Chapter Text
It all started with a stupid party trick.
Alastor hadn’t asked permission at all when he had just started unwinding the bowtie wrapped around Husk’s collar, all in plain sight of everyone else. The only warning Husk got had been the soft brushing of claws against his fur.
“What the—” he managed to say before that same unraveled bowtie then wound around his hands, keeping them firmly together. And somehow, tying up a small knot at the end so that he stayed that way.
“There we are! The snake’s tango! And all while one-handed!”
Husk looked at his bound hands, trying to experimentally tug it loose. It didn’t budge at all.
Fuck.
“Wooo baby!” Angel was applauding fiercely, leaning back on the sofa with both a wide-eyed Sir Pentious and a vibrating Niffty. “Got me right in the kinks!”
“Watch it!” Husk reflexively tried to flip the spider off, but forgot immediately that his hands were quite literally tied.
Out of the corner of his eyes, where he saw Alastor sitting in an armchair, he caught a grin that was even more smug than usual.
“Well, that’s great for Show and Tell today, Alastor!” Charlie, sunshine incarnate, was also politely clapping while Vaggie next to her put on one of her iconic sour frowns. “But remember what I said about boundaries? I think what would be best for next time is to ask Husk before doing a demonstration. Consent is cool!”
Husk blinked slowly before looking back to his hands. It was like he was locked in constant prayer, his claws resting against each other. “Yeah, that’d be swell.”
“Now, Charlie, the goal of the trick is to do it by surprise!” Alastor said with a flair of his cane. “Husk himself is a showman, so he understands.”
A growl left Husk, one that was low in his throat, barely audible. “You’re a fucking riot.”
“Okaayy!! Well, we can talk more about boundaries next time! I’ll be sure to put that in my planner. Husk! Did you want to go next?”
He gestured with his bound hands, wrapped in red, the sash entwined around his claws. “I’m gonna have to pass on that.”
And then he was left like that. For the rest of their redemption exercise. Hands tied, seated on the sofa, all while he felt Alastor’s eyes bore into his head.
It lasted too long, but when Charlie finally gave the signal—a double thumbs-up for an exercise well done—everyone quickly left the parlor. Angel gave Husk a wink and maybe an obscene gesture with his hands as he walked away, but Husk only rolled his eyes.
He wasn’t left alone though. He heard the familiar hum of dead air fizzling through a speaker.
“Can you untie this shit already? Not like you have an audience anymore.” His tone was gravelly, his inflection sharp. He could swear his hands were going numb from the strain.
No answer. Just the same monotone drone. Husk waited, trying not to give into temptation. Alastor would only want him to look.
“Boss.” His throat felt tight over the title. “What are you waiting for?”
Shadows solidified right beside him on the sofa, like a puddle of tar that had dripped onto the soft cushions and had somehow gained sentience. It shifted into Alastor’s form, who was now leaning an elbow just at the top of the couch, above Husk’s head. His cheek rested into the palm of his hand lazily.
The Radio Demon said nothing, only continuing to stare down at Husk with not even a hint of music in the background. Just the silence. Husk unconsciously closed his wings in.
It was an eternity before Alastor raised a hand, then gently placed a tip of a claw against the back of Husk’s hand.
“I’m not done with my trick yet.”
The way Alastor spoke was so soft that it was almost discomforting to Husk’s sensitive ears. No filter. No static. Completely unmasked, somehow making his boss’s teeth only that much sharper.
There was another touch of that claw over the straps of his bowtie, one that slid up the length that wound around the width of Husk’s right hand.
A familiar green chain was soon in its place.
“You’ve got to be—” Husk’s voice faded when the manacle was locked around his neck, the chain around his hands connecting to it.
Then a tug. He caught a flash of a red-clawed hand pulling at the chain to bring him up closer to Alastor’s face. He was nearly lifted up off his seat.
“A shame you dislike it so, Husker,” said Alastor, his voice still so bare and with that same unsettling softness. “You look very good in it.”
“Fuck you,” Husk growled. He once again tried to free his hands. The chains only grew tighter, like they were a python, squeezing the life out of him. Their green light cast shadows over his boss’s face, and reflected off his red eyes.
“The trick isn’t over yet. Don’t you remember? A magician should be able to slip from these binds easily.”
Husk widened his eyes, flicking to the chain before going back to Alastor. “How the hell do you expect me to get out of this? This isn’t just some cheap act at a show!”
The chain clinked as he tried to pull away—and it only clamped down tighter, so much it would make marks in the fur. The light of the chain links was so bright that it nearly burned.
“Now, why would I know how?” Alastor shrugged. His thumb rubbed across the chain tenderly. “If only you’d reveal your secrets to me.”
“Shut up. I can’t just…” Husk shifted his hands again, but it felt like the chains only wrapped around him more. It wasn’t just his hands. They seemed to snake around his arms, then down to his legs, like some slow-crawling sickness that kept him caged. He could even feel the chains tighten over his wings, so much that they ached.
Alastor hummed, watching the chains lengthen with amusement. “Clock’s ticking, or it will simply be impossible.”
“It already is!! This fucking soul chain is—” Binding. All loopholes closed. And yes, fucking impossible to break out of. Of course Alastor would want to see him try to wriggle himself free to no avail. It was his favorite passtime.
The chains looped around his torso, then around his neck, where the manacle was still in place. Complete overkill.
And still, Alastor watched, playing with one part of the chain with his fingers. Waiting. Waiting for what? Husk was already suffering through it.
…Or did he actually want him to escape?
Husk remained still, no longer fighting against the chains. And once he did, he noticed how they stopped tightening. The glow was still bright, lighting up Alastor’s eyes like some holiday decoration.
A gentle raise of an eyebrow. Alastor was still waiting.
Fine, if the fucker wants a show, I’ll give him a show.
Husk tried to calm his heart, which was a lot to ask for in this situation. What a time for absolutely nobody to walk by the parlor and see the sick twisted game Alastor was playing with him. But it was all too likely that Alastor had whisked away the parlor to be in another dimension so that they wouldn’t be interrupted.
It took some time, just to get his wings to go limp, and his back to stop being stiff. The chains had also wrapped around his ankles, threatening to bend them back. No, worry about that later. Just relax. Heck, pretend he was playing dead.
Husk took small breaths until his muscles were no longer as tense, until his throat wasn’t as tight. The chain links shifted, and he dimly realized it was because they were loosening. One loop of the chain had even slipped down his shoulder.
This wasn’t exactly the straightjacket trick (and he hadn’t been an escape artist type of magician anyway) but he could figure this out.
Make his body go more lax. Keep his hands falling into each other instead of fighting against it. Even his tail hung in a droop over the couch. More loops of the chain coiled down his much too thin body to no longer be an obstacle. The years of eating only bar chips and not much else was probably a blessing in disguise, in some ways.
Then, the links even fell away from his hands. At least mostly. They were now just hanging from his wrists like unfastened handcuffs, while the rest of it was draped both against the couch and the floor.
Husk rolled his shoulders, groaning. “Ugh. There. Happy now? This fucking collar’s staying on, to my constant dismay.”
Unfortunately, he couldn’t exactly relax his head enough to somehow slip out of that manacle and be free.
Then, there was another goddamn tug. One that lifted him to his feet as Alastor stood up and twirled him around with laughter.
“Splendid work, Husker!” The filter was back in place, even with a little jingle that echoed from his mic cane. “I knew you had it in you! Why, I could kiss you right now!”
“Don’t you dare mmff!”
Alastor, one to never ask permission about crossing boundaries, already pressed his mouth against Husk’s, practically taking his breath away for how long it lasted.
It was almost to the point of dizziness before Alastor let him go with a big “Mwah!” and gave him another twirl. “We should celebrate your daring escapades! Serve us a round, Husker!”
Then, like a dog on a leash, Husk was pulled to the bar by Alastor, the chain still in the demon’s hand.
He knew there was no point in arguing, but he made sure to keep putting on a surly face as he grabbed some shot glasses from the top shelf.
Husk tried to ignore the warmth over his lips, hoping a few drinks would dull the memory.