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Husk groans and scrubs hands across his face as the hotel doors shut behind Vaggie- the last of the three people supposedly responsible for the place now off doing what the fuck ever as the clock rapidly ticks down on Extermination Day.
“Well,” Husk grumbles, posture worse by the second, “I’m not getting a choice in this but I’m betting this is exactly where Niffty and I will be when the angels come pouring in two days from now. You sticking around, Pentious?”
“Me?” The snake demon still acts like he’s not used to people asking his opinion. “I…well, I don’t know. It would be an excellent chance to test some new weaponry. On the other hand, we could all die a horribly agonizing second death and wind up in some even worse version of Hell. And who knows if the laws of thermodynamics will be the same there...”
Husk has already snagged a bottle of booze from the tallest shelf behind the bar. He pours a small cup and pushes it Niffty’s way as she sits on the edge of the bar and daintily crosses legs- like resigning themselves to crazy dangerous situations is par for the course.
“Whatever you’re gonna do, make sure it’s your choice,” Husk warns. “Last time Alastor left, Niff and I had to deal with his old messes for seven years. I’m not guaranteeing he’ll be back for this one either.”
Husk has had plenty of time to master the art of chugging but Angel’s still impressed watching him down the bottle without pause.
Sir Pentious’ tail twitches. “I…need to think on it.”
He slithers off toward his airship, gathering up stray egg minions as he goes and squeezing them tightly.
“And you?”
Angel stares for a long time as Husk watches him, bartender uncorking a second bottle as he waits.
Gloved fingers clench and unclench nervously before Angel’s able to clear his throat. “You really don’t think the gals and Alastor are coming back?”
Husk’s skeptical snort whistles across the mouth of the new bottle.
Angel can’t imagine anything making Charlie give up on her dream project but wanting something and making it happen are two different things. Angel’s not exactly banking on his tomorrows anyway. He shrugs and tries to keep it light. “Well, I guess I lived a pretty long afterlife. Maybe they have some new and different drugs in Super Hell. Might as well stay and fight. I did a movie once that was ‘angel’ on Angel. I don’t know if punny porn gives me an advantage on fighting real angels but…”
Husk takes a slow, extended gulp of liquor before mumbling, voice rough. “You’d be safer back at the Vee’s hideout. Should wait it out there.”
It almost sounds more like an order than a suggestion.
Angel tangles arms defensively across his chest and grits his teeth. “You ask Pentious to stay but I’m supposed to run off like a coward? You know I’ve kicked his ass, right?”
Husk scowls, eyes shifty. “I didn’t say you’re a coward. You can do whatever you want. I’d just prefer if you weren’t here.“
“Listen, you!” Angel kicks the side of the bar in a rage and immediately chokes and hisses in pain when wood proves way more sturdy than he thought.
Niffty sways as she snorts and giggles.
“This…this fucking thing…out to get me!” He pounds the bar top with one fist and rubs his toes through his boot.
Seriously, every time he reacts just a little impulsively! It’s damn embarrassing.
Husk is staring at him like he’s stupid and it wipes every single word of Angel's furious rant from his head before he gets to say any of it.
Angel part storms and part limps his way out of the room snapping, “I need some air!”
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Something rustles right behind him and Angel flinches. He didn't realize he was so far gone smoking on the hotel roof and staring off over the city that he couldn’t hear the heavy door to the stairwell open or close.
He’s in no state to be sociable. His thighs are numb from sitting too long and the cigarette between long fingers trembles as Angel twists to see who found him and how rocky his evening is about to get depending on what kind of lying he has to do to who. He dreads as much as hopes it’s Charlie finally back from some last ditch effort of a mystery mission.
It’s Husk who holds up a hand in easy greeting. His wings resettle along his back with a soft shuffling of feathers sliding against each other. Angel stares the whole time red and black retract. He’s seen Husk fly, just once while he helped Niffty dust the chandelier, but he’s rarely seen Husk casually flex his wings. They're very striking and it would have been nice to see more of the white dots scattered throughout before they got swept up into folds like poker chips scooped up from a table and immediately hidden away. It takes a lot longer for Angel’s brain to catch up and realize the bartender probably did it on purpose- flapping wings in a gentle announcement so he didn't sneak up on Angel when the door didn't register as any sort of warning. Because Husk is sometimes like that- oddly considerate for someone who likes to claim he doesn't give a shit about anything or anyone. Even if Angel’s still kind of mad at him, shoulders relax a little where they were trying to squeeze his spine.
Husk takes a seat a comfortable distance away, legs hanging off the side of the hotel roof along with Angel’s. After a long look in which Angel feels about as transparent as a pane of glass, Husk nods to the lit cigarette between slim fingers.
“I thought you quit those.”
It doesn't sound judgemental. It twists Angel’s stomach anyway. The girls really spend a lot of time clearing them out of his room every couple weeks. With love and obstinance, of course. But Angel never went without some stashed away for emergency.
“I tried,” Angel mutters. And he really did for a time. He's trying to pace himself now- to take short drags instead of sucking them down in one long inhale that leaves nothing but a stick of ash, burnt fingers, and his guts as fuzzy and twisted as his brain.
The cigarettes are not cheap either. They're the kind of thing you find locked up behind the counter of the fancy sex shops with the really good toys and the other mind and body-altering substances like that stupid Love Potion with its vaguely rosey taste. Angel’s thankful to never drink any of that nasty shit again but he has wondered over and over if microdosing on that would be better than the cigarettes. At least the potion gives a good bang for the buck (which is absolutely a slogan Vox shot down for being too cheap sounding for the Vees’ luxury products). The cigarettes are weaker and they go faster. When he burns through his last pack, Angel won't be getting any more for free now that he’s avoiding the Vee Tower and Valentino completely.
The cigarette shakes between Angel's fingers again as he brings the butt to his mouth for a rough inhale. He even presses the fingers to his lips trying to keep things steady while he prays for the effects to hit already. He needs something to distract him from the reminder that he can’t go back to Vee Tower. He told everyone at the hotel he was on break for a while- filming finished so the studio can shut down during the upcoming extermination- but that’s a lie. He just can’t stand to be there right now. Maybe not ever again.
Angel is throwing away the stardom he signed for, he’s practically running from his Overlord but doesn't even have the good sense to actually go into hiding. Everything is going to go to shit soon when Heaven opens up to rain an army on them but it’s worse that Angel can't shake the hypothetical image of Valentino standing at the gates of the hotel, ready to fuck things up in a fit.
Charlie would fight for him. It's wild, but he thinks the other hotel residents would join her. That scares the shit out of him more than knowing there’s going to be a bunch of Exorcists knocking down the hotel doors in a couple days. And it actually hurts that Husk doesn’t think Angel is good enough to get skewered by a holy blade while standing next to him. Angel thought they were…some kind of close.
Husk is watching him carefully, breeze ruffling feathers as he pretends not to clock the trembling of Angel's hands. Angel doesn't need to have another breakdown in front of Husk. Especially when it wasn't that long ago that Angel was crying in the street and spilling his heart out. Husk…just let him. That evening still feels special in a way that blooms in the back of Angel’s mind whenever he’s feeling particularly at ease. And sometimes, Angel still feels Husk’s warm hands around both sets of his and the small of his back and high on a hip as they danced. Angel squeezes his eyes shut when those memories start to stir his gut and the warm, sure hands drift to much less chaste places and Angel envisions a dance…way more horizontal than the one that actually took place.
Angel digs the heel of a palm between his eyes and breathes. He almost hopes he catches his hair on fire. It would at least distract him from the cigarette finally doing its job in the worst possible way.
Husk takes a cigarette from the pack near Angel's hip and sniffs it.
“Don’t!” Angel practically throws himself across the space to yank the thing from Husk’s claws.
“Christ! You bum off me all the time but when I'm out, you can't spare one cigarette?”
“I mean don't!” Angel snaps. He’s practically vibrating. “Don’t smell it. Don't even touch it! That shit’s awful for you.”
“Then why are you smoking them?”
Angel grimaces, tucks the cigarette back into its pack, and transfers them to the jacket pocket farthest from Husk. “Since I haven't been going to the studio, I've been having this awful nausea. And headaches. These got Val’s pheromones and whatever in ‘em. They help.”
Husk is looking at Angel in the way he hates. Like he knows everything Angel doesn't want to say. “He’s got you addicted to him.”
Angel snaps back in a poor attempt at minimizing, “What ain't I addicted to?”
Husk holds out his hand expectantly, voice calm but authoritative. “Give me one. I want to understand what kind of hold this bastard has on you.”
“No,” Angel repeats right before taking another hypocritical drag.
“Ya know, it’s not my first time with some wild shit. First week after I lost my soul, I was taking those things that come from Sloth.” Husk pantomimes tossing into his mouth and crunching down on a hard seed. “Supposedly, they put most sinners in a damn near coma but I was taking them just so Alastor’s voice didn't sound so loud in my ears.”
“Seriously, Husk! I don't want you to get hooked on these!”
Husk tosses his head and smirks and it really should be criminal while Angel’s already under the effects of the cigs.
“Why? Afraid I'm going to have one smoke, crawl my way to the studio, and suck your boss's dick?”
The only thing worse than it being a joke is if it doesn't turn out to be.
And the only thing worse than it maybe happening is thinking it would be hot.
“Yeah,” Angel exhales. “That’s kind of what I'm afraid of.”
Angel should stub out the cigarette and throw himself off the building for imagining his friend on his knees and- no, with the height difference, Husk could probably stand…would have to, Val’s so… Angel’s getting hard thinking about it and he bites his own inner cheek so he doesn't call himself a ‘fucking horny dumpster fire’ out loud and make Husk wonder. Husk is not ready for the things even a tiny bit of Val’s pheromones can do- let alone in a blend this concentrated. Angel crosses his legs and gives Husk the cold shoulder.
Husk knows him enough to see that Angel’s upset for real and he backs off for a minute. Though the chances he knows the actual reason are slim to none. Husk is not wired for filth the same way Angel is. Just one more reason not to let Husk have a taste. In case Val’s pheromones rearrange Husk's brain and turn him into some empty-headed, cock-sucking deviant. Angel’s not a scientist but he’s done enough movies in a microkini and a labcoat to at least theorize it could happen.
Husk huffs. “I promise it won't happen.”
Angel jolts. Did he say some of that shit out loud?
Husk is holding out his hand again looking like he really does think he’s invincible. It’s hot. And annoying. Angel wants to prove he knows what he’s talking about and the heat in his gut also wants to see what Husk might look like after a drag or two. Husk’s a grown ass man literally asking for it. Still…
“No way you're getting a whole one.” Angel grumbles as he plucks the half gone cigarette from his own mouth and holds it out in reluctant challenge.
He doesn't know what Husk’s tolerance is like for any substance other than alcohol. Valentino has ‘recruited’ new talent into full contracts after just a few puffs and a promise.
Husk scoots a little closer and takes the butt between two precise claws. Angel’s fingers hover with nothing between them. He wants to take it back- the cigarette, the whole idea- but time feels a little funny and the thing is already in Husk’s mouth. Angel knows because he’s staring at dark lips wrapped around the paper where his own mouth just was and thinking how wildly unfair it is.
A white belly and chest rise with a slow inhale and Angel can’t tear his eyes away. Husk holds it in, imitating the way he watched Angel do it without knowing that it’s not necessary, it’s just one of the ways Angel punishes himself, edges himself. It depends on his mood. When Husk finally releases a steady exhale of pink smoke, Angel’s tongue drifts over his own bottom lip as he traces the shape of Husk’s with his eyes.
Red eyebrows arch at him and half startle Angel out of staring.
“Expected that to sting,” Husk says. “Throat must be more numb than I thought.”
Angel squeezes his legs together, mind running a thousand filthy thoughts a minute about what he could do with that throat while Husk takes another slow drag, gold eyes flicking as Husk looks out over the city and catalogues what he’s feeling.
A breeze rustling fur at the back of Husk’s neck makes Angel’s fingers twitch with jealousy.
“Yeah,” Husk breathes out again as he examines the cigarette after another exhale. “I'm starting to get it. This shit’s smooth. Fast too. That's an easy fall.”
Angel tenses all the way to his toes just watching how slowly Husk blinks. And the cig, it wasn’t that short a minute ago. Was it only a couple puffs or did Angel lose track of time again?
“Ok. You got it, you can stop now.”
Angel reaches, stretches to reclaim the cigarette but Husk keeps pulling the thing farther out of reach and Angel winds up half falling into Husk’s lap.
“Calm down, kid.”
A hand grips the back of Angel’s head. Air freezes in Angel’s lungs at a familiar touch from an unfamiliar source but then he takes a big gulp of air- the trained response knowing he’s about to get pushed down on some cock. But Husk’s hand only rests there, warm and firm until the breath turns stale in Angel’s lungs and he dumps it in a shaky sort of reverse gasp that yanks at the heat in his belly. Husk’s too busy taking another pull of Angel’s cigarette to notice. Does tightly wrapped paper still taste like Angel? He wants to demand Husk give it back so Angel can taste Husk too. But, as a thumb idly strokes the back of his head, Angel forgets how words work for a second, and by the time his brain catches up to his tongue, he’s realized he can’t say shit like that to Husk. Not to a dude he barely convinced to fuck him once.
Angel basks in opportunity he has been given instead. He melts into the hand. Let's Husk hold him while continuing to smoke. Angel is close enough that, when Husk inhales, Angel swears he can hear lungs expand and feel the heat of skin rising toward him. If he focuses really hard, he can smell Husk even over the scent of the cigarette. Earthy, masculine, but not like the carefully crafted, hyper polished blend of additives that gets mixed with Val’s pheromones and packed into the cigarettes. Husk smells like a day’s light work, and whiskey, and bar polish. Angel wants to lean down and rub his face all over Husk’s chest.
Angel rubs his legs together instead. He’s already leaking through his panties. Why stop at Husk’s chest? Why not drag down that white belly? Why stop even there? His fists curl against the rough surface of the roof. He’s going to do it, tilt his head and make like the slut he is and burrow into Husk’s crotch and inhale- just to satisfy an animal deep sort of desperation- but before he can, Husk is pulling him upright by the scruff of his neck.
“Quit whimpering.” Husk’s voice slaps Angel in the face and rakes claws through his hair and pins him down by the waist even though it’s just a mumble completely oblivious to the depths of Angel’s horny plight. It’s the same as a hundred Husk mumbles before. “Don’t worry. I’ll let you finish it.”
Husk lets the cigarette hang between his lips while he releases Angel and then settles back on two wide palms. Angel keeps swallowing but it’s not doing much to stem the saliva that keeps welling in his mouth and he can’t quit staring at those hands.
Angel masters his tongue after a particularly rough swallow. “You really feel ok, Husk?”
“Yeah. It's…soft. Like being high without the crying.”
Angel blinks. “You cry when you're high?”
“Don't you?”
“That's usually the opposite of what I'm trying to feel.”
Husk hums thoughtfully.
Angel scoots closer, not much more than a hand’s width between their hips. “Husky, have you never had a good trip?”
Husk thinks on it, smoke of the pheromone cigarette curling around fangs in little licks as he exhales. “I have. But I might be too prone to introspection to enjoy it most of the time.”
“Then you're not going into it right.” Angel drifts into Husk’s space- pulled in like those scrunched hearts on furrowed eyebrows have their own gravity.
“How should I go into it?”
Gold eyes are too close and a heart-shaped nose skims a white cheek, barely ruffling short fuzz, as Husk turns to find Angel even though the whole line of Angel’s chest and arm is pressed against the bartender. Husk is careful to keep the lit cigarette far from Angel’s face. Like he doesn’t know Angel would let him put it out directly into his cheek.
“You-” Angel swallows. Husk never asks for his expertise in anything and this is right up Angel's alley but he can't keep his head on right to give real advice. “You should focus on the good things you’re feeling.”
Angel doesn’t remember making the decision to take Husk’s hand or to place it on his thigh between shorts and boots. But Husk’s claws twitch on white fur and Angel’s hand is on top of them, encouraging them to press down harder.
Tentatively, Angel takes his hand away to see what will happen. Husk keeps kneading without guidance. Nice and slow. One squeeze or caress of a thumb for every six beats of Angel’s rabbit fast heart.
A pair of long, gloved arms sneak up around a dark neck, fighting a lopsided red bowtie for the honor of feeling Husk’s pulse. One hand drifts to pet an ear and Husk doesn't reject that touch either.
Angel sighs. “Being high is…what's the word? When a thing makes you think of another thing? Assintuitive?”
Angel is busy rubbing his face against Husk's soft fur. Beneath sweat and whiskey, there’s that thing you can’t bottle up- that masculine mystery scent that's carving out space in Angel’s guts and promising to fill that empty ache with something hot and hard.
Husk rumbles, “Associative?”
“Yeah.” Angel whines and presses up into that hand on his thigh that is SO big.
“Angel…this stuff make you horny?”
His gut drops and clenches and he leaks a little more.
“Yes.” Angel doesn’t mean to sob into the little black spots on a fluffy chest. He’s imagining the texture of those awful off the rack pants and how it would feel against his dick if he humped Husk’s hip.
“Yeah,” Husk grits teeth. “I'm starting to feel it too. But you're still in there?”
He taps Angel's forehead and it would put the spider on his ass if he didn't already have hands anchored around Husk’s neck and in suspenders.
Angel nods vigorously. If he were really far gone, he'd have all those big fingers in his mouth already and his thong would be fluttering on the wind halfway across the city. The hand on his thigh has stopped moving and it's about to piss him off. But then Husk opens his mouth.
“No sense wasting this feeling then, right?”
They haven’t had sex since that first time in the early days. They haven’t so much as kissed since that weird and hazy night after the sharks and the bar. Is Husk suggesting…
“Go ahead and touch yourself.”
Angel almost sobers from the shock. “What?”
Husk takes another drag and holds smoke and pheromones so long that ANGEL’S lungs begin to hurt as he holds his breath in solidarity. The whole world has slipped into slow motion by the time black and red wings flex and curl around Angel- shielding him from the rest of the city beyond their little piece of hotel rooftop. When Husk finally exhales in a tightly controlled stream, pink smoke breaks against Angel’s collarbone and then swirls in the cradle of feathers like the most erotic hotbox of Angel's long afterlife.
Husk repeats himself, amusement and a hint of grit coloring the edges of words. “If you need to touch yourself, it's fine.”
Smoke curls from Husk’s teeth. He looks so hot and cool that Angel almost missed the part where Husk’s hand left his thigh. Husk is still watching out of the corner of his eye. He doesn’t look like he’s demanding a show. But he is watching. Husk is watching.
Two of Angel’s hands fist his own lapels, fully ready to rip the jacket from his body but he whimpers, distracted instead by his lower hands squeezing his cock without remembering he sent them there.
He’s a fucking mess already. His hand is sticky and wet the second he pulls away from beneath his shorts to rip off his glove using his teeth. He doesn’t even drop the thing, just grits down and lets pink fabric sway in his mouth as he desperately dives beneath his waistband again. His cock is blazing hot even against sweaty fingers and he can’t remember the last time he was so hard. He bucks up into his own hand, hips rolling as more hands scrabble behind him to hold onto the ledge to be sure he doesn’t fuck himself right off the roof. He rips his bow tie off. Stupid, cheap thing popping off like intended when he needs a little oomph to a striptease but he’s not teasing now. He just needs space to breathe while he jerks himself desperately beneath clothes. Boots scrape across the roof as legs twitch.
It’s not even anything fancy, the way he jacks his fist over his cock tight and quick. But the noise is insane. He swears every little wet smack of skin or schlorp of precum escaping between his fingers echoes in the space made by Husk’s wings. Angel tosses back his head and gulps air, thighs tensing and chest heaving as he works himself almost violently. His cheek brushes feathers and his belly clenches.
Husk’s wings have their own smell. Almost…powdery, airy, alive. It makes Angel insane and he wants to cram his nose into Husk’s back to see how the scent of wings transitions to the richer, muskier tones of fur and skin.
Angel whines and drags fingers through his chest fluff, raking welts across the skin beneath it trying to tip himself over the edge before he goes completely feral. Why hasn’t he come yet? The cigarettes always do it for him. His dick is so full it hurts and his balls are pinched and he’s jerking his cock as fast as he can and he just can’t- Valentino would have-
“Need help?”
Angel could cry at that tiny rumble of a question. Apparently is crying a little if his voice is any indication as it breaks in response and the glove tumbles from his mouth.
“Yes! Yes! Please!”
Husk pats his thigh and beckons Angel close but Angel is on Husk’s leg like a dog before a white claw even finishes crooking his way. Fur tickles his nose as Angel buries his face into Husk’s neck and clings for dear life while hands settle on Angel’s back and his knee to keep them from pitching off the roof.
Angel snaps his hips forward and back, rubbing off on Husk’s thigh and leaving shiny streaks of pre-come with each move. When a thumb strokes across the bottom of his ribs, Angel’s finally coming in hot spurts that he immediately grinds into dark pants as he quivers and pants and whines into Husk’s neck.
The thumb on his ribs is still for a moment but when Angel’s chest heaves less and less, the thumb starts stroking again.
As he turns to murmur, Husk’s face presses into the top of Angel’s head. “Was that enough?”
Angel shakes his head no. He’s still jittery, arousal surging up where it was only temporarily sated. Hips twitch, dragging the wet mess of a pant leg with them. He needs to come again. He doesn't know how to tell Husk he needs him to take charge. Because Val always does in this situation.
“Please.” Angel squeezes Husk against him when that is the only word he manages to get out.
Claws cradle his chin and then grip tighter, forcing Angel’s face out of fur to meet Husk’s eyes. “If we do more, are you going to regret it later?”
“I’ve been begging you for months!”
Husk’s eyes flash, like he's somehow surprised by that but he shakes his head. “Not what I asked.”
“I won’t.” There’s simply no way he could. “Cross my heart!”
“Finger yourself open for me then.”
Angel’s entire gut drops and clenches again and he groans in Husk’s hand as his own hands dive to his pussy. He’s already sopping wet, practically gaping for how easily fingers slip past clinging underwear and press inside.
Husk growls into the side of Angel’s head. “Other hole.”
Angel shudders and immediately switches course. Maybe Husk doesn’t like pussy. He didn’t bother with it last time either. Angel’s ‘stacked with options’ as Val loves to say. Any and every combination ready to be used. Husk can have whatever he wants as long as he takes something.
Angel barely even touches wet fingers to his ass before he’s being dragged off the ledge and repositioned face down and ass up on the flat plane of the roof. The cigarette gets tamped out next to his face and then abandoned. Wings still shield him as hands elevate his hips and Angel whimpers. That’s what he really needs. To get fucked hard into a flat surface. Fingers snap back to asscheeks to spread them and start probing, opening himself up as quickly as possible so Husk can-
Angel chokes and digs fingers into the roof beneath him when something hot and wet presses against pussy lips. He has to flatten his own chest fluff with a hand to look down his body, confused, to find Husk’s face buried between long legs. Angel cries out and melts chest first into the floor when the thing drags across his pussy again.
Tongue. That’s Husk’s tongue. Even as he cobbles together the realization, it doesn’t feel real. Or it’s too good to be true. It feels very, very real.
Husk’s tongue worms between lips for an exploratory dive of the channel beyond and Angel feels the familiar bite and burn of all the chemicals and other bullshit in the cigarettes. Angel fists his own hair and presses his face to the ground. The feeling is too much. Familiar as breathing. He’s felt it a thousand times and doesn’t know why it makes his chest squeeze and thump all panicky.
A rough and wet order vibrates against him as Husk growls. “Stay with me.”
Angel’s breath stutters and he doesn’t know what that means until Husk is redirecting Angel’s hands back toward the task they were given. Right, Angel’s supposed to be fingering his ass open. While Husk chows down on him. What could be easier?
Loose gravel stings as Angel drags his face across the rooftop. He’s so close to coming again all the sudden that thighs quake when he finally gets two fingers worked all the way in.
“H…hey..”
It’s not any kind of warning when he can barely squeak out the word and there’s no way Husk can hear it with the way he’s growling and slurping and tongue fucking while his nose occasionally bumps the fingers trying to spread Angel’s other hole. Somewhere between a gentle suck and a hard lick, Husk sighs- like he’s been needing this too- and it’s all over.
A noise punches it’s way out of Angel’s throat, high and surprised, as his dick jerks and blasts a load of come so hard it sounds like he’s pissing in two hard pumps before the rest bubbles and drips out like a leaky tap. That mouth is right there, lapping at the walls of Angel’s pussy one second and darting down to lick at the head of his dick the next. Angel almost bounces off the floor on fingers and toes as he screams- the fireworks of an orgasm warping to an atom bomb worth of sensation that rips through him in heat and pressure that fades to a buzz not unlike sticking your tongue in a live socket.
“VAL!”
The mouth doesn’t let up and when that tongue finds its way inside him again, a third orgasm is almost instant- a rolling wave of fuzz that washes over him as he releases a rush of juices directly into a humming mouth.
Drool is pooling on the roof by the time Angel uncrosses his eyes and closes his mouth. He’s still shaking and too fuzzy to fight it when he gets flipped onto his back.
“Please, Val,” he mumbles, lips heavy as rocks. “Just one second.”
One second to feel good, actually enjoy his orgasm, before they go again.
“He’s not here.”
Eyes snap open when that deep voice forces reality across Angel’s brain like a whip cracking.
“Husk…”
Husk doesn’t scream or shout and have a complete meltdown about some other man’s name coming out of Angel’s mouth. He doesn’t even look mad about it. Even when Husk moves to pin two of Angel’s hands to the roof- because Angel was absolutely trying to hide behind them in mortification- there’s no retaliatory pressure.
“Contract and the drugs aside,” Husk frowns, “what else keeps you going back to that creep?”
Angel blinks slowly as his body throbs. He can go again. Needs to go again. With Val…well, they wouldn’t be stopping for a q&a. God, what was the question? What does Angel like about Val?
“He…” it sounds so stupid that Angel’s face is on fire as he mumbles, “he's got a big dick.”
“Plenty of those elsewhere.”
Husk brushes Angel’s fingers aside and penetrates him in a smooth but firm push.
It stretches his hole and stirs his guts without that pain Angel’s used to- the one that usually pools in the back of his throat when he coaches himself to smile through the first massive breach. Husk’s obviously not nearly as big as Valentino is but…Angel just feels full, not split into pieces. He arches his back and pants and tries not to wiggle down on that cock like a total whore. Val already would have clocked it, called him on it. Husk just shuffles forward on knees and meets Angel mid-desperate pelvic roll.
“What else?”
Angel swallows hard. “He's got almost as many hands as me.”
Husk pins two hands in each of his bigger ones and squeezes them lightly. “And?”
“His…his tongue…”
Husk leans down and kisses him so good Angel thinks he’s gonna throw up. This is nothing like their chaste kisses at the bar. Lips are always moving and the texture of a thousand tiny hooks burn as they drag wetly across Angel’s tongue and make it hard to focus on anything else. The noises Angel’s making are absolutely embarrassing but Husk curls his wings tighter around them like he wants to hear every little wet gasp and whine echo.
That flexible feline spine keeps snapping and rolling and it's so smooth and good for as hard as Husk is fucking him. One perfect thrust has Angel crying out and Husk kisses him again before growling against Angel’s lips.
“What else?”
“He…” Angel shakes, tiptoeing along the edge of an orgasm that’s suddenly twisted up in the memory of the way things used to be. It’s like coring out his insides with a wooden spoon when he whimpers, “He wanted me.”
“That's the easiest one.”
Husk kisses his cheek, his chin, his jumping throat, back to the corner of tightly squeezed eye and brings the taste of saltwater to the next hard press of their mouths. Broad hands release Angel’s wrists and are immediately busy cradling Angel’s face and massaging his chest.
“Jerk off for me,” Husk murmurs.
Angel’s whole chest heaves, unable to find a steady rhythm of breathing as habit slips out of him again, “Yes, Daddy.”
Angel comes after barely even fondling himself, spine tensing as he exhales in a hiccuping shudder and he paints the pink stripe on his belly with white splashes.
Husk purrs approval and keeps thrusting. One of Angel’s hands drifts too close, fumbling as it tries to pet a fuzzy cheek and that clever tongue flicks out to lick come off pink fingertips.
He’s right at the edge of pain, knows it wouldn’t hurt if he could just unclench his stomach. “Daddy...”
“My name.”
“Husky.” He throws two arms around that dark neck and pulls the other man close. “Husk! Fuck!”
Husk spills inside Angel’s ass just before the dam finally bursts and tension spurts out between Angel’s legs, pussy walls pulsing around each subsequent rush of fluid soaking Husk’s lap. Angel can’t remember the last time he squirted, on or off camera, and he digs fingers into dark fur as he shakes and moans.
Angel eventually slumps, throat dry and belly heaving. He knows his mouth is flapping like a fish out of water and he stares up at those spread wings above still giving them privacy. White dots multiply with dizzy little flashes of color until they look almost like stars. Dread starts creeping up on him. This is all going to end and Angel will be alone again.
“Husk-”
“More?”
It’s not disbelieving, not mean, not taunting just to make Angel beg for it. Husk doesn’t mock him for being a fucking bottomless pit of need. It’s just a question. Husk waits for him to answer it. Angel manages to nod even though his throat goes so tight he ought not be able to move his neck.
Angel nearly pulls out dark hair when Husk slinks down without any more warning than a growl to suck and lick up all the juice oozing out of Angel’s pussy.
The excitement is already tingling through him again, skittering hot and delicious through well-worn paths until his face feels like it’s going to float right off his head. It’s more than Angel would have ever dreamed he’d be getting from the bartender. The sight of tall ears between his legs is too much to process alongside the feel of long and gentle licks and that fucking baritone hum like Husk is having a whole goddamned agreeable conversation with himself. Angel turns his face away only to be greeted by discarded paper and a spit-damp filter. The stubbed out cigarette isn’t far from his face.
Something suspiciously like guilt washes through him and he shudders.
It takes a couple tries to get out the words and even then they’re soft and strained. “Th…that’s enough.”
Husk pauses his tongue bath but reads shiny leather knees wobbling like the needle on a lie detector. “You sure?”
No. Angel feels another crest just out of reach and he would love to let that warm tongue take him there.
“You don’t have to,” Angel mumbles, hating every syllable almost as much as he hates himself.
Big, gold irises are thin rims around blown pupils as Husk looks up the length of Angel’s body but black soon shrinks with uncertainty.
“And if you’re worried about getting your money’s worth, don’t.” Angel throws an arm across his face when he thinks he might cry from a combination of an aborted climax and shame. “I ain’t charging for this.”
If anything, he should be paying Husk for taking advantage of him. Hell really is where Angel belongs.
The cocoon of wings retreats and Angel reluctantly peeks to see if Husk is going to leave him already.
A red tipped tail flicks in agitation as Husk eyes the wet mess of a pink and white crotch one more time before sitting back on heels and grumbling. “Those cigarettes of yours ain’t shit.”
Angel’s brow furrows behind his arm. He raises the limb to stare at Husk fully. “Excuse?”
Husk flaps a hand, annoyed, as he sits back on his ass with pants stretched around his thighs, dick still half hard against his lower belly. “The effects wore off forever ago. I thought maybe I was imagining it but, if you’re not feeling it either, they really don’t last.”
But Angel is definitely still scrambled by the demonic aphrodisiacs and whatever else is crammed into those cigs. He blinks down his body to Husk who’s looking very put out. “You…don’t feel anything?”
“Maybe a little warm but other than that?” Husk shrugs apathetically. “You know my libido isn’t naturally high. I can tell easy when something’s messing with it.”
“You’re not…chemically, uncontrollably horny right now?” Angel sits up on his elbows.
An eyebrow arches at him, as if to say, ‘When have I ever been?’
Husk’s not even under the effects of Val’s pheromone bullshit?
Husk reaches forward. Angel blinks and pats his own pocket in confusion when he sees where that hand is headed. White claws scoop the pack of cigarettes from the rooftop. They apparently fucked them right out of Angel’s jacket.
“Guessing these things aren’t big sellers with uh…what do we use now?” Husk frowns trying to think of the word as he taps the box against his knee. He mutters to himself. “It was almost easier when everyone lumped us with the aces and called us all ‘prudes’.”
Pieces are clicking into place in some speedrun of a puzzle Angel didn’t realize he was working on. So much of Husk's rejection is making perfect sense now. “Husk, are you demisexual?”
“That’s the one.” Husk snaps his fingers. Then he shakes his head. “Great for the community with finding our identities and whatnot but, man, we’re making new words before I’m done with all the old ones. Still not sure if we reclaimed ‘bent’ and I’m never letting go of ‘seafood’.”
“You’re not drugged right now?” Angel asks again in total disbelief.
The bartender snorts. “I've had baked goods that hit a hundred times harder than this did.”
“Then… why were you fucking me so good?”
Why is Husk looking at Angel like he’s the one that’s crazy?
“Because I…wanted to?”
“But you-” Angel sputters. “I’ve been trying to get you to do that for months!”
Husk frowns. “I thought you were drumming up business. Wasn’t all that cheap coming on to me part of your job?”
“That was for me!” Angel had thought he was pretty crystal clear about wanting to get boned!
“Oh…well, I wasn’t all that attracted to…whatever that was. I was waiting for you to, you know, be you.”
Angel’s heart is hammering as hard as it did while Husk was eating him out.
“Then why’d you let me kiss you at the bar?”
Husk has the audacity to blush even when his dick is out and his lap is still wet with all Angel’s fluids. “That’s about when I felt like I was finally seeing you. Enough to know what I was getting into and enjoying the possibilities.”
Angel feels himself flush. He pushes hair out of his face and closes his legs, only now feeling naked despite the fact his bare ass is leaking Husk’s come while shorts hang caught around one boot and his open jacket barely sits on shoulders anymore.
He pulls his shorts more or less back into place as his heart keeps hammering. “Why don’t you want me to stay and fight, Husk?”
Husk takes a long time to mumble, “Don’t want you to get hurt again.”
There’s still a wad of napkins in his room that Angel keeps hidden from Niffty on trash day long after the ice melted.
“You want another one?”
Angel flinches, looks to the pack Husk has started tapping against his knee again. “Another cigarette?”
He’s fucked Val for hours, chain smoking his way through it. Even if it leaves him feeling empty and sick after, it’s mostly fun until that point. He could do that with Husk and still not regret it.
Husk shakes his head and crawls his way back into Angel’s space. He pauses just long enough to tuck the pack back into Angel’s pocket and flick the stubbed and discarded cigarette from earlier further out of their little bubble of feathers and soft shadows. “I mean another orgasm.”
Yes. Yes, Angel does want. Especially when Husk is close enough to share the same, warm air.
“Or we can stop here. Whatever you want, Angel.”
Angel digs pink and white fingers into dark fur again. He wants everything. Every part of Husk. The weird friendship and the fumbling flirtation and this.
“I’ll take it.” Angel swallows, wide-eyed and almost scared this will still wind up some kind of prank. Not from Husk but maybe some force of fate that rips them apart in the next few days when the Exterminators come.
Angel hugs Husk tight, guiding the bartender’s face against his neck so Angel can feel the man breathing against him. “Whatever you can give me. Please. And you can have it too. Not, like, a transactional thing but…if you just ask, when you want it…do you understand what I’m trying to say?”
Husk’s arms slide across Angel’s back and hold him just as tightly. “Yeah, I get the gist of it.”
“Could I…hug you for a while?”
“…Sure.”
They lay together like that for a long time, just breathing each other in. Long enough for the last of the cigarette’s effects to slip away from the back of Angel’s mind. But it doesn’t stop the looping part of an addicted brain that immediately urges him to light up another. Angel shivers and long claws pet along his shoulders. Like Husk is reading his mind again.
Angel reaches into the pocket with a now slightly crinkled pack of cigs. He takes the paper box and, with the clarity that Husk’s smooth heartbeat gives him, Angel tosses the last of Val’s pheromone cigarettes over Husk’s back and off the edge of the roof.
After a second of quiet, Angel’s face pinches and he squirms. “Can I still get that last orgasm?”
Husk’s laugh travels through every inch of Angel, making him feel warm and safe even if his feet are still itching to get up and head to the ground floor to see if he can find the pack he just chucked.
But the urge is already a little weaker when Husk starts kissing him again.
“And Husk…” Angel pauses, bracing two hands gently against a furry chest, “l’m staying. With you and Niffty and, let’s be honest, we both know Pen’s staying too. Even if the heavy hitters don't come back to help, this is our place.”
Gold eyes are soft. “Alright. I’ll watch your back.”
“And I’ll watch yours.”
Husk kisses him again. That same sort of soft gratitude Angel was giving him at the bar.
“Just…out of curiosity,” Husk’s lips rub against Angel’s as he asks, “what’s your record with Valentino?”
Angel bites his lip when a claw teases through the mess low across his belly to clarify. He slides his knees up over hips and locks Husk in by crossing long legs. “I’ll tell you the number after we blow it out of the water.”