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“Angel Cakes, you had me worried. I thought you were trying to run away from me again.”
Valentino was draped over his director's chair, impossibly long legs in impossibly high leather boots dangling in the air. His tight dress barely covered what it had to; his wings cloaked over the back chair like velvet curtains.
Angel sauntered into the studio, mustering every bit of bravado in his bloodstream. Something was off. Valentino wasn’t imposing on the room as usual. Angel’s bag slid off his shoulder and hit the ground with a muffled thump.
“Ya know I can’t do that, Val,” Angel offered, his mouth twisted into a worried shape.
“I know, baby, but you break my heart sometimes. You get me so worked up, you know?” he purred as he slithered off his chair and toward Angel.
Valentino bent down to meet him at his level, dragging a hand down his cheek. Angel bit the inside of his mouth to keep a straight face.
“Oh, don’t give me that look. We need you pretty for the cameras. Go put your face on; we're doing something fun today.”
“Yes, Valentino.” Angel sighed, forcing a placating smile over his face.
“That’s my good boy.” Valentino placed a kiss on the back of Angel’s hand. Angel turned away so he didn’t have to look him in his searing eyes. He slipped his hand out of Valentino’s in a fluid, silky motion, collected his bag and shuffled to the dressing room.
“Oh, Angie,” Valentino called after him, turning over his shoulder with a tiger's smile. “One take today. I have somewhere to be.”
“One take?” Angel’s brows furrowed into a worried V. “Ya know that’s… we never get anythin’ in one take.”
Valentino took a drag of his cigarette, pink smoke curling into soft, inviting swirls.
“If anyone can do it, it’s you, amorcito. You’re too good to me.” Valentino cooed, gold tooth glinting under the studio lights. “Your pay will be the same, so think of it as a night off. You keep begging for a break; it works for both of us, hmm?”
Angel pulled his arms into himself and tilted his head up to meet Valentino’s gaze.
“If ya say so, Val. Is that why you’re all dressed up?”
“You noticed.” Valentino bent down and let his hands drag from his calves to his thighs to his– “I have a date tonight, so I need to look my best. Voxxy is taking me to Dante’s Inferno.” His smile was wicked, but not dangerous. Angel frowned. “Then I’m going to take him somewhere better than heaven.”
“Oh, uh,” Angel’s throat suddenly felt parched. “Okay. I’ll…go get ready.”
“Angel Cakes,” Val called after him. “Don’t wear the waterproof stuff, okay?”
Angel's heart skipped a beat. “Yes, Valentino.”
Val blew him a kiss. Angel paused for a moment before walking away.
It was dim in the dressing room. Angel was tempted to keep the lights low, but Valentino would have his head if his eyeliner wasn’t perfect. He flicked on the lights for his vanity, the LEDs too blinding.
He rifled through his makeup bag for the cheap stuff. He had it for just such occasions – when Val wanted him to look wrecked. He knew he was going to be a shaking, sobbing mess. He blushed despite himself. It was embarrassing to be riled up by work; sex should be rote to him at this point. He was going through a bit of a dry spell, in a sense.
Yeah, he was getting fucked almost every day. But the blessing and curse of his unique equipment meant he didn’t ejaculate when he came.
And could he call himself an actor if he couldn’t fake it?
Hardly. He was a professional, baby.
So he glommed up dollar store mascara just shy of clumpy and drew on a dramatic cat’s eye – heavier than normal. Valentino said he wanted him done up, so he didn’t skimp on the blush and pulled out pretty-in-pink lipstick. It was nearly worn down to the base. He’s had it for some time.
It was Val's favorite.
He looked at the man in the mirror. He looked younger, in a way. He’d had the same face and body since he died but… there was a nostalgia to it. Memories of when all he had was drugstore makeup and desperation. He’d find a john and hope they were naive enough to let him spend the night.
He looked a lot like this when Valentino let him spend the night for the first time. It was also the last time he had to play that game.
“Angel! We’re burning daylight.”
He took a deep breath and walked back out to the studio.
“Oh, aren’t you a vision! You know just how I like you, doll.” Valentino held his head in his hands, his claws scratching his fur with just the right amount of pressure. “You’re gonna get tied up real nice and pretty. I got your satin blindfold. And…”
Valentino used his other arms to slide something into Angel's ears. His hands were still soft around Angel’s cheeks. His smile was wicked.
Angel nodded. Val's hands dragged away as he sauntered over to the director's chair.
Angel turned to the set to see his scene partner waving. Another insectoid demon to some capacity – Angel couldn’t quite place exactly what he was, but it didn’t really matter. He was nothing more than hands and mouth and dick.
He muttered something to Angel, probably pleasantries, but he couldn’t make anything out with the earplugs. He simply smiled, nodded, and got on the bed.
Val had enough sense to hold up the tacky, unnecessary little clapperboard. He wrote ‘Angel Gets Fucked in the Ass’ on it in Sharpie 50-some-odd years ago, not realizing it was permanent. He insisted it fit the bill most of the time, and he was technically correct.
He watched the top fall, and the blindfold slid down over his eyes.
There was nothing but darkness.
“Oh, you like this baby,” Valentino purred, the tips of his claws running down his neck, scratching at all his sensitive parts. Valentino was good with his hands. When you had so many, it was a waste not to make use of them.
Angel’s own fingertips gripped against his palms. Valentino was tying up his arms in ribbon down his back, like he was lacing one of his corsets. He knew there was a perfect little bow at the end. Valentino was all about presentation. Whenever he got Angel a present, it was wrapped just so, and Angel was the best present of all.
“Ya make it easy, sugar,” Angel purred, smiling with all his teeth. “I’m already so hard, and you ain’t even done nothin’ yet.”
“Oh, we’re just getting started.” Val smiled so Angel could see his matching gold tooth. “You gotta trust me, baby. I’m gonna blow your mind. You trust me, don’t you, Angel Cakes?”
Angel tilted his head up so he could really look at Val. Even with his knees on the mattress, he towered over Angel.
“Why wouldn’t I trust ya? Ya treat me so good.”
“So good, baby,” Valentino agreed, leaning down for a kiss. Angel loved that long tongue of his. Of course, his saliva made his body tingle in the best ways possible, but he could also reach every part of his mouth like no one else could.
Val pulled out a satin blindfold. It was a puffy powder pink and had Angel’s name in rhinestones on the front.
“You like it, doll? I made it just for you.” Val held it out for Angel to really look at it.
“It’s pretty,” he agreed.
“Not as pretty as you,” Val cooed as he slipped it over his eyes. “With me, baby?”
Angel could feel claws in his fur, and it sent a shiver through his body down to his groin.
“Yeah,” he breathed.
“Good. One more thing, Angel Cakes. I’m putting in earplugs. Then all you have to worry about is feeling good. You can handle it.”
Valentino slipped them in before Angel could say anything otherwise. He wasn’t planning on protesting, anyway.
It was true. He trusted Val. Val picked him off the street and brought him home. He wasn’t coy like most of his clients who wanted some kind of boyfriend experience. They shared a cigarette after sex. He asked him how much he made. He asked him if he had a real place to stay. He said they could help each other. Val was real, and Angel hadn’t met anyone in hell who talked to him straight.
Angel didn’t have to look for a roof over his head anymore. Sure, he still slept with Val every night, but sleeping with Val was fun. They tried all sorts of things together, and Val was actually enamored with his downstairs situation. A lot of people were turned off when they realized his pussy was too shallow to be fucked or that his dick was too small to really do anything with. Val loved that he had a little bit of everything, and Angel loved that his tongue could reach everything at once. Val made him feel not so fucked up. Val was a little fucked too, in his own way.
They were fucked together. Happy to be bad together. It worked in its own way.
Angel gasped at claws on his scalp as he knee-jerk pulled at his restraints. He wondered if Val was smirking. He wondered if his tongue hung out of his mouth in anticipation. He didn’t have time to wonder much else as hands trailed down his sides and onto his hips.
A finger slid up his pussy. He shuddered. Two dipped in just enough. Val always knew how to touch him just right, there. It hurt a lot of the time. But Val knew how to hurt good. He had two hands on his face, one holding his hip down as the other got two digits nice and wet.
Angel bucked his hips into him, and it stung when claws hit that back wall, but it zipped right up to his cock.
Fingers withdrew, and Angel whined despite himself. Val didn’t leave him hanging even for a second when his thumb and forefinger squeezed his cock. A moan rattled out of his throat as he writhed against the ribbons holding him down. He wanted to thrash, to grab Val by the waist or the shoulders to hide his head in his chest and feel his nipple chain against his cheek.
Val kept working on his cock, and Angel kept gasping and straining. It was unlike anything he had ever felt before. He was already so close, stuck at the top of a drop and teetering into orgasm.
“Val,” he begged. “Mouth. Please.”
Val didn’t stop stroking his cock. Angel was about to whine about it when something wet hit the head.
Val's saliva felt so good against his junk. It warmed everything and made him quiver. The slick of his tongue lubed things up real nice, and his hands moved even faster.
“Val. Val, Val, Val–” Angel wasn’t even sure what he was trying to say. His brain was going staticy, and his head lolled back as his muscles started to fail him, all sensations going to his cock. Val squeezed his entire fist around him, and Angel screamed as an orgasm was ripped out of his body. His hips bucked as he groaned and gasped and struggled against his restraints. Val moved his hands with the pulses of his climax. Angel’s breathing was heavy, whimpers tumbling out of him. He wondered if he was too loud. He wondered if the sounds were ugly. He wiggled his fingers, but he was too numb to feel anything besides the aftershocks in his groin.
He was still catching his breath when he felt a tongue on his asshole.
“Val, no,” he cried.
‘No’ didn’t mean anything. It was okay; they both knew it. If Angel were in real distress, he’d say something else.
But Val’s tongue was like satin on his hole. He gasped and cried and wiggled his hips as much as he could.
“Val, no, no, no–”
Val pulled back. He liked to do this sometimes; he wanted Angel to be honest – even when that honesty was humiliating.
“Don’t… no, please. Don’t stop. ‘M sorry, don’t stop.”
Val obliged.
His tongue probed just the slightest bit. It made Angel crave more, need more.
“Val, I'm ready. Please, more. More, more, more.” He chanted like an oath. There was nothing for a moment. All he could do was writhe. The ribbons weren’t tight enough to do any real harm, but he felt them digging into his skin as he whipped about.
“Val?” he asked. The silence was eating him whole; the darkness was consuming.
“Val!” he cried. Oh god, he was crying. Tears were rolling down his cheeks.
“Val! Val, Val, Val!” he wailed like a child who had lost their mother.
Then there was a cold pressure against his hole. Angel screamed something primal, felt more like a demon than he ever had. His brain's higher functioning was degrading more and more by the second.
He couldn’t even imagine the noise he made when Val was inside him. Angel was already so close again, dizzy with desire. He jerked his arms, wanting to put his hands on his cock. Suddenly, there were claws on his biceps and his waist, pinning him down like a preserved specimen. Val was relentless with the way he fucked. He knew Angel could take it. Val’s grip tightened on him, and he knew he was close.
“‘M gonna cum...” Angel whined, his voice bouncing with Val’s thrusts. “‘M gonna…’M gonna…”
Val yanked on his arms as he dug himself as deep into Angel as he could, and Angel sobbed, ugly and open-mouthed, tasting his own tears. A few thrusts later Val’s hot load emptied itself inside of him.
Angel rag-dolled into his restraints, gasping and sobbing as Val pulled out. His hole burned, his hands were numb from the restraints, and he felt like everything was spinning even though he was blinded.
The earplugs were popped out of his ears, and ambient sound hit him like a crashing wave. The blindfold was lifted next. Angel’s vision was blurry from the tears in his eyes, but he could make out Val’s crimson grin and glowing eyes. Val used his claws to cut the ribbons, pulling his body upright so he could collapse right into Valentino. He wrapped his arms around Valentino and buried his head into his chest. Valentino pulled Angel in as close as he could without squeezing him.
“Oh, amorcito, you did so, so good…” Valentino cooed, a hand running through his hair, one wiping a tear off his cheek and the other two around his waist. “So good for me, baby. Did you have fun, Angel Cakes?”
Angel sniffled, trying not to get snot into Val’s fur. “Yeah,” Angel muttered. “I ain’t never came like that before.”
Valentino chuckled darkly, and placed a kiss on top of Angel's head. “Good, baby. That means I did my job.”
Angel sniffled again, nuzzling Valentino’s chest.
“C’mon, cariño, go clean off your pretty little face. I have that bath bomb you like so much. With the rose petals…” Valentino purred, thumbs wiping off another stream of mascara-black tears.
Angel pulled away to look at Val in his bright red eyes.
“Yeah. Okay.” Angel took a shaky breath, wiping his eyes himself and getting smudgy black streaks all over his fist. Angel was getting ready to get up and clean himself off when his face was caught again.
“Mi corazón,” Val purred. “I love you.”
Angel preened in his hands. Even with his face a mess and his makeup making him look like a Picasso, he truly felt beautiful in that moment.
“Yeah,” he breathed. “I love ya too, Val.”
“CUT!”
Angel could barely hear it as the earplugs were pulled out of him. The team was cutting his restraints free as he fell to the mattress. He slipped his blindfold off to see his scene partner assessing him with a smile as he walked over to get his robe. Valentino stood and stretched his upper arms above his head, smiling ear to ear.
“Great work, Angel. I knew you could do it.”
Valentino was already grabbing his purse, an intern holding up a mirror so he could adjust himself.
“Alright, everyone, get the fuck out of here!” he snapped, pushing his intern away, wings whipping out for impact. “I need you all gone in FIVE.”
Angel was still breathless on the bed, sheets pooled over his feet. Everyone was shuffling to collect their things, or to the dressing room to get pants on, before Valentino got properly mad.
Angel shuffled out of bed, naked and dripping, to go gather his untouched robe on the side of the set. His legs were still wobbly, body unsteady as he shuffled away. He looked to Valentino, who was far too busy tapping away on his phone.
Angel wasn’t sure what came over him. He was still coming down from the high of overstimulation. Maybe his brain was still orgasm scrambled. He felt cut open and carved out for someone to see his insides.
“Val–” he started.
“Angel, baby, I’ve got places to be. Can you get the cum out of your ass so I can lock up?”
“Yes, Valentino,” Angel muttered. He let his eyes drift to the floor. He didn’t look back as he moved his way back to his dressing room. He couldn’t even feel his limbs, completely numb up to the burning in his hole, but he somehow put one foot in front of the other to do what he had to.
Valentino flicked the lights off.
It was dark again.
Everyone at the Hazbin Hotel was used to Angel dragging his sorry ass to the bar after work. He didn’t make it a secret the way Valentino pushed him around and made his days harder, so when he pulled himself on the bar stool and smushed his cheek onto the counter, Husk didn’t bat an eye.
“Rough day, Legs?”
Angel dragged his eyes up to Husk, who was busying his hands with cleaning a glass.
“I don’t wanna talk about it,” Angel muttered. That was a little less usual. Yes, there were some days when it was too much for him, but by and large, he’d go off on a rant about what Valentino put him through before Charlie would cut him off to keep things as age-appropriate as Angel could muster.
“Wanna drink about it?” Husk offered, smile crooked.
“Yes,” Angel moaned. “Please. Make it hard.” He jutted out his lower lip. “And pretty?”
Husk chuckled, grabbing some bottles. “What does that even mean?”
“Pretty glass!” Angel picked his head off the bar. Husk pulled out a martini glass with a shrug, and Angel nodded. “And pretty color!”
“What is a pretty color?” Husk asked exasperated, but a smile never left his face.
“Pink!” Angel said it like it was the most obvious thing.
“Pink it is,” Husk murmured. He grabbed a few bottles and a shaker and got to work. “Want candy on it?”
“Of course I want candy on it!” Angel smiled back at him. “This is dinner, after all.”
“You’re a real piece of work,” Husk chuckled, but he still wet the edge of the martini glass to get a crushed candy rim. He poured the contents of his shaker, a deep pink color just like Angel wanted, and popped a bottle of prosecco to pour on top, making it a soft bubble gum color.
Just like the lipstick he had on earlier today.
“Can ya leave the bottle?” Angel asked. Husk shrugged and placed the bottle next to Angel. He tipped the drink back in a single swig. “Both of ‘em.”
Husk obliged.
“Y’know, I worked hard on that for ya,” Husk grumbled. Angel stuck out his bottom lip at him.
“Ya asked if I wanted t’drink about it,” he countered.
Husk chuckled again. “Suppose I did.” He poured himself a whiskey neat and leaned on the bar across from Angel. “I could make ya another, y’know.”
Angel twirled his glass a little bit, looking at the bottle of prosecco and vodka Husk left out for him. “So ya get to drink liquor straight and I don’t?”
Husk took a measured sip of his whiskey. “Never said ya couldn’t. Just offering you something sweet n’ pretty.”
Angel poured himself a shot of vodka – well, rather a gulp – and tipped it back again.
“Ain’t I sweet and pretty enough?” he purred, leaning over the bar.
“Angel, you know that shit doesn’t work on me,” Husk warned him, looking unimpressed.
Angel poured himself another swig and chased it with the prosecco.
“Ya just don’t know what you’re missin’, baby,” Angel cooed. He took another swig, straight from the bottle. “Ya should let me in your bed. I can change your tune real quick.”
“Angel.” Husk kept his tone firm, hand tight around his glass.
“Aw, don’t be like that,” Angel pressed his chest over the bar; he could feel the button on his top straining. “I ain’t got no diseases. Don’t tell me you’re scared of a good time?”
Husk kept his mouth in a thin line, and his brows furrowed. Angel’s heart started beating faster. He clenched his hands so hard his claws would leave a mark.
“Just lemme suck your cock. Shootin’ deep in my throat would feel so good. I swallow, of course.” Angel let his tongue roll out of his mouth suggestively, giving his best bedroom eyes.
“Angel, no one here wants to fuck you,” Husk snapped. “Stop acting like this; it’s embarassin’.”
Angel couldn’t breathe. His head spun as his world capsized. His jaw hung slack as he choked on air. He could feel tears stinging the corners of his eyes.
“Fuck you,” he barely managed to get out. Tears were rolling down his cheek. “Fuck you,” he sobbed.
“Angel it’s not–”
“No, I fuckin’ get it. Ya don’t see me for the one fuckin’ thing I’m good at. I’m just a useless piece of shit ya have to put up with because we’re under the same roof.” Angel’s speech was too carbonated – pressurized and exploding out of him. He sniffed as tears kept running down his cheeks. “Ya wouldn’t even be here if you didn’t hafta.”
“Angel–”
“Fuck it, Husk. I don’t want to hear it. I’m fuckin’ outta here.” He pushed away from the bar with a stumble, one of his arms scrubbing his face.
“You’re not leavin’,” Husk shot. Angel didn’t have his feet beneath him, so it wasn’t hard to catch up and wrap his hand around one of his wrists.
“Lemme go!” Angel screamed, straining against Husk’s grip.
“Where are you gonna go? Find someone who will use you?” Husk’s tone was getting more frustrated, but Angel’s head was all alarm bells, and it muffled any amount of concern.
“I’ll find someone who likes me,” Angel wailed, tears flowing more freely, and his struggle getting weaker and weaker. “Someone who’ll slit my throat and fuck my corpse since it’s all I’m fuckin’ good for.”
“That’s it.” Husk sighed, hooking his arms under Angel’s armpits, physically dragging him away from the door.
“No!” Angel wailed, wiggling pathetically. “Let go of me!”
He knew he was causing a scene. He didn’t fucking care. Let them fucking look. He was a god damn spectacle. If they didn’t want to fuck him, they could laugh at what a god damn mess he was. His vision was out of focus and his limbs were leaden.
“Oh, Niff, perfect, can you give me a hand here? Just grab ‘is legs. We gotta get him to bed.”
There were tiny hands under his calves, and he felt like he was floating.
“Lemme go,” he pouted, losing his will to fight, kicking his feet as much as he could.
“C’mon Legs, you’re gonna hit ‘er. Be good for me.” Husk lowered his tone to match Angel’s energy level.
“ ‘m not good,” Angel mumbled. “ ‘m a dumb addict whore. Only good for fuckin’. But no one wants to fuck me anymore. I’m useless. Just let me fuckin’ die.”
“I’m afraid you’re already in Hell, Legs. Nowhere left to go.”
“Just let me fuckin’ die,” he murmured.
Angel felt his body get jostled, and heard the creak of a door. Moments later, his body was unceremoniously dropped into his fluffy comforter. He looked up at Husk through mascara tears.
“So you wanna bed me after all?” Angel mustered up something akin to sultry, though his tone was still watery. He arched his back off the mattress and spread his legs.
Husk pinched his temple. “Angel, please.” He sighed before turning to Niffty. “Do a once-over to check for drugs, okay?”
“You got it!” she chirped cheerily, unbothered by the tone of the room.
“Why does it matter, I can get drugs anywhere,” Angel slumped into his bed, posture melting into something lifeless.
“Well, lucky ya ain’t goin’ anywhere. If ya can’t promise to stay put, I’ll lock you in.”
Angel didn’t look at Husk. He couldn’t. He kept his gaze off to the side, as if he were suddenly fascinated with his vanity.
“All clear!” Niffty saluted peppily, a small stash of baggies in her tiny arms.
“Thanks, Niff. Look after them for a while, okay?” Husk patted her on the head, and she beamed back at him.
“Oh, so you’re giving them back, how kind of ya.” Angel rolled his eyes, rolling away from Husk.
“I can’t control your life. What I can do is stop ya from self-destructin’ while you're wasted and cryin’.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry for being emotional. Baby needs his chemicals to behave; don’t want the addict to throw a tantrum.” Angel snapped, moving so fast that the room spun with him.
Husk just sighed. “Think ya can calm down for me?” he asked, tone exasperated.
“Yeah,” Angel lied. He couldn’t calm down. He wanted to fucking die. If he couldn’t die, he at least wanted to numb it all. Alcohol wasn’t enough to take the edge off. He needed more. More more more more more.
Husk lowered his voice to something soft. “Get some sleep, kid. You’ll feel better.” Angel almost felt guilty. Angel turned away from him again, huddled into himself.
“G’night, Angel,” Husk offered. Angel wouldn’t look at him, but two sets of footsteps and a click of a door let him know he was alone.
Angel pulled out his phone; the glow stung his teary eyes.
No new messages.
Not from anyone.
Not from Valentino.
Angel wept.
The knock on Angel’s door sounded like gunshots. His head was fucking splitting, and every sound felt like a lightning crack through his skull.
Something smelled rancid. He blinked awake to see some muddy color sick staining his sheets.
“Fuck,” he moaned, screwing his eyes shut and turning away from the mess.
More knocks. Angel screwed his eyes tighter, as if it’d muffle the noise.
“Fuck OFF!” he yelled, but it came out whinier than he meant.
“I’m comin’ in.” Husk’s voice came in clear as he creaked the door open. The light from the hallway shone like a spotlight onto Angel’s crumpled form, curled up with a halo of vomit.
“Angel…” Husk sighed. The sympathy in his voice made Angel want to wither away.
“Fuck off,” Angel tried again, weakly.
“C’mon,” Husk chuckled softly. “Ya didn’t even get to have the good time that comes with hangovers.”
Angel opened one eye to Husk. He sat himself on the edge of Angel's bed that was still clean. Angel turned away from him to stare at his puke.
“Let’s clean your sheets,” Husk offered. “We can get breakfast.”
Angel moaned. “No food.”
“Okay,” Husk laughed. Angel didn’t have the energy to be mad about it. “How about a shower?”
Angel was still in his clothes from yesterday. There was vomit on his sleeve and in his hair. He closed his eyes again and tried to ignore the smell.
“Doesn’t matter,” he mumbled. “I ain’t got nowhere to be.”
Husk was silent. It pissed Angel off more than the pity. He pulled the covers over his head.
“I thought I told ya to fuck off,” Angel whined.
“Alright, that’s enough.” Husk pulled the comforter off Angel. “We’ll do this the hard way.”
Husk’s hands were under his armpits for the second time in 24 hours. Angel didn’t have the will to fight back this time. He let Husk drag his body like the corpse he was begging to be the night before.
It was barely a few steps to his bathroom, and Angel was set on the side of the tub before he knew it. He was a slave to gravity, his head hanging low and his eyes glued to the floor.
“Let’s get your clothes off,” Husk stated gruffly. “Don’t start with your funny business either. I’m not tryin’a have sex with you.”
Angel’s eyes couldn’t burn more than they already did, so the tears poured over without any resistance. Angel didn’t think there was any emotion left in his body. He wept until he passed out the night before, his pillow soggy as he waited for oblivion, but here he was, sniffling and hiccuping.
“Angel, Angel, breathe.” Husk’s hands were on his shoulders. “That’s not a bad thing. I’m not goin’ nowhere. We’re gonna get you cleaned up.”
Angel kept crying. Husk stepped away to turn on the tap, the running water drowning out his cries.
“I’m gonna turn around. Let me know when you’re decent.”
Angel looked up to see nothing but Husk's wings. He scrubbed the tears out of his eyes.
“…don’t look at my feet,” he murmured.
“Okay, I won’t look at your feet,” Husk agreed.
Angel complied. He unbuttoned his vomit crusted shirt and let it fall to the pink tile on the floor. He slid off his skirt and panties. He hesitated just a moment before toeing off his boots. Angel slid into the tub.
He hated to admit it, but the warm water felt nice. Soothing, no matter how he tried to fight it.
“Ya can turn around,” Angel said softly, words scraping out of his raw throat.
Husk did. He kept his gaze above water level as he promised, offering him a gentle smile. He broke eye contact to grab Angel’s shampoo.
“We’re gonna get the vomit out of your hair,” Husk explained plainly, scooping some water to pour over his head.
Angel let his head lean back as claws massaged his scalp. The sickly scent was slowly replaced with a pleasant floral aroma.
“How’d ya know that one was my favorite?” Angel asked, a hint of a smile creeping on his face.
“Ya always smell like roses,” Husk answered simply. “I’m gonna rinse.”
Angel closed his eyes as warm water poured over him. He held his knees close to his chest.
“Isn’t it weird that I’m naked?” Angel asked, more innocent than he’d ever sounded in Hell. Husk chuckled as he grabbed another bottle.
“It’s weird,” he said. “You’re weird. I don’t mind it any.”
Husk lathered some similarly rose-scented conditioner in Angel’s hair. Angel didn’t even know Husk knew what conditioner was. He stared at the ceiling, trying to find some answer in the tile above.
“So, if you don’t wanna fuck me,” Angel started, tone shaky. “...how am I supposed t’make this up to you?”
Husk’s hands stilled. Angel kept his gaze upward and bit his trembling lip.
“Angel, look at me,” Husk asked, tone lower and softer than Angel had ever heard from him. Angel obliged and faced him with watery eyes. “I don’t need anythin’ from ya. I’m not doin’ this expectin’ anything.”
“I don’t believe you,” Angel said, more tears rolling down his cheeks. Husk sighed, dropping his washcloth on the edge of the tub.
“It’s a shame you got so messed up.” Husk exhaled, but there was no exasperation in his voice. “Look, it’s never gonna be like that with me. I don’t like you any less. I don’t spend time with ya because I’m lookin’ for something from ya.”
“Then why?” Angel choked out, another sob rumbling in his throat. “Why are you doing all of this? It’s not worth it.” Angel hid his head in his knees. “I’m not worth it.”
Gentle claws cradled his chin. Husk pulled his head back up. Angel’s eyes were rimmed in red, shiny with tears.
“Angel, of course you’re worth it.” Husk smiled at him. “You exist.”
Angel stared back at him, searching his expression for the catch. Husk’s smile grew wry, and Angel cocked his head in confusion.
“Also, I like ya for your personality. I know; I’m shocked too.”
Angel laughed, something weak and wet. “Fuck you.” He smiled, splashing Husk. Husk yelped before laughing back with him. Husk's smile grew wide and warm, something more real and less gentle. He tilted Angel’s head back so he could rinse again.
“Everyone deserves this,” Husk said, running his paws through Angel’s hair. “You aren’t lesser than any demon in hell.”
“So you’d do this for anyone?” Angel asked, wiggling his feet underneath the water.
“Fuck no!” Husk laughed, grabbing a towel and scrubbing it over Angel’s head. “But I like you, kid. I wanna see you do good.”
Angel leaned into the touch, the fluffy texture sopping everything up. He scrubbed the lingering tears off his face.
“You’re alright, Whiskers.” Angel smiled at him, sideways and toothy.
“Don’t tell no one,” Husk teased, tossing the towel aside. “I got a reputation to uphold.”
“Your secret’s safe with me,” Angel said, leaning over the side of the tub. Husk grinned at him before heaving himself up with his hands on his knees.
“Get yourself dressed. I could use some company at the bar.” Angel’s face went green, and Husk chuckled at him. “I’ll make you a Shirley Temple. In a pretty glass.”
“Okay,” Angel agreed. “I’ll meet ya there?”
Husk nodded and handed Angel the towel to dry himself off. He hovered by the doorway for just a moment, hand on the jamb.
“Don’t keep me waitin’, Legs.” He waved a hand before disappearing out of Angel’s room.
Angel found it much easier to stand. He pulled himself out of the tub and wrapped the towel around himself. He padded into his room to collect his dirty sheets, and the light of his phone on his nightstand caught his eye.
Valentino’s icon was unmistakable. Angel paused, sheets in hand. His first instinct was to grab his phone and read the message immediately. It itched under his skin, his fingers aching for it. He gripped his sheets tighter.
But Husk’s words echoed in his mind, and he bit his lip.
Angel turned away with a small smile. He’d check his phone later.
Someone was waiting for him.