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Angel worked in an environment where the language of touch was violated. Everything he knew was non-consensual and cruel, and whether it was two hands or six, they were never nice or soft or gentle.
The more people Val had him fucked by, the more he understood that he wasn’t someone they respected enough to touch him with any kind of decency. This often made his body confused, confused between a playful elbow to the side or a slap against the face, the feeling of skin against his brought back too many vain memories.
Which sucked. It really did, because Angel’s love language was touch and he forgot how to properly show it. Boundaries were all fuzzy and dull, and it was hard to learn that he had fallen completely.
Until Husk came along. He hated when Angel touched him, which made him angry. Who wouldn’t want someone like him? Wasn’t he enticing enough? Could he only be touched with such intimacy inside a studio?
Husk taught him what boundaries were, helping him push through dark memories and learn that “No” was a word he could use. Not that Val considered it part of his diction, but it was important to have that for himself—to realize what he liked and what he didn’t.
So as they grew closer, those proposed boundaries lowered a bit, instead of walls, they were precautionary fences that were “just in case”. Because with Husk, Angel realized he loved physical touch as much as he did, he just needed to be comfortable first. Angel couldn’t see that before because he was never asked if he was comfortable, he never thought to ask someone else.
It was like some unspoken circumstance between the two of them, they both weren’t ready for a relationship but they loved and respected each other–so much even, they couldn’t keep their hands to themselves.
It started out with simple playful touches, a pat on the back or a simple brush of Husk’s wings. Fighting over the bottle of alcohol at midnight while helplessly falling over one another, or the brush of hands when Angel gets catcalled in the street.
It wasn’t long until both of them longed for full embraces, totally encapsulated in the way time would slow and swell in the moments that they touched. A pulsing fire would start from Angel’s skin, akin to fireworks they would burn and fizzle in his stomach. He was balancing on said boundaries, tiptoeing across the line, hoping Husk would accept him. Because really, he just wanted that physical touch that made him feel warm and soft and he couldn’t get that at the studio, Val’s hands were much too cold and his own were tired of carrying himself through life.
So then they were sitting next to each other at a bar table, surrounded by their friends at a night out and their hands would find each other's on the leather seat and neither of them would pull away. Angel felt himself float, infatuated with the hope that Husk felt something, anything for him, and would continue to grant him this comfort.
Angel just wanted it to last. And it did.
Husk let him drape his arm around his shoulder and pull him into a flirty side hug. And outside on the streets or relaxing in the front lobby, Angel found that Husk’s wings began to fall over him impulsively, keeping him close and keeping the cruelness of hell away from the both of them.
It was more often than most Husk and Angel would be the last to go to sleep, mostly because Angel got back so late–yet Husk was always waiting for him when he got home. On those nights where Angel was too tired to walk up the stairs just yet, Husk would sit him down at the couches and hand him a cold glass of whiskey. They’d talk until Angel’s voice was low and tired, and real.
Husk would let him lie his head in his lap, stare up at him until Husk turned on something on the TV with a flushed face. Husk’s fingers would settle onto his head, threading through the fur with gentle fingers through the matted clumps. Angel curled up on his side and sometimes, when Husk thought he fell asleep, a hand would find his shoulder and roll small circles into his freckles.
So couch cuddles were a thing, who could blame them? It would be dark, the TV casting an illuminating light that danced with the figures on the screen onto the hotel’s residents. Vaggie and Charlie were huddled on the ground near the TV, sitting on a blanket and sharing a popcorn bowl. Nifty was sleeping soundly on the large chair she had taken all for herself and Sir Pentious was hiding under a mound of blankets.
Movie nights were fun, Angel had to practically drag Husk away from the bar–yet when Angel told him he could pick the movie he was much more compliant. Angel would sit down on the opposite side of the couch but he’d end up closer at every jumpscare, and at every jumpscare Husk would shoot Angel an unimpressed look as he shook the whole couch with his flinches.
“Why’d it have to be a horror movie?” Angel scoured, leaning towards Husk until his side was pressed up against his arm. His wings moved to accommodate him.
“Why? Are you scared?” Husk grinned, his nose twitching with amusement.
Angel glared at him and slouched back into the couch, refusing to admit to his somewhat-afraid state.
When the next jumpscare happened the scene exploded with blood and Angel’s shoulder’s winced sharply, he instinctively reached for the closest thing to him, which happened to be Husk’s arm.
He heard Husk laugh lowly in his ear and it sent a thrill shiver down his spine. He still turned halfway around to stick out his tongue and say, “You’re an asshole,”
Angel expected a rebuttal but he just laughed again. Angel elbowed him in his side, pulling his arm closer to his chest, refusing to let go if he was going to be petty.
Now that Angel was practically leaning into his side, holding his arm to his chest and completely engrossed with the movie, he would’ve probably punched Husk if he were to be scared again, that’s why Angel guesses Husk put his hand over his eyes before Vaggie and Charlie began to scream.
Angel huffed, pulling down two of his fingers so he could see out of one of his eyes; he winced.
“You’ve already seen this movie,” Angel concluded on the fact that Husk knew when everything was going to happen.
“Yeah,” Husk shrugged, leaning his mouth to rest against Angel’s head. “I hate horror movies too,” He confessed, and every word reverberated against Angel’s skull, Angel relished in the warmth. He was surrounded by pure Husk, his whiskey breath and his tough fur, his silky wings and his low voice, and he couldn’t be fuckin’ happier.
Angel clung onto the hand over his eyes for the rest of the movie, turning his head towards Husk’s chest as the scenes became more violent. But it wasn’t all bad, Angel became infatuated with Husk’s close presence, he never wanted him to let him go. Was that selfish? To need someone as badly as he needs Husk?
He didn’t want to think of touch as something that he received because he was broken, he wanted to receive it because he was alive. (Kinda) He wanted to see it as a reminder that he could still love with his body, with his hands and his mouth, but without the darkness and crudeness that usually came with it.
He wanted to relish in hugs and cuddles and sensual touches. He wanted to prove he was okay. That he wasn’t some kind of monster that didn’t know how to love without stripping and sucking and moaning. He wanted to teach his body how to accept love, the real kind.
Not that he was going to tell Husk that.
But Husk didn’t seem to mind. He’d come recline in his room and listen to him talk and complain and rant about his favorite things in hell, he just refrains from mentioning the real cause of his recent happiness.
On quiet nights, where it’s just them, they like to be close to one another. Sitting on the bed with their knees touching and speaking with quiet voices and quiet touches. Nothing that said anything too loudly.
“Pick something sexy,” Angel spoke, a teasing flutter on the edge of his voice.
Husk looked over his shoulder, claws clinking against nail polish bottles, humming over the colors.
Angel’s room was an explosion of femininity, which shouldn’t be a surprise to those who knew him, but it served as a safe-place for Angel after days of being called a slut for wearing what he does, in hell of all places. The vanity mirror bursted with glowing bulbs that casted light upon his makeup pallets and unsorted jewelry on his desk.
The pink bed sheets were messied from this morning where Angel was struggling to get himself up and out the door to go to the studio, but Angel had forgotten all about that now. Now after Husk quizzed him about all the posters he had on his wall and inquired about the smiling people in pictures.
He never seemed to have a problem with Angel’s femininity or sexuality, not when Angel was kicking forgotten lingerie that he had left on the ground into the closet or when he asked him to paint his nails. Husk was just fine with the way pink was so consumingly prominent in his room or how his clothes barely covered his fur. It made him feel seen. His interests and his hobbies are what made him, him. Not his job.
And if he knew anything about Husk, it was that he would voice his boundaries if Angel were to infringe on any of them. That made Angel feel safe. He hadn’t messed this up with him. Not yet.
Husk returned to the bed with a bottle of black nail polish and Angel raised an annoyed eyebrow, “Seriously?”
“Hey, you said something sexy,” Husk said, and it kicked Angel’s whole persona back in his face. Husk flirting was a new thing, and while appreciated, it was totally jarring. “Plus,” He twisted off the top, “This is payback,”
Husk wiggled his fingers where the remnants of pink nail polish clung to his claws. That was an interesting day, Husk probably got more compliments than he’s ever known.
“Fine,” Angel couldn’t help but smile, as Husk got comfortable in front of Angel, ruffling his wings as he picked up his hand from his lap. He stared at his long ungloved fingers for a moment before even attempting to apply the nail polish, when he finally did, Angel made sure to say, “Don’t mess up,”
“Shut. The. Fuck. Up.” Husk growled, pulling his hand closer to his face as he carefully painted his fingernail.
Angel snorted, letting his hand go still and Husk’s and reached over with his other two hands to pluck Husk’s hat off his head and set it on his own. Husk lifted his eyes for a moment, pupils dilated and Angel looked to the side, modeling the new accessory.
“What? Do you want me to compliment you?” He smirked, looking back down at his task at hand.
“It would be nice,” Angel smiled back, his voice rasping as he lifted a hand to smooth a tuft of unsettled fur on top of Husk’s head.
“You already know how beautiful you are, why do I have to tell you?” Husk said without looking at him, trading a hand for the next one. Annoyingly, he didn’t even react to the way Angel went silent, his bottom set of arms crossing over his abdomen.
“Because you’re my friend…and you loveee to tell me how I can get anything I want with this pretty face,” He counters, watching as Husk just continues to focus on his hands.
Husk glances up, “The hat counteracts that, baby,”
“Is it really that bad?” Angel grimaces.
Husk purses his lips, whiskers twitching, an obvious tell.
“You’re a fucking liar!” Angel huffs, pushing back his hair that escapes the hat on his head, “I look fucking good and you know it Husky,”
“Whatever,” Husk bites down on a smile and Angel rolls his eyes. His nails eventually get “finished” with enough nail polish on his fingers instead of his nail’s to fill a whole bottle.
Angel splays his hands out in front of him, admiring the effort while Husk lets his head drop in his hands. He was somewhat displeased that he didn’t get to see the blush that traveled over his nose and cheeks, but he’d see it again, it happened frequently whenever he was with Angel.
“You did a great job,” Angel praised, standing up from the bed moving to put the nail polish back in his drawer. “Y’know what we should do?” He turned around, leaning up against the desk after shutting the drawer with his hip.
Husk lifted his head, his wings pressing towards his body like it was an extension of his brain. His eyes were gratuitous towards his body, skipping over his long legs that were mostly bare to his short skirt and his even shorter shirt that was so sheer, the hearts that encircled his titfluff were visible.
The look Husk gave didn’t feel dangerous. He was dressing for him after all, he wasn’t going anywhere else tonight and although he knew Husk didn’t need to see every curve and crevice of his body to hang out with him, it was part of his machinery he supposes.
He doesn’t think it’s bad though. This wasn’t one of those times where he got all nicely dressed just for it to be ripped off his body by strangers, for his body to be attacked and consumed like a damn sex object.
He got nicely dressed with no intention of taking it off to please someone else, but knowing Husk was at least physically attracted to him was something he needed to find out. Could this work? Or were they just losing themselves in each other because they had no one else?
Husk’s trailing gaze was anything but predatory, soft and admirable all at once. It was like Husk was a step away from kneeling in front of him and worshiping his body like it was not an object, but Angel. Not two separate things that could be ripped apart and sewn back together in the span of a few hours, which was what he had to endure every moment without Husk by his side–because he saw him as a whole person. Not just a person with a hole.
“What?” Husk said, his eyes giving equal acclaim to his face.
“We should dance again,” Angel shrugged, pulling on the sides of Husk’s hat that fit on his head. “Like that one night,”
Husk tilted his head towards him, thinking for a moment before smiling, “Okay,”
“Wait really?” Angel grinned, turning towards his CD player to pop in one of his favorite discs but Husk was quick to slide up to his side.
“None of that bullcrap,” He chittered, “Let me pick something out,”
“Hey, what are you calling bullcrap?” Angel leaned down, scrunching his nose in front of Husk’s unconcerned expression.
“Your music taste is shit Angel, let’s admit it,” He teased, reaching forward past Angel’s mock offended face. He picked something unfamiliar out of Angel’s basket of CD’s and pressed play.
The steady thrum of a beat began to play and with it a fresh respect for Husk’s knowledge about music. He wouldn’t say that though.
“Dance with me, will you? Mr. knows everything about everything,” Angel held out a hand, a fiercely flirtatious look planting itself on his face.
Husk hummed, “Just don’t get nail polish on me,” and took his hand.
And they danced. They danced over discarded clothes and gifted sex toys, spare undergarments and playing cards. Over nail polish stains and coffee spills; over empty vodka bottles and his degeneration.
Somewhere along the way, as Husk spun him–despite being several feet shorter–as he danced across his room with his hands totally encompassed in Husks, he found that line, the one he wasn’t supposed to cross and stepped right over it.
He was infatuated, he couldn’t resist his deep eyes and soft hands that cared for him more than anyone ever did.
The two of them danced until their feet were sore, until Husk was laughing at the way Angel was tripping over his own feet and Angel was getting drunk on that laughter. He sat down and Angel still danced, throwing his hands over his head and singing along loudly to the music as Husk marveled at him.
His breath was high in his chest and his body was spinning and flowing to the beat when it screeched to a stop. The room’s light flickered off and the CD player went quiet. The room was swallowed by the night and the single window that was open let in the moonlight to trace the shadows.
Angel sighed, skipping over to the CD player, he kneeled up on the chair Husk was sitting on, straddling his hips as he reached over him to the desk to release the CD. “Are you fucking kidding me?” He asked no one in particular, it was probably another Vox bitch fight that ended in power outage.
Angel settled back, only realizing now that he was sitting on Husk’s thighs, staring down at his wide eyes. But not wide like he was surprised, no he–he was watching him like he was the sun himself. Holy Lucifer. He wanted to believe Husk wanted him as much as he did.
Husk’s hands traveled up his legs, settling at his hips and that kept Angel from going anywhere at all. Kept his mind cemented on that feeling, on that touch.
“What are you doing?” He asked deeply, a question pulled from his lungs and Angel choked on his answer.
“I—I was just,” Angel didn’t know what to do, he was stuck in a fever that had had his mind racing and screaming for answers. He didn’t get one. So he laughed and let his head fall into Husk’s shoulder. Husk’s hands crawled up his back and held him to his chest.
Angel thought he was safe, but those lines began to blur to a dangerous level.
Not dangerous like rope burns and like walking home from the studio with a limp, but dangerous like ignoring feelings until they build up and burst. Explosions can be deadly. Dangerous like Husk laying on top of Angel’s lithe body, his hands encircling his middle as he nuzzles his head further into the thick fur at his chest. Borderline purring at the way Angel’s three arms hold him close, gentle fingers tracing down his wings to keep drawing the sound from his throat. He was obsessed with the way it traveled between their chests, melding with the beat of Angel’s heart as he reveled in the heavy weight under him, his fingers scratching dully at his fur.
One of Angel’s hands was busy scrolling through text messages, he could tell by the slight buzz that would come every few minutes, the way he could feel Angel’s face twitch with discomfort. Husk held him closer, knowing what exactly was coming. He didn’t know what this was, between them, but he didn’t want to lose it. Not right now with a chain around his neck and a sour hole in his stomach from alcoholism and insecurity.
“Husky,” Angel said, a hand slipping closer to his ears to scratch behind them. “I gotta go,”
Husk couldn’t be angry, he couldn’t keep Angel from his job but sometimes he wished he could…spare a few minutes in the moments where hell faded away and it was just them. No rules or labels or fuck else.
“No,” He refused shortly, breathing in Angel’s scent of fresh body wash knowing it would be tarnished with hateful strangers by the time he returned. He was comfortable right here, in Angel’s arms where they were equals, fucked up just the same. Plus, this was the best place for Husk to sleep, right against the soft fur that pillowly protruded from Angel’s chest, the sound of his heart steady underneath his ears.
“Baby,” Angel groaned halfheartedly, “Val’s only going to make it worse for me if I–”
“If you’re late, I know,” Husk sighed, rolling off Angel’s body he wanted for himself. Unfortunately, and ironically, that was entirely impossible.
Angel slid off the bed and Husk propped himself on his side, watching as he waltzed to his closet. He was the most beautiful demon he ever did see, and his big sweet eyes he gives him when he turns ‘round, has Husk wanting to stand up and scream. What were they? Was he just someone he could lie with and flirt with and then leave? Did he feel anything for him, seriously? He needed to know.
There was no shame in Angel’s work, or the way he stripped all his clothes in front of Husk, so was there any shame in being with someone like him? Husk, had to admit, he was sad to see the oversized shirt go. Angel seemed more comfortable in it than the crop-top he was pulling on that exposed the majority of his abdomen, but paired with the pink fishnets and the hotter pink skirt he completely sold the outfit to Husk. Not that it mattered much to him, he’d find Angel gorgeous in anything at all.
Angel pulled on his boots, hopping on one foot towards the bed before he jumped up on it to see himself in the mirror.
“How do I look?” he asked, his breath faltering ever so slightly, and when Husk looked in the mirror he found that a frown was beginning to take over Angel’s face. How he longed to be in his mind.
He leaned up so he could brace himself on one of Angel’s long legs, drawing a finger up the inside of his calf and pressing a kiss to the side of his knee, “Heavenly as always,”
Their eyes met in the mirror and Angel’s frown immediately dissipated, replaced instead by a steady smile, a dusting of pink on his freckles.
“Although,” Husk squinted, “Your lipstick is a bit smudged,” Husk was desperate to get under his skin, breathe him in; and Angel only scarcely wears lipstick when he needs it to feel confident so picking at it was certainly one way in.
“Shut up,” Angel groaned, turning towards him instead of closer to the mirror and wiping at the sides of his lips.
“Just C’mere,” Husk laughed, beckoning him closer. Angel obeyed, sitting down all too close to Husk and tilting his head towards him. Husk reached out with his thumb and dragged it across the side of Angel’s mouth, smearing pink lipstick before it slid onto his bottom lip.
Angel breathed heavily, warming the tip of Husk’s finger as it stalled on his lip and Angel’s mouth fell open slightly.
Husk met his eyes and time was doing that funny thing again, slowing down around the two of them so they could only rely on their actions right here, right now.
Angel’s eyes blinked down to Husk’s lips and Husk felt the dream-like sensation of falling as he pulled Angel’s face towards his and they kissed with crashing desperation.
Angel was quick to cradle Husk’s face with his hands, kissing him with practiced passion. And Husk had never wanted anything more than to feed into his desire but–
He set his hands on Angel’s shoulder and guided him away. He felt his heart pulse and panic as Angel’s face fell, eyes widening with concern like he had broken some law or boundary.
“What are we?” Husk asked immediately, the faster he got an answer, the quicker he could wipe that horrific emotion off of Angel’s face.
“What?” Angel questioned, scooting backwards until he sat near the edge of the bed. His hand came up, fixing his hair and patting around his lips to fix his makeup in embarrassment. So Husk reached out and took his hand, folding it in his own.
“What are we, Angel? Are you—Do you like me? Or is this one of those things we aren’t going to talk about?” Husk asked, a thick feeling of shame eating through his burning lungs.
“I–” He blinked like he was having difficulty seeing Husk, even as he sat right in front of him, “Of course I like you,”
Waves crashed, floods of relief washing away fear. “You do?”
“Yes,” Angel furrowed his eyebrows, another one of his hands coming to hold onto Husks. “I didn’t know how to say it, I don’t want to mess anything up,”
“You could never mess things up with me, legs,” Husk smiled, “You know that,” He lifted their pile of intertwined hands to his lips, kissing a promise into his skin.
“I really like you,” he giggled, half-breathless, “But I’ve never really done this before,”
“It’s okay,” Husk nodded, encouraging, “We’ll figure it out together,”
Angel smiled that beautiful smile and Husk couldn’t help but lean in and kiss him again. And Again. And Again. And until Angel was telling him they could talk when he got home, and he was scurrying out the door and leaving him dazed on his bed.
But this time, he knew he’d be back.
And when he looked in the mirror, pink lipstick was smeared all over his lips. What a fucking gorgeous mess, his gorgeous mess.