Chapter Text
"So you really have no clue what Alastor's having you dress up for?"
Angel stuck his head out of the bathroom, eyeing Husk. He'd made himself comfortable on Angel's bed, leaning against the army of pillows—the heart shaped one back in its proper place. Nuggs sat in Husk's lap like they were old friends.
Angel's pink string lights reflected off of their eyes as they stared back at him in the dim room. Something tugged at Angel's heart to see his boys so relaxed together.
"No, Husk. You know as much as I do. I think…"
"Alastor didn't specify what you'd be doing for him?"
"You know I can't tell ya what my contract says. Why do ya keep askin'?"
Husk's tail lashed sharply. "Because Alastor is a slimy bastard and I don't trust him with you."
Husk's words crept into Angel's heart. Aside from Cherri, no one ever worried about him. Not in any real kind of way. The fact that he cared made Angel feel warm.
And it made his throat tight.
Would he ever get used to Husk like this? It was so bizarre. They'd been friends for a while now and he'd gotten used to Husk's gruff, grumpy nature. He seemed so different the last few days.
Angel hardly knew what to do with him when they weren't having sex.
"I'm a big boy, Husk. I can handle myself."
His tail flicked again. "I know that."
Angel pulled his head back into the bathroom so he could finish his makeup.
"Then what's ya problem, whiskas? Think I need a babysitter?"
He leaned in so he could put on his mascara, focusing on finishing quickly. He was still in a towel and Alastor probably hadn't expected him to shower.
But he wanted to be clean. Obviously Husk's cum didn't gross him out, but… Something about the fact that he didn't have to be covered in bodily fluids just made him feel…
Free.
He wasn't really, but he still savored the feeling of being free from Valentino. Of never having to fuck another demon he didn't want to.
He finished up and looked at himself in the mirror. He still looked too thin, but at least now the makeup hid some of it. At least in his face. He ran a hand over his visible rib bones, the rise and fall feeling like mountains and valleys. His fingers dipped into the hollows like they belonged there. Like his body had been starved into recognizing them.
The version of him in the mirror looked like someone who'd been fighting a war no one else could see.
He felt a strange disconnect between what he used to look like and what he looked like right now. He had no memory of the change because he'd been too fucked up to notice it in the first place.
He felt a heavy hand on his waist as Val stepped into the bathroom with him. His fingers curled into Angel's side painfully. He leaned close, a cruel smile on his face as his expensive cologne assaulted Angel. His voice was low, too quiet for Husk to hear him.
"You look good, Angelcakes. You look just like the crack whore you are."
His hand tightened and Angel cried out in pain as he dropped his compact in the sink. It shattered, powder puffing up in a little cloud.
His lungs forgot how to breathe.
Every nerve under Val’s hand went rigid—animal panic, helpless memory.
His body remembered things he wished it didn’t.
"Angel?" Husk called from his bedroom.
Val's smile widened. "Go ahead, baby. Tell him you're seeing things. I'm sure he'll love a crazy bitch like you."
"I-I'm fine. It just slipped."
Another hand slid up Angel's neck, tilting Angel's head. Val's mouth opened as he moved toward Angel's exposed skin. He could feel Val's hot breath—flinched when a drop of venom fell on his shoulder.
"There's a good boy."
A warm hand touched his and Angel whirled—Val's body dissipating as Angel moved through him.
Husk stood in the doorway, hands lifted as though he was trying to calm Angel. Concern etched across his face as he watched Angel's chest rise and fall too quickly. His ears fell as he spoke quietly.
"Sorry. I didn't mean to startle you."
Angel curled the hand on his chest into a fist. "It's okay. I just didn't hear you."
"Are you okay? You looked kinda out of it."
"Are you always like this?" Angel snapped.
Husk's wings pulled in close, like he was trying to make himself smaller. Guilt hit Angel like a truck. Hurt flashed over Husk’s face—small, quiet, undeserved—and Angel wanted to claw his own throat out for putting it there. Why was he snapping at Husk? For giving a shit?
"I'm sorry," he blurted before Husk could summon an answer. "That came out… I just… You neva worried about me so much before."
Husk glanced away, his face flushing. "Sure I did. I just didn't say anything."
"So why start now?"
Husk took his hand—it felt so warm and real as he caressed Angel. Nothing like the cold, cruel touch of his hallucination.
"Well, shit's different now. Isn't it?"
Husk looked so earnest that Angel's throat tightened. He didn't know how to do this. But he wished he did. Husk deserved reciprocation.
"Yeah," he said softly. "It's different. But I don't know what that means. I don't know how ta do this."
Husk's easy smile eased some of the tension in Angel. He tugged Angel closer, his other hand going to Angel's hip. It was so gentle compared to Val's possessive hands that Angel melted against him.
"It's been a long fucking time since I've done anything like this, Angel. I don't know what I'm doing either."
Angel gave him a small smile. "Maybe we'll figure it out togetha?"
"We will," Husk said, kissing the back of Angel's hand.
As he lifted his head again, Angel leaned in, kissing him. His fingers slid into the fur of Husk's face—body craving his softness. He wanted to stay here and show Husk just how much he wanted to make this work. Thoughts of worshiping Husk with his body came and went, and he pulled away.
"I betta put some clothes on before Al shows up again and gets anotha eyeful."
Husk's face lit up. "I'm gonna treasure the memory of his face forever."
"Glad I could be of service."
Husk's smile fell. "I didn't mean it like that."
Angel paused, unsure of what Husk was talking about. "Like… what?" he asked slowly.
"You know, like I don't care that Alastor saw you like that."
"Oh my god, Husk," Angel laughed. "Like most a Hell has seen me get fucked."
"That wasn't work, Angel," Husk said, his voice betraying his hurt.
He left the bathroom and Angel reached for him, but pulled his hand back at the last second. He hadn't meant to upset Husk. Never once had Husk ever made him feel like what he did for a living wasn't okay. He didn't realize it was because Husk made such a distinction between the two.
Angel followed Husk into the bedroom. The cat's ears were low, his tail dragging on the floor.
"Husk." He looked back at Angel. "I'm sorry. I know it ain't tha same thing. It's just been a really long time since I've been with someone cause I actually want ta be. Ya know, someone I care about."
"I get it, Angel. Sex doesn't mean the same thing to you—"
Angel's chest tightened as a burst of panic bubbled up. He lunged forward, grabbing Husk's hand.
"No. I-It don't. But shit's different—with you."
Husk squeezed his hand, smiling softly as he kissed Angel's hand again. "You shouldn't keep Alastor waiting. He doesn't like that shit."
Angel stepped closer, kissing Husk's cheek. Lingering a moment before he moved to his dresser. Husk sat on his bed again, playing with Fat Nuggets while Angel slipped on some hot pink satin panties. He glanced at them as he moved to his closet.
Husk had gotten Nuggs on his back, rubbing his belly with his whole hand. When had they gotten so close?
His gut tightened. Of course. When Angel was gone. Living in a nightmare. No one else had been alone. They'd had each other.
Had Husk and Cherri grown closer too? And why did the thought make him unhappy? He wanted them to like each other. They were the two most important people in his life.
So why did the thought stab him in the gut?
"Cause you're a jealous bitch, Amorcito. Selfish to the core."
He shook Val's voice off as he pulled a dress from his closet. It was short, had an indecently high slit, no back, and it sparkled. Just the thing to draw all eyes to him. The satiny material was cool against his skin, but the smoothness of the material felt great against his body.
When he turned around, Husk wasn't playing with Nuggs anymore. He was staring—hunger in his eyes. Angel ran his hands over his body, posing in a way he knew made him look good.
"Like what ya see, whiskas?
"Always," Husk said without hesitation.
Angel put a knee on the bed, leaning over to put hands on Husk's thighs and shoulders. He gave Husk his best "fuck me" face.
"It's goin' ta look even betta on ya floor later, Daddy."
Husk laughed and Angel frowned.
"I'm sure it will, legs."
Angel stood up again, collecting the things he needed to stuff in his fluff. Keys, lube, phone…
"Shit."
"What's wrong?" Husk asked immediately.
"You broke my phone."
"Oh… sorry."
He didn't sound all that sorry and Angel didn't really blame him, but still.
"I'll have ta replace it tomorrow."
"D'you think you should go out without one?"
Angel gave Husk a side long glance. "Please don't start again. I'll be fine, Husk."
"Well, I'm sorry I— care about you."
What had that pause been?
"I'm glad ya care, but I ain't got a choice. Alastor wants me ta do this, so it's out a my hands. Take care a Nuggs fa me?"
"Of course. Please be careful."
Angel gave him a big smile. "I got this."
He heard Husk's quiet reply as he strode for the door.
"I know."
He didn't stop to question it though. He moved down the hotel hallway quickly—his thoughts distracting him enough that he paid no attention to the other guests.
What was really going on with Husk? He hadn't responded to Angel's come on seriously, or even with a joke like he used to. He'd clearly changed his sentence midway through—and Husk didn't beat around the bush. And he wasn't letting go of this strange need to baby Angel.
Was this… normal when someone actually liked you? It didn't really feel like Husk liked him. Shouldn't he want Angel a little more? And like… why focus so hard on Angel's safety?
But so softly?
If Val had ever been worried about Angel—he would have been a lot more in his face about it. Like the way Husk had gotten worked up about Angel going back to the tower. He'd yelled then. And Angel had known how much he cared.
"Maybe he doesn't really care about you properly, baby. Not like I could be right now."
"Shut up," Angel muttered.
Val's laughter faded in his head, but Angel knew he was still there. Just waiting.
"Don't listen ta him, Anthony."
Angel froze mid stride, his head slowly turning to the side. Molly stood there. Smiling at him.
Too solid. Too warm-colored under the hallway lights.
Like a memory wearing skin.
"You just have ta get used ta Husk bein' different," she chirped.
"Mols?"
She looked around and Angel followed her gaze. Two guests he didn't know were staring at him.
"They're goin' ta think you're crazy if you keep starin' at me, honey. Just keep walkin'."
He took off again, shooting glances at his sister. This wasn't possible. Molly was dead. Not human anymore. Why'd she look human?
"Cause you like ta think a me this way, silly."
Angel's throat constricted. His chest felt like it might cave in. He'd gone insane.
Val's laughter echoed in his head.
"Maybe," Molly said sadly. "But at least we're together again."
Somehow—that didn't bring Angel any comfort.
~~~~~
"So… is this, like, goin' ta hurt?"
The look Alastor gave him could've shriveled Val's testicles. Angel looked away. Not because he was intimidated, but because he was distracted.
Alastor's room was a strange amalgamation of an old hunter's cabin and the swamp that should be outside of it. He didn't recognize the symbols on the walls and wasn't sure if they were paint or painted in blood. Everything had an eerie sort of glow to it that set his teeth on edge. The air hung wet and heavy, like swamp breath—humid enough his fur clung to his neck. Something sweet-rotten lingered under it, like old meat beneath incense.
That wasn't what was so distracting though.
Val was rummaging through the things on Alastor's bookshelf, and Molly was watching him—arms crossed as she glared.
He jumped when Alastor's smiling shadow rose up from the floor in front of him. He could feel the cold emanating off of the creepy thing and he stepped back as it reached for him.
"Hold still," Alastor ordered.
Angel didn't back up anymore but he couldn't help it as he leaned away. The thought of that thing touching him was nauseating. His reticence was proven worthwhile when it made contact and its touch was cold enough to burn.
"Ah, fuck!"
The cold burn quickly turned hot as it spread up his arm faster than his blood could pump. His breaths came fast and shallow as the heat entered his chest.
And then things got weird.
He felt like his skin was bubbling, changing—but nothing outwardly physical was actually happening. His heartbeat thundered in his ears—too loud, too slow, like the pulse belonged to someone else. The heat in his chest didn't continue to spread, instead it condensed, growing hotter and sharper in the center of his body. It didn't hurt though.
What it did feel like, was similar to that overly stuffed feeling he got during double penetration scenes. Only when the shadow released him, it didn't go away. It was almost like his skin was trying to reshape itself around the pressure inside of him. Angel put a hand to his chest, rubbing it as though that would rid him of the feeling.
Alastor's smile widened as his shadow slipped back into the void. "Now we take you for a little test run."
Angel held his hands up. "Wait. I don't know how any a this works. How am I supposed ta know what ta do?"
Alastor's lips curled into something that made a chill run down Angel's spine. "Trial by fire, my friend. You'll figure it out."
Angel's face screwed up into anger but darkness swallowed him before he could say anything. For one terrifying moment all the air was sucked from his lungs and he felt as cold as death. Then he was standing outside—across the street from a club he didn't recognize.
The sign labeled it as The Penthouse. Aside from the neon sign it looked like nothing more than another brick building—no windows and one dark door that was unmanned. A deep bass of music could be heard from inside the building, thumping in the night. He let out a long breath before he squared his shoulders and sauntered toward the door.
That old, familiar persona slipped over him like lace on a bride. It belonged there. Val walked beside him, a cigarette in his hand.
"That's right, baby. This is who you are. Hell's greatest whore."
"Not anymore," Angel said as he reached for the door.
"Oh, Angie. Always."
Music blared from inside as he pulled the door open and stepped into chaos. The place was massive for a club, high ceilings from which many lights hung. They flashed and moved with the music and the crowd. Heat rolled off the bodies inside like steam from cracked asphalt. The air tasted of salt-skin, spilled liquor, cheap perfume—sin thick enough to breathe as food.
A smell more comforting than it should have been.
He moved toward the bar at the back of the place, moving through hot, gyrating bodies as he crossed the floor. He fell deeper into his public persona as his body moved to the rhythm of the music and lights. It was too bad that Cherri wasn't with him, though. This was their element.
The bar was long, three bartenders behind it rushing around to serve the drunk patrons. Angel stood behind another demon, waiting his turn.
"Really? You're gonna wait like some worthless loser?" Val whispered in his ear. "Less than a day without me and you've forgotten who you are, baby. How pathetic."
Angel leaned forward, putting a hand on the shoulder of the demon in front of him. "Hey, hot stuff."
The demon looked over his shoulder briefly before doing a double take. His slack face showed just how shocked he was. Angel gave him the same "fuck me" smile he'd given Husk. Only this guy reacted instantly, turning toward Angel like he'd just won the lotto.
"Long wait?" Angel asked. "I'm so parched."
He popped his "p", aware that the demon's eyes were glued to his mouth.
"I'd love to buy you a drink," the demon said with clear awe in his voice.
Angel grabbed his tie, pulling him closer. "You'd do that fa me, baby?"
"Yeah," the guy breathed.
"Well, aren't you just so sweet. I could just eat you up. I'd love a Harder Daddy," he crooned.
The man's pupils dilated as he nodded almost mechanically. "I'd love to, Angel."
Oh, an actual fan. That explained the dull look in his eyes. Sometimes fans got overwhelmed in his presence.
"Thanks, mista."
He slid his hand down the man's tie, caressing it. The demon hurried to push his way through the other patrons—eager to get Angel that drink.
"I don't think Husk would like this," Molly said as she stepped in front of him.
Val's clawed tips lifted his chin, turning his face toward the moth. Val's tone was mocking. "You gonna change for another man, Amorcito? Didn't you learn your lesson the first time?"
Angel pulled his face away, looking at neither of them as he struggled to maintain his aloof, sexy posture. Husk probably wouldn't like it very much, but he knew the difference between Angel working and what was real.
At least one of us does.
Alastor had told him to act normal. Do what he always did. That an opportunity would surface. And then they'd have a starting point. Not that Angel was particularly thrilled with the whole thing. He certainly hadn't asked for this.
But he'd gotten what he wanted, and this was still better than Valentino.
The demon came back quickly with a drink for Angel. He looked excited now as he handed it over. Angel quickly downed it, not noticing the sweet strawberry flavor until it was too late.
Love Potion.
Most would probably never notice it, but Angel was intimately familiar with it both in, and out, of the studio. This was far from the first time someone had drugged his drink. It was almost laughable how often demons pulled this shit. Which was insane considering they could hire his services if they really wanted to fuck him.
But he was expensive and Love Potion was cheap.
In the past, Angel wouldn't have done anything but let the night take him in the most self destructive path it could. And, for a moment, he wanted to. He wanted to get fucked up and forget the last few months.
But if he did, he'd end up in someone else's bed. And there was only one bed he wanted to be in.
And this asshole was jeopardizing that.
"You just gonna take that, baby?"
Angel reared back and slapped the demon in the face—with his glass. It broke. Glass and blood exploding as the demon's head snapped to the side.
"You mothafucka! Think you can put shit in my drink?"
He lifted his arm again as the demon shrank, but a rough hand grabbed his wrist, turning him. Val leered down at him, that stupid smirk on his face. His fingers were ice around Angel’s wrist—too solid to be in his head, too familiar to be anything else.
Fucking hallucinations.
"Angel, baby. I wasn't expecting to see you so soon. Did you miss papi that much?"
He ripped his arm from Val's grip, trying not to make it too obvious that he was fighting with the air and turned back on the demon who'd drugged him.
"You betta get tha fuck out a here before I peel ya whole damn face off!"
With narrowed eyes, he watched the demon run away. Val chuckled behind him. But Angel ignored him as he strode away, back into the crowd. This was becoming a real problem that he had no idea what to do with. Had Vox fucked him up permanently?
It was hard to care too much as the drug started seeping into his system. His blood fizzed carbonated, every nerve bright and greedy. The room sharpened and softened all at once—lights smearing like wet paint across his vision.
And the music called to him. The sound didn't just flow through him. It was almost like it was flowing into him, adding to that full feeling inside his chest.
Between Alastor's magic, the drug, and his hallucinations—Angel had no idea what was really happening to him. All he knew was he wanted to dance to it. Get lost in the feeling of his body moving. Even the press of bodies around him felt right. Felt good.
He let his eyes close as the rhythm took him. He grew unbearably hot with no idea whether it was the people and lights, the magic, the drug. Maybe all of it was working together—against him.
Or perhaps it was a good thing. It certainly felt good when a familiar hand touched his back, pulling him close. Angel's eyes slivered open as he moved with Valentino.
When was the last time they'd danced together? Val used to take him dancing. Before the contract. Before he'd shown his true nature.
But Angel couldn't help the way he leaned into Val's touch as he gripped Angel's neck. His thumb pushed up on Angel's chin and his head fell back without thought. His body knew this dance. His skin knew Val like scripture—obedience written bone-deep long before his heart ever consented. Every sway said yes even as his mind screamed no.
The moth's mouth hovered over Angel's. "You're always so much fun like this, baby. But you don't want that weak ass shit, do you?"
Angel made a noise as he shook his head. He knew the difference between the lame drug the Vees sold and Val's venom. And his body craved the real thing. The oblivion it would give him.
"Of course not. Let papi help you out, baby."
It's okay, Angel. Just let me help you.
Husk's voice echoed in his mind like someone had dumped ice water down his face. He jerked away—suddenly too aware.
Val's hands felt too real. His scent too right. Angel's body too responsive.
He wasn't hallucinating.
He shoved Val away from him as he moved in for a kiss. "No!"
Val's face turned furious in an instant. And Angel's body locked up in fear and confusion. Nausea hit him like a punch to the gut. Val's grip tightened painfully, partially cutting off Angel's airway.
"You think you can tell me no, you worthless fucking whore?"
"You don't own me, Val," he choked out. "Go fuck yaself!"
Val dropped him like Angel's heat had actually burned the overlord. The smile he gave Angel sent a chill down his spine.
"Enjoy this now, baby. We both know you'll come crawling back soon enough. Addicts never change."
Angel wrapped arms around himself—hating that Val saw that weakness and smirked before he strode back into the crowd.
Angel choked back a sob as he curled into himself. Terror sat heavy in his chest. Not because Val had threatened him, but because he knew Val was right. All that time that Angel spent at the hotel, trying to get clean.
And he'd thrown it all away when he went back to Val. Just like every other time he'd tried to distance himself from the pimp. Val didn't have to do anything to make Angel come back. It was his own failings that did all the work.
The crowd pressed in like a closing fist, laughter too sharp, lights too bright—every inch of space shrinking until he couldn't breathe.
Molly's cold hand touched his face. "Husk will undastand. Let him help you."
Angel cried out. The noise pained as he shoved his way through the crowd. He needed to get out. Fuck Alastor. Fuck this stupid idea.
He was drowning. He needed out. Needed Husk.
He got to the edge of the crowd and several demons got in his way. They were strangers to him. But they were all smiles as they complimented him, asked him to party.
"No. I ain't workin' tonight."
"Do whores get days off?"
They all laughed as they pushed closer.
Angel felt like he was going to explode.
"Just let me through, asshole."
But one of them grabbed him.
"You should be nicer, sweetheart."
Anger burst up out of him with what felt like a physical force.
"I said move!"
The words didn’t just leave his throat—they hit, low and sharp like a crack of thunder. The sound vibrated in his teeth, in his ribs, like he’d screamed into his own bones.
The demons flew backwards. A crashing chorus of bodies and splintering wood—then silence, sharp enough to cut.
The bass died in his ears, replaced by a high ringing, like the scream hadn’t left his throat but detonated there.
Angel touched his neck. His voice still vibrated under his skin, restless, alive—like a still screaming echo even after his mouth shut.
What the fuck just happened?
The nearest demons scrambled away, eyes wide with terrified recognition.
He felt awe and nausea twist together inside him.
What did I just do?
A chill swept over his too hot body as Alastor appeared from the shadows. His grin was huge, his eyes excited.
"Well, that wasn't what I was expecting, my dear. Not at all. But I think we're really going to have some fun."
And then that cold slid over him again, sucking him into that airless darkness—and for a heartbeat before it swallowed him whole, he swore he felt fingers still wrapped around his wrist.