effect – on this normally cold, psychotic bastard.

Alastor was trying to keep the snarl glued to his features, fully aware of the close proximity of Vox’s face; the careful, calculating way he was moving them together. He could feel… something; some strange and almost irresistible urge to push back; to respond to the rhythm of Vox’s grinding movement, but he refused to give him the satisfaction. It was becoming harder to focus on self control with every second: He could feel the sneer beginning to falter, his muscles tensing under the other demon’s ministrations. His chest was starting to rise and fall a little more visibly than he liked. His eye was twitching with the desperate strain to resist...

He let go of Vox’s wrists. Before he could stop himself Alastor’s fingers had suddenly slid knife-like up the other demon’s arms, the sleeves of the suit slipping upwards before them. He found himself clutching to the back of Vox’s elbows, fingertips piercing flesh.

Vox halted suddenly at the unexpected movement. Unable to resist, he glanced down at the new position of the Radio Demon’s hands, then back up with a mocking eyebrow raised.

“Well, would you look at that…” He muttered, with a giddy sense of self-satisfaction. “I told you you’d like it.” he purred.

Alastor’s ears flattened out once more, face darkening dangerously.“One more word and I’ll rip that prattling tongue from your face and eat it.”

“Oh believe me…” laughed the Television Demon softly. He was unconsciously massaging the other demon’s hips, even as his lip curled, “there are way better uses for this tongue, Al. Maybe if you decide to come back, I’ll show you.”

Alastor’s eyes narrowed at the use of his shortened name. He dug his fingers vindictively into the back of Vox’s arms. A trickle of cyan blood ran freely down the dark skin, pooling at his elbows. Vox winced. Alastor allowed himself a cruel smirk.

“I assure you, Vox: the next time I enter this office is the day it belongs to me.” he spat back, tone sharp and spiteful. He dug his fingers even harder into the exposed skin. Vox let out a painful hiss and – unable to think of a reply – simply glared into the other demon’s face, anger brimming up beyond the lust. With a newfound fury, he moved one of his hands from Alastor’s hip, clutching instead to the edge of the desk. He pushed himself forcefully up against the other demon and began grinding intently.

The intensity, the suddenness of what Vox was doing caught Alastor off guard. He found himself closing his eyes, just momentarily out of control. Vox was pushing him backwards slightly with the weight of his body, his back arched over the desk where just a few moments before they had both signed their signatures. With a sudden jolt of shock, he realised his hips were starting to move in response, reacting to the sensation of Vox’s body warmth; the feel of the erection pressing against his own slowly growing member. He gritted his teeth, eyes flashing open in panic as he realised what he was doing. Vox was still staring at him, lust and anger mingled in his eyes, and a clearly smug smirk fixed across his screen of a face. Alastor had no doubt that Vox had noticed the change in response, and was enjoying it far too much.

Frustrated, he dragged his sharp fingers down Vox’s arms, leaving deep, bleeding scratches in their wake. Vox shuddered in pain and came to another sudden stop.

“Ow! What. The. FUCK?”

Regaining his composure, a smirk stretched up the side of Alastor’s face at the pain in Vox’s voice. He raised one of his hands to his mouth and stuck his tongue out, licking away the fresh blood from one of his fingers slowly. Vox’s eyes followed the tongue, looking peculiarly torn between outrage and lust.

“Didn’t you read the contract you prick?” he snapped, leaning forward and forcing Alastor’s back into a further arch. Alastor’s smirk spread into an impossibly wide and sinister grin. “We can’t hurt each other in here!”

“I think you’ll find…” retorted the Radio Demon in his sing-song voice, as though they were merely having another petty argument. His head snaked upwards from the desk, goading, “the exact wording only stipulated serious physical harm. Are you really that fragile, old pal?”

Vox blinked stupidly, then snorted in anger.

“You slippery fuck.”

“Don’t blame me if you still can’t write a competent contract, Vox.” Jeered the Radio Demon. He pushed Vox back with his bloody hand, bringing himself back up to the other demon’s height. The grin had reverted back to a snarl. “I did try to teach you.”

The hand still holding Alastor’s hip squeezed tighter subconsciously.

“Are you done?” he growled. “Are you fucking done?”

Alastor simply continued to snarl. Vox’s eyes narrowed.

“Sit on the desk.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Sit on the desk.”

He’d done it by accident. Incensed, unbearably frustrated as he was by this asshole’s smug face, and still feeling the bitter sting of the bloody scratches down his arms, he’d opened his eyes wide, one pupil spiralling in place.

The effect was instant.

Alastor’s deer-like ears – until now flattened angrily to either side of his head – relaxed upwards. His hand, which had still been digging maliciously into Vox’s bloody arm, relaxed. The snarl faded into a vacant, slightly twitching smile, and still focused entirely on the other demon’s hypnotic stare, he slid backwards quietly, obediently onto the desk.

For the second time today, Vox’s face dropped into a look of bewilderment as the stared at the now hypnotised redhead. He’d barely believed it the first time, but now? Surely this wasn’t just another lucky shot?

“...Al?”

No response. Vox smirked evilly as he examined the silent, vacant face. Tentatively, he reached out, hand hovering over Alastor’s chest, thinking.

Alastor had nearly gone on a demonic rampage when he’d tried this earlier, and that had only been when they were sitting, talking, arguing. The inner workings of this asshole’s mind were still a partial mystery, but he had a feeling that if he did anything too intrusive in this position, no contract would stop the Radio Demon from eviscerating him as soon as he snapped out of it.
Apart from that, part of Vox was desperately hoping that this wouldn’t be the one and only time he’d get to do this. If he pushed his luck, there was even less of a chance that Alastor would come back of his own accord.

Still… he couldn’t help himself from having a little fun. Seeing him like this after all this time was… delicious.

He took a moment to remove his own jacket and pull away his tie, dropping both haphazardly to the black tiled floor, then moved closer in between Alastor’s legs once more, admiring the effect of the hypnotism carefully. “You’re not gonna need this, you pretentious bastard.” He purred. Carefully, as though handling a volatile substance, he raised a hand to the other demon’s face and tugged away the monocle perched stupidly against his eye. Alastor didn’t flinch. Vox grinned and leaned closer, screen practically flickering in self-satisfied pleasure.

“That’s it… Good boy.” he breathed.

Alastor’s eyes suddenly flashed angrily, the toothy snarl contorting his entire face with fury. Vox’s head jolted back out of instinct at the sudden change. Like lightning, a red-fingered hand swept outward and grabbed Vox’s wrist. The monocle dropped and clattered across the desk.

“Try that again, and you will regret it.” whispered Alastor, every syllable dripping with acid. His eyes were like fire, boiling and furious. Vox gritted his teeth against the renewed pain in his wrist and threw his hand away.

“Maybe if you let me in, you’d enjoy it;” he retorted, “then we could finally remove that stick from your ass.”

There was a moment of silence in which both of them stared into each other hatefully. Shadows were beginning to gather around the other demon again. Vox sensed the danger. Thinking quickly, he reached forward and wrapped his fingers around the other demon’s penis.

Alastor’s eye twitched once more at the unexpected contact. Refusing to look away, he bit his lip, trying to stave off the return of that strange instinct urging him to react. Vox began stroking him, firmly but slowly. The fury in his eyes dimmed; the shadows receding into nothingness once more.

Vox was torn between trepidation and burning lust. His plan had worked, which meant that Alastor had to be enjoying this. He’d noticed the snarl withdraw into a concentrated, slightly forced smile; noticed the minute furrow of his brow, the shadow where the other demon’s sharp teeth were surreptitiously digging into his own lip. He could feel Alastor’s member twitching under his fingertips – the one part of his body that he couldn’t so easily control. He also registered the hitched breathing, and the way his hands had curled into fists slowly, as though trying not to draw attention. The Radio Demon seemed to be fighting to keep his eyes from closing. Vox wished that just once, he would give in.

Without thinking, Vox suddenly realised he’d placed his forehead in contact with Alastor’s, watching the resistance and the hate dwindle a little more with every stroke. Alastor was actually panting now, trying to conceal it. Vox closed his eyes, listening to the sound as though he’d never heard anything more perfect. His own member twitched painfully against the desk.

“Lie down.” Vox mumbled softly, almost lovingly. He felt Alastor tense up.

“I’m afraid you’ve forgotten the terms of our agreement again.” replied the Radio Demon in a would-be mocking tone, but his voice was unsteady, his breath slightly ragged. Vox peered an eye open. He was met with a slightly haze-filled glare. “...I don’t take orders from anyone. Especially not you.”

Vox groaned.

“Oh for fuck’s sake I’m not giving you an order, you need to lie down!”

The Radio Demon simply continued to glare, panting, into Vox’s one open eye. Opening both now, he pressed his lips together in annoyance.

Still stroking Alastor as a distraction; a buffer between himself and the redhead’s inevitable backlash, Vox trailed his free hand up the other demon’s stomach and on to his chest. He could feel the lungs heaving beneath the shirt. If Alastor was being less of an asshole, he would have ripped that shirt off of him by now, but he knew how infuriatingly precious the other demon could be when it came to his attire. Instead, he placed a palm over the other demon’s heart and pushed him backwards.

The red lined jacket splayed across the desk as he fell with a thump, piles of paperwork giving way and fluttering as they fell erratically across the room. Vox clawed his way up onto the desk, following Alastor as the Radio Demon hitched himself angrily up onto his elbows, looking slightly dishevelled with the jacket now hanging from a single shoulder.

“Trust me, it’s easier this way.”

“Why, of course.” Alastor retorted, every syllable filled with hateful sarcasm, “What possible reason could I have not to trust you?”

Vox paused.

Alastor was glaring again, an eyebrow raised mockingly, knowingly. The momentarily lapse in self control had apparently fuelled a new wave of spite. The Television demon frowned, his hands on Alastor’s inner thighs as the words hit home.

“Al…” Vox swallowed. He’d been calling Alastor by that name all afternoon by accident, as though he’d never stopped. The other demon’s snarl became more intense. “Alastor… It’s not – I mean… I didn’t – just –“ His eye twitched, “Fuck you! just fucking work with me here you prick!”

Alastor hissed and hitched himself up further, but this time didn’t retort. Vox let out a frustrated breath and pushed himself across the desk until he was positioned over the other demon, one hand resting on his hip, the blood from the scratches on his arm dripping between his fingers. The other hand he raised to his lips, tongue snaking out to wrap around them and bring them into his mouth, maintaining eye contact.

Alastor was laying beneath him, his knees parted subconsciously to make way for Vox’s body warmth, even though – Vox was pretty sure - he hadn’t realised he was doing it. He was eyeing what Vox was doing with mingled annoyance and curiosity. Vox laughed inwardly. That was proof enough: the asshole really hadn’t done this before.

He opened his mouth, now smirking again smuttily, eyes heavily lidded as thick saliva coated his fingers. The tongue curled back inwards and he licked his lips. The hand on the Radio Demon’s hip slid round beneath him, curling into smooth flesh and raising him away from the table.

Alastor tilted his head suspiciously. “What-?”

“Just relax.” Vox said, soothingly, and slid his slick fingers into Alastor.

Alastor did not relax. A hand shot out and grabbed roughly at Vox’s shoulder, claws digging in painfully tight through his shirt. Alastor was wincing, one eye squeezed shut, the other glaring furiously at Vox. His breathing hitched into a painful pant and his back arched away from the cold wooden desk. The Television Demon could feel the muscles around his fingers squeezing and shuddering tightly. Vox let out a pant of equal parts annoyance and anticipation and lowered himself completely, pressing his chest heavily against the redhead. He took a moment to appreciate the expression on the other demon’s face, then leaned in to his ear.

“Just relax, you moron.” He purred lowly, patiently. “Breathe.”

“I… don’t need you... to tell me how to breathe.” Hissed the other demon obstinately, both ears twitching uncomfortably. Without Vox’s eyes on him, he’d closed both eyes tightly, arching his back against the strange sensation of fingers inside him. He bit his lip harder, the sharp teeth finally piercing flesh and a trickle of dark red blood began to flow down his chin. Vox stayed stationary, waiting.

It took a painfully long few minutes. Vox had waited this long for his chance; he wasn’t going to mess it up now. His groin was aching in anticipation; he could feel his cock twitching with every spasm of Alastor’s muscles, but he waited, eyes closed and smirking lustfully into the other demon’s ear, breathing him in. Eventually the Radio Demon’s ragged breathing stabilised; the muscles relaxed. Vox backed away.

His eyes caught the slowly dripping trail of crimson at the other demon’s mouth.

“You’re bleeding.”

“That makes two of us.” Alastor snapped back petulantly. He lowered his eyes to the still free flowing wounds on Vox’s arms. Vox glared and slowly began to move his fingers.

Alastor’s eyes narrowed. He was trying not to wince again, Vox could tell; but the twitching of his muscles around Vox’s fingers gave him away. He slid a leg wider across the desk subconsciously. Vox gratefully moved himself in to fill the empty space.

He began parting his fingers as they moved, stretching the Radio Demon’s walls slowly, ignoring the urgency welling up inside him.

He was normally a deeply impatient man. He wanted results, wanted pleasure, wanted everything now, but he knew acting that way here would be counterproductive. He wanted that bastard to enjoy this – enjoy it as much as he himself would; enjoy it so much he would be drawn back to this office. He knew that it was unlikely – the other demon was infuriatingly self-controlled, but he could always hope.

Eventually, Vox could feel Alastor begin to relax again. His muscles began to give way as the Television Demon scissored them slowly inside. Pulse pounding, unsure how much longer he could wait, he slid his fingers back out.

He had toyed briefly with the idea of stroking Alastor’s prostate. The thought of seeing the other demon spasm in pleasure across his desk would have been blissfully satisfying, but doing so would have meant waiting even longer; perhaps even another argument. Vox couldn’t wait that long. He was using every ounce of restraint already. He’d fantasised about this for more years than he cared to admit.

Staring hotly into the red, narrowed eyes, Vox trailed his newly free hand up Alastor’s leg, relishing the feeling of warm flesh. He grabbed the narrow, scarred hips and raised them off the desk, shifting his body weight and lining himself up. Alastor’s fingers were still clutching painfully to his shoulder, the Radio Demon’s face set into a tight, smiling glare. Vox slowly, carefully, pressed himself forwards.

Alastor let out a silent hiss as his insides spasmed against the sudden intrusion. Vox bit his own lip hard, shuddering with pleasure, but refusing to look away. He wanted to capture it all. The deer-like ears were flattened back, the face full of apparent loathing as they looked back at the eyes on the screen above him, chest heaving. Vox tugged him closer, his fingertips twitching, burying himself as deeply inside Alastor as he possibly could.

He felt strangely dizzy.
This morning, he’d been dealing with one of Val’s frequent volatile mood swings. He’d taken an annoyingly long press conference for Angelic Security. He’d drank more than his own bodyweight in strong coffee, and listened to a rambling diatribe from Velvette about the lack of good models. Now? He was kneeling over a sprawled Alastor, feeling the cold fuck’s impossibly hot warmth completely engulfing him. He could hear the laboured breathing, smell his cologne, taste his salt in the air. He closed his eyes tightly, holding himself back… just a little longer.

“If… this is meant… to be enjoyable,” growled Alastor between pants, the mocking tone bringing Vox back to the present, “you’re clearly not doing it… very well.”

“You’re meant to be relaxing, you idiot.”

Alastor sneered up into Vox’s face, wrapping both arms around his shoulders so he could leer up closer to Vox’s face. His jacket slid further down his arms. “You try it.”

Vox made a noise of intense frustration behind his teeth. He took a hand off Alastor’s hips and slid it up between them, massaging the other demon’s shaft once more.

Alastor’s sharp fingers tore into Vox’s shirt. He was grinding his teeth, still staring obstinately into the Television Demon’s face. He seemed torn between discomfort and pleasure, trying not to show either, and at last, Vox began to see the mask starting to slip in earnest.

Alastor’s walls were almost unbearably tight around him. He was shivering in every muscle he had, tense and frustrated, waiting for the redhead to adjust to his presence. He nudged himself a little deeper, experimentally. The other demon tensed against him, but this time didn’t hiss or object.

Finally, almost painfully slowly, Vox started to move. He removed his hand from the Radio Demon’s member and replaced it on his hip, pulling him needfully down against him. Alastor seemed to resist momentarily, his body tensing warily one more time, and then to Vox’s immense satisfaction, he felt a response. Alastor’s hips were rocking, unaided into the slow rhythm Vox was setting. His face was still a sneering look of enmity, but the ears that had been flicked back angrily were beginning to slowly ease forward. Alastor’s breathing was becoming heavier and ragged, but Vox registered somewhere beyond the intense lust and concentration, that not once so far had the other demon allowed himself to make a single noise. It was... strange. Val was almost annoyingly loud – possibly one of the side effects of working around porn all day, and he’d grown used to that level of noise. This silence, this careful restraint was entirely new, a little confusing… and surprisingly an incredible turn on.

Alastor was struggling. He had wanted to dislike this; wanted to simply see it as a means to an end, or just as a curious experiment, but something unexpected had happened: he could feel Vox’s presence inside him, pushing at his insides slowly, and bizarre instincts were prodding at his subconscious, completely alien and impossible to ignore. He could feel himself moving in time with the other demon’s body. Despite his best efforts the snarl on his face was slipping, his eyes lidding, his vision blurring. His heart was pumping furiously hard, and yet he could feel Vox’s eyes on him, that smug and lustful glare plastered to his ridiculous excuse for a face. Alastor felt one of his eyes close irresistibly and saw the look of smug enjoyment spread further across Vox’s screen. He forced the snarl back upwards and clawed at Vox’s back, tearing the shirt with an audible rip. Vox hissed and suddenly glared.

“Bastard.” he growled thickly. Alastor’s face flickered momentarily back up into a sadistic grin.

He thrust into Alastor a little more forcefully in revenge, tugging at his hips harder. They were glaring into each other again, face to face and breathing hard. Vox felt a jolt in his chest, taken off guard as Alastor’s legs snapped suddenly upwards, wrapping themselves tightly around the Television Demon’s waist. He thought he saw a brief flicker of panic behind the still sneering eyes, but he couldn’t be sure.

Alastor was indeed panicking. He seemed to have made a miscalculation. He’d expected to be in complete control the entire time, showing no vulnerabilities; no weakness. Even with the contract he had signed as a safety net, the idea of anybody – especially Vox – seeing him lose his normally immaculate facade was almost intolerable. But here he was, losing himself a little more with every thrust of Vox’s hips: He could feel the heat and pressure of Vox’s member inside him, dragging against nerves he never knew he had, urging him to react. He tore at Vox’s back more viciously as he leaned up further, still flatly refusing to look away; to close his eyes. Alastor saw the flicker of pain in Vox’s face and felt the shiver run down his back, relieved that he could pay him back in some small way, but this time the other demon did not stop to object.

Vox let one hand go of his hip and slid it greedily up Alastor’s chest, then reached up beyond his head and curled his fingertips around the rear lip of the desk. Using it as leverage, he suddenly slammed himself as deep and hard as he could muster, moaning.

Vox watched through heavily lidded, lust-dimmed eyes, his entire body filled with pure disbelieving intoxication as he realised what exactly he’d done. A deep, intense shudder seemed to vibrate through Alastor, his legs shaking as they clutched themselves around Vox’s back. His head seemed to jerk backward against the desk, and the eyes glazed over before they rolled back into his head. He panted, biting his bloody lip again and causing a fresh trickle to roll down the side of his mouth. After a moment he managed to focus, half dazed as he glared up into Vox’s screen, two streaks of blood still describing thin, red lines across his face.

“Heh… there we go.” Vox couldn’t resist.

The redhead managed to narrow his eyes one last time. He licked his lips.

“Fuck you.” he hissed, breathing hard.

The Television Demon bit his own lip at the finally undisguised lust and anger on the redhead’s face, even with the shadows of that eternal smile still clinging to it. He felt himself twitch. Hard. He slammed upwards again.

The eyes actually screwed shut this time, the back arching almost entirely from the desk and at last, as Vox’s eyes burned into him searchingly, Alastor uttered a thin, quiet, barely suppressed moan.

Vox’s eyes suddenly widened in shock. More than anything he had seen so far, more than anything he’d felt, the sight and sound of this pompous, stoic prick finally losing all self control was the most perfect, most intoxicating thing he had ever seen in either of his lives. He let out a low, appreciative groan as he felt muscles contract hard around his cock. He closed his eyes at last. The image of the other demon in that pose removed any further thoughts inside Vox’s head. He frowned intently, subconsciously set his forehead against Alastor’s, and began to slam into him hard.

Alastor’s voice never rose. Vox registered vaguely, beyond the overwhelming sensation of the demon moving beneath him, that even in this much pleasure, Alastor was still holding on to a thin thread of self control. Everything else from the way the Radio Demon’s legs tightened around him with each thrust, to the twitching of his member against Vox’s stomach, to the angry stinging claw in Vox’s own back, indicated that Alastor was lost in what they were doing. And yet, he still refused to vocalise it. When Vox thought back on it later, he couldn’t help but give the bastard some grudging respect. Right now he was panting raggedly, teeth still digging furiously into his lower lip as Vox slammed up against his prostate. Without thinking, Vox’s tongue slid from between his lips and darted to the long streak of red at his chin, tasting metal. Alastor managed a weak snarl.

The desk itself was creaking slightly as Vox continued to clutch to it, using it to pull himself harder, faster, more desperately into the movement. He was groaning quietly at the intensity of the sensations around him, and the dizzying idea of who exactly it was sprawled on this desk with him. He was normally louder, but he was still vaguely aware of Zestial outside the door. The last thing either of them needed was a curious Overlord walking in on them.

Vox’s muscles were shaking, a deep burning ache rising in the pit of his stomach as he threw himself into a desperate rhythm one final time. Alastor’s only response was a deep, visceral shudder. One of the hands clawing at Vox’s back released and snapped up to the now sweat streaked red hair. A blue-fingered hand slid away from Alastor’s hip and squeezed between them. He grabbed the twitching length of flesh, and began to stroke it hard.

A moment later the redhead’s hissing breaths halted sharply in his chest. His every muscle tensed painfully, the eyes squeezing shut even tighter until the Radio Demon could see flashing lights like pools of fire behind his eyes. He tilted his head back away from Vox, mouth opening wide and showing his teeth in a completely silent moan. His legs locked harder around Vox’s still thrusting waist, instinct telling him to pull him deeper, and with one final, impossible arch of his back, he came. Vox felt his fingers covered in flowing, sticky warmth.

The sudden intensity made Vox groan into the other demon’s now bared neck – a little more loudly than he’d liked. He pressed his face hard into Alastor’s collarbone, still stroking the leaking member as he let go of the edge of the desk. Thoughtlessly his arm slid under the other demon’s still arching back and wrapped itself there, holding him up desperately against his chest as he pounded shuddering against Alastor’s tensed walls. He felt the burning pleasure in his stomach spread into an all out fire, and barely a few seconds of movement after the other demon Vox gritted his teeth, forcing himself not to shout as he released his load deep inside the still twitching redhead.

They held that position for more than a few seconds as the orgasm washed over them: The Radio Demon - normally elegant, smiling, coldly psychopathic and sinister – arching backwards with his eyes screwed tightly shut, sweat sticking his hair messily to his forehead, one hand curled tightly in the tresses and one curled against Vox’s back. The Television Demon – loud, sneering, hotheaded and bitter – pulling the other upwards almost needily into his chest, face buried in his neck. Both were panting. Alastor’s legs were shaking.

Vox finally let out a deep, satisfied sigh. Alastor’s back collapsed. Vox took his weight, guiding him slowly, almost tenderly back down onto the desk. He followed him down, unable to maintain his position under his now weak legs.

He buried his screen in the other Demon’s shoulder and breathed deep, a vacant half-smile sliding up one side of his face.
- 4
- 5
- 6
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

The Contract