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Cold metal bit into Angel’s wrists. All six of them.
Fuck.
Lifting his head off the table in front of him, his shoulders whined in protest as he instinctively moved to wipe the pink drool from his chin. Angel knew he’d been out for some time, based on the way his spine and elbows cracked and groaned in protest at the first hint of movement.
He was in the “interrogation” room in Vee tower. A pokey metal box with a wall of window looking out at Vox’s stupid shark, cock.wav or whatever it's name was. Angel didn’t particularly like this room, but better the devil you know and all that crap.
Fear didn’t rise in his belly. It didn’t even rear it’s ugly fucking head. He knew where he was, he knew who had him. The only variable was why?
‘Val? What did I do, Val? What did I fuckin’ do this time, huh?’
Fury simmered in Angel’s chest instead, as he sucked up the remnants of poison - the saccharine taste and gloopy consistency nearly making him gag.
Ignoring the pain, Angel threw himself backwards in the chair, gasping as relief and agony shot across his entire upper body like a crossbow bolt. If he wasn’t so fucking mad he might’ve cum.
‘Val, I can see you in the fucking corner. Why am I tied up, what did I fuckin’ do?’ Angel panted.
‘Nothing, amorcito. Absolutely nothing,’ Val crooned as he swished his way through the velvety smoke that crowded him like the desperate souls in the club. Clinging to his trouser legs for an inch of dick and a slice of fame.
Angel was brave. Angel was so fucking brave, but his reaction was automatic, it was coded into his nervous system at this point.
The closer Val gets, the higher Angel’s heart claws its way out of his chest and up his windpipe.
Whatever fight Angel had left in him was squashed in his throat. Dead.
‘A-are ya sure Val? You know what I can get like, I didn't flub a line o-or miss a cue maybe?’
Val perched on the table, looming over Angel, a smile split across his face like an open wound. He crossed his arms and ankles, making it seem like he was relaxed. Angel knew better than that. He could see the corded muscle in Val's arms and knew Val was waiting to strike.
‘No, mi amor, you were perfect’ Val emphasised, deftly raising Angel's chin with a touch of his hand.
Dread fanned across Angel's shoulders, tap-danced down his spine. Val was in some kind of mood, fucking great.
Angel should've caught on quicker, Val was never reasonable. Cause and effect didn't exist to him. Angel’s head was still fuzzy, he couldn't grasp at any thought that floated by long enough to examine it thoroughly. Angel needed to fucking lock in and figure out how to play this to get out relatively unscathed.
Fat fucking chance.
Maybe he should just take the beating. Maybe he deserved it. Maybe this was demonic karmic retribution for pulling Vaggie's chair out from under them this morning.
Was that this morning?
It didn't look like Val had changed outfits from when Angel was last in the studio. But maybe there was some small accessory change Angel had missed that signalled Val and been drugging him and keeping him here for a month.
No.
Husk would've got him out if it was any longer than two days.
Satan knows Angel would never hear the end of it if Husk had to look after Nuggs for any longer than twenty-four fucking hours.
An all too familiar claw gripped him by the throat, the sharp pointed thumb trailed dangerously close to Angel’s ear, toying with the gaudy earring that swung back and forth.
Angel couldn’t bring himself to do anything, too struck by fear and anticipation. His body trembled like a shitting dog as his nervous system all but left the building. Part of him wished Val would just do whatever it was he wanted already. Smack him, bend him over and rip off his shorts, leave him there to rot, get Vox to electrocute him. Whatever, just get on with it.
Pain bloomed like blood in the water across the side of his face. It was razor sharp, followed by the dull thud of something jammed against his ear. It wasn’t the cold nose of a gun, so what the fuck was it? Angel sucked in a short breath, some sort of inhaled wheeze as he tried not to give Val the satisfaction he craved. Whatever had hit him withdrew and Angel caught sight of Val’s claw-tipped thumb covered in blood and winced as a thick trail of blood began dripping through the fur on his neck.
Fuck.
Angel stared into Val’s eyes, searching for any clue as to why he was being punished. There was nothing in his vacant stare. No remorse, no explanation, nothing.
There was no rhyme, nor reason for this to be the proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back. But for some reason, it was. Angel felt the keen sting of tears shoot through his nose and burn at his eyes. Maybe it was the fact that once upon a time Val had promised to protect him, lift him up, love him. Now here he was sticking his sharp fucking thumbs in Angel’s ears, while he’s tied up in Vox’s metal wank box, or whatever he used it for.
‘You’re so pretty when you’re scared and angry, mi corazón.’
Ahh, that’s what this is, a pre-fuck shake down. Get Val in the right mood for what’s sure to be some sort of sex act that Angel’s going to have to snort the equivalent of the Sahara Desert’s worth of coke later when he finally gets out to forget.
Fuck this is so fucking stupid. How in the fuck did this end up being his life. His afterlife.
Whatever.
Undecided whether leaning into it will get whatever’s about to happen over with faster, Angel spits at Val. The barely-concealed anger gets it farther than it would usually go, and instead of landing on Val’s shoe, it hit’s Val’s bare torso – dripping slowly over the divot of one of his abdominal muscles.
‘Mhmm, angelito, feeling feisty today, no?’
Val stood and forced himself between Angel and the table, and began grabbing at the length Angel could see thickening in those tight white flares he insisted on wearing. Val pressed himself to Angel’s chest, grinding and jerking his clothed cock between Angel’s tits – before he leant back into the table and used his long pointed tongue to lick the drying blood from where it stopped at the cleft of his cleavage. Angel shuddered at the invasive way Val’s tongue dragged up the side of his neck, ruffling the fur, then probed his aching ear.
‘You’re only making Papi want you more with all this “play” acting.’
The hand Angel had forgotten to keep track of found its way forcefully to the back of Angel’s head, pushing him into Valentino’s crotch. His face pressing against the hot, throbbing cock trapped behind Val’s zipper.
Angel’s entire body burned with pins and needles. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t wrestle his face away from the seat of Val’s pants without giving the lecherous fuck some form of pleasure.
‘Come on, mi amor, you know you love choking on my cock. You used to love it more than taking it up the ass.’
Angel felt himself traitorously get wet at the thought of the early days, where he’d spend hours at a time sitting with Val’s thick cock in his mouth under the Vees conference table. His knees numb and cunt dripping, while Val twitched and leaked at the back of his throat. How Val would take him back to the penthouse and damn near split him open, pressed against the windows and spinning yarns about how all of Pentagram city would be theirs one day.
Angel was tempted, that’s for sure. If he opened his mouth slightly and began to breathe hot, heavy breaths over Val’s cock, that would be consensual right? That would be Angel changing the narrative, taking control. Running his life, rather than ruining it, right?
As Angel turned his head, his tongue out ready for the dry swipe of cotton and the cold bite of zipper, the door to the interrogation room slammed open with a metallic clang. Vox stood boredly in the doorway, silhouetted by the fluorescent lights in the hallway.
‘Val. What have I told you about using the Interrogation room for sex purposes?’
‘Ay, as if you don’t come in here and tug yourself off while that bitch-ass shark watches you. Why are you here? I told you I was busy. I even put it in my “calendar” like you demanded.’
‘I have the Princess of Hell in my lobby, demanding this mangy cat come upstairs to find Angel Dust.’ Vox deadpanned, he continued with a wry smirk. ‘But I don’t think he’s going to like what he’s going to see.’
With that, Vox pulled Husk into the doorway with him and pointed him towards the scene. Angel locked eyes with Husk, gold meeting pink all the way across the cold blue and grey room, just as Val pushed Angel’s open mouth back onto his crotch. Angel scrunched his eyes tight as his face was mashed into the metal of Val’s zipper – the look of Husk’s hopeful face falling into despair etched behind Angel’s eyelids like a nuclear shadow.
Angel could never forgive himself for this.
Nothing more happened. Husk put his foot down, threatened to call Charlie. They hung back together on the walk home and Husk prattled on about how he wished he wasn’t on such a tight leash, that if he could use his powers freely he might’ve been able to stop those fuckers quicker.
Angel didn’t say much. It was all idealistic blabber he’d heard a million times before. Different man, different cock, same ego.
Nothing could be done.
+++
‘If ya really felt bad, you’d fuckin’ untie me, shit-for-brains,’ Angel sighed.
The small, grey spider stared at him, red eyes sizing him up, marking all the ways they were different and similar – perhaps even trying to find some sort of familial resemblance.
Angel didn’t care what Niss was looking for, he only hoped that if he found it, it would get him set free quicker.
‘You know I ain’t allowed to do that. You know it ain’t me that dragged you in here.’ Niss replied, sliding a finger between the rope and Angel’s wrists, nodding to himself.
‘Still under daddy’s thumb then, huh?’ Angel retorted.
This was Vinny all over, following their dad blindly. Jumping for orders Henroin hadn’t even finished barking. A good son, a good man. Nothing like the no good nancy boy Tony turned out to be.
Before Arackniss could say anything the clatter of metal shutters rolling up into themselves rang through the room. A stout spider, the same colouring as Niss, but hairier and hunched over shuffled into the room, his red pupiless gaze locked onto Angel.
It brought Angel a sick sense of satisfaction to see him hunched over, as if he was still nursing the mortal wound Angel had dealt to his chest. The explosion of the bullet leaving the chamber echoed in Angel’s ears like it was still fresh. The feeling of warm blood weeping over his hands as he tried to dig the bullet out of his father’s faltering chest in a misguided attempt to take back what he’d done. Feeling his father’s skin turn waxy and cool underneath his hot, sticky hands.
Hands permanently marked in red with the blood of the first kill his father made him complete to become a man, the blood of Molly as their father’s rage at Angel became too much to contain, the blood of Niss as Angel failed another mission, the blood of their mother at losing her children. Now the blood of his father.
Angel had watched the red turn to pink over his time in Hell, and found himself numb to the change.
‘Why am I here?’ Angel asked, not even bothering to hide his boredom.
‘You don’t talk first. You’re the captive. I talk, you cower like a pussy.’ Henroin spat, his voice like ground glass.
‘I ain’t never played by the rules, you know that. Why am I here?’
It was hard for Angel not to roll his eyes. All he’d said was one sentence and his father’s need for control had already sidetracked him from whatever mission he’d set out to accomplish.
‘Listen, you need to get this over with quickly. I got a pissy and possessive overlord on one shoulder an’ the actual Princess of Hell on the other. One of ‘em’s gonna notice my being gone pretty quickly, an’ honestly, I don’t know which would be more entertainin’ to watch you try an’ fight.’
Henroin moved with surprising speed for a ratty, decrepit old spider. As soon as Angel had finished talking the cool edge of a blade was pressed against the underside of his jaw, scraping gently at the fur that lay there.
Angel raised his eyebrows in genuine surprise.
‘Ain’t like you not to use a gun, pops. Why the sudden change?’
‘Angelic steel comes in whatever form I can get my hands on. Sometimes you gotta adapt.’
Fear reared its ugly head in Angel’s stomach, like a horse trying to buck its rider. This wasn’t the first run in with his family, but this was the first time his father had threatened him with angelic steel.
‘Oh, so you’ll adapt what weapons you threaten your son with, but you won’t adapt with the times to accept that sometimes love looks a little different for some people.’
Angel tried to keep the tremor out of his voice as he played it cool. Baiting his father wasn’t his wisest choice, but Angel had never claimed to be a master tactician, or even smart. But he was mouthy, and that often got him out of as many problems as it got him into.
‘I told you before I died, an’ I told you every time I seen you since. You ain’t no son of mine. You fucking finook.’
The cool edge of the blade bit into Angel’s jaw. It was different to an ordinary knife wound, it stung but it had a sub-zero feeling to it. Like being sliced with an icicle. The smallest of nicks caused pain to radiate down Angel’s jaw, like the slow bleed of the sun into the horizon at sunset. Angel clenched his teeth together, hoping the intensity of his molars grinding together would leech some of the sharpness out of the pain, distract him until he felt he could take a breath again without it audibly shaking.
Another door slammed open somewhere in the distance, but Angel didn’t have eyes on it. All he could hear was the rhythmic clattering of what he knew to be pig hooves. As sure as there were at least thirteen dildos under his bed back at the hotel, Fat Nuggets was in front of Angel, scratching his sharp little hooves against the pleather of Angel’s boots.
‘Henroin, what have I told you about messing with my belongings?’
A voice Angel would know anywhere resonated through the room, bouncing off the walls with its grandeur.
Henroin moved from his position hunched over Angel, allowing Angel to finally see Husk as he strolled up to the scene as if he had all the time in the world. He was dressed in suit Angel had never seen before, a pinstriped three-piece with golden accents that matched his eyes, there was a cane in his hand topped with a gaudy golden dice and Husk wielded it in such a way, used it so nonchalantly as if it were nothing but an extension of his arm, that everyone knew it wasn’t an aid, it was pure showmanship.
Angel bit back a smirk knowing how much Husk would be enjoying himself. All he was missing was the plush carpet and fuzzy felt of the casino surrounding him, and a glass of inordinately expensive whisky in his hand.
‘Told you I had a pissy and possessive overlord on my shoulder.’ Angel whispered to his shell-shocked father.
‘Husker, what a surprise, so glad to see you. I was just in the process of giving Tony here a lesson about what it means to be a real man.’
Henroin scrambled, desperate to appease the power currently sauntering through his ramshackle bolthole.
‘Given that he’s my property, I don’t really think that’s your place now, is it?’
Husk raised an eyebrow, looking out the corner of his eye at Henroin. Angel wasn’t ashamed to admit that this would probably feature heavily in his fantasies from here on out, and no, he did not care to examine how many kinds of fucked up that could be and most likely is.
Gesturing with his cane to Niss, while Henroin stood spluttering all sorts of apologies and offers, Husk barked an order.
‘Untie him.’
Niss did as he was bid, not looking as Angel flexed his wrists and popped joints for dramatic effect. Angel whispered in Arackniss’ ear as he unknotted the third set of ropes.
‘Get that knife away from him. I don’t need you double dead ‘cause of him too. Once was enough, Niss, please.’
They said no more to each other and Angel could only hope that Niss took his plea seriously.
It was dark by the time Angel and Husk left the docks, Angel scooping up Nuggets and praising him for being such a good little hunter. Husk faked being hurt at Angel naming the rescue to be a success due to Nuggs and Nuggs alone.
‘Where’d you get the suit from? You’re lookin’ pretty slick,’ Angel asked Husk, gesturing for him to give a full spin.
‘Left over from the overlord days, Al keeps it in a glass case in my room to taunt me. Never said I couldn’t wear it though, so jokes on him I guess.’ Husk shrugged.
Angel could bet that Alastor anticipated that Husk wouldn’t ever even breathe near the suit, so didn’t feel the need to make a rule about not touching or wearing it. But this was Hell, and no two days were the same.
Still, Angel hoped Alastor wouldn’t punish Husk too harshly for taking the suit out for a spin to save him.
Even then, if Alastor did decide to take it out on Husk, Angel was helpless to stop it.
Nothing could be done.
+++
‘Hey, hey, you’re safe, don’t worry.’
A heavy paw pushed the hair out of Angel’s face as he came around. His eyes were blurry and stung, as though he was looking underwater in a chlorinated pool, but he could make out various shades of pink and the warm red glow of the love heart fairy lights he’d strung up just before everything went wrong.
‘Where?’ Was all he managed to croak out.
He knew where he was, but his brain obviously hadn’t caught his mouth up to speed.
‘Your room at the hotel, kid. You’re safe, don’t worry.’
Only one person ever called him kid, and it made him feel warm and fuzzy. Now it felt like a bucket of ice water, or a rope of unexpected jizz to the face.
‘No!’ He thrashed, why couldn’t he move? ‘No, Husk let me go. It’s not safe, I’m not safe.’
He kept kicking and writhing but found himself getting nowhere. There was something restricting his movement, he was strapped down like fucking Frankenstein’s monster or some shit.
‘What the fuck is this?’ Angel gasped, panic beyond clawing up his throat. The panic had bypassed his chest and throat, and shot straight for his head, like a natural and horrible high. He felt sick and dizzy, like motion sickness without the motion.
‘Let me fucking go.’ Angel bellowed as loud as he could.
Husk stood at the side of his bed, Nuggets tucked under his arm. Angel’s panic subsided long enough to question whether Husk had let go of Angel's pig since he’d seen him last. He sure looked like he hadn’t. Husk’s clothes were rumpled and stained, his tie was squiffed and his top hat missing, his fur was clumped in tufts and shiny with grease and several rows of feathers across his wings were out of line or missing altogether.
He looked rough as fuck. Rougher than Angel felt after a double shift of gang bangs.
‘Baxter helped build the straps. Said I was havin’ night terrors an’ wanderin’ the halls an’ I didn’t want to hurt anybody. Jus’ gonna keep you here, dry you out an’ hopefully you’ll see a bit ‘a’ sense an’ come home.’
Husk seemed to be mumbling to himself and Nuggets more than Angel. Like he was still trying to convince himself that what he was doing was right.
‘Husk, I can’t fuckin’ be here. I’m not safe to be around. Vox has been fuckin’ brainwashin’ me. I ain’t safe to interact with.’
‘Nah, nah, that’s jus’ the drugs Angel, don’t worry, we’ll get you clean and you ain’t got to worry about that stuff no more.’
Angel threw his head back against the pillow. To be fair to him, despite this being his most terrifying kidnapping, it was also his most comfortable. So he couldn’t fault Husk on that front.
‘Who else is in the hotel? CHARLIE!? NIFFTY!?’ His voice warbled against his walls, hoarse with disuse. All he’d been doing over at the Vees was snorting, sucking and fucking – occasionally finding time to nurse a lozenge to soothe his aching throat.
‘ALASTOR!? VAGGI!?’
Some fucking hotel team the pair of them were, didn’t even know when someone was being held against their will on the premises. Angel was getting desperate, Husk was pottering about the room, kicking Angel’s discarded clothes from a few weeks ago to the sides, muttering to Nuggets unintelligibly.
‘Husk, please. Let me up so we can talk about this reasonably. I ain’t got nothin’ in me, if I could show you my hand it’d have the shakes, alright? Let me show you I’m doin’ your plan?’ Angel bargained.
Husk stopped mid kick, a lacy black bralette hanging from the end of his foot, his golden eyes wide like saucers with small pinpricks for pupils. Husk looked at Nuggets, tucked in the crook of his arm, nodding and seemingly conferring with him. When Husk finally looked back at Angel his pupils weren’t so small, they’d returned to a decent size. If Angel didn’t know any better he’d think Husk was the drug addict in this situation.
Hitting a button on the side of the restraints, Angel felt them loosen. He stretched, bringing his arms up over his head slowly, so as not to freak Husk out.
‘Get into bed with me.’
It wasn’t a request, but Angel phrased it like Husk had an option. Satan knows what Angel was doing, playing nice with what was essentially a kidnapper. This wasn’t his first rodeo, but it was his most unpredictable.
Angel shifted over as Husk crawled under the covers with him, moving the restraints and finally letting go of Fat Nuggets, who scampered to the bathroom as soon as his feet had touched the carpet – slamming the door closed with his back legs as he went. Opening his arms, Husk scooched into them like he was magnetised, this was new for them both, but every ounce of unchoreographed movement felt natural and went unmentioned.
Tension dropped from Husk’s body as he settled his head on Angel’s chest, his ear twitching in time with the erratic pumps of Angel’s heart. Pink hands began threading themselves through the tangles in Husk’s fur, straightening and preening wings where they could reach.
‘I’m safe, you’re safe. I’m safe, you’re safe.’ Angel found himself murmuring into the top of Husk’s head, into the soft waves of hair that lay safely under his hat.
‘You… can’t… leave…’ Husk said, sleep growing heavier and heavier on his words, winding over them like ivy over brick.
‘I know, Husky. I know.’ Angel whispered, tears beading in the corners of his eyes, waiting to fall like a spool of thread.
It wasn’t long before gentle chainsaw-like purring, easily mistaken for snoring, filled the room. Angel dreaded to think how long Husk had been awake and in such a manic state for, for him to fall asleep so easily. Angel slipped from Husk’s grasp easier than expected, he was really out for the count.
Angel was gathering up some clothes and bits he felt he could use over in the tower when Nuggets peeped his head through the bathroom door. Guilt ate away at Angel, seeing how Husk had turned Fatty into a lifeline in his absence. However distressing for Nuggets it may be, Angel knew it was still safer than taking him to Vee Tower.
‘I know, baby. I love you, and I love him, and I wish it were different.’
Angel allowed himself this once act of stupidity as he slipped through the doorway into the hotel corridor.
‘But…’
He couldn’t bring himself to say any more.
Nothing could be done.