Chapter Text
[New Orleans, Louisiana]
[1925]
For the longest time, the people in Alastor’s life thought he was a homosexual.
For the longest time, Alastor thought so as well.
And how could you not! He was always so openly theatrical and was quite charming, though he never brought any women home. He claimed it was because he was a gentleman or that no one had quite caught his eye yet, but, after rejecting a few too many desirable ladies, people became suspicious.
Especially when he started going out in the middle of the night only to return home at dawn with his hair mussed and brow wet with sweat. One could understand a teenage boy hiding a midnight lady lover from his parents but a grown man? He was most definitely sticking it in a fellow male. Except, he wasn’t but the lack of interest in women was quite peculiar.
Alastor always preferred women to men in company; they were far more respectful and acted with such art, while men were selfish and demanding creatures. He was ashamed to have been born one but it wasn’t something he could do anything about.
Still, the possibility remained that he could desire men carnally, even if not consciously, as many of his women friends bemoaned the fact of attraction towards such lesser beings.
So Alastor put it to the test.
This fellow’s apartment reeked of tobacco. There were clothes and papers strewn across the floors and couch, the curtains were dirty and torn and the whole place would have looked abandoned if not for the food in the fridge and the two cold plates of red beans and rice on the dining room table. When Alastor learnt the man was recently separated, he never thought it would’ve been this recently.
“Is this your first time with a man, then?”
“No, yours?”
“Yes, I’m afraid so…”
Afraid. Is he afraid? Is that why his heart rate is quickening and his actions don’t feel like his own? No, that’s unacceptable. He has no reason to be afraid of a little rendezvous, not when he’s heard of other people craving moments like these. Man-up.
Alastor took off his overcoat and shoes at the door and contemplated removing his waistcoat. Should he wait until they‘re in the bedroom or should he start undressing now? Would that make him seem eager? Is seeming eager a good thing or a bad thing?
The bulky gentleman grabbed Alastor’s hesitating hands, “Hey, follow me.”
They walked to the bedroom, every step reigniting Alastor’s nerves. The almost-painful tingling in his stomach and fingers must be a mix of arousal and anticipation or, if he is afraid, that’s because it’s his first time.
At that point, Alastor realised he had barely spoken a word since he arrived. He must have been throwing this poor fellow through a loop, being so quiet after talking his ear off at the bar. The atmosphere was far more tense than he’d imagined it would be, this was supposed to be fun and relaxing or so he’d heard.
They made it to the bedroom, where Alastor was pushed onto the bed and rough, stubby hands began to undress him. The waistcoat was discarded to the floor, his dress shirt was all but ripped open, his trousers and underwear were left hanging off his right leg.
“’Guess it is pretty cold today.” A scratchy voice snapped Alastor’s mind out of the haze it was in.
Alastor never heard himself comment on the temperature but nods anyway. He focused in on the chill to keep his head from wandering off again.
The hands crept slowly up Alastor’s thighs but he kept telling himself it would be okay. He’s going to have sex with this man and he’s going to like it because he likes men. Oh, but he doesn’t like men; they’re disgusting. What is he even doing here? He had only met this man an hour ago at a shady speakeasy. This shouldn’t be happening.
The man’s lips were on Alastor’s before he could protest. Hands were roaming his sides, groping his ass. The tingling in his stomach quickly turned into nausea, threatening to creep up his throat. He doesn’t want this.
“You ready for this, sha?”
He’s not.
“…I am.”
Fuck.
Alastor lay awake next to the corpse of the man he’d just slept with, hoping the blood gushing out of his throat could wash away fluids of any other kind on the sheets. Usually, Alastor was more calculating when it came to his kills - or ‘hunts’ as he called them - and there would be at least a week dedicated to finding out their schedule, who knew them, if anything could be traced back to him. This day, however, seemed like a series of last-minute decisions.
Alastor also usually had a reason to murder someone. Technically, this man had done nothing wrong, in fact, he did exactly what Alastor had asked him to do. For some inexplicable reason, Alastor found himself overcome with some sort of emotion and plunged a rusty pair of scissors into his throat. He had no clue what possessed him to do that but, in all honesty, Alastor hadn’t felt quite like himself since he entered the damned apartment. Maybe he was just going insane.
Alastor never even found out if he was a homosexual or not. It was entirely possible that this man simply wasn’t his type but then, what was his type?
He locked himself in the bathroom and cleaned the shame from his body, trying to picture the type of man that would make him okay with feeling so sticky and sore. Perhaps someone less brutish, who touched him less or not at all, but then they wouldn’t be having sex. So maybe Alastor isn’t gay after all. Picturing a woman made him feel less ill about it all. He had seen a naked woman before when he experimented in his teens and could see the aesthetic appeal of their bodies but he was more envious than aroused at the sight.
Perhaps Alastor just didn’t want to have sex with anyone in particular.
Oh well, the man killed and ate other people, what’s another mental illness thrown in with the lot?
[The Hazbin Hotel, Hell]
[Present day]
Alastor, irritated enough as it was, was getting extremely tired of Angel Dust side eyeing him from the other side of the bar.
He snapped his head to look at him, “Spit it out.”
“Do you like men?”
Alastor blinked in confusion, he wasn’t expecting that.
“I’m not interested.” He replied, though the spider’s expression seemed genuine enough.
“Nah, I don’t mean it like that, I’m just curious.” Angel swirls his drink in the glass, “Ya know, ‘cus ya act kinda gay.”
Alastor huffs, “No, I don’t like men.”
Angel Dust settled, seemingly satisfied with that answer, before piping up again.
“Straight?”
“No.”
“Figured,” The pornstar looks him up and down, “So what are ya?”
Alastor took a swig of his whiskey before slamming the glass down on the bench, “Absolutely, positively fucked in the head, my dear fellow! Why do you ask?”
Angel holds all four of his hands up in mock surrender, “I’m just sayin’! I know you’ve got the whole stuck-in-the-20s schtick goin’ on but Hell don’t really care what you are, who ya wanna fuck, all that stuff… So are ya bi or something?”
“I suppose, if bisexual means to be attracted to both genders equally, that would apply.” Alastor’s brow furrows as he considers the possibility.
Right, there are other sexualities now. Maybe that was why he’d been so confused all this time.
“Little outdated but yeah, that’s the gist of it.” He takes another sip, “’Thought you said you didn’t like men though?”
“Zero equals zero, doesn’t it?”
Angel Dust froze as if Alastor had said something shocking. He knew his lack of attraction was hard for others to wrap their heads around and it didn’t surprise him that their resident sex worker would have been the most confused by it.
Alastor was preparing to get up and leave the awkward conversation until Angel cleared his throat, “Ya know, I know a co-worker who calls herself asexual. I don’t really understand it myself but I guess you might?”
Alastor stares in confusion, “Asexual? Is she a plant?”
The question was genuine, plant sinners were uncommon but did pop up from time to time. The notion that they were able to perform asexual reproduction was odd. How could it be that sinners’ inability to reproduce only applied to the sexual kind? How had he not heard of this before?
“No, no, it’s like a sexuality, asexuality. It means you don’t fuck.”
That catches Alastor’s attention.
“Really?”
“Yeah,” Angel nods, “Or something like that. When I heard about it I thought back to ya and how ya seemed like a prude.”
“Charming.”
Alastor thought on the term for a moment. It did seem to describe him quite well, except…
“And in the case that I have… lain with someone in the past and liked it?”
The spider seems surprised by the revelation and gapes for a second before pulling himself back together, “Yeah, that’s still valid I think. The way I put it last time was probably a little simplified but I know that my co-worker definitely still fucks. She said it’s about attraction, not action.”
Alastor hummed before pulling himself away through the shadows.
He had some research to do.