Chapter Text
Red hot moaning. Loud and breathless. Not a mere whimper or whine. Angel Dust was fucking himself filthy in the privacy of his own room. A little alone time spent trying to prove to himself that his sexuality was still under his own control after a difficult day on set. But there was never truly alone time in the hotel. Not when the radio demon had crept throughout the soundscape like that smile spread across his face. He couldn't help but overhear.
He couldn't help the delicious jolt of static crackling through his veins when he heard it, either. Angel Dust in orgasmic splendor. The salacious sighing. Those horny vocalizations Alastor couldn't ignore.
The porn star was overwhelming in person. All eyes and limbs and innuendos, always pushing right up against Alastor's comfort zone. It was too much. Too much to process and absorb. And Alastor had never been a visual learner anyway.
But those sounds that Angel Dust made alone in his room-- that was aural pleasure unlike anything Alastor knew to expect. He picked up the signal and felt the excitement prickling through his internal organs. It tickled him. Made him feel so much hotter than simply being in hell ever did. Cheeks burning up. His bowtie suddenly constricting. Just indulging in the sounds of Angel Dust playing with himself was enough to arouse him.
For all the spider’s come ons and dirty talk, Alastor had never actually found the flirtation appealing until now. Bragging rights in Hell’s porn industry meant very little to the radio demon. This, however, was something else. These moans– divorced from the image of a lanky cumslut begging for attention– were genuine. No performance. No playing up to an audience.
Alastor allowed himself to slip into the saccharine self-gratification. No physical aspect of the scene appealed to him, but the prospect of sex had never seemed so… sonorous before. As that delicious tickle of arousal finally began to grate on his nerves, Alastor couldn’t stop himself from seeking out the source of this spectacle.