Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Husk sits on the edge of Angel’s bed with Fat Nuggets in his lap. Sharp golden eyes watch Angel pace and gesture in place of using words that make any damn sense. 

“It’s just—” Angel says, emotion spiking to cut him off. Turbulent and conflicting: defensiveness, embarrassment, and something else much more pleasant and squirmy that’s the whole reason he opened his mouth in the first place. C’mon. Say it. Say it. I want to have sex where we act like you’re raping me. Fuck knows he’s asked for this before! Hell, he’s asked for way more fucked up shit from other assholes! He can say this shit to Husk!

“Angel,” Husk murmurs, a thread of concern laced into the sound of his name. When Angel hastily pulled Husk upstairs after getting off work, this is probably not the conversation Husk expected, and now that they’re here Angel struggles to make himself fall over the ledge. 

Angel nods in acknowledgement, trying to get his shit together to say something in the shape of what he wants instead of deflecting. He can do this. It’s not the first time Angel’s had this conversation. He’s mastered it. Hell, it’s not the first time he and Husk have talked about sex and kinks, but this is a far cry from the service dominance they’d established. Months of dancing around each other, sex a few weeks after their first kiss (god Angel deserves a medal), accidental but heartfelt ‘I love you’s exchanged before saying it on purpose — and now, two and a half months later, Angel brings this up? Who would expect it?

Well. Who among those who see Angel as a human being and not a living fleshlight would expect it? 

Angel picks up the speed as he rounds his room again, thoughts stumbling over words to elaborate. Arousal rolls in his gut. He has a specific fantasy, one he’s wanted to bring up to Husk since the start, but the self-doubt and his lingering doubts in Husk make him chicken out every time. Well, he’s not going to let that stop him this time. 

His gut clenches with heat at the thought of the possibility of Husk saying yes to what Angel will ask for — as soon as he gets past this fucking primer. Honestly, it’s like his libido runs his body and his anxiety runs his mouth. 

Maybe if he preemptively frames it as knowing it’s fucked it’ll land better. He tries again, gesturing frantically between them, his face screwing up in misery at his own verbal ineptitude, “Just… Look. I know it’s fucked up. It might even be one of the top five most fucked up things about me, and I’m the fuckin’ pornstar of Hell, which is— I know that makes it seem worse, okay? But I just feel like it’s different, it’s not— ‘cause you’re not—?” 

Husk’s expression crunches with confusion as he visibly tries to follow Angel’s train of thought.

The lack of understanding causes Angel’s irritation and lust to spike in tandem. He’s got to calm the fuck down. It’s difficult with want buzzing between his legs and fear dampening it unpleasantly, because it makes it so that he can’t find the words, but Husk needs the words. It’s one of the most important boundaries they’d agreed on before they’d first slept together.

“Look, I’ve always been a damn good bottom, and an even hotter sub,” Angel says, trying to start anew in hopes of getting on a roll. Expecting pushback, Angel points a warning forefinger in Husk’s direction, pacing more as he adds, “And I know what healthy BDSM looks like, no matter what you think happens in the studio!”

Curiosity and caution show in Husk’s single raised brow. “Angel.”

Angel forces himself to halt his pacing and face Husk to reply only to stop short at the sight of Husk cradling Fat Nuggets with such care; Husk busies one hand with petting the hell pig’s back and scratching under his ears, Nuggets snorting quietly. 

God, he’s so good with him. Those hands are so deft, so gentle. Angel knows from experience how perfectly Husk uses his hands, how good they feel on Angel’s body.

Fuck, Angel craves his touch and how it slows the racing thoughts… Ugh, he wishes he were high or even drunk— wait, no. No he doesn’t. He makes himself keep talking despite the tension building in his chest and shoulders. “With us, I’d…” Angel trails off, glancing askance and worrying one corner of his lower lip with his sharp teeth. Biting his lip is his go-to in order to keep from talking, nowadays, but that's the opposite of what he’s aiming for. Fucking say it! Husk might be into it! His stomach flips at the thought.

Husk looks back at him owlishly, golden irises glowing as though to highlight the building agitation between them. He looks so expectant, yet so patient.

He can’t stand it anymore and Angel blurts it out. “What if I want you to rape me for fun?”

There. Damn. Was that so fucking hard?

When Husk doesn’t immediately reply, Angel rubs his temples, shuts his eyes, and talks over the pounding in his ears as he says, “Shit. Don’t answer.” Of course Husk isn’t into it. Of course Husk thinks Angel’s fucked up. Everyone else here at the hotel would — does! — that’s for fucking sure. The thought of ruining everything by asking for this dampens the heat of desire crawling under his skin. He should’ve kept his mouth shut; he said how fucked up he knows it makes him, which is somehow its own turn-on — he clenches his thighs together.

“You’re goin’ a mile a minute and leavin’ me behind, kid,” Husk says. 

“Give me a fucking second, asshole,” Angel snaps, still avoiding looking in Husk’s direction. He picks up the pacing again. He basically just told his boyfriend that Angel’s an irredeemable pervert. A slut who likes pretending to be raped, one who just asked Husk to pretend to be the one doing it to him — and after everything he’s told Husk that basically everyone else has done to him so really it shouldn’t be any big deal at all that he wants this, considering what clients and coworkers and strangers have done to him—

What a different boyfriend has done to him—

“I’d—” Angel’s throat closes up and he holds a hand out to Husk to preemptively stay his concern as an audible, worried grumble builds in Husk’s chest.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, this was one kink he should’ve kept locked up, it’s not like what he and Husk already do isn’t satisfying! Yet thinking of it now, thinking of the way Husk holds him tightly and pulls his hair and moans so deep into Angel’s mouth when they kiss and fuck, it’s not hard to translate into something within the realm of his darker fantasies. He clenches and unclenches his hands, his secondaries hugging himself while he wrings out his primaries. It would be hard to stay focused if not for how badly Angel's gut churns with a cursed concoction of anxiety and arousal, his mouth dry and tacky as it climbs up his throat. It’s not like he actually need-needs this! He doesn’t want it that much—

He’s not that ruined—

Ah, Hell, he can’t even lie to himself in his own piece of shit brain, imagining Husk aggressively grabbing and pinning him facedown to take what he wants the way he wants, making Angel’s dick twitch. He’s a masochist of the highest order, and Husk will think he’s a creep for dragging him into it. Ugh, his chest feels like it’s shrinking in on itself, a cold dread washing over his skin as his heart sinks. He folds all four arms tightly over his torso and drops his gaze to the carpet. He ruined a perfectly good thing when he could’ve just… just been fine with the sex they’re already having, if he processed everything… differently.

“I have liked it,” Angel manages to say out loud. Step, step, step, step. It’s a wonder he hasn’t ruined his rug by now. He refuses to think of how things went with the last man he trusted with this information, instead looking at Husk once more and trying to refocus on how hot it makes him to think of Husk taking him up on this; it’s the only thing that lets him keep talking. “Before.”

Husk gives him a new look he can’t read. “I figured.”

Angel’s jaw clicks with the urge to explain himself and words spill out before he can stop them. “I’m supposed to be processing, I know, I know. Sex helps me do exactly that,” he babbles, turning away from Husk in his renewed pacing, “especially sex that stokes a little fear, especially when I’m trying to stay off the rough shit. Sex is my coping mechanism, my catharsis without the coke or the PCP, and it’s not like I can talk to Charlie about this shit!”

Well, he could, but it’d be with the intention of scaring her off sessions for a week. As funny as he finds the thought of pulling that prank on her, Angel has to accept it about himself first, and he switches too much between stubbornly accepting it and beating himself up about it. Switching between labels for himself when none of them fit right but none of them are wrong. Terms like ‘sexually traumatized’ and ‘hypersexual’ and y’know what, how about Angel refuses all these fucking terms, he shouldn’t have to explain himself anyway, he doesn’t need Charlie or an actually professional Hellborn therapist to tell him what he’s been through—

“Angel—”

If I ruin myself enough, maybe I won’t be his favorite toy anymore. And maybe he’ll let me go.

The interruption to his spiraling startles him. “What?!” Angel snaps, whirling on him. “Say no, already! Dump me! I know I’m broken! Put me out of my misery, you barefoot, gutless fucker!”

“Christ,” Husk says instead, setting Nuggets on the floor so his hands are free to put up in surrender. He stands. “I saw you getting lost in your head, s’all.”

The pig trots over to rub against Angel’s leg, for once out of his thigh-high boots in favor of giant fuzzy socks. Angel’s done with his heels for the day but still doesn’t want to see his feet, thank you.

Angel pries his arms apart and avoids his boyfriend’s gaze even as Husk steps up to him and cradles his jaw. Angel knows he’ll cry if he meets Husk’s eyes, but he finds it’s too late to prevent his tears from spilling when Husk carefully brushes them from his fur, trying not to worsen his running makeup. It’s maddening how careful Husk is with him, sometimes, how Husk treats him with delicacy he’s unused to receiving without a price tag on the back end.

“You were damn scared, tryin’ to tell me that,” Husk says, his other paw settling firmly on Angel’s waist. Had anyone else done that in this moment, he would have flinched. “So. Why don’t you pick a safe word for us to talk about what you’re after? And if that’s too much,” Husk says with some humor, “we’ll rewind to that colorful fuckin’ name-calling and I can return fire.”

Of course Husk can stop his spiral in its tracks. Angel squeezes his eyes shut and groans, exaggerating his misery in hopes of hiding his blush. Angel Dust does not blush at sex talk; if anything, he controls the sex talk. Husk being the calm and collected one between them throws Angel’s usual tactics of ragebaiting and uncomfortably overt sexual come-ons out the window. “Safe words?” he complains, a corner of his mouth tugging up in doubt. Husk had been resistant to the concept of them before this; or, more accurately, had insisted that ‘no’, ‘stop’, ‘don’t’, ‘slow down’, and ‘wait’ were perfectly acceptable safe words. Now that rape play is on the table, Angel supposes it’s a good sign that Husk is already adjusting his approach. His heart warms with affection and hope, but they’re not playing right now, so, huh? “Just for talkin’?”

Husk shrugs casually and lifts one hand palm up, earning Angel’s immediate suspicion. “Don’t hafta talk about it at all if ya don’t wanna do it.” Husk smirks, tipping his head side to side as he playfully looks into the middle distance. “We can stick to missionary and fuzzy handcuffs.”

“This is a personal attack,” Angel deadpans, narrowing his eyes at Husk’s smug gaze. “Fine!” Tension nevertheless slides from Angel’s shoulders. Huffing, he takes to his habitual movement of folding his upper arms over his chest and clinging to Husk’s waist with his lower hands. “Fuckin’. Basic bitch style, I guess. Red-yellow-green, we’ll use it how traffic lights work.” 

With a nod, Husk hums low and deep and he leans in to kiss Angel on the cheek, helping dissolve another ounce or three of his uncertainty. His voice holds such an even, warm baritone that comforts Angel effortlessly, including now. “Good; if you remember how to tell me ‘no’ in a special way, maybe you’ll be more likely to use it if you need it.” Angel sticks his tongue out at Husk teasing him for his struggles to communicate. “How come you’re set on fuckin’ talking about it when it works you up so damn bad?”

Angel scoffs, laughing once with a grimace. He just told him how come. “Husk, c’mon.”

“Listen, Legs,” Husk says, and Angel’s shoulders loosen up entirely at that specific pet name; Husk doesn’t use it too often. “We’re havin’ fun and I wanna keep doin’ that with you, but I can’t if I don’t know what’s eatin’ ya when it comes to askin’ for this stuff.” Angel’s face starts screwing up and Husk shakes his head, smiling fondly. “You’re already kickin’ yourself again, and you ain’t subtle. What’re you afraid of, Angel?”

Nothing.

Everything.

Losing you, Angel doesn’t say. Losing us.

Angel takes a long, deep breath, letting his hands slide over Husk’s shoulders to play with the scruffier fur over the curves. “Look. I ain’t worried you’re gonna hurt me, if that’s what you’re thinkin’,” Angel reasons.

“Not what I meant.” Husk lifts a paw to encircle Angel’s wrist, distracting him far more effectively than Angel thinks Husk intended. That grip on him pulls a distinct memory roaring to the forefront of his mind; the last time they fucked, when Husk held both of his primary wrists in that same strong hand.

Angel fails his attempt not to dwell on the twist of excitement this echo of that touch invokes. His self-loathing and anger flee into the far reaches of his mind, replaced with his libido roaring back to the surface. His breath stutters when he flexes in Husk’s grip and Husk doesn’t release him, and he basks in how that simple, controlling touch quiets his mind.

“I know you know that,” Husk says softly, bringing Angel reluctantly back to the present. “I meant, this conversation started with me watching a dozen emotions cross your face for maybe the quietest two minutes of your life—”

“Hey—”

Husk smirks again at Angel proving his point. “—and at least half of ‘em were the ones you use when you’re beating yourself up. Don’t think I don’t recognize it; your poker face ain’t half as good as your acting, kid.”

“I don’t know the fucking answer, Husk, because this shit doesn’t make any sense!” Disbelieving, Angel throws his primary hands up. Husk’s smirk stays firmly in place, because they both know that his protest fools neither of them; Angel’s face comes with damn subtitles when he’s at home, shooting Husk dreamy looks and half-smiles when he sits at whichever bar Husk is working. “You can read all those on my fuckin’ face — nobody else notices.” Or cares.

“Angel,” Husk prompts, stern.

“Fuck it, fine!” Angel says, grabbing Husk’s shoulders again to anchor himself, bracing against the less generous thoughts his brain likes to throw at him. “From how everyone else acts I know this shit is dark and fucked up, and if it don’t mean I’m fucked up, the fuck does it mean?” His jaw sets and his gaze narrows sharply.

“That you’re horny?” Husk posits as his feathery eyebrows bounce up, and Angel’s mouth falls open. Husk’s expression remains vaguely skeptical as he eyes Angel up and down. “What do you think it means?” Husk asks.

“That I’m some fuckin’ creep, dumbass!” Angel blurts, fingers curling in soft brown fur as Husk’s eyes flick up to his. Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck, it’s too late, now he’s gotten started. “Who the fuck gets railed by a dozen guys a day— minimum, by the way, on average— and then comes home and wants his gorgeous, sweet-talkin’ boyfriend to pretend to rape him for fun?” Angel throws his secondary arms outward for emphasis, and Husk just watches him silently, face never changing from quiet interest. “His definitely-not-a-fuckin’-creep boyfriend, huh? Who’s probably never had to deal with a loony pervert pornstar who got off to fantasies of goons roughin’ him up before he even got into porn? You don’t think that’s fucked up of me?”

Husk blinks slowly, and Angel’s determination to ruin his own afterlife starts to fizzle, because Husk’s languid smile and hooded gaze are the opposite of the reaction he was anticipating.

Angel points a finger up under Husk’s nose and the cat grins wider. “Oh, don’t you dare. Don’t you dare try to tell me I didn’t just fuck this up.” Husk hums, a low rumble that always goes right to Angel’s dick. “I’m a used up broken slut who just shouted at you to dump me while calling you a coward! Come on, don’t you got any self respect?! Didn’t you hear what I asked for?? I want you to ignore me when I tell you no, and you know I— that I shouldn’t,” Angel insists, a hot pink flush crawling up his neck. Husk tilts his head at a tight angle, his ears flopping slightly with him, and Angel’s chest thrums with his nervous heartbeat. “I shouldn’t! I gotta deal with a bunch of bullshit all the time at work, so how come I want that cycle to repeat after work, huh?”

Husk looks confused again, squinting slightly. “‘Cause you’re still horny?”

Angel is seconds from throttling him. “I swear to fucking God, I could kill you,” he hisses, fingers tangling in the fur of Husk’s cheeks.

But Husk just sticks his tongue out the tiniest bit, relaxing into Angel’s hands, and some of the fire burns out as Angel holds onto him like a lifeline instead. The silly expression throws him for a loop, and Angel’s misery catches up to his frustration.

“You should send me packing,” Angel says, voice cracking as it drops in volume. Husk blinks at him, pupils cinching into thin slits as Angel speaks; Angel can’t help the pinched line of his brow smoothing out as he tries not to let his lower lip tremble, refusing to cry over this more than he already has. It’s humiliating how much he’s fucked up a very simple conversation topic he would have sworn up and down only minutes before this that he had long ago mastered. “I… I know you don’t wanna hurt me but I keep fuckin’— thinkin’ about how hot it would be if you just. Actually did. A little,” Angel admits, unease building in him once more.

Over and over again, Angel has insisted he doesn’t do sexual shame, and the lie has never been more unconvincing than it is now. The shame of thinking of his perfectly accommodating and attentive boyfriend would look pretty fucking good pinning him down and making him take it teases a ripple of nausea in his gut, but Husk’s paws settle over his hips and Angel’s tensed shoulders tick downward as the warm weight of them saps some of that anxiety right back out of him. 

Husk doesn’t push him away or laugh at him. His eyes have that unnerving focus on him. He hasn’t agreed that Angel is fucked up, steadfastly refusing to give into Angel’s bait, which spikes Angel’s nervousness ever higher. The fucker keeps looking at him, too, hasn’t looked away since Angel started babbling, and Angel finds his voice because he wants to abide by Husk’s boundaries, their boundaries.

Words, he can find the words.

“I didn’t wanna mention it ‘cause I don’t… want you to leave me. For— for bein’ too much of a freak after all. You already put up with a lotta my shit, and I know this ain’t how ya usually operate,” Angel says, fighting to say it out loud. It takes so much effort he’s no longer able to hold that steady gaze, even with Husk’s thumbs gently brushing his sides. “It feels like I’m askin’ ya too much ‘cause you ain’t like the guys I can’t say ‘no’ to.”

Oh, fuck, that’s it, isn’t it? Angel is the actual pervert here, and Husk would never do this to another person. He’s asking a decent guy to play the worst kind imaginable for Angel, and Husk is being nice about turning him down and reminding him that Husk ain’t a monster like Angel wants to pretend, even just for a scene. 

Husk moves his hands to take Angel’s, grasping them carefully between them as his brow furrows ever so slightly, and Angel’s full attention falls to those golden eyes as they meet him with a different sort of severity Angel hasn’t seen in him yet today. 

A wretched, triumphant part of him thinks this is it: the end. This is when Husk asks if he should leave before or after Angel prostrates himself begging for forgiveness for — for, uhm, turning Husk off and accusing him of being a horrible person and tricking Husk into falling in love with Angel—

“Can I ask you somethin’, Angel?” Husk asks in a tone Angel’s only heard a handful of times, serious and quiet, his claws gently rubbing over the backs of Angel’s hands.

Angel’s face heats up, a renewed thrum against his ribcage as his heart wars with his nerves. “Yeah?” he chokes out. 

“If I want to do this, how do you want me to tell you?”

Angel stares.

Longer than he realizes, long enough that Husk’s ears start drifting back, pinned almost flat to his head by the time Angel realizes the keening in his ears is entirely self-inflicted and he has made a terrible mistake. Husk’s hands squeeze his lightly before steadily loosening again with sinking shoulders, that mesmerizing golden gaze dropping as Husk’s pupils contract so thinly they nearly disappear.

Angel inhales sharply, snapping out of it before Husk can let him go. He’d read this all wrong. Did he read this all wrong? Mishear? He must have.

Husk shifts as though to turn away from him—

“What?” Angel says helplessly, gripping Husk’s hands tighter, trying not to hyperventilate as heart-stamped ears spring back up before wilting again. “Husk— what?”

“Angel,” Husk says quietly as he stops trying to move away, and Angel swears he hears a trace of… What is that, heartache? Oh, no. Oh no.

“Husk, did you— want to?” Angel fails to articulate, thighs gripping tighter around Husk’s lap, his hips, keeping him from slipping away. “Husk,” Angel repeats aimlessly, because Husk takes an extra beat to look at him before clearing his throat, schooling his expression from ‘kicked kitten’ to ‘carefully attentive’ again. “Oh, you bastard,” Angel mumbles, “why— you were bein’ so nice about me and I didn’t even think about if you—!”

“Angel,” Husk repeats, measured, and Angel’s mouth snaps shut. Husk focuses on him again, pink warming over his muzzle as he meets Angel’s wide, sparkling eyes. The combination of shock and excitement on Angel’s face seems to renew his confidence, and Husk’s ears lift up again. “I’m askin’, nice and simple. You’re worried about bein’ sick?” Husk says. “What if I wanna play this way? Am I sick, baby?”

Angel’s brain moves both too fast and too slowly, pieces of realization coming together but not taking Angel with them, hazy, half-aborted trains of thought petering out uselessly. He spends too long just scrunching his face as he tries to make the words come out before they’re ready, and Husk—

Husk searches his face, eyes flitting between Angel’s, and the effort this conversation takes Angel is mirrored in Husk’s expression for the barest moment before he says, warm and trembling, “Color?”

Traitorous tears sting Angel’s eyes, overwhelmed with relief and confusion. Jesus Christ, he’s even a little giddy.

This is a conversation they can step out of at any time, and still come together after.

“Green,” Angel says, more air than sound, clutching Husk’s hands tight enough it might hurt. How had Angel ever thought anything less about the both of them together like this? Like it was anything less than meaningful to trust someone after decades without that foundation.

“Yeah?” Husk carefully sets a paw on Angel’s waist again, thumb caressing beneath his crop sweater, tracing along the lower line of his ribs so that his claw catches lightly in Angel’s chest fluff, soothing both of them and sending little ticklish thrills across his skin. Angel’s fingers grasp and clutch again, moving to Husk’s shoulders to pull them closer together, Husk’s hands along his back, between both sets of shoulder blades.

“Yeah, ‘cause,” Angel tries again, thoughts stuttering at Husk’s imploring eyes and uneasy, crooked smile. Fuck, his own are tearing up again. “‘Cause it’s you ‘n me. And. I know you don’t do any of this shit if it ain’t, y’know. Fun. For both of us.” He’d forgotten, mixed up in his own bullshit, that the whole fun of consensual non-consent for him is that it’s mutual. “I forgot that I… need you to want it, too. I want you to want it,” Angel says lamely, offering a sheepish smile with his glistening eyes.

Husk hums, long and low again, relaxing as Angel’s primary hands slide up and massage over his cheek tufts, up to the base of his ears. “Think maybe you can forgive yourself if you can forgive me so easily?” Husk asks, eyes flashing in challenge.

Angel bites his lower lip hard enough it hurts, tipping forward and knocking his forehead into Husk’s.

Grounding with him, Husk pushes a hand up Angel’s back, closing his eyes as Angel plays with his ears, stroking up the velvety pinna. “I know I’m a surly bastard, and I ain’t exactly a nice guy,” Husk goes on, quirking a feathery eyebrow to preemptively stop Angel’s protest.

“You? Nice?” Angel drawls, secondary hands smoothing up Husk’s suspenders and tugging lightly at them. “Nah. You’re as mean as they come, ain’tcha, kitty.”

One ear twitches outward and Husk rolls his eyes. “But ain’t nothin’ about your sexuality’s gonna put me off. Besides, it’s a two-way street with us. I ain’t into it if you ain’t into it, baby, but if you are, I don’t want you thinkin’ it’s wrong and I definitely don’t want you thinkin’ it changes jack shit about how fucking sexy you are.” He flicks his eyes down and back up Angel’s body. “Or that it changes how much I want you.”

“Yeah?”

Husk nods, pupils wide again, and the worst of the tension coiled in Angel’s spine unwinds. 

Angel finds himself slipping back into his natural state of comfort around the topic of sex, but something about the revelation of their mutual kink nags at him just a little bit. Angel goes back to playing with Husk’s ears, smirking slyly as the thoughts glom into one consideration as the faintest purr buzzes between them, Husk’s eyes sliding shut as he lets Angel handle him, shoulders and neck loose so Angel can turn him and pull him a little closer, tipping Husk’s face into the low neck line of his crop sweater.

When it clicks, Angel gets an awful, terrible idea, nuzzling into the coif of silvering hair atop Husk’s head.

“I shoulda known you have a praise kink, too,” Angel says, feigning absentmindedness. Husk’s ears prick even as Angel strokes up along them, thumbing over the heart-shaped tufts at the tips. “Can’t believe I didn’t notice,” he chuckles, and Husk lifts his head to glare up at him, fooling no one with the pink lighting up across his muzzle.

“The fuck’re you talkin’ about?” Husk says, rightfully suspicious as he puts hands back on Angel’s waist.

Angel gently pushes him back so they can eye each other. “No wonder you’re my Consent King, baby,” he teases mercilessly, Husk’s ears ducking back and his eyes widening. Angel puts on a wry smile, tipping his shoulders up and down in a little dance. “Aw! Don’t pretend you don’t know.”

“I ain’t once, in my entire fucking existence, thought those words in that order,” Husk says flatly, but his ears stand at attention and swivel toward Angel. “I don’t know shit.”

“You like it,” Angel says plainly, further provoking Husk’s grumbling protests. “Don’t be grumpy. It’s cute that ya need me to be so enthusiastic.”

Husk’s paws tighten on his waist and his frown climbs close to a grimace.

Angel boops his fingertip to Husk’s nose, smirking now. “I been sayin’ for years that begging is praise kink for Doms, baby, you ain’t need to be embarrassed about it.” But oh, does he love the shy way Husk glances aside, nose wrinkling. Angel loves reclaiming a little power with his sexuality anyway, putting on just a little bit of a show as he rolls his body forward, lower hands splayed on Husk’s chest and upper hands cradling his face. When Husk narrows his eyes, Angel transforms his smirk into a sweet smile and bats his eyelashes.

Husk melts a little in his hold. “Who’s embarrassed?” Husk lies.

Angel hums dubiously. “You don’t wanna hear how badly I want you to do things to me, baby?” he asks with a sultry lilt, and it’s like the spell breaks when Husk’s shyness shifts effortlessly into smug triumph.

Briefly thrown, Angel doesn’t expect Husk to cup his jaw and slip his other hand from his waist up his back, urging him close enough that Angel has to spread his legs more before he’s seated right atop Husk’s— oh.

Fuck but he loves grinding on this thick bulge. Angel’s pussy clenches as his thighs squeeze Husk’s legs, and his eyebrows shoot up. “Well, well, well,” he says somewhat breathlessly, grabbing Husk’s suspenders with his secondary hands and a cheeky grin. “Maybe ya do, huh?”

“I mean, this’ll be the first time we play with rape kink, but I—” 

Maybe if he leans into playfulness Husk will stop trying to be so damn understanding. Angel makes his eyes pop, his upper hands flying to his mouth with a theatrical gasp.

“What?” Husk asks, urgent and alert, ears flicking.

“You called it a rape kink,” Angel says, pink in the cheeks again at his instinct to ham shit up in direct correlation with when his discomfort spikes. Husk frowns at him, his more typical grumpy expression, but Angel lowers his hand to reveal his smarmy grin to give Husk permission to continue. A new flood of relief washes over the last of his nerves when Husk rolls his eyes and Angel clarifies, “I just thought we was gonna dance around it, is all.” 

“You wanna do it or not?” Husk asks, unimpressed. Angel nods vigorously, eyes wide and alert. He grinds down into Husk’s lap for emphasis in a surge of confidence that makes Husk grab him tighter to still him, voice gruffer when he speaks again as Angel barely withholds a mischievous laugh. “Then I’m callin’ it what it is, and there ain’t no shame in it.” He clears his throat and gestures between them with two claws, smiling crookedly again. “‘Cause it’s play. Since it’s play, let’s have fun with it.”

“You got it, kitten,” Angel murmurs sultrily, letting Husk urge his hips back so they’re a little less on top of each other as they get more comfortable. Husk’s paw drifts up to cradle Angel’s jaw and he holds it to his cheek with a fond smile.

“So, sweetheart,” Husk says in that stupidly sly voice that never fails to make Angel’s panties wet. “What do you wanna do? Seems like you might’ve had somethin’ cookin’ in that pretty little head of yours before you pulled me up here.”

“Well, I…” Angel falters, heat climbing up his neck and into his cheeks. His lower hands tug at his fingertips, a nervous habit that Husk’s eyes dip to catch before sliding back up to Angel’s face, expression unchanged. “I got some examples,” Angel says as his heart hammers with eager anticipation. He’s a little slow to elaborate on his own fantasies after so long catering to others that the new opportunity has him faltering, trying to mentally piece together the important parts.

“Yeah, baby?” Husk implores, grinning wider, pupils dilating as his hands glide to Angel’s ass and lower back, tugging him a little closer again. The proximity is even more grounding, despite the uptick in Angel’s pulse, the warmth in his core. Husk listens like nobody else will.

“Back when I was alive, I had these fantasies,” Angel begins, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. He doesn’t sort through the bullshit so much as cast it aside, looking for the specifics attached to the flutter in his belly. At first, the soothing motion of Husk slowly kneading heart-shaped palms from his ass to his upper thighs and back around makes Angel jolt with the spike in arousal it gives him. But when Husk gives him a dreamy smile, Angel returns it with his own lopsided one. “Pops had these colleagues, these burly older guys who were hot in, like, an ugly sorta way?”

Husk snorts, but tilts his head in a prompt to continue, and Angel cracks a grin, feeling much better about simply saying it.

“I used to think about how— ‘cause I was a screwy kid and I never did what I was told ‘n I got in the way all the time,” Angel says with a roll of his eyes. Stupid sexist morons didn’t appreciate how good he was with a gun. He ain’t need a dick to pull a fucking trigger! “What if they, uh, cornered me in the kitchen one day and taught me some respect? Y’know, put me in my place by puttin’ me on my knees and shovin’ their cocks down my throat?”

Husk doesn’t blink, watching him with a thoughtful look. His paws massage over Angel’s thighs and ass, coming up to squeeze his hips before sliding back down again. “You wanna be taught a lesson?” he asks, aiming for that even delivery but betrayed by his heated tone underneath.

“Or,” Angel starts again with a gnaw on his bottom lip, on a roll with Husk’s enormous pupils fat with interest, his tail hooking up and down with interest on the bed behind him as Husk quiets again. “What if, maybe after a raid went sideways or somethin’ and I’m already exhausted from the fight, some rival enforcers twice my fuckin’ size think I’m too pretty to pass up,” Angel says somewhat breathlessly, an edge of tasty shame coloring his cheeks and making him even wetter. Husk tilts his head. “Like, I’m actually irresistible, even for a guy? Because it’s my fantasy, and these assholes treat me like a man as they take their cocks out—”

“I think that’s an easy headspace to get into,” Husk rumbles. Angel pushes hands into Husk’s fuzzy cheeks and hums in approval. Husk never makes him feel like less of a man. “You want me to make sure you know how good-lookin’ you are?” he asks teasingly, a playful threat in the flash of his sharp-toothed smile.

“Mmn, yeah.” Angel’s face warms but he offers a raunchy grin in a show of sensual confidence, half wanting to skip the talk and just fuck. He settles for a single rock of his hips onto Husk’s clothed erection. “Tellin’ me how pretty I am. How what I want doesn’t matter, but that I’m what you want, and you’re gonna take it.”

Husk’s tongue flicks out to wet his bottom lip, and Angel nearly reaches down to rub his clenching cunt at the sight of what this little fantasy is doing to Husk, too. “Fuck,” he says, rough. “What happens next?”

“Sooo, the goons tie me up ‘n blindfold me, yank my hair ‘n throw me around a little to stop me strugglin’ and scare me or whateva, so I mostly start tryin’ to behave so they don’t hurt me worse,” Angel goes on, intently holding Husk’s gaze while he gets wetter and his accent comes out more. Golden irises against black sclerae and tall ears stamped with hearts replace the blurry faces of anonymous enforcers he’s fantasized about and of the demons he’s fucked in his eighty years in hell; the man at the forefront of his fantasy claims Angel with big paws and heart shaped beans in his palms. Fuck, picturing Husk like this, arousal entirely usurps his previous anxiety. “And then they force themselves inside of me from behind, ‘cause they know I secretly want it ‘cause I’m a huge slut,” Angel says in a rush, the shame at the knowledge of what he would’ve done if he’d had the guts when he was alive transforming into need. God, the men he could’ve fucked if he’d just been happy being a woman!

Husk hums deeply and Angel glances at him with a nervous purse of his lips. “Blindfolded, huh?” Husk says.

“Well, they was bigger guys, so they coulda just used their hands, which woulda been hot, too. Ain’t like it actually mattered if I saw their faces, ‘cause they’d be tellin’ me I could either cooperate or die, obviously—” Angel reasons, stopping himself before he can turn it even darker. That might be a little much for their first time, that extra element of danger. Could he talk Husk into knifeplay at some point? Breath play? Shit, later, later. “Y’know. Normal stuff,” Angel says, only slightly pitchy. He throws one palm up in an attempt at an easy shrug.

Husk tips his head the other way, ears angling toward him and smile twisting into a knowing smirk.

Fuck but that smirk makes Angel want to bite him in that magic spot on his neck that makes Husk moan like the wanton whore. Angel chews harder on his own lip instead to resist the urge, really wanting to be good and have a conversation.

“You touch yourself thinkin’ about this?” Husk asks, smirking wider like he can read Angel’s thoughts.

“What don’t I touch myself thinking about is the better—”

Husk’s hum is a scolding one, but what cuts Angel off into a sharp inhale is how Husk’s thumbs brush along the crease of Angel’s hips and thighs. Angel’s chin dips toward his chest to watch Husk’s claws graze over the swell of his vulva, his hooded cock hard and reactive to how the flat side of a claw brushes over it.

Angel shudders.

“I ask again,” Husk says, a pleased rumble in his chest vibrating Angel where they’re connected. “D’ya touch yourself thinking about this?”

“God, all the fuckin’ time I did. Do,” Angel groans out with the touch, dropping his head back and fisting his hands in the dense fur of Husk’s chest and rolling his hips down again with purpose. The move pulls yet another rumble from Husk, this one awfully close to a purr. Such a satisfying sound. “I… I sometimes dream of some fuckin’ plug-ugly stranger comin’ into my room and taking what he wants. And I’m tied up and beggin’ him to go easy ‘n he tells me I’m too hard to resist and what if I need more lube?” Angel starts to babble, and Husk’s eyebrows hike, evidently surprised by the next fantasy but capable of inferring why needing more lube is part of it. Angel brings his face forward again, pouting. It’s a separate fantasy from the enforcers, but Husk asked!

Husk nods sagely. “For this scene how ‘bout I tie you up a little, manually blindfold ya with my big guy hands, threaten ya so you cooperate,” he lists his suggestions.

Angel’s pout shifts into hunched-shoulder anticipation and he glances away at the intensity of it, heat pooling below and threatening to soak his already damp panties. His body thrills at the image; he’d imagined several similar scenarios already, but to hear it spelled out in that perfect fucking voice…!

Husk lifts a hand to Angel’s chin, gently redirecting hot pink to glowing gold. Angel gazes back, heart thrumming with excitement and relief; Husk takes him seriously and Angel’s libido is awake. “Think I can get some of that real nice rope, too. The soft kind. Silk,” Husk says thoughtfully, though his voice stays low and intimate.

Angel grins, curious. “Rope?” he asks, and Husk cocks an eyebrow. “We got the cuffs, don’t we?” If Angel’s honest with himself, rope replacing the cuffs in his fantasies makes them three times hotter; permanently done and fucking done.

Husk grins wickedly again, ears angled toward Angel. “Sure, but we play with those all the time. Somethin’ wrong with rope?” he says, even.

Angel quickly shakes his head. “Rope is fuckin’ great, I just, uh. Guess I didn’t think about it.” Now he’s thinking about it a lot, beyond substituting toys in fantasies; about deft claws pressing and pulling at Angel’s limbs to tie him up nice and pretty, all to Husk’s preferences. “You know what you’re doin’ with rope, Big Guy?”

Husk’s irises glow softly and his grin twists into a smirk. “Baby, I used to do shibari with showgirls.”

Angel’s grin turns sleazy and he swats Husk’s shoulder. “You fuckin’ cad!” he accuses delightedly. “Braggart!” Another swat and Husk catches the hand with a laugh so warm and infectious that Angel joins in. “But for real, I want that.” He nods firmly, meeting Husk’s eyes and pulling his hand from Husk’s to hold furry cheeks in all four of his hands. “Tie me up with rope.”

“I can do that,” Husk says, voice smoky and deep as he leans up to Angel’s face again, a paw lined along his back and the other coming to hold Angel’s chin again to make sure they don’t break eye contact. Drawn back in, Angel’s hands settle on Husk’s shoulders.

“So,” Husk begins again. “I’ll tie you up — with rope — then blindfold ya, threaten you to do what I want, and of course, make sure ya know how pretty you are, ‘specially to some ugly guy like me…”

Angel moans in his throat but quickly clears it, turning his head aside and pretending he isn’t beet red in the face at the simplest fucking set dressing. Fuck, Husk is so hot when he’s confident and smirking and speaking in that half-threat half-promise way he has. “Yeah. All of tha— wait a fuckin’ minute,” he interrupts himself, glaring down at Husk with a scowl as he registers that a choice word escaped his maybe-not-so-confident boyfriend’s mouth.

Husk, surprised by the shift in attitude, blinks up at him. “What?”

“What’d you just call yourself?” Angel says darkly, taking Husk’s face between his hands and forcing him to meet his eyes, stern as he purses his lips. Husk blinks dumbly. “Did you just say you’re ugly?” Angel says, outright disbelieving now. Husk’s ears flick outward before springing back to alertness at Angel’s challenge and Angel grips Husk’s jaw now to make sure Husk keeps eye contact, scandalized. “Husk!” he scolds. “What the fuck’re you talkin’ about, you’re the handsomest kitty I ever saw!”

Conflict lights over Husk’s features, his poker face absolutely shot for a good five seconds as Angel folds his lower arms over his waist and raises his eyebrows expectantly. “You said you wanted an ugly guy to take advantage of you,” Husk eventually lands on, his words squished slightly from how Angel’s gripping fingers forcibly purse Husk’s lips.

Angel narrows his eyes and releases Husk’s face. “Hmph.”

“Izzat… not…?” Husk’s brows furrow. “I’m trying, baby.”

“You’re tryin’ to what, appease me? By insulting yourself? That’s my boyfriend you’re talkin’ about, asshole,” Angel drawls. But no matter how much he plays up his genuine displeasure, he can’t hide his affection; Husk cracks a tiny smile, and Angel lets one side of his mouth curve up in a half-smile of his own.

“Then,” Husk starts again, watching for the reaction he’s aiming for now that Angel has his goddamn number, “do you ever fantasize about me doin’ it to ya?”

Angel hums at length and squints at the ceiling, making a show of thinking about his answer as he taps lithe fingers on his chin. God, he’s already a little hard. “Hmmm, do I ever think about my sexy boyfriend with his gorgeous big paws and his perfect sexy face comin’ for me when I least expect it? His sharp fuckin’ teeth and his cutting, pointed claws and his exquisitely barbed dick all sinkin’ inside me even when I beg him not to?” Angel asks the string lights he hung from the overhead light out to the corners of the room, wet panties growing wetter as his arousal makes slick spill from him before Husk even properly fucking touches him. It’s not Angel’s fault Husk makes for a killer fantasy, and Angel squirms, squeezing his knees and thighs over Husk’s lap to impress the point, the cat’s nose finally giving that little telltale twitch of catching a scent as Husk glances down between them again.

Husk’s eyeroll makes a show of fond exasperation but he can’t as well disguise the scarlet coloring his muzzle, his ears flicking and the feathered end of his tail beating up and down on the bed behind him. 

Angel rocks atop him for a brief moment, letting some of his arousal break through and fully soak his panties after all, just to sell his point. He smirks, returning his attention to Husk’s enormous pupils, rings of molten gold gleaming around the edges. 

That’s better.

Angel keeps going, no longer trying to hide what this fantasy does to him as he rocks into Husk’s lap, brushing his lips up the side of Husk’s face. “Do I ever daydream about him holdin’ me down and pushin’ me around and shovin’ his cock wherever he wants whenever he fuckin’ pleases, whether I want it or not? ‘Cause he’s desperately into me and I’m what gets ‘im off?” 

Husk’s purr starts up and Angel glides his primary hands down over the thick fur of Husk’s chest, revelling in the intimacy. Basking in the flare of possession that rolls through his body, Angel groans. Husk doesn’t purr for anyone else. 

“Do I ever touch myself,” Angel breathes in Husk’s ear, low and intent the way Husk loves to hear him and pleased when Husk’s hips jerk up to meet him, “to what it’d be like to experience you when you want me so fucking bad you go unhinged with it? Primal with it? Do I ever get soaked imagining what it’d be like to struggle against your iron grip and sexy, stern voice, scaring me so deep it loops me back to horny?”

“Angel,” Husk rasps out, a plea for Angel to both continue and stop. His jaw hangs open, breaths thin with need.

Angel reaches down to touch himself to relieve some of the pressure but halts at Husk’s warning growl, shivering. Not yet, then. “Do I ever fuck a dildo into my cunt thinking about how bruises and fear would feel if it were you giving ‘em to me ?” Angel says, breathless as he recalls some of his more detailed fantasies aloud to Husk. “Do I ever cum my fucking brains out, dizzy with it, thinking about you taking what you want from me?”

Throwing his head back, Husk gulps down air. Angel proudly takes in the sight, knowing he’s won the argument. “Dammit. We’re having a conversation, not…”

“I’m talking. You’re talking.” Angel leans in, nipping at Husk’s bottom lip. “S’a conversation.”

“I asked a simple question,” Husk says, trying for stern.

“I answered.” Angel smirks, sultry. “You want it simple? Yes, I fantasize about you doing it to me.”

“Yeah,” Husk says, voice cracking as his tail stops moving altogether, which Angel knows he can only do with ample concentration.

Angel’s sorely tempted to reach down and grope that perfect cock in an effort to move things along, away from conversation and toward what they’re really craving, but Husk rights his head and sets his hands on Angel’s waist to tug him closer. Angel spreads his legs that much more, grinning when he feels the bulge of Husk’s clothed erection press against the hooded head of his own cock, teasing and heated.

Husk inhales raggedly, brow twitching as he tries and fails to suppress a full shudder.

Delighted, Angel repeats the motion until Husk gives in and groans, gripping Angel’s waist to stop him. “Sucka,” Angel says smoothly, batting his lashes again, only a little messy from his embarrassing little bouts of crying before. Husk doesn’t seem to mind, though he keeps Angel in place for now, fueling Angel’s fantasies of breaking the man’s resistance hard enough that he’ll soon ravish him accordingly. “There’s so much I want to know now that I know you’re into this.”

“I’m gonna regret this,” Husk grumbles, closing his eyes.  “Like what?”

“Color?” Angel quips, mostly to be a shithead.

“Green, you fucking asshole. Like what?”

Laughing, Angel rubs his now ruined shorts on Husk’s clothed erection, and he smirks toothily when Husk’s eyes fly open. “What do you think of runny mascara?” Angel says.

“Yours or in general?”

“Tiffany Titfucker’s. Mine, dickhead.”

Claws squeeze Angel’s waist in playful reproach. “And I’m the one who made it run?”

Ooo, Angel definitely wants to explore that later, wants to see if he can stoke a possessive desire in Husk if someone else makes Angel cry, but for now— “You are,” he breathes out, trembling once in anticipation.

Husk’s eyes flash, lids falling halfway as he smirks. “I like makin’ you messy with me, baby.”

Whining, Angel moves his hips rhythmically down onto Husk’s erection over and over as if Husk can fuck him through their clothes if only Angel were stubborn enough. “Yeah? Want to make a mess of me? Want me to fuckin’ — slobber on your cock — fill me with your cum—”

Husk grips his waist harder but doesn’t stop him, breathing labored. “I think we’re getting off track here—”

“We are and you should join me—”

Husk surges up and kisses him, too gentle, infuriatingly gentle, but it grounds Angel regardless. Husk’s grip on him actually halts the humping but his thumbs stroke soothing circles and Angel can’t help but melt. When the kiss breaks, Husk murmurs, “Anything else you want to know?”

“Yeah. D’ya think we’re on the same page yet, babycakes?” Angel asks, taking care to be quiet and sultry; if he gets carried away and Husk stops them again he doesn’t trust himself to not pull out a damn gun. Besides, Husk has been kind enough to grant him patience and Angel can try to do the same for him. 

Husk nods, blinking slowly and further melting Angel’s heart.

Angel resumes playing with his suspenders and the fuzzy tufts of his cheeks, returning Husk’s slow, focused blink with one of his own. “So. Tyin’ me up with rope. Threats. Blindfolding me. Usin’ your big, sexy hands to manhandle me and hopefully get a little rough with me, ‘cause I like it when you touch me,” Angel says, counting them on his lower hand. “Call me pretty like ya can’t help yourself, mm… Think you can stand to gag me?”

“I like gaggin’ you,” Husk answers without missing a beat, and Angel flashes a wicked grin. “But maybe next time, since I’m already blinding you.”

Angel purses his lips but nods. He’ll hold onto that ‘next time’; Husk better count on it. “What about pretendin’ you’re a stranger?” he asks, putting an extra dose of lightness in, just in case this is where the line is for Husk— 

Husk smirks, effectively dashing away Angel’s momentary anxiety with another rush of horniness. “A stranger or a surprise?” he asks, knowing.

Angel grins with all his teeth in return, brushing the tip of his tongue along the sharp edges. Husk’s eyes track the motion and it takes everything in Angel to not start fucking humping him again. “Can it be both? A surprise from a stranger?”

“Surprising how?” Husk says. He doesn’t miss a beat, his calculating eyes switching between Angel’s mismatched ones. Husk lightly drags his claws up and down Angel’s narrow back, as if challenging Angel’s conviction to behave. “Place? Time?”

“I like the idea of you— well, a stranger, I guess— catchin’ me at home.” He pauses, leveling Husk with a firm stare when Husk’s touches earn the shiver they’re meant to. “Y’know, where I’m supposed to feel safe?” he says, his voice cracking with need. “After I’m all settled in ‘n my guard’s totally down?”

The way Husk examines him, Angel is certain he’s hanging on the cusp of another question, but this is for fun. It’s fantasy, it’s horny, Angel is asking he doesn’t need Husk putting on the brakes for safety dammit.

So Angel suggests, “What if I text you a cat emoji the nights I’m not down for it?”

“Works for me,” Husk says with a decisive nod, and the release of tension has Angel shivering again, relieved and eager and grinning. “You want the slut shaming? A little… degradation?” Husk asks more cautiously, and Angel looks at him sharply, nodding curtly. He’s gotten Husk to call him a slut a few times in bed and it never fails to make Angel wetter, because Husk only ever plays with the word, never dragging it into shameful accusation. “You want me forcin’ you to respect me?”

“Yeah. And… I like callin’ you Sir,” Angel confirms almost shyly, and Husk’s ears flick, alert. Ha. He likes it too. Runny mascara, sir, rape play, Angel’s the luckiest motherfucker in Hell. “You’re so fuckin’ hot. Can’t believe a few minutes ago I thought you wouldn’t be into bein’ mean to me, but you’re raring to go, huh?”

Husk’s expression softens even as his eyes glow brighter. “You’ve been writhing on my fuckin’ lap saying the filthiest shit, damn right I’m raring to go.” He tugs Angel forward until they’re pressed firmly together, grinding Angel’s hips down against him with a satisfied groan, pulling a wispy whimper out of Angel and turning the spider’s face hot pink. 

Angel grins triumphantly, rocking his hips forward again, again, sighing for the friction and pressure against them both as he clings to Husk’s shoulders, massaging with each forward press, lower hands pushing over Husk’s chest. 

But then Husk reaches up to cradle Angel’s face, and he groans softly as Angel’s thumbs find knots at his nape as he rolls against him again. “I don’t know that I’m able to get into all that right this fuckin’ second—”

“No no, not tonight,” Angel agrees, hands greedy in how they roam over Husk’s body. “No rape play tonight. Right now I wanna use you to get off.”

A chuckle rumbles through Husk’s chest, his smirk flashing with an edge, but the way his dick stiffens further under Angel gives him away. “If this is what having you talk me into holding you down and doing terrible things to you gets me, I think I’m gonna have you embarrass yourself like that more often.”

Angel laughs, light. He really had been embarrassed, and for what? He shoves Husk back onto the bed, already grabbing the hem of his sweater to peel it off and tipping back only enough to disrobe. “Oh, you think that’s embarrassing, wait until I tell you how good your dick feels fuckin’ in and outta me at the perfect pace, Mistah Praise Kink,” he says, chest fluff bouncing out of sync with his hair when he frees himself of his sweater. Husk’s eyes roam over him and Angel plants those large paws in the downy fluff, humming in approval.

When Angel leans into him again, Husk catches the back of his neck and pulls him into a sloppy, grinning kiss that has Angel falling on top of him.