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Husk prides himself on his improvisational skills. He’s a showman and a poker player; by a requirement of success, he must be a man of many faces. One who can take in any amount of information and choose how to react in that moment, including no reaction at all.
So when he can’t help his double take as Angel comes down the stairs to approach the bar in a new lounging outfit, Husk knows he’s fucking gone for the guy.
His breath catches, even. Christ, he’s fucked.
Angel misreads his staring, stopping halfway between the stairs and the bar. At least Husk’s luck hasn’t completely run out. Crossing an arm in front of himself to grasp his elbow, Angel grins sheepishly. “That bad, huh?”
The ever present shorts, bow tie, and mid-thigh high boots remain, but the opera length gloves and jacket Angel prefers to wear on a day in have been replaced by a cropped sweater with a heart cut out over his chest. His lower arms and the midriff are bare, and the pale pink of Angel’s hands up top reveal the complete absence of gloves.
Angel looks so fucking comfortable. It makes Husk’s heart clench.
“You know damn well it ain’t possible for an outfit to make you look bad,” Husk says, folding his arms on the green bar top to lean toward him. He arches a brow. “A bender, on the other hand…”
Reassured, Angel laughs, long legs crossing the rest of the distance to the bar. “I saw you have all sorts of fancy liquors now - how about a Painkiller?” He hops onto the bar to sit there instead of the fucking stool.
Husk moves to push him off but Angel shoves his hand away with all four of his, playful. Husk glares at him, saying, “C’mon, I actually like this damn counter, get the fuck down.”
“I’m freshly showered!” Angel promises, kicking a leg up before crossing it over the other one and coquettishly leaning back on two hands, posing for him. Gravity has the sweater frame his generous bust, drawing Husk’s eyes to it as saliva pools under his tongue. Husk discreetly swallows it down so he doesn’t drool. “Besides, the view’s nicer up here.”
“Your big head is higher when you stand up straight than when you’re on the fucking bar,” Husk says, rolling his eyes.
That wicked, lethal smirk aims at Husk, making his heart stop, and Angel says, “The view for you, baby.”
“Right.” Husk smirks back. “I guess I’m supposed to be grateful?”
Angel shrugs. “Grateful enough to spoil me with a drink?” he says, hopeful.
Husk makes a show of a pain-staking sigh and grumbles good-naturedly, turning his back to Angel to grab pineapple juice, orange juice, cream of coconut, and Pusser’s rum. “I take it you chose this drink for the liquor name?” He doesn’t put it past Angel to connect ‘pusser’ to ‘pussy’ to ‘cat’.
Angel gasps, dramatic, all-but-confirming Husk’s suspicions while Husk fetches a hurricane glass. “Whatever do you mean?”
“Mm.” Cursing the crush he’s developed, Husk reaches for nutmeg to garnish when he’s done. Angel will like it.
Sinners start to trickle in the days after the Extermination through the door to Husk’s right, and the trickle grows with each passing day. Across the large lobby from where he stands at the bar rests the large memorial to Sir Pentious, his portrait watching over them the way he tried to the day of the battle.
Husk’s chest tightens and the urge for a drink spikes when he thinks about it too long no matter how much he’s already had, so he tries to avoid thinking about it.
Cherri Bomb and Angel often hang out at the table in front of the memorial, which helps. Always with their backs to it; Husk would hazard a guess that Cherri feels comforted in proximity to the portrait but that it’d be hard to look at it for any significant amount of time.
Angel laughs a lot more with her around. It eases Husk’s heart the more he hears it. Angel’s loud, textured voice travels easily, and combined with his unfettered mirth and the acoustics of the huge room Husk can pick out the sound of his laugh - even when the lobby fills with the din of Sinners speaking with Charlie.
The crowd thins as she leads them to the wall holding the room’s keys, allowing Husk a view of Angel and Cherri. They make eye contact with Husk, and Cherri points upward with a grin while Angel waves with his beautiful smile.
Husk lifts the hand not holding a bottle to wave back when a bug Sinner the size of Cherri trips over his own luggage. The fucker had clearly clumsily staged it for an excuse to fall directly between Angel’s barely parted legs with the Sinner’s hands (tips of front legs) conveniently landing right on the bared part of Angel’s chest.
“HEY! Perv!” Angel shouts, voice crystal clear as he leans away from the groper, but it’s not enough to make the Sinner take his hands off him. Husk’s wings ruffle, a furious sound building in his chest. Angel and Cherri have this well in hand but it doesn’t make Husk any less angry on Angel’s behalf. Angel shoves both his top hands into the Sinner to push them tripping back over their luggage, scowling deeply as he clutches his own chest for comfort and half turns away. “Hands off the chest fluff!”
Cherri doesn’t waste time, punting the Sinner in an impressive feat before Angel finishes talking. Husk watches with satisfaction when the asshole goes flying, the height of their arc peaking at the third floor before painfully hitting the second floor hall railing and falling hard to the ground.
Raising his bottle to Cherri, Husk calls out, “Nice shot!”
Turning to Angel, Cherri has a short conversation with him before crossing the lobby. Angel kicks the luggage belonging to the Sinner a generous amount of times to damage it before following, making Husk chuckle. “Heya, hypocrite,” Cherri greets cheerfully.
Husk’s chuckle turns into a warm laugh.
“Is that the one?” Cherri asks, eye twinkling. Since she overheard Angel call him ‘loser’ she’s been experimenting with calling Husk insults herself. The second one had been cat related, and before Husk had said anything Angel had whacked her on the shoulder with a glare, and Cherri’s stayed away from any body-related terms since.
Husk finds himself impressed with her the longer she spends here. She ain’t a good person by any means - none of them are, though Angel’s getting there. But living in Hell long enough has shown Husk that even evil has standards, and finding out Cherri’s standards has been a pleasant surprise. “Nah.”
“You’ll tell me when I get it though, right?”
Laughing louder, Husk cuts himself off with a dry, “No.”
That sets Angel and Cherri off into snickers, and Angel promises her, “I can read him pretty well, I’ll tell you when you hit it.”
“The fuck you can,” Husk retorts, glowering at Angel. His tail involuntarily lifts and flicks behind him. Dammit. He’s better at masking his body’s instincts when he’s sober, but he’s not dealing with working a hospitality job without at least a bottle in him. “And the fuck you will.”
Angel hops up to sit on the bar, ignoring Husk’s growl, but Husk can’t bring himself to try to push Angel off this time. The slightest hint of a pleasant scent wafts from Angel’s direction, making Husk’s nose twitch. Too subtle to be cologne or perfume; a new deodorant or setting spray, maybe? “Ignore him,” Angel says to Cherri. “He gets cranky when men tryta take advantage of me~” Angel grabs his chest over the fabric and pulls it up, the flesh under the fluff now sitting like a shelf.
Saliva pools under Husk’s tongue; it’d be very easy for his own hand to fit through the large window in the sweater, or to duck under the loose hem, and feel for himself. He won’t ever act on it, since he’s not that particular flavor of asshole - evil has standards - but fuck he enjoys thinking about it. More and more frequently with how much time he spends with Angel. Thinking about the soft gasp it might earn, the way Angel might hook his foot behind Husk’s knee and bring him closer…
Angel keeps talking, bringing Husk out of his little fantasy, and Husk swallows. “How can I blame ‘em when I look like this?” he jokes, jiggling his chest.
Husk rolls his eyes. What he also hates is Angel saying shit like that. “I blame ‘em.”
“So do I,” Cherri says, rolling her shoulders back and thrusting her own nice chest out - Husk watches that part of her body bounce before bringing his eyes up. “Look at this shit! These are quality tits! They could at least try to fondle both of us!”
“Exactly!” Angel gestures to her, trying to hold in a laugh so he can get the words out. “Really, Husk, you should be pissed at how my best bitch here’s been insulted.”
“Because he grabbed you and ignored her?” Husk says, not bothering to mask how ridiculous he thinks they both are. “What if it’s ‘cause yours have won awards? Maybe it’s status being grabbed instead of tits.” Sarcasm drips from every word.
For some reason it sets Cherri and Angel off into proper laughter, Cherri holding onto the counter while her body leans back with the force of her mirth and Angel bent over with his own.
“That’s it,” Angel wheezed, wiping his eye. “That’s it. From now on, bitch, I'm Awards Tits and you’re Amateur Tits.”
She shoves his leg, her laughter not quite gone when she says, “No way! You’re Film Tits and I’m Dance Tits!”
“What am I, then,” Husk says in hopes of ending the conversation.
He should have known better. Angel and Cherri look at him, then each other, then back at him and say in unison, “Tits Out.”
Lifting a finger to point at Cherri and then at Angel, Husk warns, “You ever call me that or anything like it you’re gettin’ the silent treatment the rest of my damn afterlife.” Angel snickers, so Husk adds on to make sure Angel knows he’s serious, “And I’ll fuck Tiffany Titfucker.”
It works. Angel gasps in genuine offense; Cherri looks delighted. “You wouldn’t,” Angel says, aghast.
Husk shrugs. “You read me so fuckin’ well? Tell me I’m bluffing.”
Angel searches his face, and scoffs, folding his arms under his chest. “Fine. Fuck. I was gonna lay off anyway!”
“Mmmhm,” Husk hums out, chuckling when Cherri holds her hand out to his for a high five. He gives it to her. “Damn good kick over there.”
“Thanks,” she says, checking over her shoulder to look at the Sinner who’d suffered her wrath. The body still lays unconscious on the floor. “Angie says you got some of the good stuff in. Can you make me a Mai Tai?”
Husk’s temper flares. “The fuck I look like to you?”
Cherri arches her single brow. “A bartender?”
“I ain’t no fancy bartender. No I can’t make a fucking Mai Tai,” Husk snaps, wings ruffling. “Basic cocktails only.”
Angel covers his smile with his hand while Cherri stares at Husk, unimpressed, and says, “I watched you pour out eight rainbow shots from a single shaker for Angel’s birthday.”
Cheeks heating, Husk growls out, “That’s different.”
Cherri smirks back. “I bet. I see you ogling his award winning tits.”
As Husk’s ears swivel and tilt back, a snarl building in his chest, Angel hops off the counter and shoos her away, saying he wants to prank some of the newer guests. When he goes with her Angel throws a reassuring wink over his shoulder at Husk, resolving his embarrassment. Mostly.
She can’t have caught him - he hasn’t been - right? Angel would have called him out the second it happened.
He distracts himself by finishing his bottle.
Alone in his room after work, Husk still hasn’t been able to get Angel out of his head. Fuck, the way he grabbed himself after shoving that asshole away, the way he grabbed himself sitting on the bar, fucking fuck fuck.
Would Angel grab himself like that laying on his back with Husk pushing his cock inside Angel for the first time?
Husk irritably shucks off his slacks, digs the lube out of his side table drawer before slamming the drawer shut, and gets comfortable in bed, his cheeks warming again. There’s not any point in fighting this when it happens; he’s tried, and when it’s Angel on his mind it never fucking works.
With his hand slicked up, Husk ignores his holes, focusing only on his dick. Hell had assigned him a dual set of genitals but he found that tugging on his cock was still the fastest way to get off while alone. He squeezes his eyes shut and shifts his wings a little further to allow for more movement from his body, should things get a little intense. Something else more common since living with Angel.
Stroking himself, Husk breathes deeply and closes his eyes, letting his imagination take over the stage of his thoughts instead of pushing it away. Husk’s hand would engulf Angel’s tits, he’s sure of it, he could hold and squeeze his entire chest in one hand. Husk imagines the sensation of going behind Angel when he sits on the bar, grabbing his waist to tug him back, and then shoving his hand up Angel’s sweater to do exactly that. Angel would gasp quietly in surprise, Husk thinks, or maybe curse Husk for startling him, only for that distinct voice to melt into a moan.
Husk forces himself to remember that pleasant scent from earlier today when Angel had hopped into the bar and imagines it strengthening when Husk presses his face to Angel’s shoulder blade, his hand kneading greedily at Angel’s tits and holding Angel’s body tight between Husk’s groping hand and Husk’s front. Angel would arch, Husk’s sure of it, and Husk would use his other hand to grab Angel’s waist and drag the line of Angel’s back to press against Husk again, squeezing his chest hard for moving away from where Husk wants him to be.
He’s seen Angel’s chest bounce multiple times already, but in a loose top with a generous cut out framed over his cleavage Husk has a fresh show every time Angel moves. If Husk takes a half step back, leans Angel back further, Angel can lean his head back on Husk’s shoulders. Husk can hear every moan, every utterance of Husk’s name, every halt of Angel’s breath, and learn Angel’s favorite ways to be touched without Angel needing to say a word.
Husk’s fantasy skips forward and Husk thinks about Angel still on the counter but facing him, legs locked behind Husk while Husk kisses softly down Angel’s jaw and neck. Angel’s many hands fisting in Husk’s hair, Husk’s waistband, around Husk’s suspenders, but their touches are mostly chaste - until Husk lifts his hand and ducks it through the sweater’s heart shaped window, first a little to see how Angel likes it, and when Angel moans Husk’s hand goes in the rest of the way. From how the real Angel adjusts and moves and grabs himself, Husk knows his tits have mass but he still doesn’t know exactly how heavy, how dense, how large they’ll feel in his grip, and saliva fills his mouth yet again at the thought of getting the chance to find out.
Angel would let him, Husk’s sure of it. Angel would want him to, Husk’s almost sure of it.
The fantasy skips again and now the sweater’s gone and Husk’s suspenders have been pushed off his shoulders, and Husk drags his lips down past where Angel’s collarbone would be, past the swell of the fluff, before burying his face in the center of it. Angel’s careful to keep his fur short, soft, and touchable, but it’s longer on his chest and Husk imagines its softness on his cheeks and against his nose while he holds Angel’s tits in both hands. He moans out loud, wanting to feel how Angel would react. Wanting to feel Angel squeeze his legs around Husk and pull him closer so that Angel can drag his straining erection against Husk’s; wanting to feel that hardness twitch with every massage of Husk’s hands.
He doesn’t know if Angel has nipples and he doesn’t care. He’ll find where Angel’s most sensitive regardless, and learn to play his body better than Husk plays the fucking saxophone. Husk’s pleasure mounts suddenly when he thinks of the possibility of proving himself like that, of showing Angel that Husk can show him a better time than most of the other assholes out there, of seeing Angel’s genuine pleasure, and he strokes himself faster, arousal skyrocketing faster than he expects, air burning through his chest with how hard it is to breathe
Just wait ‘til you find out how it feels inside me, Husk impulsively imagines Angel saying, taunting and low, and Husk’s orgasm just about runs him over, leaving him winded, dizzy, and full of a different kind of ache.
Breathing hard, Husk throws his arm over his eyes while the yearning burrows into his heart. He’s half-certain Angel returns his crush, but if he does - what’s Husk supposed to ask?
What can they have that won’t make life at the hotel a fresh kind of Hell if it all goes wrong?
Whenever enough people come in where Charlie has to split her attention, at least one person comes to the bar to shoot their shot with The Angel Dust. Angel doesn’t bother to hide his irritation, and Husk enjoys the show of Angel crushing their hopes - oftentimes without them knowing. The sincere, warm, and delighted smiles Husk earns feel all the more perfect when directly contrasted against fake enthusiasm in public and the the scorn and disdain in private that Angel directs to the rest.
The third day, when Angel’s late coming downstairs and actually sits on a stool instead of the counter, a crowd arrives and a handful of demons come to the bar. Husk braces himself for prepping a larger order, but then they create a semi-circle behind Angel and Husk can’t keep his tail from lifting, baring his teeth at them.
Angel glances over his shoulder, and then swivels around before leaning his elbows back on the table. Husk can’t see his face, or his two lower arms. “Hello, boys,” he says, coy.
What Husk does see is three different demon’s expressions turn from lecherous to fearful, and Husk doesn’t understand until the fourth demon, now angered, steps forward and the sound of a gun being cocked reaches Husk’s ears.
“Did the advert mention our custom angelic steel weapons?” Angel asks, still light and flirtatious. Looks like the scorn and disdain ain’t reserved just for private expression anymore.
Husk chuckles, relaxing. Of course Angel has it covered. He’s been dealing with this shit since before Husk died.
In response to the demons freezing at the sound of a gun ready to shoot, Angel speaks impatiently. “The only reason the floor’s not painted with your brain matter is ‘cause I don’t feel you’re worth the waste of bullets from my submachine guns. Fucking scram before you really set me off.” He lifts the gun to point it at the angry Sinner - a revolver, Angel’s finger already tight on the trigger.
They flee out the front door and Angel watches for a while before finally turning to the bar again, expression tense, and Husk’s angry all over again. Husk wordlessly taps his palm to the counter a few times, jerking his head to it when Angel makes eye contact.
Smiling slightly, Angel gets up and hops to sit on the bar counter, his back to the liquor shelves and the door within his sight now. “The angry one was kind of hot,” he jokes.
“You’re fuckin’ insufferable,” Husk says, more clipped than he means to, and he quickly grabs the first glass he can reach - a wine glass, fine - and pours one of the bottles that had been shipped in this morning. “Here, we got some fancy spritz, tell me how shitty it is.”
Angel takes the offered glass, sipping.
Husk snatches up a rag, wiping down an already clean glass to work off his irritation. He hates this. Hates that he’d given Angel shit for sitting on the counter, hates that Angel feels safer when he can see the door with so many Sinners coming in, hates that Angel feels the need to play it off with a joke like his tits being grabbed is an insult to his friend or that at least the man who tried to step to him is attractive.
Raising an eyebrow, Angel swirls the drink in his glass. “What’s got you all worked up?” he asks, taking another sip.
Husk snatches another clean glass to wipe down, grumbling in his throat before he speaks. “Fuckers crowdin’ you—” He glares at the rag, wishing he could burn holes with his vision. Could get Alastor, Valentino, fucking exorcists and anyone who bothered anybody here if he were able to do that, he thinks. If he glares hard enough sometimes it feels like he can. “—groping your titfluff…it’s pathetic!”
Angel looks at him out of his periphery, glass still at his lips. “My what?”
Husk drops the glare, focusing his eyes on Angel without turning his head, hands stilling on the glass. “What?”
Turning his torso toward Husk with a smile, Angel clarifies, “My chest fluff. What did you call it?”
Husk wants to defend himself - he heard Angel call his chest ‘tits’ yesterday! - but upon recalling the conversation, Angel had only done that as a joke. Chest fluff, however, he’s used multiple times.
Whatever. Not a big deal. If Husk digs in his heels too hard it’ll look like protesting too much, and it’s too late for him to shrug casually, so he doesn’t say anything.
Angel searches his face, a tiny smile growing, and Husk tries to make his expression even more unreadable, but it’s too late—
“Husky~!” Angel says, delighted, and Husk groans quietly, wondering how much of a Thing that Angel’s gonna make out of this. Angel leans toward Husk on one hand, looking surprisingly genuine and earnest as he says, “Are you a tits man?”
Husk straightens his posture, going back to cleaning the glass he holds, considering his answer. Closing his eyes, he shrugs and says, “Just be grateful I’m not an ass man.” He opens his eyes to side-eye Angel, letting a smirk grow on his lips. “Because then you’d have no chance.”
Whatever Angel had been expecting, it wasn’t that, going by how Husk’s reply surprises him into cackling so hard he starts coughing. Husk leans on the counter, unable to help the smitten smile on his face while he watches. Even like this, hacking his lungs out, Husk wants to take him into his arms.
“You’ll fuckin’ kill me one day,” Angel grates out roughly when he finishes coughing, rubbing below his throat. He hands Husk the glass back. “The spritz is real fuckin’ shit.”
Husk downs the rest of the glass in gulps, and when it’s empty he finds Angel watching him with interest, now. “What?”
“I like watching you swallow,” Angel says, simple. Honest.
Husk turns quickly, putting away the two now extra clean glasses and setting to clean the one he’d just emptied, ready to change the subject when he faces Angel again.
Except when he does face Angel Husk finds him now perched on Husk’s side of the bar counter, grasping the edge of it with all four hands as he leans toward Husk, his chest window right at Husk’s eye-line.
Husk immediately looks up at Angel’s eyes so that he doesn’t catch his eyes lingering, but despite this Husk’s mouth still floods with saliva and he swallows.
Angel points, a smile splitting his face, and Husk realizes his mistake. I like watching you swallow. Not wholly an innuendo, goddammit. “You’ve been drooling over me for days.”
“Trust me, baby, when I’m drooling you’ll know,” Husk says, giving up the ghost with another smirk. Shit, the slight flush splashed across Angel’s face under the white fur is almost as satisfying as that toothy smile flashing gold at him. In the face of Angel’s genuine happiness, Husk can’t remember any good reason for them to keep playing this damn game.
“I’ll drool for you,” Angel murmurs, eyes bright and his flush growing. Not a come on, not a joke. The words send a buzz all the way down Husk’s spine. “I’d get down on my knees and drool on you right now if I thought you wanted me to.”
“Fuckin’ Christ,” Husk hisses, stepping close to the bar to hide the erection that gives him, but Angel redirects Husk to step between his legs, and Angel grins when Husk’s hard on presses against him. Husk braces his hands against the bar edge to keep Angel from dragging Husk fully against his body, and tries to glare at him. It doesn’t quite work - he’s too flustered. And this feels too good.
Angel grips Husk’s chin, directing his face up so they can properly look into each other’s eyes. “But you don’t want me to,” he checks, arching a brow.
Husk trembles before he can stop himself, caught in Angel’s snare. “Not here,” he admits. “If I weren’t workin’—”
Angel turns his head toward Charlie without breaking eye contact, raising and projecting his voice. “Vaggie, bar’s closed!”
Vaggie separates from Charlie and the potential guests she addresses, looking harried. “What? What happened, what’s wrong.”
Angel nudges Husk back, takes his hand, and tugs Husk behind him, keeping him close enough to hide the physical evidence of Husk’s arousal. “Nothing’s wrong,” he says breezily, heading past her and toward the stairs. “Bar’s closed.”
Baffled, Vaggie throws her hands in the air. “Angel, I can’t do my job if I don’t know what the fuck’s going on!”
Angel turns on her, waggling his eyebrows, jerking his head to Husk. Husk very studiously does not look at Vaggie. “Nothin’ is going on. But the bar is closed.”
“Oh.” Vaggie sighs, annoyed. “You can’t wait?”
“I can do it on the bar,” Angel offers.
Disgusted, Vaggie says, “Eugh, no, just - just keep going, fuck,” and Angel gladly takes her instruction, leading the way up the stairs until Husk hustles a few steps to catch up beside him.
“Nothin’, huh?” Husk says, smirking. “You’re getting me to play hookie to do nothin’?”
Angel and Husk walk quickly to the elevator, and Husk presses the up button as Angel says casually, “Depends. I’d like it to be somethin’ more than nothin’, but I’m kinda still learning how to ask for more without pushing boundaries.”
“The fuck was that down there, then?” Husk says, squinting up at him.
“Dealing with the consequences of my actions,” Angel says, winking. “Proud of me yet?”
Husk can’t help but laugh, and then the elevator doors open. Angel lets go of Husk’s hand, grabs under his arm pits, and lifts Husk like he weighs nothing - and Husk knows how heavy he is, given his wings’ entire function is to lift him into the air - to take him inside and press him against the elevator wall, making Husk splay out his wings, face level with Angel’s now.
Angel’s pink eyes flick between Husk’s, his mismatched sclerae a mesmerizing view this close. “Tell me I’m pushing too hard. Tell me I read this all wrong.”
Husk licks his lips and smirks. “No.”
Angel slots his mouth to Husk’s in an open-mouthed kiss, as desperate as Husk feels.
Husk grabs behind Angel’s head before Angel can second guess himself again, his other hand grasping it at Angel’s shoulder while their kiss escalates to something more heady, more messy. Angel’s as skilled as he promised; his tongue does things that make sparks go off behind Husk’s eyelids. Distantly Husk registers one of Angel’s free hands clumsily hitting two buttons instead of one for their floor. He chuckles.
“Shut up, it’s your fault. You’re real fucking distracting.” Angel bites down on Husk’s bottom lip painfully in retalitation.
Husk moans, his erection twitching against Angel, his hand sliding down the front of Angel’s shoulder.
Angel pauses, letting Husk catching his breath by panting against Angel’s lips. “Pain?” Angel asks, curious. “Or biting?”
“Biting,” Husk breathes, barely keeping his eyes open. “But right now I’d rather be kissin’ you, baby.”
“Who woulda thought I’d ever hear you say something like that,” Angel marvels, and before Husk can snap at him Angel kisses him again, more gently than the first time.
One of Husk’s hands rests just to the upper right of the sweater’s heart-shaped cutout, and he uses the other hand on the back of Angel’s head to press him closer. He takes advantage of the slower pace, logging every one of Angel’s reactions - when his fingers on Husk clench, when his breath catches, when the fluidity of Angel’s lips stutters - to Husk’s touches and kisses.
Before he can wield it against Angel the elevator stops and the door opens, Husk drops to his feet, and Angel sprints out of the elevator, cackling.
Breathing hard, Husk glances at the floor number - their floor. The floor number above them still has its button lit. Smirking to himself, Husk steps past the elevator door, opens his wings properly, and launches forward.
He’d miscalculated Angel’s pace; the short burst of speed from his wings has him approaching Angel rapidly, cutting Angel’s giggle off into a yelp when he looks over his shoulder just in time for Husk to tackle him.
They land in an uncomfortable heap.
Angel snickers, and Husk joins him. This close, sharing breathy laughter, it’s easy for Husk to place his hand behind Angel’s neck and pull him in for another kiss. So he does exactly that; kissing Angel short and sweet this time, enjoying how Angel melts into it.
They help each other to their feet and Husk lets Angel tug him to the door adorned with pink neon instead of insisting on his own room, exchanging kisses while Angel fumbles with his room key and Husk works to distract him on purpose. Just as Angel growls with frustration and Husk thinks he might kick his door down with it, the key goes in.
Stumbling in and slamming the door shut behind them, they fly at each other once more, intent to get each other naked. Angel’s lower set of hands unfasten Husk’s pants and shove off his suspenders one at a time. Husk helps shove the sweater up, grabbing Angel’s chest on the way, Angel’s soft groan even lower and hotter than he’d fantasized. He’d been right about one thing - Angel arches into the touch. The rest of their undressing passes in a flurry, Husk’s hat flying across the room, and Angel shoves Husk tumbling onto his bed, chest heaving while breathing hard but staying on his feet.
Husk braces himself up on his arms where he lays on the bed, catching his breath. “The fuck you waiting for?”
Angel shakes his head. “I’ve wanted this for months. I’ve wanted you for months. The way you danced with me…” Angel trails off, eyes meeting Husk’s. “I’d forgotten what that felt like.”
“To be danced with?” Husk says, not quite understanding.
Gracing him with an awkward smile, Angel says, “To be treasured.”
Warmth spreads from Husk’s heart outward - to his gut, to his hands and his feet, his face heating with it. “Fuckin’ - get over, here, dammit.”
“Desperate,” Angel teases, shouting a laugh when Husk grasps a pillow and slams it into the side of Angel’s head. Angel goes down with the hit, and rolls on top of Husk to take his lips in another kiss, hands wandering while long legs straddle Husk.
Husk’s hips jerk when Angel bypasses his cock with a curious sound, pressing at the wetness of his pussy instead, and Angel breaks the kiss just enough to murmur against his lips, “You good?”
“Didn’t think you’d have too much experience with that, s’all,” Husk breathes.
Angel smirks into their kiss. “Don’t worry, you’ll be fucking mine.” Husk’s hips jerk again, and Angel uses the slick on his fingers to pump Husk’s dick once, twice, torturously slow. “Unless you’ve got any protests?”
“To my dick in your pussy?” Husk grunts out when Angel gives him a third stroke. “Nope. No protests on my end. Sounds fucking fantastic.”
Chuckling, Angel leans forward for a deeper kiss, and then when he leans back—
Husk shouts, tight, wet heat surrounding his cock, claiming it, as Angel slowly takes him down to the hilt. It dizzies him, pleasure burning him from the inside out while Angel heaves a pleased little sigh, settling his pelvis against Husk’s. “You didn’t even - how did - is that why you’re famous?!”
Angel scoffs. “I’m famous ‘cause I’m hot and talented, asshole.” He rotates his hips, smirking again when Husk grabs them to still his movements. “My pussy’s nice and ready from touching myself thinking about you before coming downstairs earlier.”
When Husk hears that, his brain turns off and has to restart. That had been less than thirty minutes ago. “Yeah?” he says, hoarse.
“Yeah,” Angel confirms, grinning widely. “Fuck, it felt good having you throb inside me when I told you that.”
“You should tell me more,” Husk says, and before Angel can question him Husk sits up and rolls them over, pulling out of Angel’s perfect heat to get onto his knees, lift Angel’s hips, and thrust inside Angel again. Relishing the pleasured shout that spills from Angel’s lips, he rests Angel’s ass on the front of his thighs to free his hands to rub between Angel’s hips and waist. “Did you think about me touchin’ you here?”
Angel grasps at Husk’s knees, groaning lowly when Husk pulls back and fucks into him again. “Yeah, yeah I did.”
“How ‘bout here?” Husk presses his palm to Angel’s navel as he pulls back again and thrusts in harder, Angel’s keen music to his ears, pressing his hand down more firmly in order to feel the tip of his dick inside Angel. Angel arches, folding his legs behind Husk’s thighs to keep him close and Christ. Christ how is this his fucking life, he’s gonna count his lucky stars before bed every damn night if it means a chance to hold onto this.
“For fuck’s sake,” Angel grunts, grabbing Husk’s hands and tugging them up, toward—
Husk’s hands grip either side of Angel’s chest, unable to help his own groan at the feeling of their dense weight in his hold.
There’s that lethal smirk. “Mmmm, there you go again, twitchin’ inside me.”
Husk’s fingers sank into Angel’s fluff, into Angel’s tits, massaging and squeezing the flesh under soft white and pink fur. The heart marking on the underside of Angel’s chest flexes the more firmly Husk touches him.
At a rougher knead of his chest, Angel arches off the bed with a cry, digging his heels into Husk to rock his pelvis onto Husk’s cock, and Husk takes the cue to increase the pressure, tightly grabbing one breast in each hand and pressing them together. Husk watches in wonder as Angel shakes under the focused attention, three of his hands fisting in the sheets under him while his fourth tightly circles the base of his own dick.
A pleased rumble that Husk refuses to call a purr emanates from his chest. “Shit, I’m never gonna forget what you look like right now,” he says, getting greedier with his rubbing, his touches, egged on by Angel’s increasingly loud and needy reactions. Just as Husk had with their kissing, he commits every one of them to memory, eager to show off what he learned later to bring Angel to the peak of euphoria dizzingly fast.
And then bring Angel there again immediately after, and again, and again, until Angel has to beg him to stop because he overwhelmed Angel with too much pleasure. But right now? He’ll have to settle for putting Angel through his short learning curve.
Angel doesn’t seem at all dissatisfied, at least. From the way he whimpers and moans and the way his hands flex on himself and the bed, Husk suspects the learning curve will be shorter than expected. “Ohh, oh,” Angel pants out, wiggling his chest under Husk’s grip, and Husk’s hips jerk forward into Angel at the feeling of his tits moving like that in his hands. “Much more of this and I’ll start to worry you’ve forgotten you’re inside me.”
“Damn eager thing,” Husk murmurs, teasing Angel with the tips of his claws against the swell of his chest.
Angel gasps as if electrified, pussy convulsing on Husk’s cock. “Harder, fuck, make me bleed, bite me, something, I swear to—”
Not bothering to reply, Husk shifts his hands to Angel’s sides to pull him upright, braced against Husk’s thighs so that he can shove his face to Angel’s chest, mouthing at the flesh under the fur. He holds Angel in place with a hand pressed behind his shoulder, looking for—
Angel’s legs clench around Husk the same time his pussy does, his head falling back as he moans Husk’s name for the rough tongue laving over the nipple Husk found. Angel rolls his hips as best he can in their current position, rasping out, “C’mon, fuck me.”
Husk chuckles warmly, releasing Angel from between his lips to tell him, “M’a little busy baby,” and switching to Angel’s other tit to mouth and suck at that one, moaning quietly. His free hand moves to hold where his mouth had just left, brushing his thumb over that nipple over and over to mirror the rhythm with which Husk sucks at the other one.
This little tactic makes Angel moan with each pulse of Husk’s mouth, each sound more strangled than the last, while he fists his hands in Husk’s hair. “Husk,” Angel croaks out, the sound sweet to his ears. “Please?”
Who is Husk to deny such a plea?
Angel’s other set of hands cling to his back just under his wings when Husk lifts his head to firmly kiss Angel, their breathing syncing up easily without them needing to try.
“Wanna lay back?” Husk says, low and quiet, when the kiss breaks.
Scoffing, Angel shakes his head, leaning first to one side then the other to unwrap his legs from around Husk and get his knees under him, making them no longer flush together but giving them both friction that makes them both groan a little. “Not tonight - you’re just gonna tease me some more.”
Husk grabs Angel’s chest again, smirking past the intense sensation of Angel clenching down on him. “Guess you can read me pretty well.”
Angel smirks in return and lifts off him, shoving Husk to lay back again.
With Husk’s head at the foot of Angel’s bed, he had a view of the wall by Angel’s headboard. He’d put photos up - photos of Fat Nuggets, of Vaggie and Charlie, of Cherri, of…
…of him. Of Husk.
His heart clenches at the visual proof of his importance to Angel, proof that this goes beyond lust, beyond something one-and-done. Their lives are intertwined now, whatever that looks like, whatever they call it, and however it might end. Whether or not they fuck.
Angel lifts completely off Husk before letting his hips drop back down, and they groan in tandem, and Angel does it again, rocking on Husk this time.
Husk is really glad they’re taking the ‘fuck’ path. It feels damn near molten inside Angel’s body, his wetness the exact amount of slick Husk likes for his preferred level of friction. He helps Angel’s movements with his own strength, his left hand taking Angel’s dick to stroke nice and easy while his right grips the junction between Angel’s ass and thigh to help him lift up and soften his drop down each time. “Fuck, there’s no way Heaven’s better than this,” Husk grits out.
Angel’s rhythm stutters, his breathing picking up. “Damn, you’re cheesy.”
“You happy now that you’re in charge of the pace?” Husk teases, squeezing his grip on Angel’s leg enough to spread his opening a little bit. His impending orgasm rolls in his gut, threatening to have him cross the finish line before he means to.
“Not until I make your fucking wings flap,” Angel snarls, and - oh. Oh. Husk hadn’t realized Angel thinks he has something to prove.
“You will,” Husk rasps out, shaking under him when Angel picks up the pace, fast enough that his tits start bouncing with the movement and Husk can’t last much longer, sparks popping in his vision while Husk clumsily strokes Angel faster, “you will, you - Angel - fuck!” He slams his feet to the bed and thrusts his hips up, claws digging pinpricks into Angel’s skin while Husk empties into him. His wings beating against the mattress exactly once, his own pussy pulsing in time with his cock.
Angel clasps his hand around the Husk’s fingers on his dick, moving Husk’s hand faster to jerk him off while he stays in place on top. His breathing grows more irregular while his body starts to clench rhythmically around Husk’s softening cock. It’s delicious, feeling used for Angel’s pleasure like this. “M’right - right there, ah!”
“Come for me, baby,” Husk tells him, a small smile crossing his face. He reaches up, claiming Angel’s entire bouncing chest with one hand. “Let me see you.”
That does it for Angel, shouting Husk’s name as his dick spills onto Husk’s stomach, pussy convulsing around Husk inside him, one of his hands clawing down Husk’s chest.
Husk slumps back, rubbing Angel’s thighs while he looks up at him in admiration.
Angel runs two hands through his hair, fighting for air, and winks down at him. “So,” he says, voice a little wrecked as he brings his hands down to pet more soothingly down Husk’s chest, adoration in his eyes. “S’that a good view for you?”
Husk takes one of Angel’s hands to bring to his lips, kissing the back of it. It’s easy to express affection now; he’s certain that however things go for them, they can figure it out. Any amount of suffering is worth every fucking second of this. “The best.”