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Despite what her boss thought, these days Husk didn’t find herself seated at the bar nearly as often as she stood behind it. The thing about being an alcoholic was that bars really lost their charm when the alcohol they served was a necessity for survival rather than a fun way to improve her nights. And she made no mistake that she was at her very core an addict and alcohol was her poison of choice in lieu of gambling — since gambling was out of the question on the wages she was on.
She was, however, incredibly grateful for the choice she had made that night, clocking out at 10 PM on a Tuesday so that Joanie, her new colleague, could give the night shift a run when it wasn’t supposed to be very busy. She had asked Husk to stick around in case she needed her, and Husk had agreed — on the condition that she were given free drinks all evening. Her colleague had scowled but agreed, and so Husk found herself seated at the corner of the bar, nursing a triple whiskey sour with the good stuff, the top shelf liquor that almost made her forget that she was messed up.
Almost.
Because then the most beautiful creature Husk had ever laid her eyes on walked into the bar, and it was like the start of a terrible joke where Husk was sure she was meant to be the punchline. Husk thought she had seen it all, but the woman who ducked her head coming down the stairs was like something straight out of a movie. Mile-long legs in killer heels, a tight little skirt that made Husk’s mouth water, and a beautiful face, delicate features framed by an almost sculpted mass of hair that softly bounced when she sat at the bar. That wasn’t even to mention her tits — Husk was so lost in gazing at her cleavage that it took her another moment to even realize the woman had an extra pair of arms.
Once upon a time, she wouldn’t have hesitated to approach the beautiful woman. Husk had been powerful, once, an Overlord in her own right, top of the fucked-up-foodchain that was the eternal suffering of Hell. She had had the world at her feet, sinners lining up to warm her sheets as much as they warmed the benches of the casino waiting for their chances to take on the best player of all.
The fuck of it all was that Husk was good at playing cards. The fuck of it was that she had been too scared to face the potential perhaps she wasn’t the best. The fuck of it was that she had fallen just as much as the souls she used to laugh at. And the biggest fuck you was that she was at a bar with a beautiful woman sitting less than five feet away from her, and she couldn’t figure out how to approach her — or if she even wanted to.
When she had been alive, there had been rules for this sort of thing. Husk used to live in the lesbian bars on the strip, playing the piano until her tip jar was full and she could use it at the bar. She’d scope out one of the femmes with the long hair and the bright lips and the nails that made Husk both sweat to think about and ache to feel on her back, and Husk would ask them if she could buy them a drink. Barely ever did they say no. Husk knew she had been attractive, in that particular way that gay women had enjoyed, the type where she could have passed for a man if she tried hard enough, so that going out on the town wouldn’t necessarily raise a red flag for an unsuspecting audience. She knew that even when her life spiraled out of her control, she had kept the charm that had her able to hide her loneliness under the guise of lesbian machismo.
Husk had been dead for long enough that she had gotten out of practice.
The woman looked around for a few moments, and Husk feared that maybe she was meeting someone here, some girlfriend or a first date, but after a spin around, her eyes landed on the bar, and she walked over. She settled on one of the chairs at the bar furthest away from Husk and Joanie, picking up the menu and browsing the drinks. An elegant fingertip ran over the drawings of cocktails and the selection of draft beers. She crossed her legs at the ankles and leaned forward, and Husk’s mouth ran dry.
“Oh my fucking hell,” Joanie muttered, as she returned from the backroom where she had been grabbing a new bottle of whiskey — courtesy of Husk finishing the one they kept behind the counter — and she reached over to Husk and nudged her gently, nodding her head in the direction of the newcomer at the bar. “Do you see her?”
“I do have eyes,” Husk muttered, breaking her gaze away from the woman to meet Joanie’s gaze. “Christ, do you know who she is? Has she been here before?”
Joanie gave Husk a disbelieving sort of look, “Be so fucking for real right now.”
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean,” Husk asked, taken aback by the reply. “Do I look like I know every hot woman in this town?”
Joan’s lip curled up, her long ears fluttering in amusement. “Husk, darling, the answer is sort of yes, but even if not, you know she’s… Hang on.”
One of the customers who had been sitting in the back of the bar had walked up to order some new drinks and settle her bill, and Joanie went over to get that sorted. Husk let out a sigh and downed the rest of her drink. She supposed she was going to have to do this the old-fashioned way.
She got off the stool, rolled her neck, and then sauntered over to the other woman with all the confidence that she could muster. Bravado. She could do bravado.
“Can I buy you a drink?”
The woman turned to her, smile on her face that looked a little weary, startlingly beautiful as it was. Husk assumed she must get hit on all the time, and almost regretted her advances. Almost, because Husk wasn’t in the business of feeling much fresh regret these days.
“I’m not working tonight, baby, but if you’re happy to just watch me get shitfaced, I’m glad to oblige.”
Husk wasn’t sure what the beauty’s work had anything to do with this, but she dismissed it as she took a careful step closer, leaned against the bar, went for a quirked smile.
“Mind the company? I know all the strongest drinks in this place to make you forget whatever you want.”
The woman raised an eyebrow at her. “You a regular?”
“I work here, actually,” Husk scooted herself over to the seat next to the gorgeous creature, nodding her head to her colleague behind the bar, who was pointedly ignoring the both of them in favor of counting out portions of nuts. “I’m watching that one, tonight. Her first time, you see. I’ll make sure she doesn’t skimp on the liquor.”
The woman’s smile grew a little softer, a little more genuine. “My knight in shining armor. Does the liquor-expertise come with a name?”
“Husk,” Husk told her, and held out her hand, making sure her nails were safely retracted.
“Angel,” The woman replied, and of-fucking-course the perfectly cute face came with a perfectly cute name, and Husk was fishing way out of her league. So she upped the charm, and when Angel gave her hand, Husk didn’t just shake it, but bowed her head down to press a sweet, simple kiss on her fingers.
“Enchanted,”
“She’s a gentleman,” Angel’s voice was amused, and when Husk straightened again to meet her eyes, the smile had almost fully melted.
“I can only try,” Husk said, “it’s a dying art — seeing we’re dead and all, if nothing else. So what can I get you?”
“You have no idea who I am, do you?” Angel said, in lieu of answering the question. Husk gave an apologetic shrug, tilted her head to the side to take in Angel a little closer — as if she hadn’t been staring for the past ten minutes. It happened sometimes that the gals came in looking different; dressed in full king drag or simply suited up, when some of them switched roles.
The Lorgnette was a bit of a time capsule in the quickly evolving landscape of Hell, one of the very last lesbian bars clinging to the tradition of dressing up to go out. The entry requirement to dress femme or butch had been abandoned decades ago, as human standards for gender became somewhat obsolete when Sinners’ bodies came in too many shapes and sizes to even consider gendering based on looks. Still, some of their customers clung to it, the old and familiar customs of when they’d been alive.
Alastor, for example, wouldn’t be seen dead — hah — anywhere near The Lorgnette if she wasn’t dressed in full attire. Her sharp bob and long flapper dress were an iconic presence in the bar, and if she hadn’t been the literal Radio Demon, Husk was sure women would have flocked to her to shoot their shot. Alastor may have been visually striking, but she was much more terrifying than charming, and so she usually exclusively chatted with Husk on those nights she visited. For all that Alastor owned her soul and didn’t hesitate to point it out at the slightest provocation, she also seemed to consider Husk her friend.
Husk, for her part, didn’t dress much different than she did on the daily, except she wore a bowtie and a top hat when working — the first voluntarily and the second because she was sure Alastor found great pleasure in making Husk feel silly.
Husk gave a shrug. “If we have met, I have to admit I have forgotten.” Husk didn’t think she could ever forget someone like Angel, but stranger things had happened. “With the so-called liquor expertise comes a healthy tendency to black out a little too often for comfort.”
Angel laughed at that. “You’re cute.”
“Not the word people usually use to describe me but I’ll take it,” Husk said, glad that her flirtations weren’t falling on deaf ears, “So for the lady, a cocktail?”
“Something fruity,” Angel confirmed, “and strong.”
Husk tapped the bar with her hand, catching her colleague’s attention. “Joanie, darling, can you fix us a Hurricane, and another one of those,” she pointed at her empty glass on the other side of the bar, “put it on my tab, will you?”
The tab, of course, meaning that Husk didn’t have to pay for it because she was supervising. Joanie rolled her eyes, but abandoned the little cups of nuts in favor of grabbing the rum from the back shelf.
“Boozy,” Angel said, approvingly, and to Husk’s delight she had turned to lean her elbow on the bar, giving Husk a proper once-over. The sort of look that made Husk’s fur tingle with the attention. “You from New Orleans, baby?”
“You know your drinks, huh?” Husk gave her another smile. “And not me, but the gal who owns this place hails from around.” It felt wrong to describe Alastor as the gal, and she was pretty sure the woman would give her several angry dialed looks if she heard it, but Husk was uninterested in getting the attention taken away from herself by admitting who owned the bar. “She told me about it when I first started working here.”
“This is my first time here,” Angel admitted, eyes flitting around the bar with an appreciative eye, “I didn’t know this place existed. Real nice. Vintage vibes.”
“’S a bit of a dive,” Husk countered, which made Angel laugh, “but it has its charm. I keep telling my boss we need a piano but she doesn’t want to give up the space for it. I’d play you a song if we had one. Lucifer knows I’d be inspired.”
Joanie started shaking the Hurricane, and Husk had no doubt that her vigorous shaking was partially to drown out what she called Husk’s Mating Behavior. Husk couldn’t even blame her.
“You’re not really playing it cool, are you?” Angel said, but she was still smiling that same little smile, a flash of a golden tooth behind her perfectly pink lips. Husk couldn’t deny she wanted to kiss the gloss right off of them. But she played it innocent.
“Not sure I know what you mean,”
“Yeah, right,” Angel said, turning her body fully towards Husk, eyes trailing down her body as if she was reading her, and Husk opened her arms to let it happen. Grinning. Angel’s smile widened. “The whole cool cat behavior is transparent as fuck. Let me guess, baby, you flash the girls a smile and they fall at your feet? I’m not that easy.”
Joanie’s snort was undeniable, though when Husk looked over to glare at her, she was busying herself with pouring out the drink in one of the lamp-shaped glasses, the perfect picture of innocence. Husk decided she was going to put an ice cube in the back of her shirt later.
“I’ll have you know I have a perfectly wonderful smile,”
Angel shrugged a shoulder, the strap of her top slipping just slightly. “Just saying I’m a girl who likes a little more substance, if you get me. Meat on her bones.”
“I’ve got plenty of meat right here,” Husk shot back, hand on her belly, squishing through the fur, and Angel clearly tried for a moment to hold back her laughter, before failing completely, a loud snicker escaping her as she tried her best to hide it behind her hand. Joanie picked that moment to put the cocktail in front of Angel, a beautiful rendition of a Hurricane with the completely unwarranted addition of some sparkly stars on top. Husk gave her colleague a surprised raise of the eyebrows, and Joanie ignored her completely. “Big fan,” she told Angel with a wink, “enjoy your drink.”
Angel’s laughter softened just a little, and she gave Joanie a smile that felt too soft for a stranger, but which felt different from the way she looked at Husk. A little sharper. “Thanks, doll.”
Joanie nodded, and then put the triple whiskey in front of Husk. And because apparently she couldn’t control herself, she added, “Also just saying you could definitely do better than old Husk over here.”
“Hey,” Husk spluttered, offended despite the teasing smile on Joanie’s face, and Angel laughed again. If only because of that, Husk let the jab slide, though she jerked her thumb in Joanie’s direction when the woman left, making a disbelieving sort of sound with gestures to indicate that Angel shouldn’t take any of those words serious.
“You a bit of a womanizer?” Angel asked, eyes trailing after Joanie for a moment before meeting Husk’s, smile teasing as much as it was amused. Husk thought of how on the first night after her orientation, she had Joanie pulled up on the bar, head buried between her legs as Joanie had tried her best to not swipe any of the crystal glassware on the floor. She flicked her ears, gave a little shrug of her shoulders.
“Man, I just work here,” Husk said, by way of an answer that wasn’t an answer at all, and gave Angel a playful grin. Tilted her head to the side, lifted her fresh drink in a toast, “A cheers to Lady Luck?”
“Why Lady Luck?” Angel asked, even when she allowed their glasses to clink together. The sound of the glasses was delicate, the fine crystal Alastor insisted on stocking the bar with providing just another layer of atmosphere.
“Because meeting a beautiful woman on a random Tuesday in the dark expanse of Hell is not a regular thing,” Husk said, pulling back her glass and lifting it to her lips, but not before saying, “so she’s definitely on my side tonight.”
<3
“Let me play you a song,” Husk said, hopping off the chair and guiding Angel to the jukebox in the back — Husk’s wingwoman and favorite part of the bar, all golden details and bright colors even when turned off. The thing was painfully vintage, but as with most hell technology, adapted to fit their contemporary needs. Husk reached out over the top of the jukebox and pulled out a coin with a hole in the center, dropping it in the jukebox and watching Angel’s face lit up when the screen flickered to life. Husk gave her a moment to take in the sight, before she took hold of the dial and spin it around, scrolling through the years.
“Something from your time,” Husk suggested, “when did’ya die?”
“No one ever tell you it’s rude to ask a lady her age?” Angel said, looking away from the jukebox to give Husk an amused look, a raise of the eyebrows — painted on, shaped to make Angel’s eyes look all the bigger, her pink lips pulled up in a quirked smile, sharp golden tooth that had Husk’s collar feel a little hot. Angel’s eyes dropped to her throat when she swallowed, followed the way Husk ran her tongue over her lips to wet them before speaking again.
“Didn’t ask when you were born, did I?”
“Suppose you didn’t,” Angel said, and then she added, “1947.”
“Born or died?”
Angel’s smile widened. “Thought you weren’t asking when I was born?”
Husk laughed, and turned the dial, scrolling down to the right decade.
“Not a lot of openly lesbian artists at the time.”
“You don’t say,” Angel said dryly, and she leaned against the jukebox as she watched Husk scroll through titles and titles, making little thoughtful sounds as she did so. “You’d be better off playing some generic jazz, I was probably too high to remember the details at the time.”
Husk’s ear twitched again. “That a habit you had when alive?”
“That a habit I have now I’m dead,” Angel said, tilting her head to the side and smiling at Husk, a sort of smile that was both amused and sad, one that Husk herself knew too well. If she had been alive she’d have steered away, she thought, because addicts make the worst sort of partners, the sort where you end up alone and crying in your pillow either because your partner kicked the bucket or because you finally got yourself together enough to step away from it. Husk had been on both sides of that equation, and it had sucked both ways, but meeting Angel’s eyes now, she knew that she would forget all about that in a heart beat if Angel chose to spend some time with her.
After another moment’s consideration, Husk landed on a song from the thirties, a song she remembered hearing performed in some of the bars she used to frequent, and Angel’s smile softened when the stereo switched and the jukebox took over. They looked at each other as the jazz filtered through the bar, some of the other customers looking up in surprise at the change of music but eyes understanding when their gazes fell on the pair of them. They averted their eyes, and offered Husk the privacy that Husk would give any other woman in her shoes.
“I’m sorry you gotta deal with that,” she said, and she meant it.
Angel hummed. “The addiction? I did that to myself, baby. And I have an eternity to get rid of it if I wanted to.”
“Will you?”
“Probably not. Will you?”
Husk paused, before she had to admit. “Probably not.”
“I guess it’s Hell for a reason,” Angel said, and then held out a hand to Husk, “will you dance with me?”
“To this? Doesn’t really have a beat.”
Angel shrugged one elegant shoulder. “Just looking for an excuse to hold you,”
Husk’s stomach fluttered. “You don’t need an excuse for that.”
She took Angel’s hand and tilted it upward, encouraging Angel to twirl underneath it before guiding her a few steps away, onto the dance floor. There were a few hoots from the other women in the bar, tucked away in the back booths, and Husk felt comfortable giving them the middle finger as her other hand slid down Angel’s side to settle on her waist. There was laughter and then the clear sound of someone trying to hush her friend, and Husk rolled her eyes in mock despair.
“Friends?” Angel asked,
“Worse,” Husk told her, “Regular customers.”
Another laugh, a wrinkle of Angel’s nose, and Husk may have had a handful of drinks but there was never anything more intoxicating than the smile of a beautiful woman. One of Angel’s hands settled on Husk’s shoulder, the other on her waist, and she pressed herself closer, so that Husk could feel the slim line of her against her front. Only now did Husk realize how tall she was, would be taller than Husk even without the platform heels, and Husk was glad she wore her heavy boots to work, the ones that added at least a little bit of height. The song in the background was reaching its end, and from the corner of her eyes Husk saw Joanie pad her way over to the Jukebox. She felt her heart swell with appreciation as the song ended and immediately was followed by something smooth, slow and sultry vocal over an addictive instrumental.
The hand that was on Husk’s shoulder moved, fingertips digging through the fur and playing with the strands at the nape of her neck. Angel smiled down at her, and Husk was mesmerized to see that the shiny dots under Angel’s eyes were eyes as well, all of them glowing in the dim light over the dance floor. Her large eyes were framed by lashes that were covered in glitter, dusting her cheeks when she blinked. They didn’t dance as much as they moved in place, swayed to the beat and let their hands do most of the talking. Though Husk kept all her touches above the waist, she allowed her hand to wander down when she spun them both around, to settle on the very bottom of Angel’s waist, fingertips just grazing towards the mild curve of her ass.
It felt both like an eternity and the blink of an eye when Angel finally leaned down and kissed her. Nothing but a sweet touch of her lips on Husk’s, the sticky press of gloss and an exhale of sweet juice on Husk’s breath. Then she pressed a kiss on Husk’s cheek, before tilting her head so she could speak directly in Husk’s ear.
“That what you’re looking for tonight?”
“Gonna be so honest with you, looking for anything you’d give me,” Husk said, and the alcohol had loosened her tongue enough she felt not the slightest bit embarrassed about that, “you walked through that door and I just about forgot my name. But I bet you get that a lot.”
Underneath her fingertips, she could feel Angel shaking with laughter. Husk wouldn’t generally consider herself much of a comedian, but she’d take it, cover her uncertainty with humor and charm.
“Occasionally,” Angel said, and pulled back only to kiss Husk again.
It felt like time stretched between them, the rest of the bar fading into the background of Husk’s consciousness, and she had never been happier to have taken the night off. Mostly she didn’t bother taking time away from work, because she spent most of that time in The Lorgnette anyway, and it didn’t really make much of a difference to her whether she was behind or in front of the bar. Just when she was working, she was actually making some money. But if she had been working tonight, if she hadn’t been several excellent whiskeys in, she would probably not have been so bold as to approach Angel, and that, Husk thought as Angel’s arms slipped around her neck and tugged her closer, would have been devastating.
They only broke apart when the music changed suddenly, moving into a cheerful swing song that had them both exchange a confused glance before laughing.
“You taste like alcohol,” Angel told her, and she looked just a little ruffled, fur on her cheeks puffed with a warm pink glow underneath, “I think I could get drunk just from kissing you.”
“A theory I wouldn’t mind testing” Husk replied easily, glad for her own fur to be thick enough that it wouldn’t show the way those words combined with Angel’s sparkling eyes made her skin heat so much it felt like she was radiating her attraction. “Let me buy you another actual drink, instead. So these idiots can have the dance floor. We can come back later”
Indeed, three of the sinners that had been in one of the booths had made their way on the floor, hands locked together and spinning each other around with a vigor that Husk couldn’t ever think of possessing. Angel didn’t look up for the task either, and so they made their way back to the bar, returning to their seats. Though this time, their hands stayed intertwined as they sat down, and Husk motioned to Joanie to get them another refill.
“On your tab, I suppose,” she told Husk dryly, and Husk gave her a smile she hoped covered all her bases. Joanie rolled her eyes again, muttered something under her breath, and set about making them both another drink. Husk ran her thumb over the back of Angel’s hand, and as if on instinct, both of them scooted their stools a little closer to each other. They both just watched the dance floor as they awaited their drinks, and though they had fallen silent, there was not a shred of awkwardness between them. It felt comfortable, weirdly familiar, like they had been friends for ages before they had ever looked at each other in other light. And Husk supposed that was the weird magic of this place, a bubble in the vast expanse of Hell where women could come and try to find a little bit of something good. And though the intent with which the place was built was as much a trap as it was a safe haven — after all this was where Alastor collected most of her souls, women desperate for safety in more than one way — Husk felt grateful for a place where she could be herself. Or as close to herself as she could ever allow herself to be.
Joanie returned with their drinks, and Husk was pulled from her thoughts. Her eyes fell on the three little shot glasses her colleague had brought over in addition to the drinks, and she raised an eyebrow as Joanie filled them up with a clear spirit, pushed two towards them and taking the third one herself.
“Vodka shots on the house.”
Husk raised an eyebrow at her. “Is there a reason for that?”
“For you two, to clear your mouth before you start drinking again,” Joanie told them, “for me, to clear my mouth from the jealousy I feel looking at you both. Cheers, babes.”
Angel laughed, but raised the glass to clink against Joanie’s. Then she turned to clink her glass against Husk, and they kept eye contact as they both downed the shot, both making a face as the iced liquor sent shivers down their spine. Joanie let out an exasperated sigh, and took the glasses away from them.
“You have lip gloss all over,” she informed Husk, “just saying that’s not your color.”
“Fuck off,” Husk told her, without any bite at all. Angel hid her laugh into her fresh hurricane.
They sat and drank for a while, one of Angel’s hands firmly on Husk’s knee, a persistent warmth that Husk couldn’t ignore even if she tried. They chatted about random things, complained about the heat of Hell’s summer, talked about music they liked, restaurants that were worth the hype, places that were absolutely not. Husk learned that Angel loved fashion, make-up, eating her body weight in chicken wings, and her pet, a little hell pig named Fat Nuggets. In turn, Husk told Angel about the motorbike she used to have when she was alive, and Angel spent a solid ten minutes trying to convince Husk to get herself one down in Hell.
“You can pick me up and drive me around,” Angel told her, which Husk had to admit singlehandedly made her reconsider her reluctance. Her brain came up with the image of Angel in a leather jacket and pink biker boots, and she could tell from the way Angel was grinning at her that the woman more than knew what Husk was thinking. Husk brought up a hand to flick Angel’s nose. Angel snapped at her finger. So Husk took her chin and kissed that smug little smirk right off her lips. When Angel sat back, her eyes were glittering.
Their hands found each other again.
“Can I smoke in here?” Angel asked when they finished their drinks, looking around the bar, where until recently there had been ash trays scattered. They had gotten rid of them only about a year ago, as a lot of newer souls prescribed to the idea of only smoking in the open air. Shitload of good it did, Husk thought, when the air smelled like sulfur anyway, and no one could die of cancer. It made the gesture feel empty, performative, and so Husk easily discarded the concept and pulled an ash tray out of thin air, a cute little party trick that had the desired effect, had Angel’s eyes widen in surprise, and then narrow at her, a little suspicious.
“Are you…”
“Used to be,” Husk replied, before the question could asked, “made a whole lot of dumb decisions to get here powers intact. Barely, anyway. Parlor tricks. Nothing more.”
That seemed to settle Angel, her shoulder dropping back down as she nodded her understanding. One of her hands ducked into her cleavage, and Husk was really just a simple sort of woman, found herself looking perhaps a little too long. It was worth it when Angel laughed, pulled out a pack of cigarettes.
“Where the fuck did that come from?” Husk asked, baffled by the magic of Angel’s fluffy bosom, “that was in there?”
“I keep most of my stuff in there,” Angel opened the pack, slender fingers picking out a cigarette and putting it between her lips, “saves me from bringing a bag.”
“I generally opt for a pocket,” Husk said, her voice trailing off when her eyes fell on Angel’s impossibly short skirt, and then back up to meet the woman’s amused gaze, “no, you know what, you use what you got.”
She summoned a lighter between her fingers, and used it to light Angel’s cigarette for her. The spark of the light reflected in her eyes when she kept looking at Husk.
“It’s the magic of my fluff,” she told Husk, exhaling the smoke away from her before throwing her a smile, leaning forward and squeezing Husk’s hand, “if you’re curious what else is in there, I’ll gladly let you have a look.”
They never made it back to the dance floor.
<3
The back room of the bar wasn’t the most beautiful, especially compared to the elegant interior of the bar itself, but it served its purpose well. There was a small fridge where the staff stashed their meals, a table and some chairs, a door which led to the storage room, and a couch pressed against the wall. Husk had taken many a drunken nap on that couch, the worn pillows all but molded to her body, but she couldn’t be bothered to wait long enough to get her hands on Angel to make it there. So the moment the door fell shut behind them, Husk had Angel up and pinned against the wall, lips smashing together.
She tasted like cheap cigarettes and mint covered with the sweet lingering aftertaste of the Hurricanes, and it should be off putting, Husk thought, but it had the opposite effect on her, made her body rev up like the bike she used to ride when she was alive. It had been a beautiful thing, sleek lines and fresh chrome whenever Husk could afford it, or whenever she flirted her way into the mechanic’s good graces. Husk was a giver, back then, but she knew well enough how to take, would pay her bills with her mouth when her wallet wouldn’t cut the check. She moved her mouth to Angel’s neck and bit down none too gently, kissing it as an apology when Angel gasped and winced with the sting of Husk’s sharp teeth. She lapped at the fur, fragrant with sweat and the unpleasant chemical twang of perfume, and it made her lip curl, a little rumble in her chest as she wanted more, so much more.
“Easy, Kitty cat,” Angel’s voice, breathy and a little rough, though her legs had spread for Husk to press her knee in between and she was grinding against it with just as much eagerness as Husk felt, and so Husk ignored the words and lifted her face back up to catch Angel’s mouth with hers, pushing her back against the wall to hold her there, so Husk could show her exactly how much Kitty Had Claws. Angel was much taller than her, especially in those stupid boots that gave her an extra few inches, but one of those legs came up to curl around Husk’s waist, and her other one was bent generously to stay on Husk’s level. One wrong move, and they’d both slide to the floor — Husk wouldn’t even mind — but Angel seemed comfortable to stay like that, wrapped arms around Husk’s neck and held her close as they kissed like long-lost lovers.
“For the record,” Husk said between those kisses, “I didn’t mean to have sex with you tonight.”
Angel pulled back long enough to give Husk a disbelieving look, and Husk amended her words.
“Okay, listen, I thought about it, of course, but I was going to do this the proper way. Take you on a date, maybe the movies, a kiss after I drop you off at home…”
“Take you home to my parents?” Angel asked, hands fumbling to get Husk’s suspenders off her shoulders as fast as she wanted, “small talk with my mom and my dad showing you the frankly impressive collection of guns just to scare you off,”
“Whatever you want,” Husk breathed, her own hands clumsy, cursing the lack of finesse as she found the zip on Angel’s skirt and couldn’t get it down, so she settled for instead hiking it up around her waist, “exchange recipes with your mom, I have this amazing stew I bet she’d love.”
“You telling me you’re a cook too?” Angel finally flicked the suspenders off Husk’s arms, started on unbuttoning her shirt even as she had two of her hands still on Husk’s waist, and there was a little too much going on for Husk to think about, but then again she wasn’t much thinking at all. Her hands found their way to Angel’s hips, her ass, and as if instructed to do so, Angel hopped up, allowed Husk to hold her up against the wall as she wrapped both legs around Husk’s waist. The spiky points of her heels dug into Husk’s sides, and that shouldn’t be hot, perhaps, but it definitely was.
“A gal needs to take care of herself down here.” Husk mouthed the side of Angel’s jaw, went down her neck again, stuck her nose into the crook of it to inhale deeply. Her clit pulsed so hard it was almost painful. “Don’t get your hopes up, I cook to survive.”
“You stick around, I’ll cook for you,” Angel tilted her head back, bumped into the wall and grunted, then laughed, adjusting two of her arms around Husk’s neck, the other two now having snaked inside her shirt and tugging at the fabric of her undershirt. “You like pasta?”
“Do fish swim?” Husk countered, but her thoughts were neither on fish nor on pasta, rather on how Angel was sitting on her waist and Husk wanted to keep her there but also wanted to throw her on the couch and make her forget her name.
“You want me to carry you to the couch or you wanna walk?”
Angel smiled against her mouth, and tightened her legs for a moment, pulling Husk closer to her. Husk felt the warmth of her through two layers of clothes. “You think you can hold me?”
“With the proper motivation I’m capable of a lot of things,” Husk replied, voice a little breathy. She made a point of proving it right away, settling her hands on Angel’s ass, holding her in place. It was an effort to keep the claws in, hard to not want to dig them in Angel’s fur, as she realized that with the skirt pushed up, there was nothing between Husk’s hands and Angel’s pussy than a thin layer of fabric. So thin, that when Angel shifted in her hold, Husk could feel the lace of it brush against her arm. And it was more than motivation enough to have her carry Angel towards the couch without even so much as wobbling on her feet. Angel provided ample entertainment on the few steps there, pressing kisses on Husk’s lips, her cheeks, nuzzling her face into the fuzz on Husk’s neck, making pleased little sounds all the way.
Husk loved it when her women were vocal.
Angel easily let herself be deposited on the couch, unwrapping her legs at just the right moment for Husk to be able to let go of her comfortably, her head coming to a rest on the edge of the couch.
“You’d think you were a pro at this,” Husk said with a grin, as she joined the other woman on the couch, and Angel laughed. Husk didn’t think it was that funny, but she was happy enough to go along with it, to let Angel pull Husk on top of her.
“Cute,” she told Husk, and before Husk could ask her what about that statement was, she was being pulled in for a kiss, and Angel’s free hands had resumed their previous business of undressing Husk. Usually she liked to do that herself, liked to put on a little bit of a show, pulling off her shirt to reveal her muscular arms — sadly no longer adorned with her cherished tattoo sleeves from when she had been alive, but still quite nice — but Angel didn’t seem to think any showing off was necessary. She managed to get Husk’s shirt off without interrupting the kiss, and tugged the undershirt out of Husk’s trousers just as swiftly, slipping her hands underneath to settle on Husk’s stomach and sides. And Husk wasn’t usually too self-conscious about her body, but she couldn’t deny there was a moment when Angel’s hands sat on her waist, squeezed into a stomach that was as much fur as it was fat, that she tensed a little.
Almost as if she could read her mind, Angel chose that moment to break the kiss to speak up. “You’re so soft,” she said, between soft puffs of breath on Husk’s face, passionfruit flavored muttered sweetness, “the softest I’ve touched in ages. I love it.”
And Husk relaxed.
“Hold on as tight as you want,” she said, bringing up a hand to thumb at Angel’s bottom lip, “anywhere except the ears. I will bite if you grab the ears.”
“That’s not really a deterrent, baby,” Angel said with a laugh, “but point taken. Now please, please will you take off your shirt?”
Husk didn’t need to be told twice. She sat up just enough to shrug the garment off her shoulders, discarding it onto the floor with a carelessness that would make Alastor twitch. She felt exposed for a fleeting second—conscious of the faint, silvered scars that littered her torso from her days as an Overlord, the softness of her belly that she usually kept hidden under waistcoats and tailored shirts. But the moment the fabric hit the floor, Angel was there to chase the insecurity away.
All four of Angel’s hands were on her instantly, a delightful swarm of touch that made Husk’s breath hitch in her throat.
“Fuck, look at you,” Angel breathed, eyes wide and hungry as she took Husk in. “Beautiful.”
She didn’t just look; she worshiped. Two of her hands slid up Husk’s back, nails raking gently through the thick fur along her spine, scratching at that exact itch right between her shoulder blades that Husk could never reach herself. A low, involuntary rumble started up in Husk’s chest — a purr she usually suppressed with liquor and cynicism, but which rattled free now without her permission.
Angel’s other two hands roamed over her front, cupping the weight of her breasts, thumbs teasing the peaks through the fur, before sliding down to grip Husk’s waist with a possessiveness that made Husk’s head spin. Angel didn’t shy away from the softness there; instead, she squeezed it, her fingers digging in as she pulled Husk down so their chests were pressed together.
“You talk too much,” Husk grumbled, but there was no bite in it, especially not when she was melting into the touch, her eyes fluttering shut.
It felt overwhelming in the best possible way. For so long, Husk had been the one holding others up, the one providing the shoulder to cry on or the body to use. To be held like this—to be surrounded by Angel’s limbs, wrapped up in soft white fluff and sweet perfume—felt like drowning in something warm.
Angel kissed the sensitive hollow of her throat, open-mouthed and wet, humming against the vibration of Husk’s purr. “You like that,” she murmured against Husk’s skin, sounding delighted. “I can feel you buzzing, kitty cat.”
“Shut up,” Husk gasped, her head falling back as Angel’s teeth grazed her collarbone.
She let herself be selfish. She let herself rock her hips against Angel’s thigh, chasing the friction. She let herself enjoy the sensation of four hands exploring every inch of her—one hand tangling in her hair, another tracing the line of her spine, a third gripping her hip, a fourth sliding dangerously close to the waistband of her trousers. It was sensory overload, a kaleidoscope of pleasure that made her knees feel weak.
But the more Angel touched her, the more the fire in Husk’s gut turned from a slow burn into a roaring need to give it back. She needed to taste the sound Angel was making. She needed to be the reason Angel fell apart.
Husk caught Angel’s face in her hands, interrupting the trail of kisses down her chest to drag her into a deep, searing kiss. It was messy and desperate, teeth clacking, tongues sliding together. Then, with a groan of effort and reluctance to leave the warmth of Angel’s arms, Husk pulled back.
“My turn,” she rasped.
She gripped Angel’s thighs, parting them further as she pushes Angel on her back, the woman laughing as she allowed herself to be handled. Husk immediately missed the hands on her, but she was rewarded with one of them slipping into the fur on the top of her head as she used both her hands to hike up Angel’s skirt, revealing a lacy pair of bright pink panties. It was but a tiny patch of fabric covering her pussy, and Husk couldn’t wait to lap at it. She bent down to nose at it first, ran a gentle line up against the fabric, feeling out the shape of Angel before she went further, familiarizing herself with the feel of the beautiful woman, the smell of her arousal, the heat between her legs.
The grip on her fur had turned into petting—gentle, rhythmic, and detached. It wasn’t unpleasant, but it definitely lacked the sort of hungry spirit that Husk expected from her bed partners right before she went down on them. It felt... automatic.
So she lifted her head for a moment to look at Angel, pressing a grounding kiss against her thigh before looking up to meet her eyes.
“Does this feel good?”
“Hmm, yeah, baby, it feels good,” Angel said, meeting her eyes with a smile pasted on her beautiful lips, the previously pristine gloss smudged slightly into the fur on the cheeks. But the smile was a little pinched, and when Husk took a moment to drag herself out of her haze of arousal, she noticed that the couch was too small for Angel’s lanky frame, her legs and arms all cramped as Husk had pushed her against the armrest, the wood of it digging into her neck.
“You’re uncomfortable,” Husk said, pushing herself on her knees and reaching to help Angel sit up a little more straight, “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize, you can…”
“Don’t stop,” Angel said quickly, “I don’t mind, I can handle it.”
Husk blinked down at her, the flush on Angel’s cheek and her eyes wide and anxious, as if she was terrified Husk was going to get up and leave because she spoke up. A ridiculous thought, because Alastor herself could have come in with a broom and smacked Husk over the head with it and she would still have found a way to get her head between Angel’s legs. So she just smiled, and leaned in to press a kiss against Angel’s lips, before she got to up from the couch and gently pushed at Angel’s shoulders, urging her to lean against the back of the couch instead, a more logical position that left all of her arms free and had her legs stretched out in front of her. Husk kicked the little side table with her foot, and the cups on top of it rattled dangerously as it slid away, leaving the space in front of the couch free. Angel just watched her, looking a little dazed by the adjustment. Husk took the moment to lift her arms over her head, stretched to show off the muscle hiding underneath the fluff, and then threw Angel a playful, wicked grin, “You just sit back, gorgeous, let me get on my knees for you.”
Angel made a helpless little sound that Husk would definitely be replaying in private.
Husk sank to the floor, the worn rug rough against her knees, but she hardly noticed. Her attention was entirely focused on the view in front of her: Angel, spread out and flushed, the bright whites and pinks of her fur glowing in the dim light of the backroom. Husk didn’t rush. She reached out, running her hands from Angel’s ankles all the way up to her knees, gently parting them further until they draped over Husk’s shoulders.
“That’s it,” Husk murmured, her voice dropping into a low, rumbling purr that vibrated in her chest. “You don’t do a thing. You just feel this.”
She leaned forward, burying her face against the soft inner thigh, inhaling the scent of her—sugar, sweat, and something inherently musky that made Husk’s pupils blow wide. When she finally closed the distance, pressing a kiss to the wet heat soaking the lace, Angel’s hips bucked instinctively, a reflex to meet the touch.
Husk’s hands tightened on Angel’s thighs, anchoring her. “I’ve got you.”
She nudged the fabric aside—Husk had no patience left for stripping it off completely—and tasted her. The sensation was electric. Husk’s tongue, naturally rough, dragged a sharp gasp out of Angel that sounded nothing like the practiced moans she’d given earlier. It was a sharp, shocked noise, real and unpolished.
“Fuck—Husk,” Angel choked out, her upper hands gripping the back of the couch while her lower hands found their way into Husk’s hair, fingers tangling in the fur.
Husk didn’t let up. She worked with a steady, worshiping rhythm, treating Angel not like a quick lay in a bar, but like a meal she had been starving for. She used the roughness of her tongue to her advantage, teasing the most sensitive bundle of nerves until Angel was shaking, her long legs trembling against Husk’s shoulders.
“So good,” Husk mumbled against her skin, the vibration of her purr humming directly against Angel’s center. “You taste so damn good.”
“Husk, wait, I’m gonna—” Angel’s voice pitched up, frantic, her grip in Husk’s hair tightening to the point of pain, but Husk only leaned into it.
“Let go,” Husk ordered in between laps of of her tongue, not stopping, increasing the pressure, the speed. “Come for me, Angel. Let go.”
And Angel did. She came with a ragged cry that had no melody to it, her body bowing off the couch as she unraveled completely. She clamped her thighs around Husk’s head, trapping her there, and Husk stayed right where she was, drinking down every shudder and whimper until Angel finally collapsed back against the cushions, boneless and panting for air.
Husk then moved to press kisses against her thighs, nipped and licked and kissed until Angel started shifting again, giggles and hums of pleasure alternating until she seemed to grow impatient and she pushed herself up. Two hands lashed out and grabbed for Husk, fingers tangling easily in the long fur. Husk laughed at the insistent tug that followed, and pressed herself up to go wherever Angel deemed fit.
Outside in the bar, the jukebox played on, but neither of them would be able to tell what songs passed by.
<3
“I… Listen, I’m not usually… I don’t really do dating,” Angel told her, when she had pulled herself up from the couch and managed to get her clothes back in some semblance of decent. To Husk’s delight her shirt was a lost cause, wrinkled and with four little punctures on the side where Husk had gotten too eager undressing her, her nails peeking through the fabric. “But I… I’m not saying date me, because fuck that’s a lot, and I can’t, but I’m saying we could…”
“I was serious about that date,” Husk interrupted her, sitting back on the couch and starting to button her shirt again, just as wrinkled as Angel’s and with a large smear of pink lipstick on the breast pocket, “You like the movies? Dinner?”
Angel’s face split into a smile again, and now that Husk had seen them up close, she could see the little eyes all individually fluttering with her excitement. “Love both,” she said, “but my treat.”
Husk wrinkled her nose. “I like treating,”
“I like feeling equal on a date,” Angel snipped back, “so my treat.” Her words bore a clear underlying meaning Husk couldn’t understand, and so she just nodded.
“Alright. Your treat.”
“Alright.”
Angel ran a hand through her hair, settling it back into place. Then she moved forward, settled herself on Husk’s lap to help her button her shirt. “As much as it pains me to see you be covered up,” she said, “I really have to go to work.”
Husk groaned. “At five in the morning?”
“Gotta be in by eight, and I’d like to try and at least shower at home,” Angel told her, though then she paused to meet Husk’s gaze and give her a little amused expression, “Think of you while I do it.”
If Husk hadn’t been properly spent, those words probably would have managed to light her fire all over again.
Angel kissed her one last time before she got to her feet, turned around and walked through the door. Husk took a few more minutes of getting herself together, and then did the same, walking into the bar again. Joanie had closed the door at five on the dot, probably chased out the last patrons with the promise of the café next door being open for coffee, and she sat at the bar, cash register pulled open and piles of bills on the counter. Angel was long gone.
“So much for supervising me,” Joanie quipped, when Husk slid in the seat next to her, “Left me all to myself and I can’t even be mad.”
Husk couldn’t help the smirk that crept up her face. “She’s amazing. That was amazing.”
Joanie snorted. “Obviously. You still have no clue who she is, huh?”
“She said the same thing,” Husk mused, “so indulge me, who is she? Why do you know her?”
Instead of saying something, Joanie simply grabbed the pack of Valboro cigarettes that Angel had left on the bar, sliding it over to Husk. Husk took it, and went to open it to grab herself a smoke, when she noticed the picture on the back of it. She turned it into the light to see a picture of Angel, dressed in the tiniest bikini known to hellkind, seductively straddling a life-sized cigarette, a little speech bubble next to her that said “smoking hot”. Underneath the picture it had a print of a lipstick kiss and the name Angel Dust.
“Hell’s greatest porn star,” Joanie said, tapping the cigarette pack when Husk was just blinking down at it, “lucky bitch.”
“Huh,” Husk said, intelligently, lifting the pack closer to her as if she could somehow confirm if this was really Angel. There was no denying it, because Husk did just have those legs wrapped around her neck twenty minutes earlier. She had held on to those hands. She had kissed that perfect mouth. “That’s crazy.”
“Only you could fuck a porn star and not know who she is,” Joanie said, shaking her head, and got up to pour them both a drink, “Christ’s sake, Husk.”
“I’ll do you one better than fucking her,” Husk said, lighting herself a cigarette and grabbing one of the pile of bills Joanie had put on the bar so she could help her count, “I’m taking her on a date.”
Joanie spilled some of the whiskey on the table, and Husk laughed.
When Alastor came in an hour later, she barely took a look at Husk before letting out a sigh of irritation. “Please go home and shower,” she told her, “you reek of sex. Why are you always having sex in my bar?”
“It’s where the women are,” Husk shot back easily, “Let me get you a coffee and I’ll fuck off.”
Alastor didn’t argue, but she did give Husk a disapproving look as she slid behind the bar to get the coffee machine started. Husk ignored it in favor of pouring out the beans and starting the grinder, measuring out the right amount of water to fill up the machine.
Joanie was catching Alastor up on the night’s income, the visitors, handed her the numbers of the women who had been looking for her. Alastor’s face was pleased when she flicked through the cards, tucking them away in her purse before giving Joanie a pat on the cheek.
“Well done,” she crooned, “I knew I made a good choice keeping you around.”
The sound Joanie made was somewhere between pleased and embarrassed, and Husk couldn’t help shooting her an amused look as she took out two mugs, and also pulled her own reusable mug from the rack so she could take it home before crashing in bed for at least six hours. Her skin was buzzing with exhaustion, the last drink she’d shared with Joanie tugging at her senses, but her heart felt lighter than it ever had.
It wasn’t until she fell into bed and her eyes were falling shut, that she realized she had never even gotten Angel’s phone number.