Work Text:
🎨🎨🎨
Angel stared at the piece of sketch paper in front of him, practically burning holes into it as his pencil hovering above it. He was willing himself to put the pencil down, to scratch out a line of pewter gray across the white paper, or even just put down a dot. Something. Anything to mark the sheet. He tried to force it but that only resulted in his hand starting to shake the closer it moved.
Nothing.
“Goddammit,” Angel whispered to himself, yanking his hand back and throwing his pencil across his dressing room, letting it bounce off the pink walls and land somewhere with a clatter as he crossed his top arms on his vanity and dropping his head on top of them. Tears welled up in the corners of his main eyes, threatening to roll down his cheek and stain the open sketchbook.
Well, at least that way he’d actually be making something. But if cried, he might ruin some of his makeup, and he didn’t want to re-apply shit right now, so he closed his eyes and sighed heavily.
There was a knock on his door that interrupted his self-loathing before it could really get started. “Ten minutes, Mister Dust,” called out some assistant Angel didn’t know the name of, and didn’t bother waiting around for him to answer that he’d heard them. They both knew what would happen if Angel was late back to set.
The ten minute warning told Angel that in the last fifty minutes, all he’d managed to do was snort a line, eat a fast lunch of some chips and a stale sandwich he’d grabbed from craft services just so he could quiet his grumbling belly, and smoke a cigarette. All of that had taken less than twenty minutes, which meant that for the last thirty minutes, he’d been staring at this stupid piece of paper trying to draw.
And the paper was still hauntingly blank.
Sighing heavily again, Angel pushed himself up, hands resting on either side of the sketchbook as he stared at himself in the vanity mirror, not bothering to smile at his reflection. If anyone besides him looked beyond his styled hair and his artfully applied makeup, they would be able to tell that he looked weary as he felt. Not anyone really did. Why should they when he was usually half naked or more and they didn’t even bother looking at any obvious bruises left behind by rough coworkers or Valentino.
This, though, was a bruise that no one could see, and that he kept pressing against whenever he had a moment of quiet. Days had been running together, as they had for ages, but now the one thing he had to help keep him sane was gone. He couldn’t draw. Couldn’t even draw a fucking line without his hand shaking.
“Goddammit,” Angel hissed, sharp nails dragging across the top of the vanity. Why? Why wasn’t he allowed to have this one thing? He’d lost his love of being filmed and adored, his love of Valentino, his fucking soul. Why did he have to lose his love of art too?
It was Hell, he reminded himself. He wasn’t allowed to be happy for long.
Huffing, Angel pushed himself up and snatched up his sketchbook, flipping through the pages aggressively. The front of the book had a few drawings that he’d been proud of at the time, even tried out some new colored pencils that were brand new at the time, but now they looked like trash to him. And as he went further into the book, he could see the sketches and doodles he did get progressively worse, not even bothering to add color to them, until he’d hadn’t bothered to do more than sketches, and then fully started scratching them out. He kept flipping until he reached the blank page he’d been staring at for thirty minutes. The page that’d been mocking him for over a month now.
Gripping the edges of the sketchbook so tightly the edges would never be the same, Angel was tempted to toss the whole thing into the trash so he could stop torturing himself with it. Just give up trying and move on. But by the time the second knock on the door came to warn him he only had two minutes left, he was still holding it tight as a lifeline.
Sighing, shoulders falling, Angel closed the sketchbook with an audible snap and stomped over to his backpack, sliding it back inside, before he turned to his mirror to give himself a once over. For a brief moment, he still looked tired, so done with the life he’d made for himself in this waste land that was now his eternity. Then Angel put on a smile, cocked his hip and put his lower hands on them while his upper hands pushed up his chest and his fluff. The transformation from exhausted porn star to a beauty in his favorite pink robe, which hugged every inch of his curves to show them off, was so smooth that Angel almost believed it himself.
Almost.
Still, Angel lifted his chin and sashayed to the door, opening it just as the nameless assistant was getting ready to knock again, clear panic in their eyes. They didn’t want to be the one to tell Valentino that Angel wasn’t coming. “Yeah, yeah, I’m comin’,” Angel said as he strode past them, his robe fluttering behind him like a pair of wings as it barely concealed his lower half.
On the main floor of the studio, Valentino was in his chair, half hidden in the darkness off the set while he smoked one of his cigarettes, complete with an old fashioned opera cigarette holder and the end glowing bright red-pink, but Angel could still feel his eyes on him as he stepped into the bright lights. “Amorcitro,” Valentino purred, and Angel wasn’t sure if it was a simple greeting or a warning as he leaned more into the light. “You were almost late.”
“Sorry, Val,” smiled Angel at him in apology, feeling how stiff it was the moment it left his lips, and sweetened the apology by shrugging off his robe, an assistant barely making it in time to catch it before it hit the floor. Showing off his curvy hips that descended into thick thighs that men begged for him to wrap around them, and back up to a chest that was made even more prominent with the fluff that he took careful care of. This was the body that made him famous, and he loved it, and he knew Valentino loved it too even if he didn’t love him anymore.
“Mm.” Leaning back in his seat, Valentino crooked a finger at Angel. “Come here, baby.”
There was a moment where Angel felt dangerously vulnerable with only his boots on and not a lick of clothing, even as he did what he was told and went to Valentino with a sway of his hips and a flirtatious smile. Valentino had been on edge all day, and though nothing had come from it yet, Angel was worried that one wrong word or action from him would tip Valentino in the wrong direction and earn him a slap hard enough to send him to the ground. He knew how that felt from plenty of personal experience.
It didn’t matter that he was surrounded by a full crew and whatever guys were supposed to fuck him today - if Valentino wanted to say a cruel word or smack him around, he would do it without even a moment of hesitation, and no one would say a damn word about it.
So he fluttered his eyelashes and purred as sweetly as he could, “Yes, Daddy?” even though his heart was starting to pound so hard he could feel it in his head.
“Come here.” While Angel had been distracted by his headache, Valentino had grabbed him by the wrist and yanked him closer, until he almost fell face first into his lap. Angel held back a hiss of pain at the tight grip on his wrist, but he didn’t say a word, just looked up at Valentino and waited for whatever his ex wanted to do with him.
Taking his cigarette from his mouth, Valentino blew a slow plume of reddish pink smoke right into Angel’s face, and he tried not to cough at the sudden onslaught, surrounded by the smell of overly sweet cherries. The drug that was infused in it made him almost instantly woozy, especially after barely eating lunch and an already long day, but he tried to stay steady on his feet. “Val…”
“There you are, amorcito,” purred Valentino, releasing his grip on Angel’s wrist and instead stroking his cheek, which Angel couldn’t help but want to lean up into. Now he actually wanted to crawl into Valentino’s lap. “You were so tense. But you just needed your daddy to help you relax, mm?”
Nodding drowsily, Angel didn’t resist as Valentino cupped his chin and drew him closer for a kiss, didn’t even flinch as his ex’s tongue swiped over his lips before pushing past them to invade his mouth so he could push more of his drugged spit onto him. Instead, he whined and opened his mouth further, their tongues meeting. Maybe Valentino was right and this was what he needed. He’d been so tense lately…
After a minute of sloppily making out, Valentino pulled back and let Angel go. “Good boy,” he said with a grin as Angel straightened with a wobble, and even gave Angel’s hip a pat. “Now, get in front of the cameras and make Daddy proud, mm?” Despite it being phrased as a question, Angel and everyone else knew what would happen if Angel didn’t give his best. As if he didn’t already try.
“Yes, Valentino,” said Angel with a dreamy smile, already feeling on cloud nine, ignoring the thought of how he would feel once the drugs wore off and he was dropped all the way back down to the unforgiving ground. “I’ll do my best.”
🎨🎨🎨
Groaning as he sat at his tiny kitchen table, Angel put a hand to his head, squeezing his eyes shut as he breathed in the smell of the coffee sitting in front of him that he had yet to touch, cream swirling through the black to turn it a warmer brown. Yesterday had been a long day of filming that went late into the night, and he’d come straight home afterwards, ignoring Valentino’s attempts to get him to come back to the tower for some fun, and had fallen into his bed with the intent to crash at least ten hours to try and wane off the inevitable headache he’d get after being drugged so frequently yesterday.
It hadn’t worked but at least he’d tried.
There was a snorting sound at his bare feet (his apartment being the only place he felt comfortable being barefoot), and Angel couldn’t stop the smile that spread across his face before he even looked down to see the pink hellpig that was looking up at him with large, pleading eyes. “Hey, Nuggie.” Ignoring his aching head, Angel leaned down and scratched right behind his ears, which earned him a happy squeal and a stomp of a back foot. “Breakfast, right. That’ll help us both, huh?”
He was going to pretend that they were both gonna ignore the fact that technically it was past lunch time. Valentino’s crazy filming times screwed up his sleep schedule all the time.
The look that Fat Nuggets gave him was large and a little empty of thoughts, but it worked. Angel sat up, took a large gulp of his coffee that was a quarter cream and sugar to help disguise the actual taste of the bitter drink, and pushed himself up. It was his one day off, and as much as he wanted to just lay around his tiny apartment all day and do nothing, he had shit he needed to do.
“You know, you would think that once you were dead, you wouldn’t have to worry about shit like cleanin’ house and grocery shoppin’,” Angel said to Nuggets as he went to the fridge and went in search of the fresh produce that Nuggets got for his breakfast; a nice salad of leafy greens, cucumbers, carrots, blueberries, and the little guy’s favorite, apple slices. He didn’t put this much energy into his own breakfast, usually rushing out the door with maybe a cereal bar, but today at least he would make himself some blueberry oatmeal.
All while he moved through the kitchen, bouncing between chopping produce to put into Nuggets special food bowl - pink and with a little pair of horns painted on the front that he ages ago that was faded with time - and making oatmeal on the stove, the little guy was right at his heels, making little snorting noises as he begged for a taste of his breakfast. Only once did Angel give in and toss the greedy pig a blueberry, clapping and cooing when Nuggets caught it in mid-air with a smacking chomp.
Settling down with his breakfast, Nuggets chomping away at his own breakfast at his feet, Angel pulled out his phone with the plan to doomscroll on BangBoom while he ate for stupid short videos. Almost automatically, he tapped at his screen and opened his Voxtagram app, which wasn’t what he’d been planning on opening. “Fuck,” Angel said around a mouthful of oatmeal, swallowing as he went to close the app, until he noticed the single notification. Frowning, Angel checked which account he was on - his personal account, @angie_fluffy_bootz, usually had dozens if not up to a hundred notifications on any given day. People loved seeing his face, his body, and a sneak peek into his daily life. He tried to post at least twice a week to keep them happy and not spamming his dms to ask for more.
But it wasn’t his personal account that he was currently on, but his secret one, which he’d called on the spur of the moment @pinkart_angel. The one place he allowed himself to post his drawings, or at least he did when he still had drawings to share. He must have been looking at his past photos last night while still high off his rocker on Valentino’s drugs.
He should have just closed the app, or at the very least, switched to his personal account. It wasn’t going to help with his missing inspiration, seeing that his likes and comments had died off once he stopped sharing new things consistently. But that one notification nagged at him, and before Angel could stop himself, he tapped on the little red bubble.
It was a comment on the last piece of art he’d posted, the picture taken before Valentino had seen it and critiqued it. It was short and sweet and to the point, but it still made Angel’s heart twist.
@bar_cat75: Miss your stuff
“Yeah, me too,” Angel grumbled, tapping his fingers on the screen and switching to his more used account before giving up and closing the app entirely, staring at the phone screen for a long moment before he set it down and tried to focus on his oatmeal, which despite being full of brown sugar and blueberries, made exactly like how he liked it, suddenly tasted wrong. Wrong, like all his art was now that he looked at it with fresh eyes and Valentino’s words in his head.
Before Angel and Valentino broke up, before their relationship turned sour and they became an employer and the employee he used and abused instead of lovers, Valentino was the one to actually teach Angel how to draw. Valentino was always working on something in between filming and directing, and sitting at his side or in his lap, Angel had always liked watching him put pencil to paper or brush to canvas and make something out of nothing. It was like Valentino couldn’t help but create. Even making Angel into a proper porn star, and eventually the most popular one in the Pride Ring, was a form of art as he molded him like clay into something wonderful.
And after a while, Angel had tentatively asked Valentino if he could teach him to draw too. So they could create art together, art that wouldn’t be shared with the world like their porno’s. Not that he didn’t mind filming - he loved it! He loved the adoration and the looks and being wanted. But he wanted something that was just… theirs.
Valentino had been thrilled. Together they had spent hours together, bent over their sketch pads till their backs ached and their fingers were gray with lead, drawing the same thing and showing it to the other to see how the other had done, Valentino even giving him tips on occasion. And for a long time, it made Angel happy, especially when he thought his work was actually improving, and even Valentino seemed to think it was getting steadily better. It even got to the point that he made his private account and shared a select few pictures, the ones he was extra proud of, and glowed in the praise and likes he got, the traction for it growing quicker than he thought it would. Nowhere near the amount of followers he had for his main account, but still enough to be impressive.
But then Valentino started pointing out that his work was getting sloppy. That it was rushed, that the lines were wrong, the colors were off; that almost every element that he’d been proud of was wrong, wrong, wrong. Barely said a kind word about the art like he did before, and even took a red pen to it and started to circle the imperfections or scratch out the things that he said didn’t belong before Angel could stop him. And to top it all off, he stopped showing Angel his own work, like he was ashamed that he’d even taught him the craft if this was how he was going to use it.
It made Angel shrink in more than one sense of the word, and slowly, his want to pick up a pencil and draw something died out like a weak flame. It was nothing like how Valentino gave critiques during filming - at least those Angel understood, because they both only wanted to put out their best work. This was something personal, Angel’s little joy in the harshness of Hell, their shared passion. And Valentino took a heel to it and crushed it to dust just as it was starting to bloom.
The sound of his spoon scraping the bottom of his bowl drew Angel out of his thoughts, and he looked down with a blink to see that he’d finished off his breakfast without even noticing. Sighing, Angel looked down at Nuggets, who had finished his own meal and whose little tail was wagging away as he stared at Angel pleadingly for more. With a snorting laugh, Angel reached down and rubbed his head. “Okay, buddy, time to get moving. Can’t waste a day off, no matter how much I want to, huh?”
Nuggets answer was a lick to the hand.
🎨🎨🎨
A few hours later, Angel grumbled to himself as he trudged through the streets of Pentagram City while carrying several bags of groceries in his multiple arms, kicking at an empty can of beer that happened to be in his way. “Fucking everything going up,” he muttered to Nuggets, who was trotting beside him in his little vest and leash, sniffing at everything in reach. The price of just living - well, kinda - was too fucking high as it was, and now the price of groceries was going up. He swore he just paid twice the normal amount for his usual grocery run for the same amount of items.
If things kept up like this, Angel was going to have to talk to Valentino about a raise. And that thought made him squirm, because either Valentino said no, or he would say yes and make Angel work harder and dirtier than he already was. Or maybe he would make him do it for the same price.
For a brief second, Angel entertained the dream of finding a new job - doing what he didn’t even know. Maybe going back to dancing, where he could control who touched him, where he didn’t have to have sex unless he wanted to. But it was pointless to think that, for multiple reasons. One being his ex and the fact that if he tried to find any kind of job that wasn’t working for VoxTech, Valentino and Vox would make sure he didn’t even get a call back, let alone an interview. And Velvette would trash his name and image without even a second thought and just a few taps of the screen.
Another being that despite how much he wanted to quit, this was still the best paying job he could get, and he knew it.
Scowling, Angel kicked at the same can again when it crossed his path again, and it went skittering away until it bounced off the front of a building and went into the street, where it almost immediately got run over by a car. Great, now even kicking a stupid can was ruined for him. Almost offended by the building for getting in the way of his can, Angel looked up from glaring at the sidewalk, gaze scanning a sign in the window unconsciously as he walked past it, and it was only after he already passed it before he fully took in what it said and stopped to look back and stare at the sign again.
Figure Drawing Classes - Now Available! Every Monday and Thursday at 7:00pm.
Drawing classes… Angel glanced up to the name of the store, which was blandly just called “The Art Store”, and then back to the window, now at an angle where he couldn’t see anything inside. Hesitantly, he took a step back, and then another, tugging a snorting Nuggets with him, until he could just peer into the shop. He was curious, because as it just so happened, right now it was Monday, and even without grabbing his phone, he knew it was past seven o’ clock.
At first, all he could see was shelves of art supplies, some that he was faintly familiar with, some that he swore he’d never seen before. So he took a few more steps back, until he had a view further into the back of the store, mostly blocked by the same shelves except for a very thin line. Angel’s eyes went wide as he took in sinners in a circle, all with either a sketchbook or a canvas sitting on a stand in front of them, looking up occasionally at a figure in the center. He couldn’t exactly see whoever was standing there, save for maybe part of a wing and the curve of a hip, but he could tell automatically that they were naked. Not in the way that he was naked for work, though, constantly in motion, moving to catch the attention of a viewer. No, it was a still, unmoving nakedness, so someone could take in every inch of you to observe and commit to memory.
And even that curve of the hip and wing of the model that had to be posing for the class made Angel, he realized with a start, want to bring out a pencil and pad to draw it.
Swallowing, Angel glanced back at the sign, to the groceries in his arms, Nuggets at his feet wondering why they were going backwards, and back again. The ache in chest to go inside was strong, but he forced himself to step away, to keep walking back towards his home.
Not today.
But definitely soon.
🎨🎨🎨
Thursday rolled around at a snail’s crawl, and Angel threw himself into work that day, determined to be his absolute best so that there was no need for them to reshoot a single scene today. If he was lucky, they would wrap with just enough time for him to rush to the class that had been on his mind since Monday night, a fresh sketchbook and newly sharpened pencils stored in his bag. The memory of that brief glimpse of the model had been on repeat in his mind, and for a brief moment he hoped that maybe it would be enough for him to get back into drawing without him having to wait for the class. But to his disappointment, he still couldn’t force himself to put pencil to paper and create. Not until he saw the model standing in front of him.
And Angel knew there was a chance that they would have a new model, not the one that he caught a glimpse of, but he had to try.
There must have been a god after all, because Valentino was actually in a good mood throughout the whole day, and as soon as he left the filming stage, Angel was flying to his dressing room, changing at lightning speed into a pair of shorts that stopped just above his thigh high boots and a large comfy hoodie that was soft from being washed so often. At the last minute, he added a beanie to his ensemble, just to hide his hair that was a mess after a whole day of people grabbing at it while they fucked him. Then he rushed out of the studio, avoiding Valentino just in case he wanted to try something, and was on his way.
Angel was almost giddy as he fast walked towards the art store, ignoring anyone who whistled or hollered at him instead of flirting back like he was practically trained to do as his bag smacked against his hip. At this rate, he would be there with fifteen minutes to spare, plenty of time to join the class and find himself a good seat and set up whatever he needed. He hadn’t been this excited to draw in so long and his cheeks were flushed by the time he opened the door to the store.
There was a tall sinner behind the front counter, glancing up as he entered. She was gorgeous, a brown rabbit sinner with white spots that covered half her face and went down her body, and she even had a pair of deer antlers. A jackalope sinner he realized instead.
“Hi, can I help you?” Her tag read Bunny. A little ironic, but he liked it.
“Hi,” Angel said a little breathlessly as he stepped up to the counter, glancing down the shelves of art supplies to the back, seeing a small group of people mingling. “I, uh, wanted to - the figure drawing class?” He pointed to the sign on the window, backwards to him now. “It starts soon, right?”
Bunny nodded, taking him in like she might recognize him, but didn’t comment on it if she did. “Yeah, it started on Monday, though, so you’ve already missed the first class-”
“That’s okay,” Angel interjected quickly. “How much?”
Blinking a little bit in surprise at Angel’s eagerness, Bunny still told him, “One seventy five for eight classes over four weeks. I can’t give you a discount for missing last week’s class, since you’re signing up late, but I can give you some credit towards some supplies?”
Nodding, Angel reached into his fluff and pulled out his wallet, trying not to wince at the thought of almost two hundred dollars coming out of his bank account. He would just ask Valentino for a few extra nights with clients to make up for it.
He just hoped it’d be worth it.
A few minutes later, Angel wove his way through the shelves and to the back of the store, suddenly feeling shy as he stepped into the open space where the class was being held. He shuffled by others that were showing each other their sketches, probably from last week’s class, and went to an empty chair and easel to set up his new large sketchbook that the store’s employee had recommended for the class instead of the smaller one he’d brought with him. It was crisp in a way that reminded him of fresh snow back on Earth, where all he wanted to do was stomp into it and make his mark. Now he would make a mark here instead.
The next ten minutes might have been the longest minutes of Angel’s life, glancing up from his phone at any sign of someone entering the room, looking for the wings that he saw last and hoping it was the model. It wasn’t until his phone showed it was a few minutes past seven that the teacher for the class - a small but very cute rat sinner with ram horns and a snake tail - came out to greet them. He was barely listening, one of his knees bouncing as the teacher who called herself Luce told them how the class would work, probably more for his benefit than anyone else. The model would do one warm up pose for about twenty minutes, then the model would do a series of quick poses for another thirty minutes. Then after a small ten minute break, the model would get into a final pose for the last hour. She was less a teacher and more there for help if anyone needed it while they practiced their art, and that made Angel relax a little bit. He was shit at classes.
Once Luce was sure that everyone understood, getting a little nod from everyone in the class, she gestures to someone that was in one of the backrooms, and the model came out to walk to the middle of the circle of artists.
Angel felt his breath catch in his chest, sitting up straighter as soon as he saw the model, who had wings. The very wings that he noticed the other day and had been itching to see who they belonged to ever since. Even before the model got to his spot so he could disrobe, Angel was taking in every inch he could. The model was a cat sinner that had dark brown fur with a white face, tall pointed ears that ended with little hearts, and a tail that ended with large feathers. And of course, he had wings, red and black and white in a way that reminded Angel of a poker motif. He was shorter than Angel by at least a foot, and on the heavier side, with a round stomach and thick upper arms. But he was hot. Hot in a daddy way, and Angel had to try very hard not to stare at the man like a fucking perv as he started undoing his robe’s belt. He was just doing his job, just like when Angel was doing his own job and wanted to scowl at every camera man or assistant that stared at him when he disrobed like they were getting a sneak peek at the upcoming movie.
Looking down to give the man just a moment of privacy as he got into position, Angel fussed with his pencils and his favorite white eraser, worn down not only from lots of erasing lately, but picking at the edges when he was stuck.
“This good for you?”
The cat’s voice was pure sex, deep and velvety, and Angel’s earlier thoughts of not staring at the model like he was a pervert were flying out the window. Head snapping up, cheeks flushing, Angel went right back to looking over the sinner, who wasn’t even looking at him but the class instructor as he settled on a pedestal in the center of the room. He was sitting on his ass, one knee propped up so an arm could rest on top of it while his other knee was curved towards himself, just hiding his junk from view, at least where Angel was sitting. His tail and wings were at rest behind him, the ends of the slightly bent as they drooped against the block and went over the edge, meaning Angel got a full view of the cat’s broad chest, fluffy with a stripe of white fur, all the way down to his stomach. It was rounded in a way that just made Angel want to press his face against it and kiss it repeatedly. One large paw was pressed against the block, holding him up, and Angel almost drooled as he took in the thick upper arms that went with his thick thighs, both muscular yet soft at the same time.
God, this man could probably lift him up easy and press him against a wall, and Angel would wrap his legs around his waist and his arms around his neck as the weight of the cat sank against him and made him groan-
“Yes, that’s fine, Husk!” squeaked the instructor, snapping Angel out of his dirtier thoughts. “Alright, class, you have twenty minutes!”
Chewing his lip as he glanced down at his sketchpad, so blank and pure that it almost taunted him, Angel reached up to the far right corner, easily putting pencil to paper as he scribbled a single word.
Husk. The model’s name was Husk. It was just a name, but it was the first thing he’d put in a sketchbook in ages, and he tried not to tear up in the middle of a drawing class with a very hot man less than a dozen feet away from him. Just because he wrote down a name didn’t mean that he could draw anything, good or not.
The pencil in his hand dropped lower, and he watched as it hovered above the center of the page, willing it to make a single mark. Just a swoop to start the curved edge of the wings, or a line to mark the bent leg-
Something, anything.
Yet minutes passed, and Angel’s hand was shaking again, not even a scuff on the page. Just the model’s name. That would be all he took away from this class after sinking money he didn’t have to spare into it. Swallowing hard, the feeling of failure a noose around his neck, Valentino’s criticism of his work a chant in his mind, Angel forced himself to look up.
And meet a pair of golden eyes.
Feeling his breath hitch in his chest, Angel felt frozen in his seat as the model - Husk - glanced at him out of the corner of his eyes, a single feathered eyebrow raised as if to silently question if Angel was alright. But Angel barely registered that, instead he felt like he was seeing Husk for the first time again, like when he’d just gotten a glimpse of his hip and his wing through the window and had the urge to draw for the first time in months without the fear that it would be awful. There was a spark there, making something in his chest warm and loose, kicking out all the words from Valentino that had been burrowing in there and making themselves a comfy home.
Without even realizing it, Angel felt his fingers twitch, and when he glanced down, breaking his gaze from Husk, he saw a curved line exactly where he’d wanted to start his wings. Holding back a sob of relief, feeling like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders with that singular line, Angel put down another line. And then another, and another -
As the minutes ticked by, Angel paid no attention to the rest of the students in the room, didn’t bother asking the instructor for help. He simply put his pencil to the sketch book again and again, feeling as if he was gaining some tiny part of his soul back with each brush of lead. He glanced up occasionally to look over Husk, to make sure he was drawing him accurately, and tried not to blush when their gazes met almost every single time no matter what pose Husk was in.
“Alright, everyone,” chirped Luce, the music lowering, and Angel blinked, feeling like he’d just come out of a daze, “that’s it for tonight! Thank you for coming, and remember to clean up your workstations before you go. We’ll see you Monday!”
What? Angel glanced around the room as people started to pack up their supplies or showed their work to each other, chatting amongst themselves. Class was already over? It couldn’t have been two hours already… could it?
“Hey.”
Startled, Angel’s head whipped around as he looked just in front of his propped up sketchbook, a little shocked to see Husk standing there, having gotten down from his pedestal without Angel even noticing. He was tying his robe shut, hiding away the curves that Angel had apparently just spent the last two hours drawing without even realizing it. “You were pretty focused there.” He nodded to Angel’s sketchbook. “Can I see?”
Angel couldn’t help but stare up at Husk for a moment, taking in the small details that had been hard to see when Husk was up on the pedestal. Like the fact that there were alternating red and white dots along the stretch of his wings, or that his nose was in the shape of a squished down heart that matched the tiny black hearts that rested above his long eyebrows. In fact, the more that Angel looked, he couldn’t help but see more hearts - on the tips of his ears, inside his ears, and even on the inside of his palms, though those were gold and looked squishy to the touch.
God, he wanted to touch those.
One of those long eyebrows raised up in question, and Angel realized that Husk was still waiting for him to answer. Fuck, he’d been just staring at him like a creeper. “Y-Yeah,” forced out Angel, nodding quickly. “Knock yourself out. They’re- I mean, they’re just sketches, they ain’t that good.”
Padding around the canvas, Husk looked over the sketchbook, and Angel felt… exposed. Which was ridiculous, because he was a fucking porn star. He’d literally been naked in front of all of the Pride Ring, and probably beyond that. His body was on advertisements that were several stories high, naked but teasing, posed by Velvette and Valentino in just a way that no one got more than a taste for free and had to spend money that he never really saw to get more.
But it was his art, even if it was just sketches. That he’d only ever shared in person with to one other, Valentino. His heart beat a little harder, because there was something vulnerable about the moment, even though for once he was the fully clothed one and Husk was the one standing there in only a robe after being naked for an hour.
Angel held his breath as he watched Husk look over the sketches, and expected him to do what Val had done when he’d shown him what turned out to be the last of his sketches - to sneer and jab at the paper, tell him what was wrong and how he could have done it better. To tell Angel that he was wasting his time trying to do what came to Valentino so easily.
Instead, Husk was quiet for a long minute as he looked over the whole of the page, then looked at each sketch individually. Most of them were half done and were clearly drawn in a rush. But the biggest piece was the last pose Husk had done, stretched out across a couch that Luce had brought out during the break. One wing was stretched over the back, the other draped to the floor, and Husk’s body took up almost the length of the couch as he lounged casually with his arms behind his head. The way Angel drew his face, eyes half lidded and his gaze locked onto him, he almost looked… seductive.
It was almost… good. Maybe, just maybe, this would be the one that he would finish up when he had some spare time. Get the lines down so that the next time he’d come in for a class, he could bring his colored pencils and see which ones best matched Husk’s fur and wings. He wouldn’t post it online, but at least he could have one piece to himself that wasn’t tainted by someone’s criticism. Except maybe Husk’s as he was still waiting for him to say something about his sketches.
But to Angel’s surprise, it wasn’t the one Husk that eventually pointed to. “Don’t remember doing that pose.”
Angel glanced down and blushed. He’d watched maybe a little too intently the way Husk’s back had arched as he settled over the cushions, trying to get comfortable, with his arms stretched above his head and his white toes curling in, while his face had scrunched in as he yawned before he caught himself. And that, he had quickly sketched at the bottom - it wasn’t pretty, just something done in a few minutes before he had to move onto his bigger piece.
“Oh, it was just a doodle,” Angel explained while trying not to sound nervous. Tried not to snap the pencil that he was twisting between his fingers.
“Hm.” Husk kept looking over the art, and after another moment, nodded as he looked at Angel. “I like it. I like all of them.”
For some reason, that wasn’t what Angel expected. Maybe it was just that he wasn’t expecting praise, only criticism, but those three little words made Angel’s heart skip a beat. “You do? I mean,” he added on quickly, “none of it’s done. They’re just rough sketches.”
Husk gave him a look that was a little amused. “Yeah, I know. Still,” Husk tapped the outside of the sketches, making sure not to mar any of Angel’s works in progress. “They look good. I mean, I ain’t a fancy artist like you are, I just do this gig for some extra cash for rent, but I think you drew me pretty good.”
“... Yeah?” Angel felt a smile spread across his face, and he hoped he didn’t look like a dopey idiot. “I mean, thanks. You’re… you’re really nice to draw.” He would not tell him that the only reason he took this class was because he got the tiniest glimpse of Husk through the window and it’d inspired him more than anything else had in what felt like ages.
Chuckling, Husk’s wings gave a little flutter, like he was pleased at the compliment. “Thanks.”
“Um, excuse me,” squeaked the instructor, both of them looking down at the tiny sinner. “Sorry to interrupt, but we need to close up.” Luce waved a hand around the back of the store, and Angel looked around to see that the other artists had already wandered out, while Bunny from the front was folding up the easels and chairs, carrying them two at a time to put in a small supply closet. “Husk, your payment will be upfront whenever you get dressed.”
“Right.” Husk looked back at Angel and gave a little nod. “Looking forward to seein’ your work at the end of each class, Angel.”
“Oh, yeah, sure,” Angel agreed as he started to pack up his supplies, his multiple hands grabbing up his pencils, sharpener, and eraser to shove into a little pink pouch decorated with strawberries. “Um, nice meeting you,” he added as Husk headed for the backroom to get dressed, and he gave a little wave before the door closed behind him.
It was only when Angel was leaving the store that he realized something. Both of his sketchbooks were tucked under one arm and his bag was bumping against his hip again, when he paused and glanced back at the art shop, where Bunny was locking the door, the closed sign already in place.
“Looking forward to seein’ your work at the end of each class, Angel.”
“What the hell…” Angel muttered to himself, staring at the door for a long minute before he shook his head and started the walk home.
He swore he never told Husk his name.
🎨🎨🎨
The next class, Angel almost didn’t make it.
Stumbling into the art store almost fifteen minutes late, panting from having run the entire way there, Angel forced out over the jingling bell, “I’m here! Fuck, I’m here!”
Blinking in surprise at his sudden appearance, Bunny gave a weak smile. “Hey, don’t worry, we saved your seat,” she promised. “Um, head on back. Just, you know, quietly.”
Flushing, Angel mumbled his apology and headed to the back, fumbling a little with his sketchbooks. Valentino today had been in a bitchy mood, insisting that things needed to be re-filmed over and over, and had tried to corner Angel afterwards for either drugs or a fuck, he wasn’t sure. Either way, it had barely given Angel enough time to dress by throwing on a high-waisted skirt and crop-top before he rushed out.
Avoiding the other classmate’s gazes, Angel went to the only open seat, keeping his gaze down as he sat down and pulled out his supplies and set his sketchbook on the provided easel. He felt gross and rushed, and now he felt like all eyes were on him in a situation where he didn’t know his role or his lines.
Still, he got settled, and when Angel looked up when he was finally ready to draw, he almost wasn’t surprised to see Husk looking at him, even if it was just out of the corner of his eye. Angel smiled up at him nervously, and it looked like Husk was trying to hold an amused smile back before he looked ahead again, focusing on his pose.
So Angel picked up his pencil, looked over Husk as he stood on top of the pedestal with his wings outstretched and his hands on his hips, and his smile relaxed before he went to work.
Once again, the class went much faster than Angel realized, with the sound of other people chatting and getting up from their chairs breaking him out of his drawing trance. Sighing that his time to draw was over, Angel started packing up his supplies, even though he felt like he just got them out.
“So, can I see them again?”
“What?” Angel looked up, and there was Husk again, his robe already tied in place. When had he gotten over here?
“Can I see them?” Husk waved his hand at the sketchbook.
Angel glanced around at the other students before he looked back up at Husk. “You don’t wanna go look at anyone else’s work?”
Husk shrugged, looking disinterested at the idea. “No one else looked as invested as you in their work.” He glanced around, the class slowly emptying. “Like, I’m sure they’re doing good work, but they were all chatting with the other students or kept looking at their phones while I was up there.” Angel wasn’t sure, but when he looked back at him, Husk actually looked a little impressed. “You were the only one that looked… focused. Like nothing else in the world mattered to you but that pencil in your hand.”
“Oh.” Angel flushed. “It’s just… It’s been a long day at work, and drawing you is, I don’t know, relaxing? I just get lost in it.”
“See?” pointed out Husk with a chuckle. “You just proved my point. So, can I?”
Almost saying yes, Angel hesitated. “Only if you answer a question for me.”
Raising a brow, Husk shifted, his wings shifting behind with him, but he was smirking. “A trade, huh? Sure, kid, give it your best shot. What’s your question?”
Hesitating for just a moment, Angel asked, “How did you know my name? I didn’t tell you my name.” Hell, he hadn’t even signed up to the class as Angel Dust, instead just scribbling “Anthony” when prompted. Maybe just so he could have something that was just him and not him and Valentino.
Looking a little surprised by the question, like he hadn’t been expecting it, Husk reached out and tapped the very edge of Angel’s sketchbook, once again being careful not to smudge any of his pencil sketches. “I recognized your art style, it’s kinda distinctive. You’re pinkart_angel on Voxtagram, aren’t you? I follow you.” As he pulled his hand back to rub at the back of his neck, Husk actually looked embarrassed. “Have for a while, actually. I kinda missed seeing you post.”
“You-” Angel’s cheeks felt like they were on fire. “You follow my art account? Oh.” That made sense. His user name - Husk probably called him Angel because - oh. “I thought you knew who I was because…well, because of my job.”
Husk shrugged. “Well, yeah, that too. After the fact. I just didn’t realize you two were the same person.”
Now Angel felt like a real idiot. He didn’t think his cheeks could burn any hotter. “Oh my god.”
Chuckling, Husk glanced around as the instructor and Bunny started cleaning up around them. “I still wanna look at your sketches. Do you…maybe wanna go get a drink? On me? There’s a little bar nearby that I’m a fan of that I think you would like.”
It’d been a very long time since someone offered to buy him a drink. Not that he didn’t get them and often when he went out to clubs or out with Valentino. More like they were bought for him with the clear intention that he should be happy to spend some time with whoever got them in return for it. Like it was a barter system that he didn’t even get to decide on. And this was just to look at sketches.
So, to be asked was… refreshingly nice.
Angel smiled. Maybe he would show Husk the drawings he’d managed to do in the few days since their last class that weren’t of Husk. Or the sketch of Husk that he properly drew out and lined, now just waiting for him to start coloring. He was actually proud of how it was looking, and for once, didn’t mind wanting to show it to someone else. Of hearing what someone thought of it.
Even if that someone else wasn’t Valentino for once.
His heart squeezed at the thought of wanting to show his ex what he’d created while at the same time not wanting to. He wanted the validation that he knew he wouldn’t get from him anymore, while fearing the harsh criticism that he would probably get instead. It hurt that his teacher and first cheerleader was now the last person he wanted to see his art.
But as Husk smiled at him, waiting for an answer, Angel wondered if Husk could help change that.
“Yeah,” said Angel finally, his smile brightening. “Yeah, I think I’d like that.”
“Great.” Angel thought he might have imagined it, but he could have sworn Husk’s tail swished behind him like he was happy, and there was a faint flush to his cheeks that wasn’t there before. “Um, let me just get dressed and get my pay and- you wanna wait outside for me so they can lock up?”
“Oh, sure, sure.” Angel nodded as he finished packing up. “Yeah, I’ll wait for you out there.”
“Great,” repeated Husk, his smile wide as he stepped back, wings fluttering. “I’ll be quick- shit, fuck-” Husk tried to laugh off the fact that he’d backed up into the pedestal, bumping his back and hip, and Angel tried not to giggle. “I’ll be quick,” he promised as he turned towards the room he usually changed in. But right before he went in, he looked back at Angel. “I’m Husk, by the way.”
“Yeah, I know. They said your name the other night.”
“... Right.” Husk blushed harder before he disappeared into the room.
Humming happily, Angel picked up his bag and his sketchbooks, enjoying the flutter in his chest. This might not lead anywhere other than a free drink and someone looking at his sketches, but hey, at least Husk was hot.