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Renaud Estate Ch.4 (wip)
🕑 Added 2021-04-17 19:17:48 +0000 UTCA little different from my usual posts. If you're familiar with my fic, consider this method similar to how I post my comic pages. There's still a bit more to write so until then, I hope you enjoy this half. There's some spicy bits at the end~
Few TWs: Mentions of abuse and rape as well as mentions of homophobia and racism. Please keep these in mind as you read!
And now without further ado~
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Ch. 4 The Weeping Angel (wip)
All that glitters isn’t gold. Truer words can never be said.
Honestly, if I had never met Al, pretty sure I would’ve died long ago.
I had so many close calls in life. Too many to count. Death breaths down my neck every day, waitin’ for me to slip. I foolishly thought that being Al’s dame, that bein’ famous by his side, would make it all stop.
Death just breathed harder.
“Smile my fair Angel! You’re never fully dressed without one!”
Thankfully, Al was always there to keep me on my toes. It’s riskier ta slip when you’re famous, but of course he and I were a special case compared to ya typical celeb.
Al’s Creole roots fa one. At the very least, most wouldn’t notice his Ma’s genes at first glance. Tones down the prejudice some. His eatin’ habits on the other hand are another beast entirely. I don’t judge. I may not eat people, but my record ain’t squeaky clean eitha.
That’s right. Angel Renaud is far from pure. And she sure as hell ain’t innocent like she had fooled everyone into believin’. She’s nothin’ but a lie. A fantasy I made fa myself. An escape from the harshness life put me through.
The only thing close to an ‘angel’ I am is the drug I would allow ta pump through my veins, back when I would catch that temporary high as sweaty john #12 was on his way ta finishin’ inside me. Had the cash ta do it. And when that veil is lifted, you’re harshly reminded again that the man ya once loved sees ya as nothin’ but an object to exploit. Only difference between me and his otha Dolls is that thanks to my ‘unique features’, I was highly sought after.
Angel Dust they called me, a play on words for multiple reasons. I was a mockery of everything that name stood for. But I wore it proudly. Even before I met Alastor, I knew that smiling was key to survivin’. But I had to do more to please Val.
Head Down. Say yes. No doesn’t exist. Watch ya tone. Don’t flinch. Don’t cry. Spread ya legs. Let it happen.
And ta add insult to injury, Val thought I was high-maintenance. Too expensive fa me ta simply walk away and quit. So one day, I ran. As a sentimental fuck you.
I had no safe place to go however, not in New York. Val had connections and if I wasn’t smart, I’d be dragged back. Be punished ten times worse.
Couldn’t come crawlin’ back to the family neitha. I was disowned from the get-go and no doubt word of my exploits had already reached them. At nineteen, I was on my own.
Be safe Tony
I love you
Well, not entirely. Neva understood Molls’ interests in magic, always thought she was playin’ me for a goof, but no one else knew but me. I kept her secrets and she kept mine.
I’m glad she gave me the charm. There were times, more than once, where I would’ve surrendered to those cold breaths down my neck, but she would always talk me back into clarity. I owe her so much; that’s why I made sure she’d neva have to bear witness listening to me in pain. I’d squash down the urge to cry for help, no matter how bad my situation got. She wouldn’t’ve been able to help me being locked in a cage herself.
But our charms served as comfort. Even when I traveled far, to the point where I couldn’t be soothed by her voice anymore, I’d still feel her presence. Her emotions. I was never completely alone.
But a charm and some measly kale in ya pocket ain’t enough to last a day. And at a time where The Depression still reared its ugly mug, ya may as well be dead.
I really should’ve died then.
…
“Angel… Mon ange, wake up my sweet.”
Antonio bolts up gasping, his ghost pale skin cold and damp with sweat. Eyes dart the structure around him. One eye. The other throbbed painfully underneath tight bandages. Panic sets in. He doesn’t know where he is or why his eye is throbbing. He’s afraid to find out, encountered enough nutjobs to know just how sick they can be.
“Mon ange,” the voice calls to him again. Gentle and familiar. Antonio’s single magenta orb turns to meet eyes of deep maroon.
Being in bed with a man wasn’t anything new, but Antonio got the gist that this wasn’t a client. Right, he’s not working for Val no more. This man sits patiently beside him at a comforting distance, fully clothed in loose pajamas and bird’s nest of brown curls.
Antonio’s palms twitched. This man, incredibly handsome he had to note, looked warm and inviting. His hair looks so soft; he’d give anything to run his hands through those locks. His bedmate gives a light chuckle and Antonio’s heart skips at the sound. He then opens his arms to the pale and shivering soul.
“Come.”
He didn’t need to be told twice. Antonio clung to him, sapping all the warmth he could from the other man. He buries his face in the other’s neck and took in the scents of spice, earth and hints of cologne still lingering. Strong arms held his thin frame, pulling him close and Antonio felt safe. One hand soon moved to wipe the tears from his exposed eye.
“This ain’t a dream… is it?” Antonio softly asked, almost a whisper, afraid that the fantasy he conjured up would shatter to fragile pieces. “Please tell me it’s not.”
“It isn’t my Angel. You’re here with me, where you belong.”
Angel… he remembers now.
Antonio wanted to start over, so he tossed his birth name to the curb. He settled for Angel, as a way to claim and mold his quiff name into something that’s no longer Valentino’s to own.
One way Angel had managed to scrape by for food was by singing in side streets. Offering his services the way he knew best would likely get him killed faster than if he died of starvation. Fooling a man that you’re a woman could only get a fairy so far.
Predictably, his albinism and feminine appearance gained him plenty of attention, a lot more than he expected. He had sung before sure, in his choir boy years, but he always thought his voice was average at most. It was probably his looks, he thought.
And then, like some bizarre scene in a picture show, a Cadillac v-16 rolled up and a gentleman hopped out, well-dressed and clearly neck-deep in wealth. He was all smiles, cane swinging and spinning, like he was putting on a show. The little audience Angel had gathered all aimed their full attention to him. They created a path for the gentleman as he wordlessly sauntered through them and towards Angel. The whole time since his arrival, his maroon eyes were solely locked on Angel. He remembered having trouble breathing. What did a rich man want with a literal tramp just sitting around begging for spare change?
“Many greetings my dear! I do hope I’m not interrupting you this fine morning, but I couldn’t help but hear through the grapevines about a dame with the voice of an angel and the looks to match! Imagine my shock! Couldn’t be true at all, I thought! I just had to see for myself!”
His transatlantic accent was palpable, his energy just as intense. He talks a lot and he talks fast, making it difficult to keep up. These were elements of someone who’s dealt in some form of media, likely entertainment. Angel would’ve grasped who he was, but he had been too overwhelmed, scared, tired, and hungry to recall properly.
“Who are you?” he had asked. Wheezed. He felt stupid and everyone had looked at him like he was stupid.
Everyone except for that gentleman, who instead offered his hand. Gloved and clean. It too looked expensive, perhaps made with the finest of materials.
“And where indeed are my manners? Alastor Renaud is the name! And may I have yours dear stray?”
“Its… Angel. Just Angel.” He didn’t want to dirty the glove with his grime and filth-covered hand, but he didn’t want to come off as rude either. He had planned to just lightly shake the other’s hand and make as little contact as possible.
He did not anticipate Alastor to pull him up off the sidewalk floor, the spot he’d been sitting for hours each day for nearly two weeks since he entered New Orleans. He nearly careened into the other as Alastor pulled him close, his other hand at the ready to hold him steady at the waist. To say this had Angel flustered would be an understatement. One of the downsides to having pale skin is that it’s very noticeable to someone when you blush.
That had been the least of his worries though. He grew self-conscious as his body was fully against the other man. He was filthy and he knew he must smell terrible too. He heard gasps and murmurs from the audience still around them. As he looked down into Alastor’s eyes, learned that he was an inch or two ahead in height, Angel had seriously wondered what the man was thinking.
“You truly are a sight to behold Mon Ange. Simply breathtaking.”
Alastor had the same look Val would often give, but it was different as well. Alastor wanted him, wanted to own him, but Angel didn’t see power or greed driving him to do so.
Alastor simply wanted him, as if he couldn’t see his life progressing forward without Angel in it. It honestly scared him then. All the creepy-obsessed johns he met in the past had never looked at him like that before, a look that promised Angel the world and more. Alastor would willingly give anything if asked, without question, just so Angel would stay with him.
Was it love or just another level of obsession? To this day, Angel still didn’t know.
It didn’t matter in the end, because Angel had stayed.
And how could he not? A rich-ass fella comes along and offers to literally take care of you like a Daddy? It was an impossible dream come to life. Val fucking wished he had the same level of power and wealth Alastor had in spades!
But Angel feared the day Alastor would discover what he really was, that he wasn’t at all a pure helpless damsel that he picked from the streets. He feared the worst when he did.
Turned out he had nothing to worry about. Turned out both of them had impurities they wished to keep hidden from the world. Inside the mansion, there was no need. They could be imperfect all they want together.
That was when Angel knew, he couldn’t live without Alastor. He couldn’t.
“Another nightmare my dear?”
Angel hummed against Alastor’s collarbone, gives a light peck against the darker skinned surface. “S’nothin’ new. Nothin’ I haven’t already told ya before.
He giggles as his lover attempts to squeeze him to his form possessively, as if vowing to not allow the nightmares to steal his Angel away. It’s too adorable for words.
“There should be something in those old books that’ll help for sure.” He lightly grazes over Angel’s bandaged eye. “Not now though. Are you still in pain?”
“Still throbbing. Otha than that, I’m good.” Alastor frowned, not convinced. “Seriously Smiles, it only really hurt at the start!”
“Just wish my spells didn’t hurt you period. Furthermore, if I may be honest, I’m going to sorely miss those dual-colored gems. I really don’t see why you want to be rid of such a keen feature.”
“And I’ll always tell ya Smiles,” Angel pulls back to look him in the eyes. “If we’re doin’ this, if I’m gonna rise up ta stardom wi’cha, I want as little connection with my past as possible. I want Antonio Ragno gone and I want Angel Dust in the sewer trenches where he belongs. I just wanna be ya angel, ya Angel Renaud.”
Alastor kisses him and the younger man is reduced to putty under the passionate onslaught he’s given. Angel clings desperately as he’s gently laid on his back while Alastor rests his weight on top.
“Consider it done my sweet,” He murmurs against Angel’s lips, grinning as he gets a moan in response. He plants nips and kisses down his love’s neck while a hand travels up Angel’s thigh. The body beneath him squirms. Supple legs spread wider, riding up the cream-colored slip as Angel whines in encouragement for Alastor to touch him more. “As always, anything you wish to have, I will gladly fight tooth and nail to get it for you. Anything you desire, mon ange, is yours.”
Angel pulls him down for another fierce kiss. Their tongues playfully fight a messy battle for control. Angel moans louder between kisses when Alastor purposefully skirts passed his hardening erection, his thumb rubbing teasing circles on the other’s hip. Both become breathless when they part.
“Then take me,” Angel begs. “Make me yours Smiles and no one else’s. I don’t want ta be reminded of otha johns. Of Val. Replace their scars with yours. Mark me and make me forget. Please.”
He whines when Alastor ceases all further contact and he begins to worry. Did he say the wrong thing? Fuck he must have. Alastor was never a huge fan of sex so he must have a limit. And Angel went ahead and made him uncomfortable.
“Shit Al I’m sorry. Faget what I said. Just please don’t-”
Alastor shushes him softly while allowing his hands to cup the ex-mob’s face. The action makes Angel visibly relax again, his cheeks snuggling into the man’s palms. Alastor smiles down at his love, determination set on his features.
“I wish to try something, with your full permission of course,” he starts. “It’s a new trick I developed. There’s no doubt in my mind you’ll find the experience enjoyable and should help in keeping your mind from those rats.”
Angel lets out a gasp as something, multiple somethings, caress up his legs. They felt too malleable to be hands and not rough to feel like scales of snakes. He bit his lip, back arching as the mystery tendrils prod and explore the lower half his body. They too purposefully miss his dick, now full-mast and leaking with pre.
“Ah-ah, rien de tout ça mon ange~” Alastor prod’s Angels lips to separate them again, grinning wide when Angel violently shivers under him. “You know how much I adore hearing you sing, just for me.”
“Fuck… Fuck you this ain’t fuckin’ faIR!” He throws back his head as his balls get massaged by the damn things. Angel pants and moans Alastor’s name as one starts to nudge onto his quivering, hungry hole.
“Hmm shall I stop then?” Angel grabs him before Alastor could even play at following through with the act. He glares up at the smug smile through hazed pleasure.
“Don’t ya fuckin’ dare ya bastard or I swear ta God and Satan I’ll-”
Suddenly, the things were finally in Angel’s view, appearing like tentacles, a deep ink black with a bit of a green glow to them. They coil around his wrists and with no effort, the limbs had them pinned above the pale boy’s head.
Normally, anyone in Angel’s position would, more or less, be extremely petrified, understandably. Angel was well-exposed to the realm of magic thanks to his sister. He hadn’t been able to fully appreciate it out of fear of Molly getting caught one day by their very Christian family.
Alastor’s magic dabbled in the darker arts and was leagues ahead in terms of skill. The books he sourced were passed from ancestors spanning generations before him. However, in order to harness the power to its fullest potential, it was instructed that Alastor had to ‘consume flesh of his fellow men’.
There were times where Angel’s visual perceptions of Alastor would alter slightly whenever his love uses his magic. It’s no different here, helplessly pinned under him like some sort of offering as more tendrils start exploring his body. He’d mostly see red, while horns protrude like braches atop Alastor’s head. A stag. It strangely fits him. Angel would often tell him and he’d always receive a look of confusion.
“Are you still sound my dear?” Though his tone was tongue-in-cheek, Alastor peers closer to analyze him, looking to pinpoint any hints of fear or distress. Concern well hidden. Angel leans to plant a kiss on the man’s forehead, earning him a comical look resembling a deer in headlights. Very fitting.
“Ti amo, mio cervo,” he expresses with all his heart and soul.
Alastor chuckles, leaning until both of their foreheads were touching.
“And why do I get the upmost impression you’re razzing me mon ange?”
It was Angel’s turn to grin. “Who knows? I’ll never tell~”
His grin didn’t last long, not when he’s got teeth to his neck and a certain tentacle, notably thick, hitting all the sweet spots inside him. Each time he came, the other appendages would ground Angel in the most loving way possible, playing with his nipples and rousing his cock for another go, Alastor singing whispers of encouragement when he’d think he’s reached his limit.
Angel wouldn’t recall how many times Alastor made him cum from his ‘new trick’ but he’d get lovely ring-shaped bruises as a reminder of their activities. They’d last for weeks along with the bite marks, painting a pretty canvas on his pale complexion. He felt owned, and by someone who wants him as an equal.
Needless to say, Angel wouldn’t think about his clients or Valentino for a very long time. The nightmares arriving even less.
…
Comments
Ahh this was brilliant!!! The POV in Angel's dream was lovely to read as well as the backstory and get tentacles were just 👌👌 perfect 💖
