Work Text:
Angel Dust wants to slam the door to the hotel shut behind him. Instead, he closes it carefully, bracing it with his hand until he hears the tiny, satisfying click of the lock sliding into place.
He lets out a breath, cringing when pain pricks his throat at the motion.
His heels click on the floor as he quietly makes his way in, both sets of arms wrapped around his torso to try and ease the small tremors. It’s nearing four in the morning; no one should be awake to see this small display of vulnerability.
“Mornin’, Legs.”
Angel almost jumps out of his skin. “Satan– fuck!” He whips around towards the bar, behind which he hadn’t noticed an occupant.
Husk is in the process of standing up, a dark bottle shining between his claws.
“Damn. You look like shit.”
“Yeah, well.” Angel shrugs, voice hoarse. “Rough night. You know how it gets.”
He doesn’t miss the minute glint of concern in Husk’s yellow eyes, but it’s a near thing.
“Why are you still awake?” Angel grumbles. “Even you don't work this late.”
Husk forgoes answering, yellow eyes drifting down to the bartop where his hand wipes the wood mechanically with a rag, rubbing the same spot over and over. Angel sighs. He's too tired for this.
“Not even gonna have a drink? I made your special,” Husk calls as Angel turns towards the stairs. Angel glances vacantly back at him, registering the pastel pink drink he slides onto the bartop. The sweet promise of it beckons him, draws him in like a lightbulb draws a moth.
“Fuck it.”
Husk’s eyes are big and filled with more black than yellow, now. There’s soft jazz playing from the radio behind him. The comfortable light is making his fur look extra soft. Angel registers all this hazily, as if his head has been stuffed with cotton. Maybe he’s already dreaming. His head rests on the polished wood of the bar as he stirs the straw in his drink.
Blush pink, overly sweet, with a whipped cream swirl on top. Oh, and of course the liquor. Husk had first made it for him on a whim, after a particularly horrible night at the studio. Angel discovered that night that it was a sort of hobby for Husk, as an experienced bartender. Experimenting with flavours and proportions, seeing what new combinations he could come up with.
“It’s inspired by you,” Husk had said, rather nonchalantly.
Angel had stared, transfixed. The little heart sprinkles on top. Pink and white. His own heart skipped a beat.
When he tried it, the strawberry flavour was a bit too strong, too sweet. Overripe.
He told Husk he loved it.
“You gonna drink it, or just keep staring into the distance?”
The query brings Angel back to the present moment, and he blinks. He lifts his head, unable to withhold the grunt at the strain it puts on his neck. His eyes squeeze momentarily shut, before the pain dissipates and he tiredly pulls the straw into his mouth.
“Satan, Angel.” Husk furrows his big eyebrows. “The Hell did they do to you?”
Angel frowns at him in turn, sipping more of the overly sweet liquid. “Dunno what you’re talkin’ about. Don’t matter anyway. Work’s work.” His eyes flit around, trying to find anywhere to land but Husk’s face. He audibly swallows another mouthful.
“Yeah, but…” Something brushes against the fur on Angel Dust’s neck and his body jerks, hands slamming into the countertop and knocking over his half-finished drink.
He slaps a hand over his neck and cringes away. “Don’t fuckin’ touch me,” He growls – or tries to, anyway. It comes out as more of a pathetic whimper.
“Woah, Legs– the fuck? What’s wrong?” Husk looks at him with intense worry, ears pressed back and down.
Angel leans away as far as he can without toppling straight off the bar stool. He can’t stop his brain from replaying the memories from earlier that morning.
The two hunks manhandling him couldn’t have been more brutal. Angel swore Val had chosen his most violent actors for the night’s show. Probably a sick punishment for ignoring his texts the day before. He even had the spider demon tied up, knowing Angel’s preference of having his hands free.
“Damn filthy slut,” The guy fucking into his mouth had growled, wrapping his large hand around Angel’s slim throat. “Can’t even suck my cock right. Disgusting whore–” With a groan, he squeezed, cutting off even more of Angel’s oxygen supply as he forced his appendage deeper into his throat.
Angel couldn’t remember exactly what happened after that. All he could do was try to breathe as he was violently choked for – in his humble opinion – way too fuckin’ long. More than likely, he passed out for a while because he couldn’t even remember when the men finished. He just had a hazy memory of finally breathing a sweet lungful of air as his body was deposited onto the bed, heaving and filthy. When he fully came to, the room was empty, save for a lone, silent demon sweeping the floor.
Not that Angel doesn’t enjoy a bit of rough treatment, but something about this particular session… makes him want to just forget it.
“Angel.”
There is real concern evident in Husk’s eyes now, his hand beginning to reach out, then stopping mid-air. Hesitating.
For a reason he can’t fathom, Angel Dust’s eyes suddenly fill with moisture. He turns his head further away, lowering it deeper towards the floor. “Fuckin’...” His voice is tiny, shaky. A tear falls onto the ground with a small plop. It reminds him of rain, vaguely. Not the blood rain in Hell but the rain on Earth, clean and fresh.
He sobs.
A pair of his hands come up to cover his face, back still facing Husk as he curls into himself on the bar stool.
For a few moments, there is nothing but the sound of his shaking gasps, the blood rushing in his ears.
“Hey.” The voice comes from in front of him, soft and velvety. “Look at me.”
Angel feels himself drawing away. Disgusting. Weak. Filthy.
“Y’know, I once challenged a man to a game of go fish and won his motorbike,” Husk says, casually, as if Angel wasn’t next to him sobbing his eyes out. “Brand new, too. Expensive as Hell.”
Angel lifts his head in utter confusion, not knowing what the fuck the cat demon was going on about.
Husk is sitting on a bar stool next to him, head resting on his paw, watching him. His mouth twitches at the corner when his eyes catch Angel’s. He continues.
“Was super fuckin’ pissed about it, but a deal’s a deal. Only thing was, it was bright pink – not exactly my style.”
For some reason, Angel finds the corner of his mouth also tilting up. He swipes a hand across his eyes, trying to staunch the flow of tears. His voice is wobbly and weak. “Ain’t it a bit juvenile to be playin’ go fish as the supreme gambling overlord?” He asks, trying for a teasing tone.
Husk huffs in amusement. “What can I say? Gambling is gambling. Got a bit tired of plain old poker.”
Angel lets out a harsh breath of laughter, lips stretching into a watery smile. He sniffles, feeling the first twinges of an impending headache.
Gazing at him for a few moments more, Husk slides his hand across the wood of the bar and places his claws lightly on the back of Angel’s glove. Even through the fabric, the warmth radiating from the cat demon sends a wave of comfort flowing through Angel. He suddenly wishes the glove was gone so he could feel the touch on his fur.
Husk’s claws squeeze, so very lightly, around his fingers. Angel’s heart unexpectedly squeezes in tandem and something lodges in his throat that isn’t tears – not anymore.
“C’mon,” Husk says. His hand moves to gently scoop up Angel’s slim fingers. The cat demon slides off the stool and tugs Angel’s hand so, so gently. “Those wounds aren’t gonna look at themselves.”
Angel lets himself be tugged off his stool, up the stairs. He doesn’t know why he lets Husk step into his room, with his unmade bed and makeup scattered across the floor and vanity. The lube and toys splayed around. It smells of sex and sadness.
Fat Nuggets nuzzles at his ankle, and Angel stoops down to pick him up, petting his smooth fur.
“Want a bath?” Husk asks gruffly, walking into the room like he belongs there. He doesn’t even acknowledge the mess with a glance, just looks past it.
Wordlessly, Angel nods, watching Husk enter the attached bathroom. He hears the tap begin to run and sits carefully on the edge of his bed; he feels weirdly like an intruder in his own living space, a stranger in his own skin. Everything is out of place and overwhelmingly unreal.
He’s tired. The headache has settled in.
Fat Nugget’s squeals, and it's only when the pig is lifted out of his hands that he realises Husk has reappeared before him.
“Hey, you with me?” He asks Angel, peering at him with those eyes. A ring of yellow around black. Like an endless void. Maybe the night sky.
“Yea,” Angel murmurs. Sitting up is an effort. Blinking is an effort.
Husk offers Angel his hand. It’s warm when Angel takes it, letting himself be led – or more accurately, pulled – into the bathroom. Husk turns to look at him once they’re inside, that frown back on his face.
“Do you think you can manage from here?” He asks sceptically. Angel sways on his feet. Husk instinctively reaches to grab him by the waist, and Angel flinches.
“Shit– sorry,” Husk hisses, retracting his hands.
“No,” Angel mutters. “‘S ok. Just wasn’ expectin’ it.”
“Ok, I’ll leave you, uh… to it, then.” Husk makes to leave, but Angel grabs the edge of his wing – the first thing he can reach.
“Hang on.” His eyes dart away from Husk’s questioning gaze. Is this the first time he's wanted to ask someone this? He can’t remember; it’s been too long since he’s had a person who was worth asking. “Don’t…” He never thought his throat could squeeze up in fear of two simple words. But some aching part of him forces the plea out. “Don’t go.”
For a moment all is silent.
“Sure.”
Husk turns back to him, and if he wasn’t so tired Angel would’ve been able to fully appreciate the light blush that forms on the cat demon’s cheeks.
Clumsily, Angel begins to undo his tight clothes: The boots, the shirt, the skirt, the gloves. His coordination is less than willing to cooperate, but Husk is there to steady him. Angel no longer flinches at his touches.
After peeling off the final glove, Angel steps into the bath, sinking gratefully into the warm enfolds of the water.
“Man,” He groans quietly. “If this ain’t what Heaven feels like, I don’t want it.”
“You forgot somethin’,” Husk mutters, hands twitching as if wanting to move towards Angel before thinking better of it. He motions with his head towards Angel’s neck. “Your choker.”
Bringing a hand up to his throat Angel realises that he is indeed still wearing it. His fingers fiddle with the clasp, but they feel clumsy, too large. He looks up at Husk, hands drifting back into the water.
“Help me out, suga’,” He asks quietly, almost helplessly.
“You sure?” Husk cautions. Angel can feel his reluctance to place his hands anywhere near Angel’s neck.
“I’m sure, Husky. I’m givin’ you permission.” Angel tilts his head back minutely.
Carefully, Husk leans towards him, as if he is a startled animal. Meeting Angel’s eyes, his claws brush the fur of his neck as they reach for the clasp. Angel has no reaction, the water relaxing not only his body but also the upset in his mind. He doesn’t actually mind his neck being touched; the stress of tonight’s particular session had just wound him up and resulted in his earlier reaction.
Angel lets out a breath and realises how close Husk’s face is to his. The demon isn’t looking at him anymore, too focused on removing his accessory, and Angel takes the time to subtly admire him. The slight furrow of his brows, his small heart-shaped nose. How, despite the harsh bathroom light, his fur still looks soft. Angel wants to run his fingers through it, suddenly.
Husk unclasps the choker and pulls away.
He places it somewhere to the side and grabs a bottle off the shelf.
“‘S this the shampoo?”
He washes the longer fur on Angel’s head, his claws massaging and kneading all the right places. Angel passes out for the second time that morning, only this time from relaxation. He wakes briefly to the feeling of being lifted out of the tub. He’s not coherent enough to help as Husk dries him off. The motions are concise and his hands don’t wander or linger anyway.
Strangely, Angel appreciates Husk not trying to cop a feel, despite how much he wouldn’t mind getting in the demon’s pants. He’s just… so tired. Husk understands, he realises. Respects him enough to allow him a respite from the groping, the touching.
“Thanks,” Angel croaks, cracking one eye open to peer blearily at Husk. He’s suddenly horizontal. Soft. In bed. Fat Nuggets appears in his arms.
“‘S nothing.” Husk huffs. The last thing Angel feels is the pleasant touch of his hair being brushed out of his face.
—
It becomes a regular thing, sort of.
Angel would come back in the wee hours of the morning, but instead of just drinking the night away with Husk and then toppling gracelessly onto his sheets, their routine develops a new step.
Husk will come up to his room after they share a drink, and just sit with him. Run the bath or wash his fur occasionally, when work was particularly merciless. But usually, he would just stay by Angel’s side, whisky in hand, firing quips back and forth or just sitting in silence.
Angel finds himself strangely comforted by the non-judgemental company.
Husk never seemed to want anything from him, and other than making sure Angel was comfortable he didn’t do anything, taking his leave as soon as Angel was wrapped in his duvet.
One night, watching the cat demon’s retreating figure, Angel feels his heart lodge in his throat. His finger twitches, and he presses his lips together as the door shuts behind Husk. He can’t deny that sometimes all he wants is for the other to stay. Of course, he’s tried his usual seductive tactics to get the demon into bed with him. He doesn’t know how else to go about it; just knows he doesn’t want Husk to leave. The cat demon’s company soothes something inside Angel, giving him a sense of calm and steadiness that not even drugs can offer.
He doesn’t even particularly want sex – though he’s the opposite of opposed – but to his astonishment Angel finds himself craving something else. Closeness. The intimacy of non-sexual touch, chaste and innocent. Now that he’s gotten a taste, Angel can’t seem to get enough of it.
It’s even worse when he’s called to the studio. Dragging himself there has become more of a challenge now that there’s one particular demon plaguing his mind. He has to fight the revulsion of someone else's hands on him.
“Do the last shot over again,” Val seethes, flashing Angel Dust a sharp, narrow glare. “And get your shit together, darling. ”
Angel lets out a breath, his faux sensual expression dissipating as he frowns. His heart just isn't in it today, which usually doesn't pose an issue to an experienced actor such as himself, but Val seems especially observant.
He rises from the bed and takes a sip from a bottle of water, trying to mentally compose himself. If he can just get through this last shot, maybe Val will see he's too out of it to be any good and let him go for the night.
He smells the sharp smoke before he sees him.
“ Angel, ” Valentino purrs, sweet venom dripping from the word. “What's got your panties all up in a twist today, hmm? ”
“Nothing,” Angel says with easy nonchalance. He isn’t an actor for nothing. “Just not really feelin’ this scene, there's somethin’ about it–”
Valentino's fingers lock around his throat and slam him into the nearest wall.
“You will feel, ” He seethes, pink dripping from his teeth, “Whatever I fucking tell you to feel. Or have you forgotten?” He makes a motion with his other hand and the translucent pink chain materialises, the phantom collar closing around Angel's neck right under Val's fingers.
“No, Valentino.” Angel's small voice trembles only slightly.
“Good boy.” The pink smoke hits Angel in the face and he fights not to cough as Val snatches his hand away. “Now get on the fucking bed and give me something I can work with. And if you don't,” Valentino's eyes squint. Dangerous. “I will give you something much, much worse to cry about.”
Angel hadn't even realised his eyes had filled with tears. He inhales and puts on his perfect, teasing smile like a mask.
“Yes, Valentino.”
—
In short, Val decided that Angel had not given him anything to work with, because he kept Angel in the studio for hours after that, indulging in his particularly cruel kinks at Angel’s expense. It’s the wee hours of the morning when he finally, finally pushes open the door to the hotel, stumbling the short walk to the couch before unceremoniously dropping face down onto it with a deep groan. Everything aches. He can still feel the phantoms of the rough hands and ropes, refusing to dissipate.
“Rough night again?”
Husk drops down on the small spot of the couch that is unoccupied. Angel tilts his head and looks up at him, eyes taking in his familiar image with relief. Some of the tension involuntarily bleeds from his muscles.
He hums his confirmation into the couch cushion, burying his face there once again. He breathes, feeling his body sink into the lumpy softness beneath him with every exhale.
Something touches him, but he barely registers it until four claws are stroking their way down his head, then up again, raking soothingly through his fur. Angel wishes he could purr. He wants Husk to know how nice that feels. But all he can do is lie still, feeling himself relax into the cushions under the delicious sensation.
“Wanna drink?” Husk murmurs after some time. Angel, who had just about drifted off to sleep, floats back into reality.
“Mmgh,” He grunts. His limbs feel like they weigh tons.
“... I'll take that as a no. Let's just get you to bed.”
Angel remains totally boneless as he's scooped up by fumbling, fluffy arms.
“Damn. Not as light as you look.” Despite the grumbled complaint, Husk carries him steadily towards the stairs, one paw beneath his knees and the other supporting his back. Angel feels the fur of the demon's neck beneath his cheek as he loops one set of arms around Husk’s neck. His eyes, which never really opened in the first place, fall closed again. He breathes in the smell of faint cigarette smoke. Not the sickly sweet shit that Val smokes, but rough and woody. There's a hint of whiskey somewhere there, too. Angel feels his eyes moisten at the smell, and the crashing feeling of relief that comes with it. He buries his face into Husk’s fur.
He feels the rise of each step they take, but vaguely. He's more focused on the places where Husk touches him. The fluffy torso he's pressed against. The hands supporting his body. Chaste, as always. Firm, strong, steady.
“Don't let me go,” Says Angel, surprising himself.
He hears the slight confusion in Husk’s voice. “Wasn't plannin’ on it, Legs.”
Angel hugs his neck harder in response. When he feels the softness of his mattress beneath his back he tightens his arms again, keeping his face firmly burrowed in the crook of Husk’s shoulder.
“Angel,” Husk urges, but it's soft. Almost like he doesn't know what to do. Maybe he doesn't.
“Lie wit’ me,” Angel mutters, his voice cracking. He doesn't want to think about letting go, not when he's finally found something so solid to hold onto in the raging storm of his life.
“Don't you want your bath?” Angel can hear the frown in Husk’s voice. He's interrupting their routine, changing it. They're on the cusp of something new, uncertain. It scares Angel a little, but letting go sounds even worse.
“Please. Jus’ for a bit.”
He expects Husk to let go. Wrench Angel's arms off and throw him on the bed and slam the door as he storms out. Angel knows how much Husk hates his teasing, his sexual innuendos. And how can he expect Husk to just figure out that this time he isn't trying to imply anything like that?
“... Sure, Legs.”
Husk’s arms shift, but he doesn't move away. Just arranges them more comfortably and settles in next to Angel on the bed.
Angel Dust immediately presses close to him, both sets of arms wrapping around his torso. Husk must sense that Angel's grip is one of dependance: interpreting him as a lifeline. He holds Angel gently in turn.
“Do you… wanna talk about it, or some shit?” Husk asks, his voice a low reverberation through Angel's bones.
Angel ponders the proposal. Ponders it with greater care than he usually puts into things.
He ponders it so long that before he knows it, he's blinking his sleep-heavy eyes open to find empty space beside him. His hands are clenched around a slumbering Fat Nuggets. He swallows, a little painfully.
With a yawn he sits up, only to pause midway at the sight of something on his bedside table. He squints at the glass and instantly recognizes the drink. Pink and topped with white fluff.
He smiles.
—
Angel wouldn't go as far as to call it cuddling, though that's what Charlie has started insisting ever since she accidentally wandered in on the scene one morning.
It's become a new part of their little routine, the “cuddling”. After that night Husk started to ask if he should stay. Every time, Angel said yes and shuffled to make space on the bed. No lewd invitations. No jokes. Somehow, he didn't want to mask the vulnerable honesty that's been showing up between them with such things. It was… nice, to be able to bare himself and receive that kind of support. Addictive, in a way, like cocaine, maybe heroin.
Perhaps, like a breath of fresh air.
Just like his addiction to harmful substances, this one proved no easier to tame. During long hours at the studio, he found himself yearning, aching for that familiar touch. The poke of claws, the soft pads on his palms. The thick fur, the deep rumble that arose more often than not when they lay together.
Yeah, Husk purred. It’s one of the best discoveries Angel’s ever made.
The other actors would grab him, all rough and heartless and wrong.
Husk touched him like he savoured it. Slow and tender and warm. Like he cared.
Talented as he is, Angel struggles at the studio over the next few weeks. He gives up trying to get the cat demon off his mind after the first three days and begins just trying to work with it. After the first week, he admits, only to himself, that the chaste, innocent treatment has him wanting Husk like never before. It’s interfering with his performance as he starts to find the degrading words and touches of the men on top of him more unpleasant than usual.
Val notices. Threatens him to get his shit together. Makes him work extra hours.
But what can Angel do? Husk has made his intentions clear. He doesn’t want Angel in that way, and Angel can respect that. He just can’t seem to get over himself.
Satan’s balls . Of course it’s the one, singular guy Angel can’t have, and he ends up falling head over heels, falling harder and faster than he fell into the depths of Hell.
At least the baths and cuddles after work are nice.
“I’m just’ sick of bein’ told I’m nothin’ more than a dirty whore, y’know?”
He’s in the bath, floating amidst cherry-scented bubbles. It’s a ranting kind of night, the one where he talks and Husk affirms.
“It’s hot the first few times, but when that’s all you’re hearin’ all day every day it starts kinda gratin’ on you nerves,” Angel continues, flinging one hand into the air for emphasis. Some water splashes onto the floor.
“Mm,” Husk hums as he moves to lather shampoo into Angel’s fur, seeing that the other is too worked up to get started on it himself.
“Can those hunks not come up with somethin’ a lil’ more original? Fuckin’ hell…”
Angel’s tirade continues for a few more minutes until he finally quiets down as Husk starts soaping up the back of his neck, his claws scratching the fur gently. Neither of them say anything for the remainder of the bath, and it’s only after they’re on Angel’s bed, the cat demon’s claws raking in gentle phantom touches down his back, that Husk breaks the silence.
“You don’t deserve it.”
Angel, whose eyes had long since drifted closed, mind beginning to float away, blinks open his eyes groggily. “Whatcha talkin’ ‘bout, Husky?” His hazy gaze finds the other demon’s face, noticing his frown and the sadness in his dark eyes.
“Gettin’ called a whore and all that. You don’t deserve it. You don’t deserve any of it.”
Angel blinks stupidly up at him and Husk’s ears press to his head a little. He licks his lip and looks away. “You deserve to be called good, and pretty and all that shit.”
Angel’s eyes widen, now fully awake. He swears Husk’s white cheeks have tinted with a blush. He can’t help the words that come out of his mouth.
“You really think so?”
They’re stupidly vulnerable. But, then again, Angel is starting to become both stupid and vulnerable whenever he’s around the other demon.
Husk finally looks him in the eyes, a look of surprise etched on his face. “‘Course. You’re all… pink and beautiful and shit. It makes sense.”
Angel’s mouth falls open, but all the words get stuck behind a sudden lump in his throat. His eyes begin to heat and he feels the gathering of moisture.
He loops his arms around Husk’s torso and presses his face tightly into the white fur of his chest before the tears can fall.
“Hey, Legs,’ Husk exclaims in astonishment. His arms wrap around Angel in return, cautious. “What's wrong? Is it somethin’ I said? Does somethin’ hurt?”
The words just make Angel sob harder.
Beautiful. Husk had called him beautiful. So earnestly, so innocently. Not while he's sucking a cock or being filled by one. Not in his lingerie with his makeup flawless. Husk called him that, even though he's fucked people by the dozen, is the most famous pornstar in all of hell, all of which he thought disgusted Husk.
Beautiful.
“Angel.” Strong hands push at his shoulders until his face is dislodged from its hiding place, red eyes and wet cheeks on display. A claw lifts his chin, and when Husk looks at him there's nothing but pure concern in his eyes. “Say something,” He urges.
“you,” Angel sniffs. “you called me… beautiful.” He's helpless to the tiny, fragile smile that blooms on his face.
Husk blinks. “You are.”
Angel lets out a strange sound, somewhere between a sob and a bark of laughter. He grips onto Husk’s arms, for something to hold him here, in this moment.
“Husky,” He says, fondly. Just because he can.
There's a hand on his forehead. “Do you have a fever or some shit? Dammit, Legs, you're scarin’ me here–”
“I want you,” Angel blurts. It feels right to say it now. It feels more real than anything he's ever said.
He looks up at Husk’s astonished face, suddenly determined.
“I want you, Husk. To fuck me. To do anythin’ with me. I… I've been wantin’ you for a while. And… if you want to get up and leave right now I won't stop you. If you never want to talk to me again, that's fine. But I have to say it. You taught me to be honest, Husky. So I'm givin’ you my honesty.”
His intense gaze remains firmly on Husk for a few seconds more, searching his stunned eyes for anything. Acceptance. Rejection.
Husk blinks and the corners of his mouth lift. His paw comes up and caresses Angel's cheek, ever so gentle. “Honesty is a good look on you,” He says lowly. “Makes you even more beautiful.”
Angel lays a hand overtop of the one Husk has on his cheek, nuzzling into his palm.
“Is that a yes, then?” He whispers, glancing up at the cat demon, the action unusually demure.
“Why don't you kiss me and find out?” Husk says with a flirty smirk.
Tease.
Angel shuffles forward, maybe a bit too eagerly, and loops his arms around Husk’s neck before bringing their lips together. Husk’s hand cups the back of his head, running through his fur. He keeps the kiss chaste and soft, and it feels… nice. Comforting, like everything about the cat demon.
When Husk gently introduces his tongue, which is sweetly rough like a cat's, Angel all but melts. A low fire starts up in his abdomen and his kisses increase in fervour.
“Fuck,” Husk breathes as he leans away. His voice has gained an edge of roughness. Angel licks his lips.
Husk draws him in closer, running both hands across his cheeks as if trying to wipe away the tears already soaked into his fur. “What do you want, sweetheart?”
Angel freezes.
“... I did say anything, Husky. Anything at all.”
“I know. But right now, is there anything specific you want to do?”
Angel considers the question, but no immediate answer surfaces. “Jus’.... touch me.”
Husk kisses his nose. “I can do that.”
As he does with everything regarding Angel Dust, Husk starts off slow.
He starts from the top of Angel's chest, exploring his body with kisses and soft touches. Claws trail down his arms and his neck is kissed, sniffed, licked. He can't help the hitch in his breath as Husk’s claws trace over his lower back, up his sides. His soft paws land on his chest fluff and rub there, briefly. A claw sneaks into the fur and after a short exploration discovers a nipple. Angel gasps at that, then snaps his lips together to muffle a sudden moan when the claw makes a flicking motion.
Husk lifts his eyes to Angel's. His pupils are blown so wide there’s barely even a ring of yellow around them. “None of that, baby.” He presses his lips to Angel's, brief and firm. “Let me hear all the pretty sounds you make. I wanna know how good you're feeling.”
And fuck if that isn't hot as Hell. When was the last time someone else derived pleasure from Angel's own enjoyment? He lets out a soft moan just from those words.
“Good,” Husk praises, his gravelly voice sending a shiver down Angel's spine.
“Fuck,” Angel breathes when Husk gets up to sit on top of the spider demon's pelvis so he can get better access to his torso. Husk continues taking his time, touches lingering and evoking several quiet sounds of pleasure. Pleasure mixed with comfort. Pleasure mixed with desire. Just, pleasure, the way it was supposed to be. Served up to be enjoyed, relished, savoured. Not something cheap to buy and sell through bruised bodies. That wasn't real pleasure. This – this is real.
Husk shifts down his body, his tail accidentally brushing over Angel's cock and making his hips twitch violently.
“Fuck, Husk,” Angel whines. He's hard, leaking and desperate for touch. “Please, please, Husky, I need you, need you so bad…” The words just bubble up on their own: as authentic as it gets.
“‘Course, sweetheart.” Husk immediately gives him a few long, drawn-out strokes with his paws and Angel can only throw his head back onto the pillows, writhing helplessly beneath him. He gasps, shaking and breathless, when the touch recedes.
“God damn it, Husky, you’re makin’ me crazy,” Angel whimpers. He can't remember the last time he got this worked up from just a few touches and strokes. He can't remember the last time he got this worked up at all.
“Sorry, darling. I’m just… savouring this. Cause Satan, you look fuckin’ beautiful, squirming and makin’ those sweet sounds for me.” Husk is also clearly hard in his trousers, but Angel isn't even sure if the cat demon’s noticed. His eyes are only on Angel, drinking in the sight of him. As if they’re made to look only at him, forever and always.
Angel tosses his head back onto the pillow again at the words, breathing hard and letting out a strained noise. His cheeks are warm. Satan, he's never gonna get used to hearing those things from the cat demon’s lips.
“Can I use my mouth?” Husks asks lowly.
Angel looks up at him and his cock twitches just from the sight of him there, all ruffled up with dilated pupils.
“Please, Husky,” He whispers, eyes following the satisfied narrowing of those dark eyes and the happy upturn of lips. A cat who caught the canary.
Husk scoots down Angel's body until his face aligns with Angel's hips. Paws hoist Angel's thighs up, lifting his legs into the air before letting them drop onto Husk’s shoulders. There's a small sting of teeth on his inner thigh that makes Angel shudder, before kisses begin littering the short fur on his legs. Husk touches and kisses him everywhere, except where he really needs it.
“Satan's balls, Husky, I get you like takin’ it slow but I might seriously die a second time if you don't–”
“Alright, alright.” Husk's sultry chuckle reverberates through the bones of his leg, making his cock twitch. “You're just fuckin’ adorable when you're impatient. Keep makin’ those sounds, doll.”
With that, Husk wraps his lips around Angel's tip. Angel gasps, then lets out a stuttered moan when he feels a slip of rough tongue ghost over the head of his cock. His legs tighten involuntarily around Husk’s head, which makes Husk groan. The sound vibrates around Angel's cock and makes him let out a mewl of pleasure.
He can't remember the last time he enjoyed sex – when he participated just for the pleasure of the experience. Especially his own pleasure. When he had the time to feel the individual sensations and didn't have to control the sounds he made.
And Satan, it’s a beautiful fuckin’ feeling.
Angel's top set of hands grab fistfuls of the blanket while the bottom set bury themselves in the fur of Husk’s head, threading through its softness.
“Your ears…” Angel manages between a choked-off moan. “Are s-soft… ngh!” Angel almost shouts when Husk’s mouth takes his length almost to the base, before slowly pulling off with a wet sound. Husk licks his lips, aiming a very cat-like grin up at Angel.
“If you're still managin’ to talk about my ears, clearly my mouth isn't doin’ a good enough job.”
Without further warning, his mouth is back on Angel's dick, taking him down to the base again in one smooth stroke. Angel makes a loud, incoherent sound, his head hitting the pillows violently as his fingers tighten in Husk’s fur. Claws brush teasingly over his inner thighs, and Angel already feels just about ready to lose his mind when the purring starts.
“Oh my– fuck!” Angel all but screams as the vibrations run through him.
If Husk’s goal is to deprive Angel of all coherent thought, he succeeds. It’s been a long time since Angel has known pleasure like this, so many sensations at once and all of it focused on him. Given to him like an offering on a silver platter. Like he was something celestial, not just dirty sinner scum. Though Angel’s reluctant to take it – unused to this type of raw attention – Husk doesn’t give him much of a choice.
“Husk,” He whimpers, tears of pleasure sparkling in his eyes as he looks down at the cat demon. “F-fuckin’ fuck–”
He can feel the other smile around his dick: pleased with himself.
Husk continues his ministrations, getting all the more encouraged when Angel’s legs squeeze uncontrollably around his ears or when his hands jerk a handful of his fur. Husk’s hands remain gripping Angel’s thighs, claws digging marginally into the skin. Angel has a fleeting hope that he’ll still be able to feel the sting of those claws in the morning: a physical reminder that this happened. Husk’s tongue quickly dissolves that thought into sludge when he bobs his head down again.
It’s embarrassing how quickly Angel feels the coil of heat tighten in his abdomen, and he gasps, hands pulling at Husk’s fur.
“Hold on, Husky,” He manages through the haze of pleasure.
Husk immediately lifts his mouth off, eyes searching Angel for signs of discomfort. “What is it?”
Angel blushes; somehow this feels strange to admit. “I-I’m just… close. Don’t wanna make you uncomfortable or anything, if you wanna use your hands now that's totally fine–”
Husk’s eyes darken. Angel catches the movement of his wings fluttering behind him.
“Do you wanna come, baby?” Husk’s gaze pins him like he's trying to glimpse the depths of Angel's soul. But the look is filled with so much softness, as though any answer would be accepted with open arms.
“Yea,” Angel croaks, and when he blinks one of the tears that had gathered in his eyes slips out onto his cheek.
Husk’s hand, tender as anything, reaches up to caress that cheek.
“Ok, sweetheart. Be good and come for me then, yeah?” Husk’s voice is rumbly and sultry, just like the purring that still hasn't let up. It makes Angel shiver and sink a little further into the mattress. His mind is pleasantly fuzzy and relaxed, almost reminiscent of taking a hit.
His moan is unrestrained, loud and lewd when Husk gently takes him back into his mouth. It's possibly the most honest sound he's ever made.
“Husk–! Oh Husky yes –”
Husk’s rough tongue skims the underside of his cock and orgasm washes over Angel like a fucking tsunami. He lets out a desperate wail and his thighs clench around Husk’s shoulders, hands grasping hard at his fur. He's barely conscious enough to register Husk's smug reaction; the pleasure courses through his veins and makes his mind drift away. Through slitted, dazed eyes he sees the cat demon sit back and lick his lips, smiling. His tail is moving side to side behind him.
“Is ya tail fuckin’ waggin’?” Angel croaks as his heart gradually slows in his chest and his breathing returns to normal. He feels boneless, sated and more blissed out than he's been in a long time.
Husk flops down beside him, all warm and soft. Angel can't help as he snuggles closer.
“Maybe,” Husk rolls his eyes playfully before he lets them meet Angel's, big black pupils softened and satisfied. A cat who got the cream. Quite literally.
The rhythmic thumping of Husk's tail is audible in the quiet of the room. Angel feels the rumbling purr reverberate through his entire body and he yawns, wrapping an arm around Husk’s shoulders to press himself closer. It's then that he feels the press of something hard against his thigh. Husk blushes and looks away.
Angel smirks, mischievous.
“How ‘bout round two, baby?”
“Only if you want,” Husk hesitates. “Don't feel like you owe me somethin’, Legs. I did that ‘cause I wanted to, not ‘cause I'm expecting somethin’ in return.”
“Are you fuckin’ kiddin’ me?” Angel pushes up with his arms, trapping Husk's face in between them as he leans over the cat demon. “Do you know how long I've been wantin’ to get in your pants?”
Husk smirks at him, the motion lazy. “I think I have some idea.”
Angel leans down and kisses him. It's wet and languid, filthy in the best damn way. Angel doesn't think he will ever get enough. When Husk nips his bottom lip, Angel moans, running both sets of his hands over the demon's torso in the process. Husk still has his pants on, which Angel considers a crime in and of itself.
He undoes the buckles of Husk's suspenders, attempting to jerk the pants down his legs with no success. Husk grunts and sits up, Angel on his lap.
“I like this position~” Angel's teeth glint as he grins provocatively.
Husk just smiles, pulling him into a gentle kiss before lightly pushing him off. Husk manoeuvres his legs to shimmy the pants down, and eventually off. Angel watches with eager, hungry eyes. He's been daydreaming about this for months, sure as all Hell that Husk would never return his affections, and now here he is, somehow getting everything he wanted and more .
Husk’s pants fall to the floor, and Angel licks his lips. The demon's dick is thick with small barbs on all sides, standing proudly red at the tip. He'd imagined it in all shapes and sizes, but somehow the real thing is just… perfect.
“What do you want, baby?” Husk asks, voice low. His gaze almost burns Angel with its intensity.
“Let me get my mouth on you,” Angel purrs, moving to kneel between Husk's legs. He spreads them apart with his hands and looks up through hooded eyes, cheeks colouring at the unbridled lust and affection he finds in Husk's gaze. A clawed hand reaches to cup his cheek and Angel nuzzles into the touch, relishing the heat of it.
“You're so fuckin’ beautiful,” Husk breathes, and Angel just about believes him. Just about forgets that in reality, he's nothing more than a filthy whore, a fuck toy, a fake. The furthest thing from beautiful.
Angel closes his eyes and lets Husk's paw brush back the fur on his head, raking his claws through it. It's similar to the motion Husk performs when washing his hair, and the gesture soothes him to no end.
“Fuck, Husky,” Angel whines. “If you keep that up I'm gonna fall asleep before I can suck your dick.”
“We can just go to sleep,” Husk glances to the side; his cheeks are dusted pink. “If you want.”
Angel smirks lazily up at him.
“Nah.”
With that, Angel gives himself over to the delectable treat before him. He runs his tongue lazily over the head before wrapping his lips around it and sinking down with a gratified moan.
“Fuckin’ damn,” Husk hisses as Angel bobs his head up and down slowly, indulging in the sensations of the barbs dragging softly along his cheeks; they don’t hurt, just impair the motion a little. “You’re good at this.”
Angel lifts off, levelling Husk with a playful smirk. “You’re gettin’ head from the most famous pornstar in all of hell; ‘course I’m good.”
Husk smiles down at him, dark eyes turning into happy crescents. Angel’s heart skips a beat at the expression, so strangely pure. And aimed at him, no less. The claws are back on his cheek, running through his short fur; Husk seems to like caressing his face– caressing him in general. Angel can't help the warmth that floods his cheeks.
It's been a long time since anyone’s managed to make him this flustered; he can meet the kinkiest, filthiest situations with a sultry smile and confident facade, yet here he is getting all red-faced at the most innocent, sweet contact.
“You're fuckin’ adorable, Legs,” Husk whispers and Angel's heart thuds, eyes widening and face getting even warmer.
“Stop that,” He grumbles in automatic defence; he can feel the situation slipping from his control – can feel himself slipping from his control.
“You don't like it?” Husk raises a bushy brow, and Angel swallows. “Or is there some other reason?”
Angel says nothing. Leave it to Husk to leave the charming, sweet-tongued Angel Dust without words.
A claw hooks under his chin and lifts it. Husk's eyes are so soft, hazy and shimmering from pleasure, only a tiny ring of yellow remaining around the huge pupil. “I think you like it, Angel.”
“It's not true,” Angel finds himself whispering. “I ain't any of those things, Husky.”
Husk grabs his face in his hands, not rough, but firm. “You,” He states. “Are the most beautiful demon I have ever seen. So stop spittin’ that debasin’ bullshit and listen to what I'm sayin’.” Husk leans down, tenderly interlocking their lips.
“You're beautiful.” He whispers against Angel's mouth, and Angel finds himself powerless to protest.
His cheek is kissed once, twice, and then kisses are raining down on his entire face, soft and gentle. Again, he remembers rain.
He giggles when Husk's lips brush a ticklish spot, and the cat demon laughs softly along. This tender, loving moment has no place amidst the filth and insincerity of sex. And yet there it is anyway.
“Wanna stop?” Husk asks as he pulls away.
“You kiddin’?” Angel chuckles, his voice a little croaky from the emotion. His smile is sweet and true when he looks up. “I'm in between the legs of the hottest demon in Hell. Just sit back and relax.” His smile turns sly before he parts his lips and takes Husk between them yet again.
The cat demon grunts, then growls when Angel takes his whole length, the sound deep and rumbly. Angel shivers in pleasure.
Though hellish, his years of prostitution didn't come without some benefits. Within only a few minutes of his ministrations, Husk lets out a stuttered moan, his claws tightening where they had been stroking the fur on his head.
“I'm close,” He gasps, looking down at Angel with dazed eyes.
Angel's eyes narrow happily, and he pulls off to nuzzle Husk's fluffy thigh and blink up at him through his lashes. “Will you give it to me?” He purred alluringly.
“I'll give you whatever you want, sweetheart,” Husk carefully grabs a fistful of Angel’s fur and pulls down so that his head tilts back, before leaning down to steal a kiss. Angel can’t help the soft moan that escapes him. Strangely, the words feel like a promise. For his sanity, Angel decides not to dwell on it.
Husk releases him, and Angel lickes his lips before diving down to claim his prize. It only takes a few bobs of his head for Husk to let out a deep groan and spill his warmth into Angel's mouth. Angel swallows eagerly before lifting his mouth off, licking his lips with a sated grin. Husk's chest is heaving, his legs quivering. With spider-like dexterity, Angel crawls onto his lap, pulling him into a kiss. Husk meets his lips eagerly, and Angel feels the beginnings of a rumble beneath his hand, which had found its way onto Husk's chest. Soon, the sounds of purring are once again reverberating throughout the room as they kiss slowly – languidly, like they had all the time in the world.
Husk lies back on the bed, pulling Angel with him, curling the spider demon into his arms. Angel wraps all of his limbs around Husk like an octopus, settling his head against a fluffy chest. The purr is louder here, and the sound relaxes Angel instantly. He yawns.
“Go to sleep, Angel,” Husk says. Angel has never heard him sound so contented. Something rough and wet pulls at the fur on his head, and Angel looks up to see Husk's head moving back, tongue poking out from his lips.
“Are you…” He stifles a giggle. “ Grooming me?”
“Shut up.” Husk’s cheeks turn bright red.
“ Pfft.” Angel reaches up to ruffle his ears before contentedly settling back into Husk's embrace.
“It felt nice,” He assures. “It's just… cute.”
Some unintelligible grumbled protests sound from above before that feeling is back in his hair, Husk's tongue grooming the strands. Between that and the purring, Angel can’t help but drift off into a restful sleep.
The first thing he registers upon waking up is the warmth around him. Fat Nuggets is wrapped in all four of his arms, probably having crawled there sometime during the night. But the real source of warmth is pressed to his back, big and fluffy and warm. And lightly vibrating. Angel's groggy brain takes a moment to catch up.
Then he smiles, giddy and sleepy. Secret.
Husk lets out a particularly loud purr and Angel's heart squeezes, hard. He turns, careful not to jostle Fat Nuggets too much, and huddles into Husk’s fur.
He didn’t know something so peaceful, so utterly good could be found in the depths of Hell. But when Husk blinks open a single eye, his gaze instantly focusing on Angel, and smiles, Angel might just believe it.