Archive of Our Own ^beta

“I need a drink. Hardest y’can make.” 

It’s been a while since Husk’s heard that one. He’d forgotten the way it spikes tension through his spine, wings bristling as he freezes in place, hands hovering over the bottles at the back of the bar. Husk can only assume the worst when he hears that guarded edge in Angel’s voice, but he knows he needs to school his reactions back for Angel’s sake. He inhales slowly, prepares himself for the brutality he’s about to see, and turns around. His eyebrows furrow at the sight he’s met with. 

Angel looks… well, he looks fine. A little stressed in the way he tugs at his blazer, his upper set of hands drumming irregular, hasty patterns along the bartop — all small tells Husk has picked up on over the months to know something is wrong. But there aren’t any injuries, not like there usually are when Angel requests something strong. Husk’s eyesight may be shit, but in his time knowing Angel he’s learned to recognise the slight discolouration beneath makeup, the swelling concealer can’t hide, and that isn’t here. 

Husk knows he shouldn’t assume Angel’s fine, though. Wounds could be hiding elsewhere, buried beneath fabric and fur, and if they’re not physical, Angel has always been good at pulling a mask over the truth. 

“Tough shoot?” Husk asks, because what else is there to say? They both know it’s only ever Valentino that puts Angel on edge like this. To Husk’s surprise, Angel huffs a small laugh. 

“Have ya checked the time, Whiskers?” Angel asks and, truthfully, Husk hasn’t. Husk’s days in the Hotel are a perpetually monotonous blur, only made worse when he counts down every gruelling second on a clock. It’s not something he’ll admit to out loud, but lately Husk keeps track of time with Angel instead — when Angel leaves for work, and when Angel returns.

It’s… it’s nothing, really. 

Husk glances over Angel’s shoulder, squints until the numbers on the clock become less of a blur, and— oh. Angel’s barely been gone an hour.

“You’re back early,” Husk says, simple and stupid. If his poker face weren’t so good, he’d be cringing at himself right now. 

“Yeah, no shit ya dumbass,” Angel grins. It eases Husk slightly — that teasing lilt in Angel’s voice, the glimmer of mischief in his eyes. At least he’s got the energy to be himself right now. “There wasn’t even a shoot ta do. The one day Val ain’t wantin’ a gangbang, Rocky has to go an’ pull out because of a dick injury or some shit.” 

Husk grabs liquor — the topshelf kind, not the watered down crap he uses for, well, anyone who isn’t Angel — as he listens to Angel speak, his ears perked intently. He pours a strong mixture, enough to take the edge off of whatever’s troubling Angel, adds a splash of simple syrup and a cherry for good measure, and slides the drink over. 

Angel takes the glass and sips the liquid slowly, a visible shiver running over his body from the taste. Husk watches the slow bob of Angel’s throat as he swallows, his face heating when a small, satisfied moan escapes Angel’s soft lips. Husk jerks his eyes away.

“Yeah, that’s the stuff,” Angel murmurs, voice low and real, genuine and satisfied, nothing like the way he speaks when he isn’t with Husk, and Husk he— he doesn’t think about it.

“Why’re you askin’ for the strong stuff if you ain’t been workin’?” Husk asks. It’s blunt, to the point. It’s how they are now — two losers who don’t bullshit each other. Husk likes it this way.

“Who says I ain’t workin’?” Angel shoots back, raising his eyebrows. Husk levels him with a pointed look, silently asking for more detail, and Angel obliges. “Val wants me on camboy duty. Said I gotta make up for the money lost from today’s shoot.” 

“And that’s bad?” Husk asks, because really, he isn’t sure. He’s not the type to engage with porn — he’s not interested in seeing someone pretend to feel good when they’re more than likely in pain — but he knows ‘camboys’ are usually solo acts. Surely Angel is okay with that?

Angel shrugs his shoulders. “Eh. Could be worse, but cammin’ is fuckin’ hard when ya got a goal to reach. S’gonna take me all night with how cheap the assholes that go on there are.” 

Husk frowns slightly. That’s all he can really do here. He can’t offer Angel help, can’t apologise for the shitstorm that is Angel’s afterlife. He feels useless, but still, Angel gives him a small smile. 

“S’alright, Whiskers,” Angel says softly. He finishes his drink, fingertips brushing against Husk’s, lingering, as he hands the glass back. Husk tries to keep his cool, even as his heart thunders in his chest. “Thanks for the drink. I should probably get goin’.”

“Yeah,” Husk croaks, and with that, Angel’s warmth is gone. 

Angel heads to his room, and Husk he— well, he cleans the bar. He does his job. He doesn’t rush it, because whatever Angel is doing up there is none of his business. So what if he leaves a couple of things dirty and finishes early? He’s not rushing, he’ll just clean it up tomorrow. He’s the only fucker who works here. Who cares?

When Husk heads upstairs, he can already hear the whining, overzealous moans Angel puts on when he’s faking it. Not that Husk knows what Angel sounds like when he’s not faking it, but the small, satisfied noises Angel gives when Husk makes him a good drink are enough to go by. He tries not to think about them, but it’s hard to stop his mind from wandering lately. 

Husk heads into his room, grumbling to himself about being opposite Angel’s bedroom. He doesn’t mind it most nights — especially when he wants to check-in with Angel, keep an eye on him when he’s ‘partied’ a little too hard — but on nights like these it’s difficult to say the least. 

Husk goes about his routine: takes off his hat and bow tie, changes into a comfortable pair of boxer shorts, climbs into bed, and… well, it’s fucking difficult to sleep. His ears are perked up, twitching towards every loud thump, every “tell me what to do daddy” and shrill moan. 

He lasts maybe another ten minutes of tossing and turning before he gives in, heaving out an exasperated groan as he sits up in bed. Husk’s doing this because he can’t sleep, he tells himself, reaching for the laptop beneath his bed. He’s doing this so Angel can rest too. 

Husk boots up his laptop, the ancient fans whirring obnoxiously, and searches for V-Hub. He’s instantly met with an array of links, explicit and grotesque images of demons in positions he didn’t think were possible. It takes longer than he cares to admit to set up an account, squinting at the screen as he enters his bank details and grumbles to himself the whole fucking time. He can’t believe he’s doing this. 

It doesn’t take long to find Angel’s cam room once Husk’s set everything up. He places in his earphones and hesitates for a moment, hovering his mouse over the link. Angel’s still going at it in his room, practically screeching with faux pleasure, and fuck, he must be exhausted. Husk sighs and clicks the link. 

When he enters the chatroom, Husk feels his stomach churn. Angel’s on all fours, pumping a dildo about the size of Husk’s fucking forearm inside of himself, tongue hanging out and drooling over the fingers he’s got stuffed in his mouth. The deep crease in his brows, the tears building in the corners of his eyes, gives away the fact Angel’s feeling more pain than he is pleasure right now. Husk grimaces and casts his eyes down to the messages popping up on the screen.

[Tr4vis69]: yeahhh that’s it slut take it so gooood

[PhaTcock300]: bet he could fit another in that gaping hole

[F33tL0v3r]: show us ur feet!!!!

[Dem0nD0ng666]: this shit’s borin af without someone hurtin him

Husk scowls as he reads through them, his hands flexing into fists. He sees the little button in the corner, moves his mouse towards it, and fuck he really shouldn’t be doing this, but at least it’ll get Angel away from these sick bastards and give him a fucking break. Husk clicks the link.

OldFashioned1 has requested a private show.

Angel stops his movements immediately, a smirk coming to his lips. “Mm, sorry fellas, but playtime’s over,” he purrs, pulling the toy from himself and discarding it to one side. “We got a big spenda on our hands.” Angel wiggles his fingers towards the camera and winks before he accepts the invitation, sending Husk into a private window with Angel.

“Hey there, hot stuff,” Angel says, his voice a far cry from the tone he usually uses with Husk. He sits himself cross-legged on the mattress, tilting his head to one side. “What’s got ya so eager for a lil privacy with me, huh?” 

Husk knows he needs to play his cards right here. Angel isn’t going to believe some random asshole on the internet doesn’t want to see him putting on a show unless he chooses his words right. Husk’s got enough money saved up from his gambling days to keep Angel in the private room until he’s earned enough without needing to perform, he just needs to make sure Angel stays. 

[OldFashioned1]: Wasn’t into what you were doing out there.

Angel snorts at Husk’s message, crossing his arms over his chest. “Yeah? And what are ya into? For the right amount, I’ll do whateva y’want.” 

All Husk wants is to get some sleep — for Angel to get some rest too instead of staying up all night hurting himself for the benefit of others. He sighs softly and types out his next message.

[OldFashioned1]: Thought we could just talk.

“Talk? Y’gotta be fuckin’ with me.” Angel laughs, leaning his elbows onto his knees, his face resting in his hands. “Lemme guess. Talkin’ is some kinda weird ass kink of yours?” 

[OldFashioned1]: Not a kink. Just want to talk. 

[OldFashioned1]: Tell me something about you.

“Somethin’ ‘bout me?” Angel snorts, shrugging his shoulders. Husk knows Angel isn’t asked this often, that no one cares to learn who he is beneath the mask. It’s their loss; the real Angel is a fucking masterpiece. “There ain’t much to say, sugar.”

[OldFashioned1]: Sure there is. I bet there’s a lot more to you than you let on.

Angel smiles slightly, his features turning softer. Husk’s relieved to see it, always feels a bit of pride in his chest when he’s able to help Angel relax out of his persona. “Yeah? Like what?” 

Husk chews on his lower lip, considering all the things he could say. He likes to think he knows Angel better than most ever since that night outside of the club — knows the things that worry Angel, knows the parts of Angel he hides that makes him who he truly is. There’s so much he could say here, tell Angel how good he is, how quick-witted and sharp he can be, how much he makes Husk feel, but Husk can’t give it all away. Angel can’t figure out who he’s talking to here. 

[OldFashioned1]: Well, I can see you like acting, but I think you got other dreams like the rest of us losers. Tell me about them?

Something shifts in Angel’s features, becoming brighter somehow, his eyes glistening. Husk can’t help but smile as Angel begins talking, slowly opening up more and more about himself. He tells Husk things Husk already knows — how much he enjoys dancing, how proud he is of the work he puts out, how much he loves Fat Nuggets and partying with Cherri Bomb. It’s mostly superficial things, but Husk knows it’s more than what Angel would usually say to some stranger he’s met online. 

Angel smooths his hand over his chest as he talks, slowly, tantalisingly. He’s doing it absentmindedly, probably something he does when he’s relaxed, but Husk can’t stop himself from trailing the movement with his eyes. Angel’s breath hitches as he rakes his fingers beneath his fur, and Husk feels his cock stir in response, heat pooling low in his abdomen. Fuck, this can’t be happening.

“Mm… y’know, I’m still feelin’ a little worked up from earlier,” Angel eventually murmurs, his lower set of hands stroking over his inner thighs. “I know y’said y’just wanna talk, but I’m thinkin’ we could have some different fun now.” 

Husk clenches his jaw, cursing himself for not seeing this coming.

[OldFashioned1]: You don’t have to do that.

“I know. Just makes me want to do it more,” Angel murmurs. He smiles softly, his eyes heavy-lidded and relaxed, beautiful beyond words, and fuck. Husk is fucked. 

Husk swallows thickly, his mouth growing dry as Angel’s fingertips creep slowly towards his crotch. He runs his fingers along his slick folds, parting them slightly to reveal his thick, swollen clit. Husk tries to keep his eyes on Angel’s face, his hands gripping tightly onto his laptop so he’s not tempted to place them elsewhere.

“Mm… there anythin’ you want me to do, baby?” Angel asks, his body shivering slightly as he circles his fingers lazily over his clit. 

Husk can see Angel wants this. It’s clear in the way he’s not exaggerating the noises he’s making, soft little gasps escaping his lips as he teases himself. Angel just wants to feel good, and with all he’s been through, Angel deserves that. 

Husk tells himself it’s okay as he types out his next message. As long as he doesn’t get off to this too, it’s okay. 

[OldFashioned1]: Just do what feels good.

Angel smiles at the message, giving a small nod before reaching under his bed. His ass is on full display, and Husk has to stare up at the ceiling to stop himself from looking. He can hear Angel rummaging through a box of some sort, can only assume what array of deviant toys he has in there, before Angel comes back into view. When Husk looks back at the screen Angel is holding a dildo, deep-red with bumps along the shaft that look like… Christ, this isn’t going to help.

“This is my favourite one, y’know,” Angel says as he settles on his back. He slowly smooths his fingers along the bumps, and fuck it’s like Husk can feel it, his cock twitching in his shorts with every press of Angel’s fingertips. “The bumps feel amazing. They press right where I need them to, make me all tingly.” 

Angel teases the tip of the dildo along his folds, circling his clit with it. His hips shift forward, pressing against it, and Husk clenches his jaw, his own hips following the movement. Husk shouldn’t be doing this, shouldn’t be watching Angel like this, but he can’t take his eyes away. 

Angel presses the tip against his hole, a soft whine leaving his lips. He takes his time, slowly sinking the toy inside himself, his back arching once he reaches the hilt. He turns his face to the camera, eyes hazy.

Husk shouldn’t say anything. He really should just stay quiet and let Angel enjoy this, but he can’t help himself from wondering what’s happening behind that dazed look in Angel’s eyes. Guilt builds in his gut as he types his message. 

[OldFashioned1]: What are you thinking about?  

“Mm… someone warm and soft,” Angel murmurs, slowly moving the toy inside himself. Husk tries not to look, but the glistening sheen on the toy catches his eye. He knows Angel would feel incredible — dripping around him, hot, plush and tight as he thrusts inside. “Thinkin’ of them on top of me, takin’ their time. Fuckin’ me deep and slow, makin’ me feel every inch.” 

Husk bites back a groan, pressing the heel of his palm against his cock. He feels himself throb against his hand, aching for more. He can’t be doing this. Angel is his friend . This is wrong on all levels, and he’s been able to avoid how Angel makes him feel for months now, but it’s fucking impossible to ignore it when Angel looks so content, pleasuring himself and feeling good for once. 

“You touchin’ yourself, baby?” Angel asks, and truly, Husk deserves to be in Hell. 

[OldFasioned1]: Yeah, sweetheart.  

Angel moans softly at the message, his head tilting back against the mattress. Despite the guilt tightening in his chest, Husk pulls his cock from his shorts, hissing as he thumbs over his swollen tip. He’s never gonna forgive himself for this, but fuck, the relief he feels is instant, a shiver rolling over his spine as he bucks his hips up into his fist. 

“Wish I had ya here,” Angel murmurs, and Christ, if only he fucking knew Husk’s just across the goddamn hall. “Bet you’d treat me right. Good guys like you always know how t’fuck a guy properly.” 

Husk isn’t good. He’s in no way what Angel deserves, getting off like this with Angel completely unknowing. He’s never hated himself more than in this moment — why does it have to feel this fucking good at the same time? The least he can do is make sure Angel feels as good as possible too. 

[OldFashioned1]: I’d treat you right, baby. You deserve to feel good. 

[OldFashioned1]: I’ll give you anything you want. Just tell me. 

“T-tell me I’m good,” Angel whispers, teeth sinking into his lower lip. “I want t’be good for you.”

Husk bites back a groan as he watches Angel dip his fingers towards his clit, pinching and rolling the swollen nub. Husk wishes he were there, wishes he could kiss and lick over Angel’s pretty cunt, be the real reason Angel feels so good right now. Fuck, Husk despises himself.

[OldFashioned1]: You’re more than good, baby. You’re perfect. 

Angel whimpers, picking up the pace as he pumps the toy harder inside himself. Husk matches Angel’s speed, fucking into his fist with abandon, tightening his grip in a desperate attempt to immitate Angel’s clenching hole. It’s difficult to type one-handed like this, but fuck, Husk is trying for Angel. It’s the only thing he can do to stop the guilt from consuming him whole. 

[OldFashioned1]: Never seen anyone more beautiful than you. You’re doing so well, sweetheart. Just keep making yourself feel good. 

“F-fuck, ‘m gettin’ close,” Angel gasps, bucking his hips against the toy, fingers stuttering as they rub fervently over his clit. He’s got a hand grasping at his chest fluff, another fisted tightly in the sheets. “Gonna… ‘m gonna cum— fuck, baby, can I?” 

Husk feels his cock pulsing against his palm, that coil spring tightening with every fervid thrust. He’s so close to falling over the edge too, but even without being with Angel, he wants to get Angel there first. 

[OldFasioned1]: Yeah, sweetheart. Go ahead. 

Angel whines high in his throat as he reads the message, his back arching sharply off of the mattress. “Fuck! Oh, shit— hah, Hu—” His body jerks as he comes, legs shuddering on the bed, hips bucking wildly against the toy inside of him. “Fuck— Husk!” 

Husk’s orgasm crashes into him the second he hears his name, a loud, wrecked moan escaping his lips as he comes hot over his knuckles, shooting over his chest. He shivers, grinding hard into his fist, riding out the aftershocks with shaking gasps. He collapses back onto the bed, body lax and satisfied. 

It takes a few seconds for the daze in his mind to subside, the blissful afterglow shattering around him as reality sets in. 

Angel said his fucking name. 

Husk’s eyes widen, snapping his head up to stare at the screen in front of him. Angel’s staring right back, as if he can actually see Husk, and fuck, there’s no doubt he heard Husk too with how loud he’d fucking been. Sickening guilt overwhelms Husk’s senses, his hands shaking as he reaches to type out some sort of excuse, but before he even gets the chance Angel moves from his bed.

Husk hears Angel’s bedroom door open, and shit — shit shit shit, he’s coming over to Husk’s room. Husk scrambles to hide his laptop, to try and clean the cum sticking to his fur, but it’s too fucking late when Angel opens Husk’s door. 

“I fuckin’ knew it was you,” Angel gasps, his chest still heaving from his orgasm, eyes wide. “Fuckin’ Old Fashioned. Seriously?”

“Angel, wait—” Husk starts, his hands coming up defensively as Angel marches towards him. “Listen, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

Husk’s words end muffled, pressed against Angel’s lips when Angel grabs his shoulders and tugs him forwards. Husk freezes in place as Angel kisses him, heart hammering in his chest, a million thoughts floating through his mind. What the fuck is happening?

Angel pulls back slightly, cheeks flushed as he pants softly for breath. Husk opens his mouth to speak, but Angel stops him with a finger against his lips. 

“Here’s how this is gonna go,” Angel says, authority seeping into his tone. Husk swallows thickly. “We’re gonna have a bath together. You’re gonna aftercare the fuck outta me, and once we’re clean, you’re gonna explain why the Hell we haven’t been gettin’ off with each other sooner. And then, you’re gonna make good on what y’said and give me anythin’ I want. Got that?” 

“Yeah,” Husk croaks before he’s being hauled into another fervent kiss. This time he kisses Angel back, his clean hand gently cradling the back of Angel’s head. The softness of Angel’s lips is enough to override some of the guilt lingering in Husk’s gut, and fuck, Angel’s right. Why the Hell weren’t they doing this sooner?