Chapter Text
Husk only had a second to react so he didn’t accidentally stab Angel, or himself, with his fountain pen when his long body was folded onto his lap. His main arms rested on his shoulders, but the lower set sat crossed. Husk found that usually meant something was on Angel’s mind, and he would soon be hearing about it, like it or not.
He hadn’t even heard him come in, Husk had been so engrossed in his work. His eyes flicked up to an unreadable expression.
“Can I help you?” he asked a little bemusedly.
A finely shaped brow rose.
“Why do you never come to my drag shows?”
Husk blinked, feeling a swoop of adrenaline in his stomach, but he played it off by calmly putting his pen back in it’s holder. Didn’t seem he’d be able to keep looking through those statements for now. He settled one hand on Angel’s knee and the other on one of his hips.
“I go to your shows whenever the schedule allows-”
“Oh I know,” he interrupts. “You’ve been to all my other shows. Make it a point to be there opening night with flowers, which I appreciate, it’s very romantic, but,” he leaned in a little closer, as if he could see what was in Husk’s mind through his eyes. “You ain’t never at the ones where I’m in drag.”
Husk cursed internally. He’d thought he’d been careful about not being so obvious, but once again he was getting bit in the ass for underestimating Angel. He was incredibly shrewd when it came to things he cared about. For some reason, and he thanked fuck every day this was the case, Husk was one of those things.
He briefly debated saying he had been there, Angel just must’ve not seen him in the crowd, but he hated lying to him in any form. It was also a shit lie since the stage for the drag shows was much smaller and intimate. Which added to Husk’s problems.
It wasn’t that he didn’t like drag. Oh no, the one time he had seen one of his shows, through a crack in a door like some peeper, he found he liked it too much. It was incredibly stupid. He’d seen Angel in gowns, mini dresses, all levels of naked, and more. There was just something about the way Angel carried himself that got Husk’s heart pounding. And he did not need to embarrass himself getting flustered in the middle of his own club. He had a reputation to keep...as much as he could with their mischievous staff.
He mentally steeled himself.
“Must’ve been a coincidence. I’ll be at the next one,” he said flippantly.
Angel looked suspicious for a moment, but his expression brightens up, and Husk feels the weak part of him melt a bit. Damn it.
“Really?”
“Sure.”
Angel pressed a kiss to his cheek, and then to his mouth, before getting off his lap to practically skip out of his office.
“I’ll pay a special visit to your table,” he throws over his shoulder with a wink.
Husk waited for the sound of heels to fade before putting his face in his hands and groaning.
-
Husk waits until the last possible moment to enter the lounge, hoping he can grab one of the tables hidden in the dark corners. That hope is dragged out and shot when one of the waiters smiles and leads him to the table front and center, a placard with his name and a kiss mark reserving it.
He nodded to the waiter in thanks, hoping none of his dread was visible as he took his seat. A tumbler of scotch is set down by his elbow, which he throws back like a shot, hoping it’ll loosen him up enough to not make a fool of himself for the next half hour.
There are a couple of opening acts, which lure him into a false sense of calm, before the house lights dimmed and the stage took on a rosy glow. Soft piano notes fill the air as Angel steps out from behind the large curtains taking up the back, a likeness of his own wings framing him.
A string of curses marched through Husk’s head.
-
Angel might have gone a little overboard for tonight, but he just couldn’t help himself. Husk deserved his best dress, best wig, and most alluring number, even if he didn’t know why Husk had been avoiding his shows. A small part of him was anxious that Husk didn’t like drag, but he knew that wasn’t true. He’d talked about the queens that had been like aunties to him in life as a young boy. Despite many demons telling him otherwise, Angel knew Husk liked him too. A lot. So it didn't make a lick of sense.
He’d find out tonight, one way or another, and give his best damn performance doing it.
Even with the stage lights, he could immediately see Husk’s silhouette at the table he’d picked for him. It made his heart flutter, though he didn’t let it show on his face.
He started his song. It's all breathy yearning and dark intentions. He walked slowly around the stage, thanking the band with an air kiss as was their due, before he descended into the mass of tables. He doesn’t go to Husk right away, but he can feel his eyes on him as he tours the other patrons, his voice and body language soft and sultry to offset the bullying. Ties tightened, hats in face, chairs upturned. One particularly bold soul gets a tumbler dropped on his crotch.
He caught Husk’s eyes a couple of times, but he couldn't make out the details of his expression, until he finally descended on his table.
Angel wasted no time in sitting side saddle on Husk’s lap, ignoring the wolf whistles that came from the rest of the lounge, including their wait staff (the traitors). When he finally locked onto Husk’s face, it takes his double life time of experience to not falter in his song.
His face was completely red, pupils blown, looking like a school boy who’d seen his first set of tits. It became abundantly clear that if they weren’t surrounded, Angel would be taken apart on this very lovely white table cloth, and their would be teeth involved.
Pleasure like a live wire burned through his body, and he gets up with as much grace as he can to circle Husk, Angel's gloved hands sliding down his chest under the lapels of his suit. He tried not to linger, but he couldn't help feel the alarming beat of Husk’s heart, or the heat radiating from his fur.
Before he could do something stupid, Angel drifts back onto the stage for the ending of the song, eyes locked with Husk’s on the last note. He hoped the message was clear.
‘Meet me in my dressing room or you’re going to have a mess on the casino floor.’
-
It’s torture for Husk to applaud as if he wasn’t dying in his seat, but he does, and he measures his steps to leave in an unhurried pace. He might've used a little magic so that no one noticed him slip backstage and through the halls. He didn’t even need to touch the door with Angel’s nameplate on it before it was thrown open. Pulled inside, a hot pair of lips that definitely stain his fur greets him.
He held Angel tightly and let himself fall into the four hands that messed with his hair and suit. It felt like Angel wanted to dismantle him and crawl into his skin all at once. When they eventually pulled away to breathe, the smirk on Angel’s smeared lips is pure wickedness.
“You could’ve just said you had a thing for it,” he laughed breathlessly.
Husk groaned and rolled his eyes.
“I don’t have a thing, it’s just,” he felt his face heat even more. “You’re beautiful, obviously. You’re always beautiful, but when you’re like this, up there, I don’t know, you...” His touch is more gentle as he cups his face. “You look so happy, and free. Like nothing is tying you down.”
Angel stared at him, his own face heating. His frantic moves to disrobe Husk slow, but quickly pick up their pace again.
“You’re such a damn sweet talker.”
He kissed him again, and their touches turned desperate. With some blind bumbling and tripping over piles of clothes, Angel was eventually up on his vanity, Husk between his legs and shoving up the already obscenely high slit of his dress.
“This is one of my favorite dresses so don’t fucking stain it,” Angel teased.
Husk pulled aside his thong, his gaze so lust drunk it made Angel feel tipsy.
“I’ll fix it if I do,” he growls playfully.
It’s rough and quick, both of them so wound up from the show that it’s over in a blaze, Angel’s lashes askew and Husk’s face buried in his chest from where he’d pulled down the strapless bodice in a fervor.
“So...do you think you’ll be able to handle seeing me like this from now on?”
“I’m worried you’ve conditioned me to pop a stiffy when you’re like this actually.”
Angel laughed loudly, hugging Husk to him.
“Well, I promise there’ll always be an after party,” he purrs.
Husk shook his head, feeling sorry for his future self, but also thought he was one lucky son of a bitch.