Touch Me - Radio Fucked The Video Star

The Future of Hell Belongs to... Who?

The door to Husk’s hotel room slammed shut, the sound reverberating through the empty hallway as Angel Dust pushed Husk against it, laughing breathlessly. The tension from earlier had melted into something electric, something primal, as Angel tugged at Husk’s tie, their lips brushing but not quite meeting.

“You’ve been running all night, baby,” Angel teased, his voice low, the kind of sultry that could make even the most stoic demon sweat. “Now that you’ve caught me, what’re you gonna do with me?”

Husk growled, his sharp eyes narrowing. “Caught you? You practically dragged me back here, feathers.”

“Semantics.” Angel smirked, slipping a hand down Husk’s chest, letting his claws scrape lightly against his shirt. “Now, are you gonna keep talking, or…?”

Husk didn’t let him finish. His hands, rough but certain, found Angel’s waist, pulling him in. Their mouths collided, heat and desperation pouring into every movement as Angel gasped against him. Husk’s claws caught in Angel’s shirt, tearing it slightly as they stumbled toward the bed.

The room was dimly lit, the only illumination coming from the neon signs outside that painted everything in streaks of red and pink. The colors danced over Angel’s pale fur as he pushed Husk back onto the bed, straddling him with a mischievous grin.

“Guess I’m in charge now,” Angel purred, leaning down to whisper against Husk’s ear. But before he could gloat further, Husk flipped him effortlessly, pinning Angel beneath him. The smirk on his face was sharp, predatory.

“You talk too much,” Husk said gruffly, his lips finding Angel’s neck, tracing the faint scars there. His touch was firm but tender, as if silently apologizing for all the things Angel had endured.

Angel shivered, his laugh softening into something more vulnerable. “Yeah, but you love it.”

The room filled with muffled laughter, gasps, and the distinct and unmistakable sound of a bedframe making contact with a wall. Repeatedly. Fingers tangled in fur and feathers as their passion deepened, all thoughts of the night’s horrors pushed aside.

Meanwhile, back at the V's tower, much of the destructive part of the evening was over. The remaining V's had their thoughts turned towards production now. Though perhaps Vox and Velvette had different versions of the word in mind.

Will Val out of the picture, Velvette could easily step in and take over where she knew Vox had lost interest. Adult entertainment was still Hell's hotspot. Just because the pimp king was dead didn't mean the multimillion dollar operation that he'd helped build should go to waste.

And what better way to kick off the new status quo with a bit of a publicity stunt? The kind that would bring Velvette straight to the top faster than Angel had climbed the porn star ladder, than to jump on the band wagon herself? And with Cherri... well, there was no doubt that Velvette wasn't gonna miss the opportunity to set the new standard right then and there while she had all of Hell's attention already.

Velvette led Cherri Bomb through the dimly lit corridors of Valentino’s tower, her heels clicking against the marble floors. Cherri followed, curious but wary, her fingers brushing the dynamite strapped to her thigh as a nervous tick. She couldn't help but wonder what was going to change now. What really happened to Pentious... did he get to heaven? Then she felt a hand grab hers.

“Where are you talking me?” Cherri asked, her voice casual but edged with intrigue. She knew damn well what was going on, and as much as she would have loved to punch Velvette in her smug face, she was also desperately in need of a distraction. An extreme distraction. You can only blow up some much shit to make yourself feel better about losing someone.