Never let it be said that Angel Dust, porn-star extraordinaire, doesn’t like things a little bit rough in the bedroom. He’s got a kink list a mile wide, a heightened libido, and all the right crossed wires in his brain to make pain feel amazing in the moment.
That doesn’t mean he likes being smacked around though. There’s a huge difference between letting someone spank you or drip hot wax onto your skin (a practice he’d had to give up when he’d manifested down here; turns out wax and fur don’t mix well) and someone punching you in the fucking face.
Sometimes, Angel can’t tell if Val knows the difference or not. Once upon a time he’d been confident that he knew the other demon, at least to a certain extent. But years of listening to that soothing baritone in his ear has worn Angel down. Does Val actually know the difference between abuse and BDSM? He says he cares about Angel; surely he wouldn’t hurt someone he cares about like that. Oh sure he hurts some of the other performers, has done so in front of Angel even, but Angel is different. Val says so. He doesn’t hurt Angel in the same way at all. He hurts Angel because he cares.
Angel shakes the thoughts away, disgusted with himself. What the fuck is he thinking? He needs to stop making excuses for the other demon once and for all.
No matter how much Val says he’s helping him.
His own face stares at him from the mirror, eyeliner and lipstick smudged against his fur and a dark bruise forming under all the white and pink. Judging by how hot and painful the skin is, his eye is going to swell. Which is just fucking perfect. That shit ain’t easy to cover up.
With a sigh, Angel cleans up his ruined makeup as best he can. The bad thing is that he’d been hoping this encounter would be a good ending to a shitty day. Getting caught in that turf war with Cherri a while back had been fun, but it had landed him in hot water at the hotel. Things have been tense since then and Angel has had to lay low to try and make up for it.
So when Val had showed up at Angel’s most recent show he’d been excited to see the other demon. Angel has always been one of Val’s favorites, and even though Val has loosened his leash a little, he still has a choke hold on Angel’s life. Including Angel’s vices.
Once the dance was over Angel had crawled his way into Val’s lap, hands already going for the pockets inside that big coat where Angel knows Val likes to hide his gifts. But Val had caught his hands up and grinned at him, all sharp teeth and narrowed eyes, and Angel realized suddenly he was in for it. That he’d somehow managed to piss Val off without realizing it.
And in for it he fuckin’ was.
Angel hisses as he pulls his clothes on, limbs sore from being restrained too tightly. He wishes fervently he had literally any other clothing, something more comfortable and a little less revealing. Granted his fur really covers a lot of the damage, something Val has always outwardly said he enjoys about Angel, and what isn’t covered doesn’t look too bad. Yet. But all that’s left of the clothes are his boots and underwear. He pulls on his shirt even though one sleeve has been ripped off entirely and there are tears all along the other seams from it being torn off his body. It had been a slinky thing before, with a big heart cut-out on the chest and holes for his thumbs. Perfect for looking like lap candy.
Except Val’s lap isn’t where he’d ended up.
The reflection in the mirror is a little too sad for Angel’s tastes. He forces a smile, pushing his hair back with one hand and his breast fluff up with two more. Just another day.
When he leaves the bathroom, Val isn’t even in the office anymore. Neither are any of the guys he’d brought with him. Angel supposes he should probably be relieved but all he really feels is tired.
For a moment he thinks about going downstairs to the dressing room. The floor is vibrating with heavy bass and judging by the position of the pentagram moon outside, the night is still young. He can put on the clothes he came here in, maybe talk to a few of the girls getting ready for their performances. A little camaraderie to get him through the night.
But even the idea makes his stomach twist, bile pushing up the back of his throat. He tugs his boots on as quickly as he can and then heads downstairs, turning down a side hall before anyone can spot him. He slips out the back.
Hell is almost always hot and there are no real seasons to speak of. If there’s one thing Angel misses about life topside it’s snow and cool weather. He wants to bundle himself into a huge coat and slink into the shadows, brace himself against a frigid breeze, see his breath fan out in front of his face.
Instead he’s just uncomfortably warm, skin prickling with a potent combination of pain and shame. He lets the door shut behind him and briefly lets himself sink against the stinking wall next to it. The alley is dark and damp and disgusting but he lingers, eyeing the sickly orange light spilling across the pavement at the end of the alley.
The only thing that eventually gets him moving is the knowledge that Val’s goons are still inside and could stumble across him at any moment. He doesn’t think he could take a round two right now.
So Angel picks his chin up and struts out of the alley, automatically going to dig in his pocket for some smokes. He remembers belatedly that he’s only wearing underwear and a ripped shirt right now and cusses under his breath. Fuck, he should have stolen some from Val’s office.
There’s a line outside the club of demons waiting to get inside. Luckily they’re on the other side of the building and Angel is able to walk away from them and not towards. He gets a few catcalls anyways, some people calling his name. The urge to hunch his shoulders against it all is strong, but he’s proud of himself for walking tall. Even if he’s limping a little.
Unfortunately, some rando decides staring at Angel’s panty-clad ass as it walks away isn’t good enough. He sidles up next to Angel, throwing a tentacle of an arm over the spider’s shoulder. “Hey, baby, where ya’ goin’ so fast, huh?”
Angel’s whole body tenses and he cuts a glare at the other demon. He’s taller than Angel, which is unusual, big and muscled and the absolute last thing Angel needs right now. He’s sore all over and his face is starting to throb painfully.
“Look, I’m off the clock right now,” Angel tries, pushing the guy’s arm off and taking a step away. But big-and-squid just moves in closer, all sharp teeth and knowing grin.
“Aw, c’mon. You can’t tell me you came out here lookin’ like that just to tease us. Gimme a taste a’ the goods, babe.”
“And I told you no!” Angel snaps, his anger getting the best of him. “Take a fuckin’ hint, asshole!” He jerks away from grasping tentacles again, arms wrapped tight around himself as he stomps off down the street. He can hear the guy calling out to him again, calling him a bitch and a whore. But what else is new?
Angel gets a street away before his anger leaves him just as quickly as it had come. Fuck, he’s really off his game tonight. Normally he’d either con the man and take all his money, or he’d take him to task and laugh it off afterwards. But now he just feels sick and miserable.
Thankfully the rest of the walk back to the hotel is uneventful; just Angel, his thoughts, and the aching of his body.
He slips inside the dark lobby, breathing a sigh of relief to not find anyone up and about. It’s late after all, and the hotel has a strict curfew. He never thought he’d be thankful for the damn thing. But as he moves further inside, a light flicks on in the hallway and Charlie pokes her cute little head around the corner.
Her eyes light up immediately upon seeing him, and she calls back to someone he can’t see, “It’s him, he’s here!”
Angel groans. Fuckin’ hell this night cannot get any worse, can it?
It can and does. He tries to move past Charlie, waving a tired hand at her. “Yeah, I made it back, sorry,” he mutters, but she catches him by one wrist before he can even finish the words.
“We need to talk,” she says, her gaze imploring. Vaggie emerges from the hall behind her, followed closely by Alastor of all people. Angel narrows his eyes at all three of them.
“What is this, some kinda intervention?”
Charlie shifts uncomfortably but her grip doesn’t let up. “Something like that. We-” Her head cocks to the side slightly and her voice trails off as she studies him. Then she pulls him closer, making him stumble and curse, and reaches up to try and touch his face. He jerks away from her of course, pulling his arm out of her grip in the process. “What happened to you?” she asks.
“Keep yer fuckin’ hands to yourself!” he hisses, rubbing at his bruised wrist with one hand, the other two crossed tight over his chest.
“What’s the matter?” Vaggie asks, coming up beside Charlie. Her one good eye skates over Angel’s body, taking in his panties and ripped shirt and coming to the wrong conclusion. Her upper lip curls in disgust. “I was hoping you’d have a half-decent lie as to why you were out so late-”
“What, besides the fact that I work at night?” he hisses.
“Your shift ended two hours ago!” Vaggie counters vehemently. “The rules state that you’re allowed out past curfew only if you come back as soon as you get off.”
Angel can feel his mouth pulling up into a mocking smile, tongue flicking against the sharp edges of his teeth. “Well I certainly got off,” he says, just to watch the way she takes in a deep breath, hand clenching at her side for that stupid spear of hers.
But Charlie puts a gentle hand on Vaggie’s shoulder, positioning her body slightly between them. “Vaggie stop! He’s hurt.”
“Probably forgot his safe-word,” Vaggie counters uncharitably, and any other time, any other time, Angel would have laughed it off, made a joke. But he can feel the way he flinches slightly at the words. Fuck.
“Look,” he says, running fingers through his hair in agitation. “Can I just go ta sleep now? I promise not to come back so late again,” so long as Val don’t get hold of him again anyways, “and I’m real sorry about it. Good?”
The apology doesn’t appease Vaggie of course, but what ever does? Charlie just looks upset still. “I was worried about you.”
And doesn’t that just make Angel feel like shit.
She firms herself up, taking a deep breath in and letting it out again. “I think I’m going to have to put my foot down here. Angel, if you want to be redeemed properly you’re going to have to quit your job.”
He blinks at her, taken aback, then blinks again. “Are you fuckin’ stupid?” he asks, completely serious. It makes Vaggie gnash her teeth at him, but he talks over whatever complaint she may have. “’Quit your job’!? That ain’t how this industry works, sweetheart. You don’t just quit workin’ for Val.” He takes a deep breath, shoulders setting, arms gripping each other. “I don’t know what you want from me here, Charlie. I cut back on the booze and drugs, I try to help out my friends, I even got permission to be here from Val, which, by the way, you have no fuckin’ clue how difficult that was. But I show up late one fuckin’ night and suddenly none’a that means shit?”
Charlie’s mouth twists, but it’s obvious she’s trying to stand her ground. “It’s not just that, Angel, it’s everything. I don’t think you’re taking any of this very seriously. Just cutting back isn’t good enough, not when it comes to redemption. You have to give it your all.”
The words hit hard. Not good enough. You could title his autobiography that ‘cause he’s been hearing it for fuckin’ decades now.
“Forget it, princess,” Angel says, stepping away from the pair. “Fuckin’ forget all of it. I’ll clear out in the morning.” He’s tired, too goddamn tired to deal with any of this anymore.
Charlie tries to call after him as he heads up the stairs towards his room, but Vaggie must stop her. Their voices drift away, back down the hall, and all he can think is good fuckin’ riddance.
His room is the first on the landing. The Do Not Disturb sign he perpetually has hanging from the knob shakes as he unlocks the door and then falls when he actually opens it. He stares at the slip of plastic listlessly before stepping over it and into his room.
A series of small oinks greets him, and embarrassingly he feels his eyes well up a little. The first demon all day who has been happy to see him, not just his body but him…
Angel kneels down to scoop up Nuggs when the pig comes trotting up to him. He immediately buries his face in Angel’s fluff as he always does, snorting quietly with contentment. Angel coos and pets at his little ears, careful of the eye spots and spikes on his back.
“Who’s the best piggie?” he murmurs, tickling under the animals chin to get him to grunt and squeal happily. “C’mon, you must be starving.” Setting Nugg back down, Angel grabs his food and fills the bowl, much to Nugg’s happiness. Only once he’s munching away does Angel sigh and move towards his bathroom.
He starts by stripping out of all of his clothes. His boots get kicked towards the bed, panties and ripped shirt tossed into the trash. He’s seriously thinking about burning them instead of just tossing them out but decides that’ll be a task for a different day.
Once he’s naked he hops in the shower, heedless of the how cold the water is when it first comes out of the pipe. He cranks it up and then stands there shivering until the stream heats around him. Then he keeps standing there, just letting himself drift.
He should be used to this, he thinks. Being used.
His face fucking hurts. His arms and wrists hurt too, as does his ass. He shifts uncomfortably before deciding he’s actually going to have to wash if he ever wants to get all the cum out of his fur. Who knows how many loads he’s got sticking to his skin right now. His face screws up just thinking about it.
He does his best to clean up and then turns the shower off, the silence after the sound of rushing water had filled his head slightly disorienting.
Where’s he even gonna go after tomorrow?
The question has been sitting on the edge of his mind since his little conversation earlier with Teagan and Sara. He’d been doing a pretty good job of ignoring it, but in the quiet of his bathroom, vigorously rubbing himself down with a towel, he can’t stop it from pushing to the forefront of his thoughts.
Because if he goes crawling back to Val like this, Val is just going to laugh at him. Especially after what happened tonight.
“You’re fuckin’ lucky I’m even letting you play with those goody two-shoe idiots,” Val had growled. “Remember who you belong to, Angel cakes. I own you. Your ass, your tits, your dick, and especially your time. The moment I decide your little free room is cutting into my time, it’s done for. Better remember how to suck a landlord’s cock, baby, because you ain’t gonna be gettin’ no more handouts from me.”
Angel had scoffed at the time, earning himself another backhand in the process. Now he wishes he’d tried a little harder to get into Val’s good graces. But he’d been operating under the assumption that he’d still have a place to go back to after tonight.
“In fact,” Val had said, pulling Angel close and leering into his face, “I think I know exactly what I need to do to remind you who you belong to. C’mon Angel cakes, got some boys upstairs who want to meet you.”
Angel had resisted, but that had only made it harder on himself in the end. He sighs and drops his towel, stepping up to the bathroom mirror. His right eye is starting to swell shut, the skin around it tight and painful, and he can see faint bruising under his fur around his wrists, hips, and throat. None of it noticeable if you don’t know what to look for.
Charlie had seen his eye apparently, but it didn’t mean much to her considering she was kicking him out still. Give it your all his skinny ass! He’d told them going into this that he had a contract with Val, that he could stay here but Val would still occasionally dictate his comings and goings. Not always; the tether he allowed Angel was pretty generous. His days were his own and he only had to work six nights out of seven. It was a good set up.
Or it was, rather. He’s positive after this that Val isn’t going to let him out of his sight for a while. Just to torment him about his failure here.
When Angel goes back into his bedroom, Nuggs is curled up in his bed fast asleep. Angel gives him a little pat on the head in passing. He pulls open one of the drawers on his dresser, rooting around until he can find the biggest, comfiest sweater he owns. It slips off his narrow shoulders and trails against his knees. He doesn’t bother with underwear, just collapses into bed like that, all long limbs and damp fur.
He’s just curled up with a pillow when the knock comes.
Angel sighs, pressing his face into the soft fabric. Can’t he lay here and feel sorry for himself in peace? Can’t he question his own existence without someone barging in and demanding more of him? He’s given all of himself that he knows how to give already, every goddamn inch, and still it’s not fuckin’ enough. It never will be.
His eyes prickle again and he dashes at them angrily, wincing when he rubs against the swollen one.
The knock comes again, more insistently this time.
“Go away, Charlie!” he calls, keeping his voice as steady as possible. “I’m not leaving ‘till tomorrow.”
There’s a pause where he listens for footsteps but hears nothing. Then there’s a metallic click and the doorknob starts to turn, despite the fact that he’d locked it. Angel sits up straight, dragging his pillow with him. “What the-”
The door opens, revealing the last demon Angel would have expected on the other side. He’s got the Do Not Disturb sign in one hand and is waving it lazily.
“I dare say, the floor probably isn’t a good place for a sign like this, dear fellow,” Alastor says, stepping into the room unprompted. “Especially if you want anyone else to read it.” The door closes on its own behind him, and Angel squints at the figure in red and black. Why in hell is Alastor bugging him at -he turns his head slightly, checks the time on his alarm clock- 4 in the goddamn morning?
“Can I fuckin’ help you?” he asks, hugging his pillow tighter to his chest. He knows how he looks right now; no make-up, the biggest, ugliest lilac sweater you’ve ever seen, face swollen all to hell, and cuddling up with a piece of plush like he’s some kind of toddler. But he also really doesn’t care right now. Let Alastor seem him when he’s this vulnerable, maybe then someone will get a good kick out of this situation.
“No, I don’t think so,” Alastor replies. He sets the little sign on Angel’s dresser and steps up closer to the bed. His eyes flicker briefly towards the ground as he steps over discarded clothing, sex toys, and pig paraphernalia. In the darkness of Angel’s bedroom those eyes glow an intimidating red, a deep rich hue like freshly spilled blood, and Angel feels a chill travel down his spine.
“Then what the hell are you doin’ in here?” he asks, braver than he feels. “I already said I’ll leave in the morning. You can’t kick me out.”
“Technically, dear, I could,” Alastor says lightly. He’s standing with his hands clasped behind his back, stance and posture both relaxed, which only makes Angel all the more tense. “But that’s not what I’m here for. I happened to see that little show of yours earlier-” Fuck, Angel had forgotten Alastor was even there, but he remembers the demon sidling up at the same time Vaggie had. “And I wanted to check on you.”
Angel narrows his eyes because yeah, that don’t check out at all chief. “The hell you do. What’re you really here for, Smiles?”
Alastor’s smile seems to brighten imperceptibility and he reaches out with one hand to touch Angel’s cheek. Fuck, when had he even gotten that close? Angel swears a moment ago he was five feet away. His fingers are cool as he cups Angel’s face, thumb dragging just under his black eye and making him wince. “Now, who says I don’t care what happens to the hotel’s residents? I’ve sunk a lot of money into this endeavour, you know.”
Angel pulls away with a snarl. “I’m not gonna be a resident no more, didn’t ya hear me? Been kicked out.” Again his mind supplies. He’s been evicted more times than he can count at this point. Kinda hard to keep a place when Val takes everything he makes.
“You haven’t been though, my dear!” Alastor says cheerily. If he’s upset about his touch being rebuffed, which is strange in and of itself considering how little he likes human contact, he doesn't show it. “You know what they say about assuming, haha!” A laugh track skips through the air around him, briefly brightening the glow of his eyes until Angel has to squint to protect his own eyes.
“I’m not bein’ kicked out?” he asks tentatively.
“Nope!” Alastor does a little move that flairs his jacket out behind himself before he sits on the very edge of Angel’s bed beside him. There’s space between their bodies but this is still the closest they’ve ever been, and for the most extended period of time. After that first rejection Angel hasn’t tried too hard to pursue the other demon, though he still offers a flirty and/or dirty joke from time to time. He can admit that he kind of has a little bit of a crush on Alastor though. What can he say, he likes a demon who isn’t interested almost as much as he likes being doted upon. It’s always been a problem.
He also likes a powerful demon. And, well, after that little show with the tentacles Angel had had to fight down an erection through sheer will alone.
Angel sighs, hugging his pillow tighter and pulling his legs up onto the mattress. He wants to go back to a few days ago, when things were fun and easy. When he’d been a fuck up but not as big of one as he is right now. “I dunno if I even want to stay,” he admits. “I mean, what’s the point? Val still owns me. I’m never gonna be able to do all this redemption shit if he keeps pumpin’ me full of drugs and pimpin’ me out.”
There’s another touch against his fur, this one on his arm. Alastor’s hand slides from his elbow down to his hand, which he deftly plucks up and pulls towards himself. His gloves are made of some kind of soft leather and his touch is dainty as he turns Angel’s hand, inspecting the inside of his wrist. “I’m assuming this is the result of that?” he asks lightly.
Angel frowns at him but allows it. “The bruises? Nah, that was jus’ punishment. Not work.”
Alastor cocks an eyebrow at him, smile never wavering, but the radio static that seems to follow him everywhere jumps up an octave. “And what did you do to deserve punishment?”
A harsh laugh pulls itself from Angel’s throat and he finally pulls his arm back in to his chest. “First of all, just existin’ is enough for Val to punish me. Second, he don’t like me splittin’ my time between here and there.”
“If he owns you then why allow you to be here at all?” Alastor asks, cutting straight to the real mystery.
“Dunno. Probably some kinda test. See if I’ll come crawling back to him or not.” Angel rubs absently at his throat, thinking about the hands that had held him there, pushing him down onto the floor. “Must be failin’ it though, considerin’.”
Alastor hums lightly, his voice under-laid with a static-y rift of jazz music. “My dear fellow, it seems to me the solution here is quite obvious!”
“Oh yeah? An’ what’s that?” Angel asks mulishly.
“Simple!” Alastor exclaims, then his neck does that creepy fuckin’ thing where it cracks to the side with an audible snap. His eyes fade to a burning black and Angel swears he can see static ripple in the very air around the demon’s face when he hisses, “We kill him.”
Angel blinks, a little taken aback by the vehemence in Alastor’s voice; less so by the murderous delight. Alastor seems like the kinda guy who gets off on torturing others for fun, which is. You know. Whatever. Angel’s seen worse in his line of work. Then Angel starts to laugh as the words actually sink in.
“Kill Val!?” he asks as Alastor blinks his face back to normal. “Look, Al, I know you got all yer creepy tentacles an’ shit, but this is Valentino we’re talkin’ bout here. You don’t just kill Val. Even if you could you’d leave a helluva power vacuum in his wake, ‘specially since I can’t see you takin’ up the porn industry as part of yer turf.”
“Darling, this is Hell!” Alastor replies, leaning into Angel’s space a little. “Who cares about power vacuums? More entertainment I say! Updates on the mad scramble for power would make a wonderful segment on my show.”
“It’s only entertainin’ ‘cause you don’t work in the industry!”
“With Val dead, neither would you.”
Angel sniffs at that, his chin jutting up in defiance. “I like my job, Smiles. I like bein’ fucked and gettin’ paid for it.”
Again Alastor reaches over to grab Angel’s wrist, holding it up between them. “You like this?”
Angel’s eyes narrow. “That’s different. Bein’ hurt during sex is great if I ask for it. Somma the best sex I’ve ever had has been while tied up. But I didn’t exactly ask to be held down and gang-banged by Val’s men while he sat back and watched.”
Alastor watches him calmly for a moment before reaching over with his opposite hand and grabbing Angel by the throat. The hold is loose enough but it presses right against his forming bruise, making him wince. “And this? You like this too, if you asked for it?”
And of-fucking-course Angel’s heart starts to beat faster. He can even feel his dick give a little twitch of interest under the hem of his sweater. “Yeah.”
There’s a flash of something in Alastor’s eyes, a brief rush of static and a laugh track gone all wrong. Then the hands are gone, leaving Angel to blink and wonder what the fuck that was about.
“Interesting. Well, regardless, wouldn’t your profession be easier without being under Val’s thumb?”
It takes a moment for Angel to trace back their conversation, and he has to fight the urge to rub at this throat as he does so. His skin feels warmer than ever under his fur, and he thinks he might be blushing a little. “Mm, yeah I guess so. I’d make a lot more too. He takes almost everythin’.”
“Excellent, it’s decided then!” Alastor says, jumping to his feet again. With a wave of his hand his microphone appears, twirled in an easy arc. “I’ll start putting things into motion. Oh, this will be fun.”
Angel’s brain stalls. “What- wait!” He’s reached out and grabbed Alastor by the back of his coat before he can think about it. The other demon pauses, cocking his head to the side at Angel. “The fuck do you mean?”
“Why, I’m going to kill Val! Isn’t that obvious?”
Angel’s jaw drops open. “Wha- you’re serious!?”
Something about Alastor’s smile turns sinister and he seems to loom over Angel suddenly, leaning in far too close for comfort. “Oh, mon cheri,” he says, taking Angel’s face in both of his hands, microphone vanishing again. “I would never joke about this.” His hands are too tight, one thumb digging into the sensitive flesh around Angel’s black eye.
Angel’s mouth is still open, his breath coming in pants as he stares up at the other demon. He’s not used to being loomed over, as tall as he is, and he suddenly feels more vulnerable than ever in his huge sweater and bare feet, Alastor fully dressed, not an inch of his skin actually touching Angel despite their proximity. Still, Angel can feel the heat rolling off him, can feel each individual finger where it digs into his fur.
“Why?” is Angel’s next question. Alastor is so close that he can’t focus on one eye or the other, switching between them. This close he can see the inhuman shape of Alastor’s pupils and how the light of his eyes reflects off his monocle.
He’s expecting another comment about the hotel, how Angel is their poster boy and therefore he needs to succeed. But what Alastor says instead is, “Consider yourself under my protection from this point on. I don’t like seeing someone beautiful being sullied by someone so vile.” His thumb swipes under Angel’s eyes, grin widening. “Unless they ask to be, of course.”
Angel can only stare back at him. Alastor thinks he’s beautiful? Alastor wants to protect him? But forget all of that, did Alastor just make a dirty joke?
The other demon just laughs at him. “Close your mouth, dear, you’ll catch flies like that.”
Angel’s jaw snaps closed with an audible click. “Excuse me for bein’ surprised!” he hisses, tentatively reaching up to grab one of Alastor’s wrists. Not to to push him away; just to touch in return. “Since when have you done anythin’ except tolerate me?”
“Consider my interest piqued,” Alastor replies, evading the question entirely. And really he shouldn’t be capable of surprising Angel anymore at this point; Angel is completely surprised out for the night. But he does manage it, by leaning forward and planting one right on Angel’s mouth.
It’s not a nice kiss by an stretch of the imagination. It’s sharp and painful, almost vicious, but that doesn’t keep Angel from kissing back. His fingers tighten around Alastor’s wrist and he may or may not make a breathy sound in the back of his throat. Not one of his practiced moans for the camera, something real and soft.
When Alastor finally pulls away there’s a smear of blood across his bottom lip. He licks it up lazily, gaze hooded and all the brighter for it. “Have a good night, Angel,” he says, and with a flick of his fingers he’s gone.
Angel sits there staring into the darkness of his bedroom for a long fucking time, just processing what happened. When he still doesn’t understand any of it he buries his face into his pillow and screams a little. His dick is hard and the metallic tang of his own blood is bright on his tongue.
He doesn’t sleep much that night.