[RadioDust] A Firm Hand

Chapter 1: Now That You Mention it...

Angel kept his eyes locked on the bartender, sucking air through his straw so it made an obnoxious slurping sound in his empty glass. When Husk finally broke and looked at him, the spider wet his lips playfully. "It was so good, Daddy; can I have some more?"

The barcat rolled his eyes, but Angel could still see the tension in his shoulders, the way his gaze kept wandering back toward Angel's mouth. "Y'know, you could just ask for a refill like a normal fuckin' person," he grumbled as he started mixing another John Collins—Angel's third within the past two hours.

"Sure I could. But then I wouldn't get to see ya blush." They'd already slept together a few times; Angel would've figured he'd be over all that bashful shit by now, but apparently not. He'd long since identified Husk as the one guy under the hotel's roof most likely to give him what he needed, but it seemed like he still needed a little training to fit into the role. Well, it wasn't like Angel had anything more pressing to do, now that he was out of work and all.

It had been about a month since Val 'let him go,' and he still wasn't fully adjusted. He wasn't sure he ever would be, which was why he'd been going after Husk so much more aggressively. The sooner he had someone to fill that space, so to speak, the better. He was trying hard not to think about the long-term effects of Val ending their contract. Or why it had happened. Or what the hell he was supposed to do with himself now. He was trying hard not to think much at all, in fact. Hence the drinks and the sex. If only he could get his hands on some good dust without Charlie finding out about it...

As Husk put another cocktail down in front of him, Angel answered with his sweetest smile. "Thanks, pussycat. I'll hafta make sure I give ya a good tip later on."

"Right," the cat answered noncommittally, though Angel saw the slight smile that curved his lips. But his frown came back pretty quickly as he looked up and glanced in the direction of the stairs, distracted. Before Angel could ask what he was thinking, he cleared his throat and went on, "Look, it's late. I'm gonna hit the sack. If you're gonna have another drink after that one, at least don't make a mess of the place."

"Or what? You're gonna punish me?" Angel snickered as Husk came around the bar to head for the stairs.

"That'd prob'ly just encourage you." Pausing at the bottom of the stairs, the cat seemed to war with himself for a second, then added without looking at Angel, "If ya wanna come up, my door's open. Just lemme know."

The spider didn't let his smile falter, even though that 'invitation' wasn't exactly the kind he wanted. "So you could take it or leave it, huh?" he answered, his tone light as ever.

"I mean...y'know I don't mind havin' you in my bed." Husk lowered his voice a little, like he thought someone might be eavesdropping, like he was embarrassed to be having this conversation. "So you decide whether or not you wanna be there." And he continued upstairs to his room without any further elaboration.

Angel remained right where he was and took another sip of his drink. He was just getting comfortably tipsy at this point, nowhere near drunk but enough to start feeling good. Enough that he could try to ignore the weirdly ambiguous way Husk presented his offer. 'I don't mind havin' you'? 'You decide whether or not you wanna be there'? That was all way more open-ended than he would've liked. Too nice. Too gentle.

Not for the first time, he started to wonder if Husk would ever be able to provide the kind of firm-handed discipline he needed. If he was that set on making sure Angel wanted it...well, it just wasn't the kind of attitude he was used to.

Husk wasn't the first guy in the hotel Angel had slept with. In fact, he'd tried out pretty much all of them before deciding Husk was his best bet. But no one there could naturally do it just right. With guys like Husk—guys who were concerned with his comfort, who had some kind of crush on him—they just came at it all wrong: too much cooing and petting and kissing, not enough structure or control. And then with the ones who were willing to look at him like an object, like a whore, they just expected him to roll over and follow orders without any sort of threat to back it up. They figured he'd do what he was told without needing to be forced.