Dealings With A Kinder Devil

Angel Dust, porn star, drag queen, and sexiest spider slut in Hell, was feeling more like a drowned rat as he approached the Hazbin Hotel. It had been a long night, and he'd worked overtime. On top of that, he'd walked home in the rain, since he couldn't get a ride. Calling Charlie or Vaggie wasn't an option, since he didn't want them to see him like this, and he didn't want to blow twenty bucks on a cab when the hotel was ten minutes away on foot. That decision had led to his clothes being soaked through, but the freezing rain at least provided some relief to his sprained wrist, however.

He stopped just short of the hotel's front doors, assessing his injury. Valentino had been especially demanding that night, and one of his demands had been sex with his favourite little angel cake. Angel wasn't in the mood, and he'd tried to run away, and that had resulted in Valentino twisting his wrist to punish him. The spider demon had gotten away without getting raped by his moth pimp, but not without being reminded that he was Valentino's favourite little slut, and that he'd better obey him next time if he wanted to keep his job.

Hot tears pricked Angel Dust's eyes. He didn't want to keep his job, not anymore, not when all he got from it constant sexual abuse, but what else could he do? Who else would hire him? He had no skills besides fucking, and getting fucked. Besides, this was Hell. Even if someone else hired him, would they really be any better than Valentino? Maybe if he could go to the other rings, things would be better, because he could get hired by a Hellborn who would treat him better. Some of the Hellborn demons, especially the imps, were good people, stuck in Hell simply by misfortune of birth. But no, he was a sinner, stuck in Pride, and surrounded by other sinners, who were worse than he could ever dream of being. Sinners who, just like Valentino, made sick games out of terrorising and exploiting others.

He clutched his wrist as he shambled inside, hoping that no one was up. He didn't want Charlie, or Niffty fussing over him, and he didn't want Vaggie yelling at him, either. He especially didn't want to see the red bastard. Alastor was charming, and handsome, and he handled anything that troubled him with frightening efficiency, and that was why he didn't want to see him. It had started off innocently enough—Alastor was hot, and that wasn't Angel Dust's dick talking, no, it was a fact. He was tall, and sharply debonair, always opting for suits, dress shoes, and other classy clothes from his era. His handsome, gentlemanly image was kind of undercut by the fact that he had cute fluffy ears atop his head, but they added a certain charm to his appearance. A physical reminder that he was less than perfect. Alastor wasn't perfect by any means; he was a murderer, after all, but he never killed indiscriminately, always choosing to kill those who preyed upon the weak, or those who threatened him directly. He, or perhaps, Bondye, his god, and the loa he got his powers from, had some standards—He got very offended whenever anyone called the vodou deities he called upon spirits, and insisted on everyone using their proper name, loa. He was incredibly respectful of his deities, keeping separate altars in his room for the Rada loa, and the Petro loa, and he gave offerings to them daily. The radio demon was faultlessly polite and respectful to everyone around him, even to a used-up old whore like Angel Dust, and that was what had turned the spider demon's silly little crush into love. Alastor didn't look down on Angel Dust, like all of his clients, and Valentino, he didn't pity him, like Charlie and Cherri Bomb did, and he didn't yell at him, like Husk and Vaggie did whenever he screwed up. He was the only person in Angel Dust's life who treated him like a normal person, a normal person deserving of basic respect, and he didn't want that to ever change. Despite his feelings, he didn't want Alastor's love. He didn't need his love, not when he had his respect. Knowing that the radio demon would never want his body, and never want a relationship with him was comforting, because it meant that he would always be a person, and not an object of desire, to him. Alastor treated him with respect just because, and he never wanted to dream, or let himself dream, of anything more.