Archive of Our Own ^beta

“Who the fuck are you?”

Vox sat in his control room, eyes focused on the array of looming monitors around him. Every screen played the same image in unison. An angelic figure swooped down to perch on the hotel sign.

“Alastor! Pleasure to be meeting you.”

Vox’s fingers moved up and down his shaft as he watched the red figure come into view.

“Quite a pleasure.”

Vox stroked faster when he heard that familiar voice. It was quite a pleasure for him too. He shuddered under his own touch.

“I’m about to end your fucking life.”

He’d watched this same video on repeat for hours straight. Over and over. Nothing else aroused him quite like this. Every since that day he’d seen it live, he’d been obsessed. He was so hard that day. And the next. And the next. And every day since, watching it on a loop, his newest hyperfixation.

He’d memorized and analyzed every second of it. But no matter how many times he rewatched it, it was just as thrilling.

His expression was dazed like he was in a trance. His eyes swirled like he was hypnotizing someone, but Vox was the one hypnotized. Red lines dripped down from his mouth, contorted into a dopey grin. He sat mesmerized, entire body stiff and rigid, except his hand, stroking his cock.

His fingers came to focus on his sensitive tip. He swirled it with his thumb, forcing an involuntary big breath out of him. He was close already.

“Oh fuck …” Vox murmured.

“Ah ah ah …” Alastor tutted on the screen.

Vox pulled away his hand. He didn’t want to cum yet. He didn’t want this to end. He wanted to keep watching, keep being aroused, keep touching himself for as long as he could.

“You really think you can take me on? A mortal soul is no match for me, edgelord.”

As the overlord who’d recently discovered edging, that name applied better to Vox than Alastor.

“You should know better than anyone what a soul can accomplish when they take charge of their own fate.”

This had been Vox’s life every day for the past two weeks.

“You think you’re tough shit, huh?”

Ever since that Extermination Day where the Hazbin Hotel won, but Alastor had lost.

“Tougher than you.”

He couldn’t stop after he discovered a new, extreme form of self-pleasure. Of course, that was on brand for him. He was always on the forefront of innovation, after all.

“You lack discipline …”

He’d done this over and over. Every time he felt his climax approaching, he’d back off. He’d get as close to the edge as possible without going over. Then he’d stop. It wasn’t easy. Sometimes he had to sit on his hands to restrain himself. As his cock, aching and twitching desperately for relief, went untouched.

“Control …”

He’d do that until he felt like he’d retreated far enough back from that precipice. Sometimes that was just a few seconds. Sometimes a few minutes. Then when he was ready, he’d start stroking again. And repeat the process all over.

“And worst …”

He’d lost count how many times. But each time his streak was longer. It started off just over an hour. Then a couple hours. Now this particular streak was his longest yet. Eighteen hours straight.

When he was in this zone, it was like nothing else existed. Just him and the images on the screen, and his bottle of lubricant nearby. He’d slip into that trance-like state, bewitched, eyes swirling with a goofy grin, hyperfixated on the video.

“… you’re sloppy.”

“Oh fuck yes …” Vox whimpered. That was one of his favorite lines. His hand hovered shakily over his dick. Almost but not yet. “I’d make you give it to me sloppy, Alastor. The sloppiest, wettest, messiest head I’ve ever gotten … spit and drool everywhere … just like slobber and gag all over that thing …”

“Hahaha!” laughed Alastor on the screen. “Poetry.”

He was probably good then, Vox figured as he gave back into the temptation. His fingers wrapped around his cock and resumed pumping. He bit his lip and he settled into that glorious feeling. It was different than just normal jerking off. The longer he did this, the more pleasurable it became. So intense it was like a different plane of being. Almost meditative. Like he was high on his own arousal. Pure bliss.

“I’m gonna wipe that shit-eating grin off your face, ‘cause radio’s fucking dead!”

Vox watched the first blow be dealt with his own shit-eating grin spread across his face.

“What just happened?”

The second blow cut so quick, a true blink and you miss it moment. Vox didn’t want to miss a moment. He’d slowed down that part many times. Watching frame by frame the axe slice through Alastor’s chest. His staff snapped in two. The realization hitting Alastor as hard as the angelic strike.

Vox liked that part too. The look of sheer bewilderment—even panic— on Alastor’s face. His real, raw, unfiltered voice. The rare use of a curse:

“Fffffuck.”

Vox had seen the video so many times that he was surprised this rewatch that he noticed a small detail he hadn’t before. The tiniest of holes in the sleeve of Alastor’s coat. It must have been ripped on impact.

“Wait, is that …?” said Vox, pausing it for a moment. He zoomed in. “Oh fuck, it is!”

It wasn’t just his jacket that was ripped. No, that hole cut through every layer of fabric. It was hard to tell, with Alastor’s arms naturally tapering to black closer to his hands— but that wasn’t just darkness. That was skin. Or maybe fur? Vox couldn’t tell. But it was Alastor. Another tiny piece of him he hadn’t seen unclothed.

Vox was desperate. He was hungry for more content. He’d happily take this crumb.

“O-oh yeah …” he huffed, inches sliding through his fingers a little faster.

The video resumed playing.

Alastor groaned as he hit the wall hard on the screen.

“Oh God yes …” whined Vox. He loved the sound of that groan. He liked to imagine it was him who made Alastor cry out like that, not Adam. With a feral, absolutely captivated expression on his face, his fingers stroked harder.

Alastor was on all fours on the video. An extraordinary position. Vox often paused on this moment to relish the sight of it. His imagination ran wild every rewatch. Thinking of the things he’d do if he had Alastor in that position. Sometimes it was on top of him, sometimes under him, sometimes directly in front of him giving that demon the facial of Vox’s dreams.

It didn’t go unnoticed that Alastor was struggling so much at this part. That only turned Vox on more.

Vox dug his claws into the side of his chair as his other hand kept palming his shaft. He could feel himself climbing closer to his climax again.

“Have to disagree with you there. Radio’s not dead …”

Vox had some sadistic tendencies. The sight of that large gash across Alastor’s chest never failed to excite him. He thought about sticking his fingers in that deep cut and making Alastor squirm. Make him groan again. Make him curse again.

There was blood splatter on the ground. It was on Adam’s axe from where it had sliced Alastor open. It dripped down from Alastor’s mouth in streaks. It oozed from the open wound. It was hard to tell, with Alastors suit being red—too much fucking red, Adam had said— but there was a lot of blood pooling there.

So much blood. Straight to Vox’s dick.

Vox quickly pulled away his hand. He was dangerously close to the edge. After a few big, shaky breaths and he was able to stop himself from going over.

“… but it is ending this broadcast.”

Vox loved how vulnerable Alastor looked then. His hair was ruffled, his ears pinned back, even his shadow looked horrified. He was like a wounded prey animal and he knew it.

Vox’s neglected erection quivered wantonly. Not yet, Vox said to himself. He’d cum immediately if he resumed again now. He needed at least a few more seconds. Even though he wanted to have that deferred orgasm so badly, he wanted to remain in this state of heightened arousal even more. Precum dribbled from the tip of Vox’s cock. It ached so badly to be touched.

But not yet. He resisted the urge.

“Bye, bitch!”

Vox swallowed hard, trying to gain composure. Doing this for hours straight, he was hyper sensitive. Delayed orgasm after delayed orgasm, it wouldn’t take much to push him over the edge. Like a trigger happy finger over a cocked gun.

But he didn’t want it to be over yet. He wanted to stay like this forever. Blocking out the rest of the world. Just him and the image of Alastor and his twitching erection.

Beep beep beep

Vox swiveled in his chair. This would be the only interruption he’d allow. It was an alert he’d set on a specific video drone of his. Alastor hadn’t been spotted leaving the hotel since the day he’d been trounced by Adam and had it broadcasted all over Hell. It’s possible he had, and the drone Vox had permanently stationed outside the hotel to watch for it didn’t pick it up. After all, Alastor had a habit of slinking in the shadows.

But this was the first time he’d used the actual front door of the hotel in two weeks.

“Oh shit!” Vox exclaimed, a giddy grin on his face. “New content!”

A few taps on his control panel, and the drone began following Alastor’s path. Down the hill the hotel sat upon, down the street, into the city. Alastor didn’t speak to anyone or do anything out of the ordinary. It appeared he was just taking a leisurely stroll into town.

But Vox noticed one thing different about him. Alastor was sporting his usual coat, except with a few extra holes—not just the usual frayed edges he liked. These were the tatters from Adam’s assault.

Vox wasn’t surprised by that. He’d seen what damage Alastor sustained in that attack. Many, many times. It was the new shirt that caught Vox’s eye.

It was actually quite similiar to the one Alastor usually wore. The difference was subtle, but the color was slightly darker. More of a maroon. And it was just a bit looser fitting than the shirt he typically wore.

“What are you up to, Alastor?” Vox said to himself.

As Vox watched the drone’s feed of Alastor walking, he reached down between his legs. It’d been enough time, he figured. But he’d start slowly, just in case. He lazily began to stroke his cock again, eyes glued to the screen.

“There’s no way you don’t notice that drone.”

Vox could see and hear Alastor through the drone’s video, but Alastor couldn’t see or hear Vox. But the actual drone buzzing about him was quite noticeable. Especially when it followed his every step. Each time he turned a corner, each time he crossed the street, each time he waited at a crosswalk. The drone followed and waited with him.

Of particular interest to Vox was that the image wasn’t distorted.

“Thanks for giving me a clear view!” Vox said, pumping a little faster now. “In case this ends up being worth jerking to again later.”

Vox was absolutely recording this.

Finally Alastor appeared to reach his destination. He casually stepped into the shop with a ding of the bell above the door. Then Vox’s view of him was lost.

Vox moved around the drone to see where exactly in the city Alastor had led them to and recognized it immediately. He saw the familiar stacked televisions behind the glass window display, directly neighboring the ‘Old Crap’ next door that was still there for some reason.

“Going to the tailor’s, huh?” Vox said with a devious grin.

That made sense, Vox figured. He did it before when his coat was torn, so it was no surprise that he’d do it again. Though why Alastor didn’t just use his powers to repair it, Vox didn’t know. Alastor’s powers were very mysterious. Maybe fixing clothes wasn’t one of them. Or maybe it was just an ego thing, wanting to do it the old fashion way.

Vox could appreciate doing things by hand.

His own was currently still wrapped around his dick, happily working up and down the fresh lubricant Vox had squirted onto it.

“What a lucky son of a bitch …” said Vox. “To be Alastor’s tailor … wish I could see what he sees …”

Vox imagined it. Alastor in various states of undress. He’d probably been measured by that tailor at some point, maybe multiple times. Almost certainly without his dress shirt on. Maybe even without his undershirt. And that lucky tailor probably got to touch him, at least slightly. A brush against his skin as he dragged a tape measure across his chest.

Maybe he had pants fitted at some point too, Vox wondered. When he thought about dragging a hand down Alastor’s thigh to measure an inseam, Vox had to pull his own hand away. The mental image of running fingers down Alastor’s inner thighs for the crotch measurement sent a stirring straight to Vox’s own groin. When he felt that tingling of pleasure start to mount, he knew he had to back off, or his streak would be broken.

Vox waited impatiently for Alastor to exit the shop and his dick to settle. It was only a couple minutes— he could see the numbers on the timer in the corner of the screen running up. But Vox couldn’t go long in this state without something to stimulate him. He was debating pulling up his original Alastor being thrashed by Adam video to watch again while he waited, but then he heard the ding of the shop door open again.

Out stepped Alastor, still looking dapper despite not sporting his coat.

“Yesssss …” Vox hissed, fondling his balls for a moment but not daring to touch his hair trigger erection yet. “We’re back.”

Vox had to force himself to remove his hand again. It trembled desperately just above his lap. He was like a junkie going through withdrawal, wanting to touch himself again so badly when he saw it. Alastor was missing something else besides his coat.

“No tie?!” said Vox, screen lighting up. “Holy shit! This is not a drill! No tie! I can see a whole new inch or two of skin …”

Alastor glanced up at the drone hovering above him, arching an eyebrow.

“Still watching the show, old chum?” asked Alastor with a sly grin.

“Oh shit—“ Vox startled. He knew Alastor could see the drone, but he didn’t expect him to actually acknowledge him.

“Can’t imagine watching me running an errand is that entertaining,” said Alastor as he began his way across the street, drone following. “But with the kind of drivel you call content, I suppose it’s a very low bar.”

Vox growled. “This fucker …” he said under his breath.

“You must be busy. I noticed you hadn’t produced anything new lately,” said Alastor as he pivoted toward the window display. “Not since that day you aired that— what did you call it? Reaction video?”

Vox had nearly forgotten about that. His version of the video he replayed didn’t have his narration —“fuck you fuck you fuck you PUSSY!”— and other insightful commentary. But he did record it, because he recorded almost everything. And to add literal insult to injury, he’d later edited it into a reaction video, filled with taunts, jeers, and just a few of those pelvic thrusts. And broadcast it for all of Hell to see, just like the original video.

‘Radio Demon a fraud?! 🤯 You won’t believe how bad he got his ass kicked! 😱’ was his click bait title. 

Velvette had told him reaction videos were hot right now. And while it was always important for him to be a part of whatever kind of video was trending, it was also just another excuse for him to watch his favorite recording again.

“What a lazy form of entertainment,” said Alastor.

Vox balled his fists, sparking with electricity. He had to do something with them beside touch his aching cock. “That’s it, prick. You don’t get to insult me and walk away.”

Alastor grinned as he saw Vox’s image appear on every television set in the window. He’d crossed the street and stood directly in front of that store. On purpose, Vox thought.

Vox made sure the image he broadcasted on the display’s television screens just showed him from the chest up. He didn’t want anyone passing by to see he didn’t have any pants on and his rock hard dick out. He looked as forboding as usual as he loomed over Alastor’s figure through the screens.

“You got some serious BALLS saying that,” he said to Alastor through the televisions. “After getting your shit wrecked in front of all of Hell!”

Alastor didn’t give him the satisfaction of showing any offense. “So you were watching me.”

“Two weeks holed up in Princess Nepo Baby’s hotel, and this is what finally drags you out?” Vox taunted, pointing across the street to the tailor’s shop. “Though I guess it is weird to see you without it. You almost look naked.” Vox’s eyes flicked up and down Alastor. “I guess you’d want it to be repaired as soon as possible. Such a shame Adam ruined it.” Vox paused to gear himself up for the punchline, so eager his timing felt rushed. “… and also get your coat fixed!” Then Vox laughed his evil laugh in Alastor’s face.

Alastor just grinned back at the screens.

Vox’s laughter slowed. “Ha! BURN! Get it? You thought I was talking about your coat, but I was talking about your staff!” He wiped a tear from his eye. “Haha, got’em.”

“Yes,” said Alastor, nonplussed. “The best jokes are indeed the ones you have to explain.”

Vox growled again. “Oh, shut the fuck up! The millions of views and likes on my reaction video says my jokes are funny.”

“Quite a video indeed,” Alastor agreed. “Had you not shared it, I never would have been so enlightened.”

“I can’t believe you even watched it,” said Vox, never having considered the possibility since Alastor didn’t typically watch television or go online. Probably that hotel whore Angel Dust showed him, Vox thought.

“It is indeed strange without my staff though. What will I do with my hands now?” Alastor popped the top button of his shirt. And then the second.

Vox jolted, not expecting to see that. “Wha …?”

Alastor unbuttoned two more. “You quite liked the original video a lot, didn’t you?”

Vox’s dick had started to flag during their argument, but it stirred again as he watched Alastor’s fingers move from one button to the next. The two halves of the shirt were still in place, so he couldn’t see underneath yet, but just the tease of it and the blood flowed straight to Vox’s now full erection.

“Oh, Alastor …” Vox gave into temptation, wrapping his hand around his hard girth once again. “You have no idea.”

Alastor undid the last button. “I think I do, actually. How many hours straight is it this time?”

“The fuck?!” Vox startled, inadvertently squeezing himself but okay with that. It felt good, but he didn’t let that on. “How did you …?! There’s no way you could have known about that!”

Alastor smirked, holding the unbuttoned shirt together with his hands. “Word gets around, Vox. When a prolific media overlord neglects their work for two weeks straight, people notice.”

It was true. Vox hadn’t made an appearance in public since the reaction video. He’d been spending all his time in his ‘gooner cave’ as Valentino had called it. Neglecting meetings, not returning phone calls, not showing up for interviews. Vox 2 Nite had been nothing but reruns. Because the real Vox tonight—and every night— had been locked away masturbating for hours on end to the same video on repeat. Beating off to the beat down. Zoned out from everything else.

“Your business partners notice,” continued Alastor, rolling his shoulders back as he prepared to move his arms. “One of your business partners complains to his employees. One of his employees lives at the hotel with me. It’s a small world amongst us overlords, you know. People talk.”

Vox hoped Alastor couldn’t see the subtle movement of his arm just out of frame. There was just the slightest of bob of his shoulder as he stroked himself.

Alastor shrugged off his shirt.

“Oh fuck!“ exclaimed Vox, unable to prevent the big grin on his face.

Almost all of Alastor’s chest was wrapped in bandages. White gauze was rolled around his rib cage several times, from under his armpits down to his upper abdomen.

Vox let out the tiniest of gasps, restraining his vocalizations as much as possible. There was slightly more arm movement visible in the frame then as he furiously pumped his hand harder over his cock.

“I’ve learned a lot of things I’d rather have not known from our crude resident porn star,” said Alastor. “But this so-called ‘gooning’ is just downright pathetic.”

Vox somewhat listened to what Alastor was saying. His attention was more on Alastor’s chest. The bandages specifically. The small tinge of pink he could see through them when he looked closer. The thought of blood still oozing through them from that deep gash two weeks later absolutely thrilled him. He kept a mostly straight face when he arched himself into his stroking fingers, precum dribbling eagerly from his tip.

Alastor grinned back with a toothy, sinister smile. “You didn’t answer my question, by the way.”

“What …” Vox’s voice was strained as he kept fucking his hand just out of view. “... wh-what question?”

Alastor’s eyes narrowed, grinning wickedly. “How long this time?”

Vox didn’t want Alastor to know. Eighteen hours was a long time. He was proud of it, but he still didn’t want Alastor to know.

“None of your fucking …” Vox paused and bit his lip for a second to keep from moaning. “… b-business.”

“It’s my understanding that the appeal of this is to do it for as long as you can.” Alastor took a step closer to the glass, staring Vox down. “The longer you stay in this realm of self-pleasure, the better. Relishing that high. Like an addict.”

Vox panned his camera’s view a little closer to his face, not sure how much Alastor could see of his shoulder moving. He’d also been rutting into his hand and it was getting harder to hide that unless Alastor saw nothing but his head.

“What happens to a dream deferred?” Alastor mused aloud. “Does it dry up like a raisin in the sun?”

Vox wondered if Alastor could hear the subtle hum of his fans turning on, trying to cool him down as his body heated up.

“Or maybe it just sags like a heavy load,” Alastor continued, and something about the way he said load was especially titillating to Vox.

Vox actually recognized the quote, but never expected to jack off to it.

“Or does it …” Alastor reached for his chest. “… explode?”

Vox sucked in a big breath to keep himself from exploding all over his desk.

Alastor hooked a finger around the top of his bandages. “Is this what you wanted to see, Vox?”

Vox couldn’t hide the way his eyes widened so much they almost filled his entire screen. He quickly pulled away his hand when he felt his dick pulse in his fingers in excitement. That was close. He dug his claws into both armrests to restrain himself.

This was perfect. He was so tempted, so aroused, so horny. This was exactly the feeling he was addicted to. It really was like being high. And the longer it lasted, the more intense it was. Between this being his longest streak yet, and Alastor’s new unexpected peep show, he was in a state of pure ecstasy.

This was the feeling he wanted to last as long as possible.

Alastor leaned in closer, so close no one else who happened to pass by on the sidewalk could see the view Vox saw. He pulled down the bandage just slightly. Just enough to see a peek of open, red sinewy flesh.

The second he saw it, Vox came untouched.

“Fuck—!” he cried, gripping the armrests. It had caught him by surprise.

Alastor watched with an amused smirk, pulling his bandage back up.

The huge, pent up load spurted all over Vox’s lap. Luckily out of frame.

Vox shuddered hard as his climax finished. It took him a second to recover, then he snapped back his attention to what had just happened with a panicked expression on his face. “Shit!” Then horror. “NO! No no no no ….”

Alastor slid his shirt back on, looking smug as ever.

“God DAMNIT!” Vox roared with a glitch. “My edging streak!”

It was gone. Eighteen hours, each more intoxicating than the last, ruined. Back to zero.

Alastor started to button up his shirt. “Is this really better than sex?” he taunted.

Vox snarled through the camera, little sparks of electricity jumping through his wires. That fucker did that on purpose, he just knew it.

Just before turning to head back to the hotel, Alastor winked and said, “Guess I’ll have to take your word for it.”