Chapter Text
Angel throws his head back against the pillow, panting so hard that a wheeze leaves his mouth. His tongue peeking out tastes sex and his body basks in the sweet, sweet mercy of settling down into post-knot satisfaction.
He blinks and a bottle of water appears in front of his face.
“Thanks,” he rasps, and guzzles the water down.
“No problem!” Charlie sounds chipper and barely, if at all, fazed.
If he could take issue with anything right now, his pride probably would; as it is, he’s only grateful for how ridiculously lucky he is to have the Princess of Hell as heat help. She won’t be tapping out anytime soon.
Angel wipes his mouth and holds onto the water bottle, nestling it in his chest fluff. His legs remain wrapped comfortably around Charlie’s waist, fuzzy black socks rubbing together just above her tail, which lashes lazily on the bed, occasionally bumping against him. The rest of his body is comfortably limp.
“Sooo…” Charlie starts, eyes traveling all around the ceiling before flickering to his face. “Are you– was that–? Good? I mean not good as in was I– just– was it– what you… needed?”
With some effort, he brings two of his hands behind his head and smiles. “It was exactly what I needed, Princess. Can’t thank you enough for helping me out.”
“Oh, there’s no need, I’m–I’m happy to help!” Her fangs shine as she smiles–so sweet he could get cavities. “I– oof, I was worried, you know, because you’re… you! And I didn’t know if I’d– well, if I’d be up to par,” she huffs out a clumsy laugh, and Angel snickers alongside her. Any other day he’d not bat an eye to someone feeling inadequate at sex next to him (intentional, thank you kindly) but turns out Luci wasn’t kidding about all that angelic power; Charlie just fucked him nine ways to sunday without breaking a single sweat, so that she really was worried she’d be no match to this lil’ old Sinner is… genuinely flattering. “And I didn’t know–I mean, obviously I know it’s the better option or else we wouldn’t be here but if–and you can tell me–if this is, like… super uncomfortable for you?”
His head tilts. “What? You mean–heat?” He brushes sweat-damp hair off his face.
“Er, no, not exactly. It’s more like… me… helping you through your heat. Since I know you don’t exactly, hum, swing that way.”
Goddamn, he cannot help but cackle at that. “Dolly, that’s so sweet of you. I’ve been working in porn for thirty years, you think I ain’t ever fucked a broad before? I’ve done it every which way with every type of demon–You’ve even seen it! What was the one I showed you? Omega Puppy–”
“Omega Puppy Sleepover, uhum, yes,” Charlie rushes it out under her breath, eyes fluttering shut. Playing it cool, turns out, is not feasible with her dick in him.
“Oh.” He smirks, wiggles his eyebrows. He’d wiggle his hips, too, if he didn’t fear for his poor hole’s integrity. “Did you like that one?”
She chokes, “No! No, I mean–” she titters like she’s looking for a way out of the room. But, you know. Knot. “It– You… were…” At last, she sighs, defeated. “Yes. Kinda. Yes.”
“Charlie, you are literally inside me. What are you getting all embarrassed for?” He huffs, crosses his bottom arms. “It was an inspired script!”
Her voice shoots off higher than a rocket. “I’m–this– this is different! I’m here to help out a friend in need! I shouldn’t– argh–” She grabs onto a handful of her own hair. “I shouldn’t be getting off to your porn.”
He lifts himself on two elbows and looks straight into her big, worried eyes. “Do you know how insulting it is that nearly no one at this Hotel gets off to my porn?” he scoffs, throws a hand up. “Frankly! Thank fuck at least someone does or else I was gonna have to start thinking of other places to live to protect my poor pride!”
Thankfully, that does get a sheepish smile out of her. “I like your less… violent stuff–sometimes.”
He pshts. “You see, a matter of taste. Niffty likes the really violent stuff.” She shivers but breathes a little easier. Hard to feel like a freak next to Niffty. “But, you know, I did always wonder–‘cause I know you do swing my way and the chicks who dig me are always either Alphas or dykes, so,” he fishes the water bottle out of his fluff, “you fit the bill.”
While he sips the water, Charlie’s reliable lack of poker face lands her on a similar mortified titter from earlier. “Angel, I swear–”
“But–” Angel holds up a finger, throwing the now-empty bottle out of his nest. “by the way you are with Mrs. She-Devil, if I didn’t know any better I’d think you don’t swing any way no more except for hers alone. And I know she ain’t gonna be down for no swinging.”
She looks past him with a deep sigh. “Well, yeah, I mean… if you mean that I can’t really see myself with anyone except for her, you’re right.” She ignores the swinging comment. Smart. “I love her so much… it doesn’t even really cross my mind to want anyone else.”
He’s gonna roll his eyes right out of his skull. “‘Kay, I know some mated couples are real serious about the monogamy shit but–” he puffs out his chest, cups his award-winning, Hell’s most clicked-on not-tits, “not even a glance? A little sniff? This is the first time I’m even hearing you enjoyed my work! Was thinking you was the first Alpha immune to my charms.”
“I’m not–” She huffs, voice dipping into that little growl that comes out of her sometimes, “I’m not immune, Angel. I just…” She sighs, shakes the beast out of her. “I do think you’re gorgeous, and that you smell so nice, mostly–and maybe I experience things differently than other Alphas–but I kind of don’t buy that it’s that hard for people to control themselves.” She looks away, hand resting on his knee around her waist. “You’re my friend and I’m head over heels in love with my girlfriend and–if I feel… at all affected by your charms I just–focus on something else and go on with my day. It’s not that hard. Mostly. I mean. Today. When I entered your room. Phew. I- I felt it. I felt. Hard.”
A laugh bursts out of Angel, and he’s glad to see that even though Charlie doesn’t look him in the eye, she smiles along.
He sighs and whistles. “But–damn, Blondie, if that’s your ‘losing control’, you got the willpower of a bull, I’ll tell you that.” She went hard, yeah, after he begged for it pretty enough, but she was always careful, checked in about everything, measured throughout all of it in a way that’d be pretty fucking annoying, if it wasn’t so damn sweet. “...You do let go a little with Vags, though, right?”
Charlie’s tail lashes out behind her. “Ah, she–,” another one of those little awkward, toothy smiles, “she makes sure of that.”
“Oh, alright, I get it,” he smirks. “Little miss ‘mated the Princess of Hell’ likes getting roughed up in bed, okay, figures-”
Angel didn’t think Charlie could get any redder, and yet– “Oh my gosh, forget I said anything–” she hides her face in her hands.
“She must be popping a vein over you being here, huh?”
At that, Charlie’s hands inch back down, “Whaat? Noooo–” Yeah, okay. “She’s– She’s… She understands. It’s an emergency. She wouldn’t want you to suffer.”
“Yeah, I’m sure she’s getting ready to make me suffer plenty herself.” He runs a hand through his hair. Add Vaggi to the list of mates wanting to kick his ass for allegedly seducing their Alpha. “But, hey, at least you’ll be getting–” he puts on a gruff voice, “‘my mate’ territorial fucking after this.”
“I– Oh, I hadn’t–” Charlie’s dick twitches inside of him and she rocks forward minimally. “I hadn’t thought about that…”
She’s definitely thinking about it now–her dick tells him without question. Works for him. As soon as her knot allows for it, he’s up for another round.
Crack.
“You keep at it, I’m gonna run out of appetizers,” Husk tells Vaggi, matter-of-fact, looking over the sea of broken pistachios shells between them.
“Sorry.” Crack. She lets the crumbles of newly-victimed pistachios fall from her open palm and picks up two more to crush together. She’s not that sorry.
He takes a swig of his beer and says off-handedly: “You sure you don’t wanna join Niffty in killing bugs? Might do you good. And cost the Hotel less.”
“No,” Vaggi bites out, then re-examines. “I mean, yes. I’m sure.” She groans. “I’m not killing bugs.” Crack.
She rests her arm atop the pistachio sea and her forehead on top of that, jagged edges and bumps poking against her skin. It’s uncomfortable in a way that feels fitting. She doesn’t like that Husk can tell, she does want to kill something.
“I don’t know how you do this,” she says into her own arm instead, mumbling like a child.
“Do what?” Husk hears her nonetheless.
“Not care.” She sits back up, the blatant proof of her very obvious caring sticking to her arm. She picks them off. “That Angel fucks other people all the time.”
Husk raises a brow at her. “It’s his job.”
“I know, I’m not judging, I just-” Vaggi cringes–at herself, at the pistachio, at Husk’s fucking eyebrow raise. “It’s also not just for work, right? Open relationship and stuff. Does it really not bother you?”
He shrugs. “‘Guess I’m too old to care. If we’re being honest with each other about our wants–even if those wants are fucking other people–then we’re way ahead of the curve when it comes to all the dumb shit most couples pull.” Reasonable. And very annoying. “And at the end of the day, what does what he do in bed with another guy has to do with me?” Crack. Better the pistachio than Husk’s neck. Fuck’s sake, are other Betas really like this? “At most I’d just–” He cuts himself off, looks intently at the bottle and nudges the edge of the label with his claw. “Just wish I knew that they’re treating him right. And I know Charlie’s treating him right.”
Vaggi shifts in her seat, suddenly caught off guard. “Yeah, of course.”
…She really is a shitty person, isn’t she? While she’s making a huge deal out of Charlie sleeping with someone else–an Omega who’s in heat, and needs the help–not only does it not bother Husk at all that his boyfriend is, year-round, a porn-star and a slut (not a judgment, just a fact) but the only thing he even thinks to take issue with is that other people might be treating him badly. And, fuck, why should it bother her so much that Charlie is having sex with someone else? Is this another thing Heaven instilled in her and she can’t let go? Some unexplained, unjustified rule as to what makes up good and evil that she keeps letting control her thoughts and emotions, her relationship, even if she’s fought so hard for so long to break out of them? Will she always–
“Doesn’t mean I’m… thrilled with this whole situation, either,” Husk stops her in her tracks.
Vaggi blinks. Squints. “...You just told me you don’t care.”
“It’s not a problem with him having sex with other people,” he says, defensive for the first time this whole conversation.
“Then what’s the problem?”
He scowls, looks off to the side. Scratches the feather of his eyebrow.
“It bothers me that I can’t help him,” he admits, weirdly sullen for something that’s no less reasonable and honorable than all the other shit he’s just said. He’s too old to feel jealousy but not to have a Beta inferiority complex?
“Yeah, man, I get that,” she says, because she’s trying not to be an asshole. “But–you do what you can, I’m sure Angel can see that. Just because you can’t be the one to help him through this one thing, because of something you can’t change, that doesn’t make you a failure.”
Husk balks a humourless laugh, “You-” he shakes his head. “You have no idea.”
“Husk.” Her brows knit together. “It’s not a failure that you’re not an Alpha.”
His eyes stay fixed on the drink in his hand and he grits his teeth, canines on display. “It is,” he argues, with no further explanation.
Vaggi doesn’t even know what to say to that. “You’re the last person I thought would give a shit about this.” Husk won’t even look at her now. None of this is like him. “How come you’re so 'over' everything except you've somehow never gotten over not being an Alpha?”
“Because I was.”
“... What?”
Husk drags a paw over his face. “I shouldn’t be talking about this.”
“You just said you used to be an Alpha,” Vaggi leans over the bar, “I won’t just forget that.”
“You should, for your sake.”
“That’d mean you were bitched–” Husk’s glare is twice as effective as his eyebrow-raise. But there’s something that she has to ask, even if she’s pretty sure she knows the answer. “By Alastor?” her voice softens at the end.
Husk’s ear twitches and he slouches further, somehow, both of his elbows on the countertop when he looks away and nods. “Yeah.” He nurses the bottle with two paws. “Guess the chain wasn’t enough.”
About a thousand thoughts fly through Vaggi’s head all at once, but she’s selfish, and only one of them makes it out:
“So you’re telling me there’s another Alpha in this Hotel that could be helping Angel instead of my girlfriend?”
Husk scoffs an incredulous laugh. “Never in a million years would Alastor get involved in an Omega’s heat. He’d rather fling himself off a cliff. So would I before letting Alastor-” He shuts himself down with a shaky breath, the edge of a growl in his voice. Right. Husk’s only concern as to who Angel has sex with: someone who’ll treat him right.
Vaggi hands him pistachio.
Husk snorts. “Thanks.” He takes them and grips it on his fist until it cracks. “Why do you think I’m even risking talking about this?” He pops the seed of it into his mouth and Vaggi realizes she didn’t even consider eating them. “Soon as he knew Angel was in heat, I knew I wouldn’t be seeing him at the Hotel for however long it lasts.”
“Why?” She fishes a pistachio seed from under the debris and eats it.
Huh.
Not bad.
He shrugs. “Doesn’t want to see it, hear it, smell it. Definitely not be roped up into it.”
Makes sense enough. Angel calls her a prude but next to Alastor she might as well be– well, Angel.
“Why keep it a secret, though?” she asks. “I know some Betas and Omegas do but– why would he hide that he’s an Alpha?”
“You trying to get me into trouble? You already know too much.” He puts two paws on the counter and levels with her. “I’m counting on you to keep a secret, Vaggi.”
She answers with a curt nod. “I can do that.” She used to think she was a bad liar. She knows better now. A fly lands on a shell in front of her, and she lets it. “All Exterminator Angels are Betas,” she says, for no reason. “No Omegas because they can’t fight–Adam’s words. No Alphas because Adam would shit his fucking pants about having competition. My words.”
Husk snorts, heavy and true, and Vaggi remembers she does like the guy. He shakes his head and lifts the bottle again. “Sounds like it tracks.”
Up the stairwell, two doors down the west wing hallway and through a shitty fucking paper-thin wall, Angel howls, obscene enough to make it seem like he's trying to tell everyone at the Hotel exactly how good he's getting it from his Alpha–
Vaggi’s hand reaches for the nearest sharp object and stabs it into the wood.
“Goddammit, Vaggi! My countertop!”