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Of all the fucked up things to happen to Angel since falling to Hell, ending up with not only both sets of parts but both sets functioning enough to where he apparently had a goddamn menstrual cycle, irregular though it was is probably up there with the worst of it. It would have been laughable, Sinners couldn’t even get pregnant but Hell was nothing if not dramatic irony upon dramatic irony, especially where he was concerned. He knows the moment it comes his life is going to get even more fucking annoying than usual.
In hindsight, he thinks he should have seen the signs coming by now. Two days ago he'd snapped at Niffty for seemingly no reason. He'd started crying in the middle of a shower and seeing Fat Nuggets napping in his bed had made Angel start thinking about getting absolutely bred out of his mind. He knew that he couldn't get pregnant. He was dead, Sinners couldn't get pregnant, but it didn't make him think about it any less. It doesn't hurt that for reasons he does not want to contemplate, thinking about breeding always led him to thoughts about the Radio Demon. He was a deer after all, and Angel had been in Hell long enough to know that deer sinners had a rut which meant if Angel was very very lucky one day Alastor might breed him. After all, they were friendly enough. And friends helped out friends during their time of need. Speaking of needs, Angel had been awake for all of three hours and had fingered himself to a shuddering climax four times. Each time Alastor's name had been on his lips as he came. Get ahold of yourself! He thought. He usually didn't get off this much right before work, but it was as if a light switch had been flipped in his brain and suddenly he was even more horny than usual. I ought to avoid Alastor altogether, he thought. Lest I climb him like a tree. A very short tree. A very short tree whose lap I want to sit in. And face I want to sit on. Fuck. Angel was horny again.
And then, as if by some fucking curse, the cramps start with less than an hour before work and Angel realizes it's that time again. Fuck fuck fuck, no! It can't be. How long had it been since the last time? Three months? Six? It's never consistent enough for him to track. He's not sure if it's because it's Hell, because he's him, or some combination of the two.
As if Valentino wasn’t pissed enough with him as of late. Sure enough, he was in the middle of a shoot when it happened. One minute he’s being fucked, not well mind you but Angel's mind wanders and it's enough, and the next the bed looks like a slasher film took place on it. It is quite literally a bloodbath.
“Oh for fuck sake,” Valentino growls.
“Ew,” the Sinner fucking him complains. Angel’s face burns in shame. The cramps are one thing, he’s used to hiding his pain behind a mask of indifference but he can’t hide the blood. It’s everywhere. Who chooses white sheets for a fucking porn shoot Val? He thought miserably to himself. Valentino is pissed, but then what else is new? A cramp so acute it’s almost blinding for half a minute wreaks havoc on him. He should be used to it by now. It’s been nearly eighty years after all, and isn’t that just the fucking worst part— now that he’s dead he doesn’t even get the possibility of menopause at least. Just an endlessly irregular cycle. He’d track it but thus far even with almost a century’s worth of data he still can’t make heads or tails of it. About the only thing he can be certain of at this point is, it fucking sucks, and it means that until it passes, Val won’t have anything to do with him. Honestly, it’s worth the discomfort and embarrassment just for that. For an overlord of lust who knows there’s a kink for just about everything Val won’t touch him when it comes to this. Angel almost smirks as he thinks about the fact that Val purposefully avoids the cannibal contingent of Angel’s fanbase, perhaps because of Alastor and his animosity with Vox.
Thinking about Alastor is always a dangerous proposition around Val, mostly because he feels like his work and his life at the hotel are two lines that he never wants to cross over. Especially Alastor. Valentino looks absolutely disgusted. “Someone get a fucking cleaning crew in here and Angel… ugh, get out of my sight until you’re not going to bleed all over my fucking set and your goddamn costar!”
Angel didn’t have to be told twice. He grabbed his things and changed as quickly as he could and made a run for it. Angel was at the hotel before he’d fully realized where he was. He couldn’t help but heave a sigh of relief as he slipped through the doors, but his relief was short lived however. No sooner had he come in than he felt blood trickling down his thighs again. Shit. As usual, Angel hadn’t been prepared. He groaned, uncomfortably walking up the stairs, hoping he wasn’t leaving a trail in his wake. He really didn’t need the questions. He supposed he could lie and say he’d been shot, but that would undoubtedly lead to more trouble than it was worth so instead Angel did his best to cross his legs and make his way up towards his room before anyone caught wind of his predicament.
So it figures that the person to catch him in the end is both the only person he enjoys spending time with and the last person he wants to see right now. Alastor.
“Hell—” Alastor pauses, his red eyes shine and Angel swallows. “O?”
“Hi,” Angel says trying to sound more confident than he feels.
“You’re bleeding,” Alastor said quickly. It isn’t a question and it isn’t an accusation either. Merely a fact, still it makes Angel shiver.
He swallows again the growing lump in his throat. “I…” he runs through the lies, and the possible explanations but none suffice. Not when Alastor is looking at him like he’s a four course meal. “H-h-how do you know that?”
Alastor’s grin widens, “I’m a cannibal, my dear. Sniffing out blood is what we do.” He purrs and fuck Angel should not be thinking about what it would be like to sit on his face right now. Except he’s horny again on top of everything else. Or maybe that’s just Alastor.
Angel blushes. “It’s no biggie.”
“Are you quite sure my dear? I’d be happy to take a look?” Angel flushes at the thought of Alastor taking a look at him. He knows Alastor would never believe him if he told him (it sounds like a come on, hey Al check my panties), and having to flash him to prove the point while tempting is far too embarrassing. “Quite sure,” Angel says. Alastor eyes him suspiciously but shrugs and vanishes into the shadows and Angel runs into his room to wash himself in the shower.
It looks like he committed a murder and for a brief moment, he’s transported to the first time he ever killed a man at his father’s behest. He shakes his head and instead takes a deep breath, and hopes that it will pass. And then, like a lightning bolt, a cramp hits him and he buckles. Fuck. He attempts to breathe, but it feels like that one time he got shot, there’s about as much blood. The cramps are always bad, but usually, they’re not this bad. The room darkens and he thinks for a minute he might be passing out when the shadows blink back at him, and it becomes all too clear that he’s not passing out, but he has caught the attention of a certain cannibal deer who he’s pretty sure is going to eat him in a way he doesn’t want. Well, at least if I die again the cramps will stop, he thinks to himself. In most cases, hot water helps end the spasming but apparently, this time nothing is going to stop them so he decides to get out of the shower, wraps a towel around himself haphazardly, and all but crawls to his bed and lays down. He’s barely made it to his bed before Alastor materializes at the foot of his bed, and Angel thinks he’s lived a good life.
“Oh my dear, you’re looking rather unwell.”
“Smiles if you’ve come to kill me, make it quick I’m in a lot of pain.”
Alastor eyed him for a long moment. “Is there something I can help you with?” He asks sincerely and fuck if that alone doesn't make him feel good in a way he doesn't want to examine too closely.
Angel considers this, there are a lot of things he wants Alastor’s help with, in bed with him naked, but his cramps are still clawing at his insides like some sort of hellish beast and he thinks he could kick Lucifer’s ass right about now. Instead, Angel just pants, and he doesn’t even care that he’s probably bleeding into his otherwise clean sheets and towel. He doesn’t even have the energy to be mortified. Alastor spots the blood immediately. “Your bleeding is getting worse.”
“It’s called a fucking menstrual cycle Al!” He hisses through the pain.
“Oh. I wasn’t aware you… oh,” is all he can say.
“Please for the love of Satan, just kill me.”
Alastor swallows. “You know… I… admit this is perhaps a bit indecorous of me but I do believe I might be able to help you with this situation.” Angel looks up at him, and he’s so desperate for relief he’s certain he would try just about anything.
“At this point, you could knock me unconscious with a bat and I’d thank you for it.”
“Nothing as drastic as all that,” Alastor said, removing his coat and bowtie. Angel thinks the pain might be causing him to hallucinate because Alastor is licking his lips and pushing up his sleeves and he looks (for him) positively lewd. Not to mention feral. “No no, you see, I’m taken to understand certain activities can aid with offering some relief.”
“Activities?” Angel asks. He thinks he understands, but he’s still in pain and he’s still not entirely sure he’s not hallucinating. He needs to hear Alastor clarify.
“Fornication for lack of a better word.”
Angel laughs, actually laughs, and it sends a spasm through him that makes him nearly scream. “Al, forgive me for my language but what the fuck are ya talkin’ about?” he asks through clenched teeth.
“Well, it’s a simple matter of chemistry my dear, orgasm releases endorphins as well as a myriad of other chemicals in the brain that make you happy and act as a natural pain reliever.”
“Wouldn’t it be easier to just snort a line of coke?” Angel's half joking. This is the longest he's gone without drugs and he's pretty sure that's not helping his cause.
“I don’t think Charlotte would approve of me allowing you to do that.”
“And she’d approve of you fuckin’ me?” Angel asks, half incredulous. It speaks to how much pain he's in that he's even arguing this. Even before the cramps, Angel would have given his right arm to have Alastor rail him into next century so the fact that he's questioning his logic now is so antithetical to who Angel is as a person that it feels like an out-of-body experience to even have this conversation in the first place.
“I wouldn’t dream of such a thing. No. I’m merely suggesting a mutually beneficial arrangement for the both of us," Alastor purrs. His voice is so low it's almost sinful, pure sex, and Angel can feel himself drip with need.
“Namely?”
“I’m not up to date on the modern slang but I believe the term Cunnilingus says it well enough.”
“You wanna eat me out?” Angel asked, half incredulous, half turned on.
“Yes.”
“Why?” He could slap himself but his tongue moves of its own accord without any input from his brain which is currently screaming from the pain.
“Well, for you a release of endorphins, serotonin, and the like, and for me… well… I am a cannibal, and blood is something of a delicacy.”
“Ain'tcha ace?”
“What now?” Alastor tilts his head in that deer way of his that at any other time is charming but now Angel wishes he had shut his own stupid mouth and let him do what he wanted. It wasn't as if Angel had asked (this time) this as all Alastor.
Angel groans, he cannot have this conversation, naked bleeding on his bed with his body spasming from cramps, like he's being struck by lightning, and yet... “Asexual. As in not interested in sex.”
“I am not as adverse to it as I appear, and there are exceptions to the rule. You and I have become friendly as of late.”
Angel blinks, “I… fuck it. Why not.”
Alastor looks delighted and hungry like Angel has never seen. He's ravenous and really Angel should feel disturbed. But honestly, he’s just too curious. Alastor has been like an itch he couldn’t scratch for months now and now that the opportunity has presented itself he’s not even sure why he hesitated. “For the remainder of your cycle, I shall be there whenever you need to assist you.” It's not a deal but it almost feels like one.
“Sure,” Angel shrugs. He's half out of his mind with pain and he still isn't sure this isn't some elaborate fantasy he's enacted but dammit he's too curious, too horny, and so they're doing this.
Alastor kneels on the bed.
“I do hope you’ll forgive me, normally in these circumstances I would prefer a little… what is the expression? Pre intercourse…”
“Foreplay,” Angel replies, he wants to curse the other man out in Italian for his goddamn gentlemanly ways but it's just too damn cute.
“Yes, that. But given your current predicament...” he trails off.
“Just get on with it!” Angel does snap that time. He immediately feels bad for it, but Alastor just grins, smugly and Angel wants to snort, without another word, Alastor leans down so his mouth is hovering over Angel’s cunt, his eyes closed, looking as though he might be praying before his meal. Angel would have rolled his eyes, but no sooner had he paused, than Alastor let out a hum, and Angel saw his eyes turn to radio dials as his tongue flicked out and lapped up some of the blood. Angel moaned. It should have been disgusting, the whole cannibal thing, but then Alastor’s tongue slid inside him as his mouth opened like he was unhinging his jaw so he could suck at his lips and Angel’s brain stopped questioning it. In fact, it stopped doing much of anything except for feeling. Alastor ate him out like a man starved, he licked and sucked and hummed and moaned like he had been given a feast and Angel had never ever experienced anything like this. His back arched, and his eyes rolled back. Cramps forgotten. “Ah fuuck, Al.” For the first time in a very long time, Angel was reminded why sex was at heart, his favorite drug of choice. When it was good it was really fucking good. Case in point.
It didn’t hurt that Alastor’s fingers had curled into his own on one hand while his other was curled into Angel’s thigh. Angel whimpered and whined, he had never been so wet and turned on in all of his life. His body was currently at war with itself, half of him wanting to come, please dear Satan, and part of him wanting this to last forever.
Alastor hummed, his claws pulling Angel’s hips up, so his face was buried impossibly deeper, his sharp nose poking into Angel's pubic mound, as his tongue wriggled and writhed like it had a mind of its own. He was close. Fuck he was close. “Don’t stop. Please, fuck…I’m so close,” his voice was high and breathy. It was a sound a million demons would pay thousands of dollars to hear. Genuine arousal. Alastor let out a growl that sounded almost possessive and that was Angel’s undoing. The vibrations mixed with the teasing of his lips and clit sent Angel into a spiral and he came hard across Alastor’s tongue. The deer demon hummed again, continuing to tongue fuck him through his orgasm until Angel was oversensitive and so blissed out and fuck did he never want it to stop. Alastor exhaled a breath as he came up for air, his chin covered in blood and come. His hair was disheveled and he had no business looking as hot as he did just then. Alastor licked his lips again and Angel felt a shiver rack through his body.
“Simply delicious,” Alastor purred. His hands were still clutched to Angel’s thighs and Angel blinked. He still wasn’t entirely sure this had been real but fuck if that was a hallucination it was the best fucking hallucination he’d ever had.
And then, before he knew it, Alastor was on his feet, his entire face clean, and his jacket and bowtie back on as if nothing had happened. The only proof of it was the sated feeling that Angel was currently enjoying, and the lack of cramps that he could notice. “Thanks,” he croaked.
“Any time my dear,” Alastor said kissing the back of his hand. And just like that he was gone, into his shadows.
Apparently, Alastor’s promise of any time had been quite literal and also extended to anywhere. Angel had woken up at three in the morning in pain and Alastor had arrived within moments, tossing Angel’s ankles over his shoulders and taking care of him with such thorough and tender care that Angel fell asleep almost immediately thereafter.
What Angel had not expected, was that the blood thirsty cannibal would apparently make that a literal term. True to his promise that was not quite a deal, the deer demon took care of him, very, very well. His sense of smell was incredible and that, mixed with his shadows pulling him into dark closets where Alastor already was so Alastor could eat him out like there was no tomorrow while his shadow held him in place and covered his mouth so all Angel could do was let out a silent scream as Alastor devoured him like this was his last meal.
When he had finished and gotten to his feet, his shadows still hadn’t released Angel, instead, he whispered in his ear. “It’s a shame that I missed those delicious sounds you make my dear.” Angel shivers still beneath the restraints, and he can feel his legs buckling and a dripping down his thighs that isn’t blood. As if sensing this and perhaps just to make him absolutely crazy Alastor drags his fingers between Angel’s thighs, collecting the wetness, and sticks them into his mouth with a hum. It’s the single hottest thing Angel has ever seen. Alastor licks his fingers clean like he’s licking off dessert and then just as quickly as he had been pulled into the closet he’s out again. It happens several times in the kitchen, the library, and once with Angel sitting on the bartop with Alastor sitting at the bar drinking Angel’s nectar like it’s ambrosia. At least half a dozen times take place in Alastor’s office on his desk, and Angel never gets tired of slipping into Alastor’s office to hop onto his desk and spread his legs for the overlord. He’s used to men looking at him like a piece of meat but Alastor looks at him like he’s an entire fucking meal. He always bows his head in reverence before he does it, gives Angel a look as though asking for permission which Angel would never even think not to grant him, and then his mouth is on him like it's all he's ever wanted. Angel has never felt so desired in his entire life.
As the week comes to a close, Angel is so fucked out of his mind that he can’t think straight. He’s in a meeting with Charlie who’s just said… something. That’s Charlie alright, and he realized he was expected to say something back. Only he’s thinking about Alastor’s tongue again and he’s pretty sure his brain is leaking down out of his pussy. He smiles sheepishly and wants her to fuck off so Alastor can bend him over the nearest hard surface and eat him out within an inch of his life.
When the worst of his cycle is over Angel is for the first time almost disappointed, he’ll have to go to work soon but more importantly, the end of it meant that Alastor would no longer be using that fantastic tongue of his on him. Angel had long since realized that other men were ruined for him thanks to the Overlord. He was far too skilled for his own good and Angel ever the addict had chased the high of Alastor’s skilled tongue between his thighs as far as he could and still he craved more. Holy shit is this how he gets people to sell their souls to him? He wondered suddenly. Angel knew he would, in a heartbeat.
To Angel’s surprise, it seemed that even once it had stopped, and Angel had gone back to work, Alastor was apparently far from done with him. It was a crackle of static that gave away his position. One moment Angel was crawling into bed after a bath, the next Alastor had appeared in front of him.
“I thought perhaps after the end of your cycle I would be… sated enough, but it would seem the scent of you makes my mouth water. Even without the blood, I find myself drawn to you.” Alastor says so Angel does what Angel does best, he pulls Alastor down with his bowtie and wraps his arms around his shoulders and they kiss. It’s long and hard and breathtaking and Angel’s legs spread to accommodate Alastor. His claws are on Angel's thigh, teasing near where Angel needs them.
“Al. Please don’t tease me,” he whines. “I haven’t come all day.” It’s ironic how Angel had gone from having multiple orgasms per day thanks to Alastor to not having one the entire day thanks to his job. Alastor growled and hummed against his thigh as he pulled Angel closer to himself as per usual. Angel whimpered.
“Ya know Val’s gonna kill me when he realizes the Radio Demon ruined me for other men.”
Alastor grins. “No other man deserves to enjoy you like this. You should be mine and mine alone."
Angel moans, legs spread and Alastor buries his face between them again like he was born to eat pussy. Angel wonders vaguely where he had time to learn to do this. Was it before or after he toppled all those overlords, but his brain leaks out of his pussy again as Alastor’s fingers curl with his own, and his legs are tossed over Alastor’s shoulders. Angel’s heel digs into Alastor’s back and that seems to spur something on in the demon. HE growls, long and low and feral and Angel is weak.
No man has ever made Angel feel so good, and he hasn’t even dicked me down yet! Angel thinks. Alastor pulls back enough just to growl against his dripping wet folds, "Mine," and fuck if that doesn't make him whimper.
"Oh fuck, Al," he whines, his fingers digging into Alastor's hair, playing with his ears. "All yours. Fuck, on-only yours," when he comes, he screams Alastor's name and he wonders what it would take for Alastor to make a deal with him so he doesn't have to go back to Valentino. Alastor’s chin is dripping again and he looks, both like a ravenous beast whose hunger has been sated for the time being and like he has been in reverent prayer for the past hour.
“Y-ya really good at that,” Angel huffed, trying to catch his breath.
Alastor grinned, “Thank you, my dear. A pleasure.”
Angel wasn’t sure Alastor could possibly be getting the same pleasure out of this as he was, but Angel knew better than to argue that fact to Alastor.
He didn’t know what this made them, but he did know that after that, it became a regular thing between them. And wasn't that something to be grateful for?