Angel Dust drags you out of the Closet part 2

from /hhg/ - Hazbin Hotel #303, #309 and 319
Angel Dust drags you out of the Closet part 1: https://pastebin.com/bPNfNPKY
The Previous part - "Angel Dust Respects Your Boundaries": https://pastebin.com/YPeNLtNj
Angel Dust drags you out of the Closet part 3: https://pastebin.com/k0DnTPfi
Angel Dust drags you out of the Closet part 4: https://pastebin.com/bddZMnj4
----
We now continue with "Angel Dust Infects You With The Gay"

>You glance up from your book at Angel Dust, absorbed in his makeup case and a magazine article full of 'hot new tips' on how best to utilize it
>Most of the guests are out right now
>Charlie and Vaggie were the only ones beside you two in the common room, and they've both just excused themselves
>They seem to be doing that quite often as of late
>Ever since Vaggie 'realized' you were dating
>Which you weren't

>You know what they're doing
>They're being courteous, trying to give you 'private time'
>It's nice of them to do, even if you don't actually need it
>It's not like you really mind being alone with him
>After all, he's the first real friend you've made since you manifested
>Besides being pretty easy to get along with, he's been down here quite a bit longer
>He's survived stepping on just about every landmine Hell has to offer and learned from the experience
>What's more, he's eager to share his knowledge, to keep you from making any of the same blunders
>Walking down the street in this inferno doesn't quite put you on edge the way it usually does when you're with Angel

>...Good thing you kept that thought to yourself.
>Sounded just a little bit romantic
>If you said that out loud to anyone it would just reinforce the idea that you were dating
>Dating...yeah right
>You'd considered sharing what Vaggie had said with Angel so you could both have a laugh at the absurdity
>Then you'd reconsidered
>That had the potential to come off as kind of insulting
-
>It's not as if you're so thick you can't understand why someone else might want a piece of him
>Really, it's difficult not to notice that he's just an objectively sharp looking fellow
>Or that he wears his skirts rather short
>And that he always smells like lilacs, or strawberries, or sandalwood, or vanilla, depending on his mood that day
>Even now, he's applying his makeup with the delicacy and precision of an impressionist
>It's no wonder why he'd be popular with people who swing that way.

>"D'ya wanna touch it?"

>Angel's voice draws you back out of your own thoughts
>He repeats himself, now resting his magazine in his lap as he finishes applying a delicate sweep of some sort of glossy material that draws your eyes into his

>What?

>He rolls his eyes at you, a faint smile that says 'I've been down this road before' tugging at his lips
>"Look, you've been givin' me the side-eye for the past half hour. I know you're starin' at it."
>He pushes up on the cushion of fluff that peeks out from within his shirt to emphasize what he's referring to.
>Shit, he caught you gawking
>"Look, it ain't nothing new to me. Everyone does it. It's not a big deal."
>"If ya want you can just get it outta your system and we don't have to talk about it again."
-
>Without waiting for a response he begins unbuttoning his shirt, throwing you into a panic

>He doesn't have to do that, it's fine

>But then...why does seeing him undoing his shirt even make you fumble like this in the first place?
>He's a guy
>You've seen other men without their shirts on before
>Why does it feel so, well, dirty to watch Angel do this?

>"Arright, go ahead"

>You look down at the abundance of softness that caps the spider demon's chest
>Without his shirt in the way you realize two things
>One: He's even fluffier than you realized. That shirt must really be strained trying to contain all of that
>Two: He's got a heart pattern on his chest. Because of course he would.

>"And before ya even ask, yes, it's real. You can't fake this kind of quality."

>He puffs his chest out with pride
>Probably in anticipation of your touch as well
>You didn't even realize you were already reaching toward him

>He's really not that far afield with this gesture
>You've long been curious about that particular feature of his
>Pretty much since you first got a look at him, in fact.
>Even before you'd really struck up a friendship, back when you were still afraid of him, you couldn't help but wonder about that fluff

>He's obviously quite proud of it
>And he seems quite eager for you to touch it as well

>"Whaddya need? A written invitation?"
-
>Well, now he's calling you out
>Can't let that slide, now can we?

>You cease hesitating and reach out to rest your hand on his chest
>It's no big deal.
>You're both men
>There's nothing sexual about this
>Nothing at all

>Angel moans erotically as your fingers sink into his fluff

>You snatch your hand back as your cheeks begin to burn

>"Pffffhahaha"

>Angel begins snickering

>"I'm messin' with ya, I'm messin' with ya."
>"Relax"
>"C'mere"

>He gently takes your wrist and guides your hand back into the center of the wide pink heart that decorates his softness

>You press lightly against him

>Wow
-
>Angel's fluff is something else
>Although smooth and silken to the touch, it's not merely fur or hair
>It has a certain...heft to it. A sort of density.
>It doesn't simply yield against your palm, it supports it
>You'd liken it to the feeling of squeezing a stuffed animal or resting against some high priced designer pillow, but even that would fall short of the mark.

>"You like?"

>You nod, eyes still focused on his chest, and bring your other hand up to caress it more aggressively
>How could you have been hesitant about this?
>This is the best decision you've made all week

>"Anon"

>You look back up.
>Something about Angel's self-satisfied smile and the way his mismatched eyes, framed in glossy, glittering makeup, bore into yours makes your cheeks start heating up again

>"You keep that up and I'm gonna have to charge ya."

>You can tell from his tone of voice that it's not a threat
>It's a dare
>So in spite of your growing blush, you keep right on petting him
>You can't bear to keep eye contact with him, too embarrassing, but you can feel his gaze upon you and hear the smile in his voice as he encourages you, until you finally decide you've gotten enough of his fluff
-----
>Angel's fluff is something else
>Although smooth and silken to the touch, it's not merely fur or hair
>It has a certain...heft to it. A sort of density.
>It doesn't simply yield against your palm, it supports it
>You'd liken it to the feeling of squeezing a stuffed animal or resting against some high priced designer pillow, but even that would fall short of the mark.

>"You like?"

>You nod, eyes still focused on his chest, and bring your other hand up to caress it more aggressively
>How could you have been hesitant about this?
>This is the best decision you've made all week

>"Anon"

>You look back up.
>Something about Angel's self-satisfied smile and the way his mismatched eyes, framed in glossy, glittering makeup, bore into yours makes your cheeks start heating up again

>"You keep that up and I'm gonna have to charge ya."

>You can tell from his tone of voice that it's not a threat
>It's a dare
>So in spite of your growing blush, you keep right on petting him
>You can't bear to keep eye contact with him, too embarrassing, but you can feel his gaze upon you and hear the smile in his voice as he encourages you, until you finally decide you've gotten enough of his fluff
-
>"It's Lilith's Delight, by the way. My conditioner."
>"Pricy, I know, but you can't be cuttin' corners when it comes to grooming the meal ticket."
>"Cool dry only of course. Heat'll tend to mess with the texture."

>Angel shifts seemlessly from the smug sexdoll he was a moment ago back into the same chatterbox you've been having lunch with lately
>You shift from a starry-eyed enamorment to...
>Fuck, you don't even know what you're feeling right now
>You just FELT UP your closest friend
>And he seems to be perfectly okay with it

>"...and anyway, like I said, I'm gonna have to charge."

>Oh right
>Ohhh.......right

>Oh shit

>What did you just get yourself into?

>"Your fee is..."

>Fuck

>"...you gotta help me decide on an outfit."
>"I've gotta get some promotional shots taken later and I wanna be lookin' good."

>Oh
>Okay

---

>Actually it isn't okay
>You figured someone like him might have rather eclectic fashion sense
>Perhaps rather risque even
>Guaranteed to be risque, actually, given his line of work
>And to be fair, you had seen him in a skirt before, he wears them at least as often as his short-shorts
>But you weren't prepared to see him strut out from behind the changing screen in full drag, confidently flaunting his good stuff, time after time after time
>How many dresses can one demon own anyway?
>And how much more low-cut could they possibly get?
>Or how deeply slitted?

>Quite deeply indeed, it seems
>In fact, the one he's got on at the moment is practically more slit than dress
>To the point that as he pirouettes for you, you realize something that threatens to fry your brain
>He's not wearing any underwear?!?
-
>"Course not! This thing's practically sideless and totally backless."

>"Heck, if it were any more backless it would be assless too."

>He faces his rear squarely to you to drive the point home

>Yup
>Let that thing settle even an inch lower and his behind would be on display for all of Hell to see

>"If I had panties on everyone would be able to see them."

>No doubt

>"Would make me look totally cheap."

>Ummmmmm...

>"So, is this the one?"

>He strikes a cheesecake pose and looks at you expectantly

>You nod vigorously
>Partly because this garment's particular color really does blend well with his natural snow-white and cotton-candy-pink fuzz
>Mostly because your poor little heart can't take much more of this

>"Great. Now I just need some jewelry to match."

>Angel sashays over to his vanity set and retrieves a box that jingles with each movement

>"Been dyin' for a chance to wear these"

>He holds up three hands to flash a trio of complimentary rings at you

>"But...hmmmm..."

>He fishes around in the box for another moment, then produces a pair of necklaces and holds them up on either side of his face

>"Which one looks better?"

>You look at one, then the other, then into Angel's eyes, then over the jewels again
>The one necklace matches his 'normal' eye just fine
>But the other compliments his black-and-crimson 'bad' eye perfectly
>That's another unique feature of his
>Better to play up the remarkable rather than the mundane
>He smiles at you

>"You're a man of good taste, Anon."
>"Alright, get over here and help me put it on."
---
Where we left off:

>"So, is this the one?"

>He strikes a cheesecake pose and looks at you expectantly

>You nod vigorously
>Partly because this garment's particular color really does blend well with his natural snow-white and cotton-candy-pink fuzz
>Mostly because your poor little heart can't take much more of this

>"Great. Now I just need some jewelry to match."

>Angel sashays over to his vanity set and retrieves a box that jingles with each movement

>"Been dyin' for a chance to wear these"

>He holds up three hands to flash a trio of complimentary rings at you

>"But...hmmmm..."

>He fishes around in the box for another moment, then produces a pair of necklaces and holds them up on either side of his face

>"Which one looks better?"

>You look at one, then the other, then into Angel's eyes, then over the jewels again
>The one necklace matches his 'normal' eye just fine
>But the other compliments his black-and-crimson 'bad' eye perfectly
>That's another unique feature of his
>Better to play up the remarkable rather than the mundane
>He smiles at you

>"You're a man of good taste, Anon."
>"Alright, get over here and help me put it on."
-
>The spider demon again faces his all-but-bare backside to you and holds the necklace over his shoulder
>Oh dear
>You'd ask God to give you strength, but you're quite sure he's not listening
>The difference in height makes the seemingly simple task into something of an ordeal
>You have to stand on your tiptoes to reach, and nestle in a lot closer than you're ready for
>Lose your balance even a bit, and you'll end up pressed against him
>Which would be...
>...Well it wouldn't be that...
>Nononono
>No need to let your thoughts wander...that way
>Just put the necklace on him you idiot

>It takes you a couple of tries
>You rarely have to put jewelry on other people
>It's clear enough how the clasp is supposed to come together, but your hands have abruptly ceased to function correctly

>Just-
>Get in the-

>Dammit

>Come together you stupid-

>Fuck's sake
>Just-

>Ah
>There you go
>Thank goodness

>You declare your success and take a laaaarge step back, out of the heart attack-zone

>"Bitchin"

>Angel struts over to the mirror to admire himself
>He strikes a few more poses, blows a kiss at himself, makes a few rather naughty faces, and then straightens up and pats himself down to make sure his dress is free of wrinkles

>"This shoot's gonna go well, I got a feeling."

>He turns to face you, winks and points

>"Thanks for the help, Anon. I gotta roll now. It's good to make 'em wait a bit, but not too long."

>He retrieves his purse and a pair of sunglasses, walks to the door, and gives a casual wave
>With that he's gone, leaving you to sink into the nearest chair
>Don't explode, heart
>Don't explode don't explode dontexplodedontexplode...
-
>It's quiet
>Charlie doesn't enforce a noise curfew per-se, but things generally calm down considerably in the evenings
>So the sound of the front doors opening and high-heels clicking against the floor rings out like gunshots, although its obvious that the person responsible is trying to keep it down
>Trying, and failing
>It's clear that Angel is having trouble even walking a straight line from the irregular tip-tap his shoes make against the floor
>Drunk again

>You wrench yourself out of the spot where what was supposed to be a quick nap started to turn into a full night's rest and go looking for him
>Luckily you catch him before he can start trying to negotiate the stairs by himself
>Him breaking his neck would have made this a loooooong night indeed

>He seems to have better nightvision than you
>He spots your quite readily, while you can just barely make him out

>"Heeeey Anon."

>Hey Angel

>He giggles

>"You may or may not believe this, but booze was partotha craft servissesss table"
-
>Yup
>You figured
>Reckless hedonism is just the standard for helldwellers
>Even Charlie, seemingly the most squeaky clean individual down here, seemed totally unfazed when mentioning that the only refreshments they had on hand at the news studio she'd been in the other day were lard-fried donuts and a carafe of undiluted absinthe

>Alright Angel
>Word of advice, from a professional
>If you're so drunk you can no longer walk a straight line, that's the time to get yourself a glass of water. If you don't, you're going to wake up with a bitch of a hangover

>"Shit, shit, yerright."

>You have to take him by the hand to keep him from veering wildly off course, but you manage to get him into the kitchen
>You have to pour for him, but he manages to get enough water down that you're no longer worried about him

>"Thanks Anon."

>You look up at him
>He's absolutely blitzed
>But the warmth, the gratitude you see in his eyes seems genuine
>Drunken, sloppy and sentimental, but genuine
>He starts to wobble again

>"Ahhhh man I needta lie down..."

>Most definitely
-
>You get him back to the foot of the stairs without any trouble
>But it's clear that even with half a gallon of water diluting all that liquor, making it to the first landing will be a task equal to summiting Everest

>You hold your arm out

>Come here, you've got him

>Angels slumps down, draping himself over you like a blanket
>A warm, fluffy, drunken blanket
>An awkward blanket
>It's really not that he's terribly heavy, just that he's bigger than you in all the wrong ways
>Getting him up the stairs is something of a chore
>You're not exactly in a position to complain though
>You did volunteer to help him
>And, to be perfectly fair, he is trying to help, he's just too plastered to be of any use

>One step, two steps...
>Okay, first landing
>Take a turn
>Next flight
>This isn't easy, but really, you're just glad that the spider demon has extra arms to wrap around you for support instead of extra legs to trip over
>Just a few more...
>Three...
>Two...
>One more and...
>There
>You're in the hall
>It only gets easier from here

>You get Angel to his door without any collateral damage
>After a few minutes of following nonsensical instructions as you dig through his purse (who designed all the pouches and pockets in this thing?), you manage to retrieve his key
>The door swings open, and Angels swings through it, straight into bed
>Dragging you along with him
-
>He somehow manages to land on the mattress with a modicum of grace
>You on the other hand just sort of end up in a tangled heap
>He drapes one of his arms over his eyes and exhales a sigh scented with mixed fruits and rich red wine

>"Fuckin' Hell, lemme tellya..."

>You shift to make yourself a little more comfortable in his clumsy, booze-soaked embrace

>"Guns, bombs, poison..."

>You end up much more comfortable than you anticipated

>"...attack dogs, heavy machinery, angry shopkeepers..."

>Hammered or not, Angel is still a bundle of fluff that's easy to get lost in

>"Nothin's more dangerous than 'one last glass b'fore ya go' when you were already halfway out the door"

>That's crystal clear
>You mutter in concurrence and then begin trying to extricate yourself from the network of silk, linen, and fuzzy spider limbs you're stuck in
>It's going okay, until your roll over in such a way that your beltline happens to line up with Angel's thigh
>You notice a very distinct sort of pressure on a very distinct part of yourself

>Fuck

>Fuck

>Shit
>Fuck
>Shit

>Fuckshitfuckfuckfuckohfuckingfuckofallfucks

>Why are you hard right now?
-
>A throaty chuckle reaches your ears

>"What, you going on a little camping trip?"

>Panic seizes you
>You shove yourself away from Angel with all the force you can muster
>It's a graceless, clumsy act
>It sends you tumbling to the floor, and the way you land is sure to leave a bruise
>You ignore the pain and scramble up to your feet, heart in your throat
>You start to feel angry
>You thought you were clear about that sort of thing
>You thought-

>"Anon?"

>Angel is still in bed, but he's now about as alert as you've seen him since he staggered in

>"Anon."
>"Lissen, I'm sorry."

>He sounds hurt

>"I shouldn't have teased ya about that."
>"Look I gettit. I've got one of my own you know."
>"Sometimes it jus' runs on auto pilot right? It doesn't have to be a big to-do."

>You don't know what to say
>You're not even sure what you're feeling
>You're in pain
>You're embarassed
>You're aroused
>You've hurt your friends feelings, adding guilt to the mix

>You just wish you weren't here
>You wish you had some time to process this

>"Anon...It's not just running on auto pilot, is it?"

>Angel speaks so softly you can barely hear him
>It takes a moment to muster the courage, but you have to nod and admit that it was than just some base physical response that had you...ready
>You hear the squeak of old springs as Angel shifts over to the edge of his bed

>"Anon?"
-
>You look up and see him with an outstretched arm
>You hesitate, but ultimately reach out to him
>He clasps your hand
>His blurred gaze meets yours
>Even in the evening gloom, you can see a tenderness in his eyes

>"Look, I'm too drunk fer this right now"
>"This ain't the right time."

>He places another hand over yours, and then another still

>"But...fuck...let's talk tomorrow okay?"
>"There's nothing wrong yagottit?"
>"Lesss just talk."

>He squeezes your hand

>"Please?"
>"Please don't jus' run away..."

>The tiniest bit of a croak creeps into his voice
>You nod as vigorously as you can
>You'll talk to him tomorrow
>You won't lose your friend over this