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Not for the first time, and certainly not for the last, Husk stared at himself in Angel’s bathroom mirror and re-evaluated his life choices.
What else was there to stare back at him, other than the standard profile of his own face, the slouch of his posture, the falling slope of his wings—oh. And the leather fucking harness across his chest and shoulder blades, held on like a rucksack around his shoulders.
Yes, that was Angel’s idea. No, Husk did not find any use for it. And, quite frankly, he felt a little ridiculous. It clung to his fur uncomfortably in some places, which caused him to prod and shuffle around the bends where it pinched. Readjusting the fit with the straps helped, though, and before he knew it—well.
No better time than the present, right?
Husk pushed the bathroom door open and stepped out into Angel’s bedroom—illuminated a bit like a club, pink mood lighting and all. Fat Nuggets’ bed had been moved to the corner near the dresser rather than its usual perch at the head of Angel’s mattress ledge.
“I look like a horse,” Husk deadpanned, scanning the room idly—and then proceeded to gawk when he caught sight of Angel.
The bodysuit, albeit almost sticky due to the material, shone in a way that had Angel continuously glancing back to the mirror to check himself out. The tall latex boots and matching opera gloves assisted in the apparent lengthening of his body.
What was it about the wet-look of latex that had Husk weak at the knees? Was it just the way the suit clung to Angel’s silhouette, or was it the high-cut hips adding an ungodly length to his legs? From a distance of even a few feet, Angel’s eight-foot height suddenly looked like twelve—and while intimidating, it was also violently attractive.
If he stood at the right angle, the black silicone strap he wore almost blended in. Almost.
Husk salivated, and from the looks of it, Angel wasn’t much more composed, comparatively. Those eyes of his glanced repetitively between Husk’s body (seriously, what was it about the harness Angel liked so much?) and the top of his head. His ears? He got something on his face? Affronted by his own self-consciousness, Husk raised a hand to his head and carded his fingers through his hair—oh.
His hair was fucked up. That’d do it. Angel was always a fan of the mussed and rugged types.
“Well, hey, stallion,” Angel said. “Thoughts?”
“G—uh…” Husk cleared his throat, puffing out his chest and trying pointedly not to make eye contact with the strap standing at attention on Angel’s body. The harness blended in with the black latex, branching out like a spiderweb. “Good. Yeah. Good. I see the appeal.”
Husk stalked forward, like that would lessen the impact of Angel’s appearance on his poor sense of restraint. Instead, Husk’s fur stood on end with chills, the pinpricks of goosebumps, the closer he got. He reached forward, grabbing Angel’s hip and tugging him close, until their torsos were almost—but not quite—flush.
The strap kinda got in the way.
“How are we doing this?”
Angel grinned, walking a gloved hand from Husk’s waistband up his stomach, until he was able to slip his fingers under the strap of the supple leather crossing Husk’s chest. Angel grabbed tight and proceeded to lift, pulling Husk up until he was balancing on his toes, most of his weight on the harness Angel held him by.
The reaction Husk’s body had was visceral—he arched his back into the brushing contact of Angel’s hand, and let go of Angel’s hip once he’d been grabbed.
“Well,” Angel whispered, lips ghosting across Husk’s jaw, “I planned to bend you over this bed and fuck you until you’re begging me to cum. That suit you, toots?”
There it was: shivers, and then a flood of full-body enjoyment, warmth down every avenue, every vein. An erection that had not been there a moment ago strained below the fabric of Husk’s underwear.
Okay, maybe he was starting to see the function of the leather harness.
“Suits me fine,” Husk said, pushing his head forward just enough, completing the contact of Angel’s lips to his jaw (or at least attempting to; he failed). He grabbed Angel’s arm, the prick of his claws just barely there. “We’ll have to see if you manage to get me begging.”
Angel grinned down at Husk, golden tooth glinting in the pinkish light. “I don’t think that’ll be an issue, baby.”
Angel dropped Husk with just enough gentleness that he could land on his feet, ensuring he remained stable. Angel then stalked around Husk, hand trailing across his chest, arm, and back, until he could prod Husk towards the bed with his fingertips.
Hand sliding down from upper back to hip, Angel stepped forward to press himself against Husk, strap prodding into his mid-back. Both of his lower hands gripped at Husk’s hips as he lowered his head, pressing short but biting kisses into Husk’s neck.
“I want you to be loud, kitty. show me how much you like it.”
With this statement, Angel withdrew to place a palm between his lover’s shoulder blades, pressing until Husk’s chest fell to the bed.
It never ceased to amaze Husk just how much softer Angel’s bed felt compared to his own. Probably something to do with thread count, and maybe a layer between mattress and sheets—something that made it feel like you were soaring on a cloud.
Nonetheless, Husk gasped softly as he landed, automatically burying his face into the sheets. His hands came up by his head, fingers and claws curling into the fabric closest to them—some comforter or another.
Sensation urged Husk to buck his hips against the mattress, but he wasn’t born yesterday—Angel would probably tsk at something like that, done without permission. Especially with the whole leather-latex dom thing they had going on.
Instead, Husk backed his hips up, as if he’d be able to grind his ass back against Angel with the height difference. Yeah. Fat chance. His tail flicked, darting across Angel’s front. Meanwhile, Husk tucked his wings against his body, trying to make them as non-existent as possible.
“I don’t sugar-coat my reactions,” Husk said, sitting up a bit on his elbows. He turned as if to look at Angel over his shoulder, but didn’t fully commit. “If I’m loud, you’ll know you earned it.”
Angel’s chuckle was nothing less than sardonic as he gripped at Husk’s hips. His hands lingered and poised as if reveling in the feeling, fingers wrapped around Husk’s hip bones.
One hand moved to rub up Husk’s spine until it could curl deep in the hair at the back of his head. With a strong grip but gentle movement, Angel pulled at Husk’s hair until he was arching up off the bed, ass pressing into Angel’s thighs.
“Don’t get sassy with me, baby: that’s my job. Your job is to lay there and be good.” Angel pressed Husk back into the bed and reached to his bedside table to grab his lube. “Spread your legs, kitty.”
While never one to necessarily bow to the whims of authority (not so far as Husk would admit, at least), Husk was more than enchanted by Angel. He followed Angel’s hands, once more gripping the comforter upon being pushed back onto the bed. A grunt escaped him, followed by a heavy breath.
Yep, Husk asked for that. Husk definitely asked for that. No sense in complaining now, not when Husk knew that would happen and did it anyway.
So, Husk spread his legs—and took the opportunity to start actually taking off his underwear, too, since, in his perspective, it was long overdue.
Ever quite the voyeur, Angel stood back and watched Husk struggle and fumble like a fool. Humiliating, really. Husk reached under himself, struggling as he trapped his own arms under his body.
“That’s a bit desperate, kitty, no?”
Desperate was the word that stuck out most to Husk, in that moment, and he was almost certain it shouldn’t have made his body heat up quite the way it did.
Angel reached out to hook his finger in the back of Husk’s waistband, thumb brushing the small of his back teasingly. He tugged at the boxers, pulling them down over the swell of Husk’s ass and letting them pool to the floor.
He let barely-there hands ghost over Husk’s back, hips, ass. He slid a lower hand up Husk’s thigh to just barely brush over his cock.
“Ready whiskers?”
Husk pushed toward Angel’s hand, lungs seizing in his chest to reflexively hold his breath, anticipation like a vice in his gut: yeah, maybe desperate was the word.
“Ready,” Husk said, voice hardly above a whisper. He was, for what it was worth; he’d made damn sure of that. “You sure you wanna do this, Angel?”
They’d gotten used to a very specific dynamic, in their sex lore, and while this maintained the power Angel usually held, it flipped the activity itself on its head.
Call it paranoia, but Husk just wanted to make sure.
Angel paused—and when he spoke, Husk could hear the smile. Inevitably something gentle, playing its way onto Angel’s lips. “Very sure, babycakes. I want to do this for you—I love to do this for you. Plus, seeing you desperate for me, begging to be fucked? Something I could put in a little extra work for any day.
“Now if you’re sure,” Angel continued, uncapping the lube and thoroughly dousing the strap, “I’d like to get started, baby.”
Husk knew that tone: hardly waiting for, but entirely requiring, an answer. Best make that answer quick.
“Oh, I’m—”
Angel grabbed hold of the strap and began teasing it from Husk’s cock to his entrance, pressing just hard enough to make him squirm in anticipation.
“—mmmh—” Husk’s head dropped, then rose back up. “Good to go.”
It was just a grunt. Yeah, that’s it, totally a grunt, not a moan. Totally. God, if that didn’t feel pretty good…
Husk nudged his hips back into the feeling—almost, almost, go in!—and unable to help the shreds of disappointment gripping him every time Angel pulled back down again.
“You’re takin’ your sweet-ass time back there, princess,” teased Husk, keeping it lighthearted. He shoved himself back up onto an elbow. He snaked a hand beneath his body, between his own legs, fully planning to grab the strap and move it to the right place himself.
Angel pulled back quickly, giving Husk’s ass a brisk smack with a spare hand.
The sharp sting of pain got Husk gasping, though he possessed just enough foresight to bite the inside of his cheek to stifle a fraction of the volume that might have been produced due to his shock. Yeah, they'd talked about it—of course they'd talked about it—but actually doing it in practice?
So much better than theory.
“Tsk tsk tsk. You know that isn’t how this goes, kitty. This works on my terms, not yours. You keep those scary little claws up by your head.”
Angel pressed forward, pinning Husk’s legs to the bed. He reached under Husk’s body, pulling his arm out to put it back where it came from.
“I’m gonna have to kneel, aren’t I? So little, whiskers.”
Angel, with his towering eight feet of height, dropped to his knees to create a much easier distance to fuck Husk from. His lower hands teased between Husk’s thighs as he pressed kisses to the small of his back.
Husk found himself retaliating automatically.
“I ain’t little, I’m normal sized, you freakin’ giant.”
Give an inch, take a mile.
Husk plopped his hands back up by his head, as Angel had earlier requested. Moments later, he said (far more breathless than Angel had any right to make him, at this point), “That the best you got?”
Husk flicked his tail, the feathers of the tip brushing along Angel’s throat and chest—or maybe that was his face? Husk didn’t really know, he couldn't see from this position. You never realize how little visibility you have behind you until you’re about to be fucked in the ass.
Angel’s response was instinctual, Husk could recognize that well enough—just as much as he recognized its pettiness. Angel immediately lowered his head to place a sharp bite to the swell of Husk’s ass, teeth sinking into tender flesh.
Husk had done a lot of shit in his 110-some odd years of existence. He’d gotten into hijinks, and pranks, and the underbelly of the law. He’d had sex with plenty of people, and even bottomed a few times.
He could say with confidence he had never been bitten on the ass before—and maybe that inexperience showed in his reaction, the way he bristled and jumped, yanking pools of soft fabric into his palms and gripping. If he made a noise, he wasn’t aware of it.
“Is this how you want to play it, kitty?” Angel asked after pulling back. “I can spank you raw before you get any ounce of pleasure, and leave you feeling it for hours. That what you want?”
Angel punctuated his question with another slap to the other side of Husk’s ass. Husk’s mouth fell open, head hanging. Jesus—and Angel's palms spreading up, cold water to capsaicin… Both hands then smoothed from lower back to the back of Husk’s thighs, proving a gentle coolness to the slowly warming skin.
“Goddamn,” breathed Husk. “I’m used to being the punisher, not the punished. But you know what the fuck you're doin’ back there, don’t you?”
Angel hummed, preening a bit at the semi-compliment Husk offered him. “I’ve been on the other side of it often enough to know what’s good.”
Husk took a second to gather himself. Did the spanking have him rock hard in seconds? Yes, and he had to work not to push his hips into the mattress and chase friction (he didn’t fully manage to restrain himself, a slight rocking present).
“I want you to fuck me,” Husk said. “You already lubed up the strap and everything. Shame to have it dry. Shit’s expensive.”
Angel must’ve watched the gentle rocking of Husk’s hips, listened to his sad excuse for begging, and decided to have mercy on the poor man.
“M’kay, kitty. Stay still, and tell me if I hurt you.”
Angle finally, gladly, brought the head of the strap to press against Husk’s hole.
Still. Yeah, Husk could stay still—and to his credit, he did pause his restless and desperate fidgeting long enough for Angel to push in, just a bit—an impossible bit. Angel pushed past the ring of tight muscle, and Husk held his breath reflexively, grunting at the consistently strange sensation of penetration. Always bizarre at first.
Once the head had passed, Angel paused, reaching out to brush Husk’s hair from his face in a moment of gentleness.
The pause was welcomed. The gentleness helped.
“How we feelin’, whiskers?”
“Sure am feelin’,” Husk replied. “No pain, just weird. Gotta do this more often before it starts feeling normal off the bat, I guess.”
Another moment passed. Now used to the sensation, Husk slowly pushed back, urging a little more of the strap inside of himself. It wasn’t long before Husk's breath caught. His hips tilted, just a little, back arching.
“ Mmh —yeah, that’s it, fuck. You’re good.”
Husk’s affirmative and backward tilt of the hips spurred Angel on. He pressed forward, forward, forward, until his hips sat flush with Husk’s ass, and he could bend forward to link the fingers of his upper hands with Husk’s.
“We're gonna sit here for a moment, toots. When you’re ready, and I mean really ready, I’ll fuck you proper.”
Angel’s lower hands gripped at Husk’s hips once more, thumbs rubbing circles into the flesh there. He pressed lingering kisses between Husk’s shoulder blades, all the while trying not to move his hips as he let Husk acclimate.
Husk wasn’t entirely certain how big the strap was in reality, but in Husk’s ass, dear lord.
In a good way, but still. Dear lord.
“It’s like Alice In Wonderland syndrome, but up my ass,” Husk grumbled, which was absolutely nonsensical, but about on-par with the amount of confusing sensations his body was dealing with right now. At the very least, it was evidence he wasn’t in pain. He wasn’t shy when he was in pain.
Husk squeezed Angel's hands, easing himself and breathing slowly as he went boneless into the mattress.
“The real sin is being unable to fuckin’ see you right now,” said Husk, though he made no effort to turn around. He began to purr, muscles largely liquid. At this point, he mostly just wanted Angel to— “Fuck me stupid.”
Husk knew he was ready when he began rocking back against Angel again.
Angel grinned into Husk’s shoulder, the heat of breath sending prickles into Husk’s skin. Placing one more lingering bite, Angel sat back up. His hands trailed up Husk’s arms to his shoulders, then carefully down his back until the right one could grab the strap of the harness that lay across his back.
Angel didn’t do much with it at first, simply held on as he began an achingly slow pull out of Husk, then pressed back in. His lower hands stayed gripping at his hips, fingers every so often curling up, then relaxing.
Angel’s hips continued their rocking, pressing in, then pulling out, in, then out, gaining speed as he went. The faster he went, the more he began to use the harness as a tool, a way to pull Husk back into him as he thrust forward.
Getting pulled out of was a sensation of its own that Husk had to acclimate to, but he managed that pretty quickly when Angel gradually picked up the pace. His mouth hung open, eyes slipping shut as he took in the experience like waves of pleasantness and sharp, random spikes in pleasure.
Angel manhandling Husk felt, weirdly enough, like utter care. The adjustment in angle when Angel pulled, arching Husk’s back and pulling his chest just the slightest bit up, had Husk seeing stars for longer than just a random spike. That became a rising tide of its own. He tugged the blankets toward his face, giving himself something to nuzzle.
“ Haah—haah—haah— ”
Husk's open-mouthed panting matured to soft grunts and moans, forced out of him more than voluntary. How could he keep them in when his body had to make room for another, for bliss rising in a steady ladder-climb? And, Lord have mercy, Angel talking to him like that? Fuck being quiet.
“God—fuck—you look good like this, kitty. We really should do this more often.”
“Ya really gotta— ahn —call me ‘kitty’ right now?” Husk said, huffing a soft laugh sandwiched by moans. “You might—God, shit... enjoy that too much, fu— uhh —ck.”
“What’s—the problem—with kitty, kitty?” Angel asked, purely to frustrate Husk with the knowledge that he could do nothing about it.
Husk reached back, grabbing one of the hands Angel had placed on his hips. The sticky feeling of latex greeted him, something that sparked a strange kind of appreciation within him. Why was he metabolizing it as proof of dominance? He squeezed, then tried to pull him closer, groping for purchase on Angel’s hip or thigh.
“Wanna touch you, Angel.”
Angel’s left hand joined his right, both curling fist-by-fist around the dark leather strap. He had worked up to a comfortably fast speed, something with just enough oomph to keep Husk feeling every movement but still drooling, still moaning despite his efforts.
“What do you wanna touch, baby? Be specific and maybe I’ll let you.”
“That your way of askin’ me to dirty talk you?”
Was Husk physically capable of listening and doing what he was told? No. He was raised on a healthy dose of skepticism and spite. It was how he showed love. If he disobeyed you, he acknowledged you had power over him. What better way to test that power than seeing what would happen when he disobeyed?
Oh, shit, that felt good. Husk rocked his hips back.
“Ahh, fuck, pl…” Husk bit the comforter. Shit did he rip it? Oops. Oh well. He spit it out, ignoring the damp patch of saliva against his cheek. His pace stuttered. “Wanna grab your waist. Pull you by the back of the neck and kiss you. Bury my face in your chest, watch your face as you fuck me, bite your neck as I—”
A shift; sweet and direct pressure on his prostate. Husk locked his hips still in an attempt to draw it out, wings splaying sharply.
“— wuh.”
... wuh, apparently.
Angel hummed out a laugh, stilling deep in Husk and altering his movements to make small circles with his hips, instead. Consistent stimulation to Husk’s prostate.
“I think I’ve been convinced,” Angel said, releasing the harness from his crap to scratch his nails down Husk’s back to softly grip his hips.
Angel traced his lower hands down and around the front of Husk’s thighs, then smoothed them upwards until he brushed on either side of Husk’s cock.
“What do you think baby—are you riding me, or are we going old school?”
Nails down Husk’s back, chills shooting through nerves, a heat in his groin, the brush of contact on his cock, for the love of all that’s holy, was Angel trying to make him cum? All those sensations at once, the focused massaging deep inside him, it was intense.
“Oh, shit, oh, fuck.” Husk gasped, grinding into it. A trembling took root in his legs, his panting breaths staggering. “’m close, so close, fuck, so close, holy mother of fuck, lemme cum, please, Angel, Angel —”
“Yeah baby? You gonna cum?” Angel asked rhetorically.
He brought one lower hand up Husk’s cock slowly, eventually stopping near the top to grasp it, thumbing over the head in time with the circling of his hips.
He broadened the circles, enough to walk that line between the types of different pleasure that thrusting and being buried deep gave.
“Fuck you’re so hot, Husky. Come on baby, cum for me. Cum in my hand, pet, you deserve it.”
“ Uhn —”
Air fled Husk's body, lungs deflating and for a single sprawling moment he was breathless, caught like a fly, wings tangled and frozen with every other limb, joint, locked in a liminal space between am I cumming like this? and do I need more?
“— hhaah —”
Only to be shocked by the jolt of his orgasm, quick and combustive and flowing all at once and pulled from deep within him, spilling over Angel’s fingers.
“— holyfuckohmygod ,” Husk said, the words rough as a sob but low as a grunt, a gravelly noise in his throat that caught and stayed and maybe whimpered, just a little, as the peak hit high before dropping low. He nudged Angel’s hand away from himself, rapidly overstimulated and caught between a bit of a rock and a hard place. “—came, shit. I don’t... think you saved your sheets from that one, babe.”
All four of Angel’s hands moved, the lower two coming to sit gently, comfortingly on his hips, while the upper two rubbed up and down his back.
“Probably not,” he said in a gentle awe, free of cockiness. “You’re sexy as fuck, baby. You want me to stay or pull out?”
“Out,” Husk responded on an exhale, “definitely out.”
Husk was still reeling, trying to mend the connections between his brain and body. But while Angel was carefully withdrawing, he was a bit too busy melting into the sheets like he was made of little more than liquid.
Eventually, Husk slid off the bed, dropped down to perch on the floor on his knees. His joints would regret that position later, but that was a problem for the future. He kept his face half-buried in the sheets, reaching out blindly for Angel and feeling only slightly bad when he accidentally grabbed a handful of his chest.
“Holy shit,” Husk said, prying his eyes open to admire Angel in all his glory. He dropped his hand to Angel’s waist, pulling him in. The latex was cool to the touch, a relief to the feverishness of his afterglow. “Thank fuck cats have nine lives, ‘cause I think you just took one.”