Zooble and Angel manage to convince Caine to give them that special update; someone needs to test it out to make sure it's working just fine. (au masterpost!! // alt color.)
abstrabbit! cw: smut, +18 only!! word count: 9892 // no beta, if you spot any mistakes no you didn't
Angel, for all intents and purposes, does get shit done a lot more often than not nowadays; a small part of their brain sometimes wonders if it's something he's always been able to do but instead just decided to be a piece of shit to get joy out of tormenting everyone else day in, day out. Not that it matters right now, when the rabbit is actually threatening Caine as if that's not the craziest thing anyone'd ever do in their oh so called 'home'. Zooble rests against the bar counter, watching in pure amusement as the scene unfolds. There's only so many chances to observe Angel losing his marbles so openly and they're not gonna miss it no matter what happens.
"I know you can let us have sex, it's already in the code!"
"You must understand, my marvelous superstar!" Caine is stammering, has been since the very moment the rabbit dragged him into the bar, too fond of Angel to actually leave without bending over backwards every time he asks for something. It's kinda refreshing to have the ringmaster swooning over someone else for a change, really. "The Amazing Digital Circus is a family friendly environment and I can't—"
"Caine, I'll find a way to burn the entire circus to the fuckin' ground if I don't get laid tonight."
"He will." Zooble chimes in for good measure, offering a nonchalant shrug when the ringmaster shifts his comically big eyes to stare at them. "And honestly? I'll help him because this is ridiculous. We're all adults here, for fuck's sake."
"Zooble!" Caine sounds almost offended by their response, floating too close to their face— and for a moment, they can almost swear there's the faintest glimmer of a glitching in his small form, but they push the thought aside easily. "You're supposed to be on my side here!"
"I'm not, I wanna have sex as much as he does."
The ringmaster groans loudly in a mix of quiet rage and distress, zipping around and tugging at his hat, almost as if trying to come up with some excuse to deny them again, which wouldn't be a real surprise. How many times have they tried to convince Caine to let them all feel more human, despite being nothing but a bunch of weird-looking cartoon characters? It'd be even less of a surprise if only half of them could really enjoy the whole thing, being blessed by the avatar roulette. Jax, Pomni, maybe even Ragatha. Everyone else just got fucked by their poor luck.
And maybe they shouldn't even bother to keep pushing the subject. It's degrading enough to have such a body that'd fall apart at any given opportunity. Knowing others could enjoy having sex while Zooble couldn't? That'd make them abstract, probably.
Their eyes fall on Angel for a moment, trying to pinpoint what exactly pushed him into bullying Caine today, of all days, when nothing's really happened to warrant that; it'd been quite weird, scandalous even were they a prude or worse, to see the rabbitoid in such revealing clothes this morning, some sort of rebellious act against the family-friendly rule that sure stopped Caine from forcing him into the same adventure Zooble refused to participate— and it's the first time in a while since they've seen him this upset.
(Last time hadn't been pretty, but justified. They'd have been looking for a way to end Caine if the AI dumped them into some sort of twisted, sick recreation of their most traumatizing memories without warning them first.)
"What?" Angel sneers, eyes narrowed, so Jax-coded it almost throws Zooble off for a moment, their brain needing a too long second to brush away the vision of his old self standing there. "Take a pic, freakshow, will last longer."
Oh he is in a really bad mood, and perhaps it's an important detail they should've noticed it way sooner. It's what they get for growing too soft on him, for letting themself get used to that new version of him that's actually a quite decent person rather than a high school bully but that side is still there and sure thing he can fool everyone else but he'd never let them forget about it.
"You should be grateful I'm willing to vouch for your sorry ass right now, you fuckin' slut."
And that shuts him up real quick, mouth pressed into an uneven line, ears pinned so pathetically against his skull Zooble almost feels bad— almost, because honestly, their reaction is exactly what Angel deserves right now. It's not their fault he's going around snapping at them for pretty much breathing at his direction.
(It's a thing for them and no one else really, insults aimed to really cause some damage when things gets out of hand; he won't take it to heart for too long anyway, just like Zooble won't, but god does it feel good to get under his skin sometimes.)
Zooble doesn't stop him from storming past them, probably going right to their liquor shelf; it's a surprise he hasn't visited it earlier before dragging Caine into the bar, really, with his mood being worst than all hell combined, and they don't say anything when the rabbit lays across the counter not a minute later, chugging a rum bottle as if it's nothing but plain water.
They don't move away when he tugs them close either. He'd just do it again anyway, touch-starved freak that he is, so why bother.
The abstract's eyes wander around the bar, past where Caine is still zapping around, freaking out, not glitching for once thankfully but obviously at a loss of what to do to dissuade someone he has little control over. It is a good, if not the best, opportunity to push the ringmaster into doing whatever they want, one that might not happen again anytime soon. They can push it a little more, just for their own sake, to make sure Caine will find a way for them to have as much fun as everyone else— and they spot something that might be perfect.
"Caine, listen. We could have an area right here." Zooble offers at last, gesturing at the back of the bar when the ringmaster finally stops his incessant movements to stare at them. "The bar's already uncensored anyway, we have the space for extra rooms, you and all your weird eyes won't see anything not family friendly. Just add the sex feature and we'll handle it from there. I'm sure we can deal with it being blocked off until we finish an adventure."
And they don't even pretend not to elbow Angel to get his attention, amusement filling their entire avatar when he gags, almost choking into the liquor; they half expect him to throw the bottle at them as payback, like his old self would've done, but instead the rabbit growls under his breath, his lower hand shoving them away— and it's so much tamer, so much more surprising that they almost fall over a stool but manage to hold onto his leg in the last minute.
(He doesn't kick them off, but the death glare he gives them is more than enough to tell Zooble that's exactly what he wants.)
"Yea, right." Angel drags the word for an extra second, not taking his eyes off Zooble; then there's a too wide, too malicious smirk in his lips, one that promises trouble, and the abstract can't help but sigh. "And I'm pretty sure everyone will be extra happy to join your adventures from now on."
For a moment, they almost regret not picking a claw as hand for today. Pinching the amalgam with normal fingers wouldn't convey enough all the rage suddenly bubbling within them. Of course, of course he'd drag them into another twisted game and maybe Zooble shouldn't have meddled into this at all, maybe they should've kept quiet, should've pretended they weren't listening to his conversation but here's where they're at now.
Angel chugs whatever's left of the liquor, eyes never leaving them.
They press a finger to the side of their head, sighing. That's a lost battle, one they'd walked willingly into for one reason or another.
"Yea, whatever. I'll be joining more adventures if we get to have sex, sure."
It takes them a long second and Angel's too malicious grin to notice what they've said, their face burning at the stupid double meaning right there but Caine is completely oblivious, and his loud, excited gasp surely is thanks to Zooble agreeing to join his stupid adventures rather than… anything else crossing the rabbitoid's mind, for sure— it still takes the abstract all their willpower not to smack him to wipe that cretin smile out of his face.
"Kinky."
He downright purrs out the word, and Zooble takes in a deep breath; they need to ignore him, just like they'd ignore Jax, and months of practice should've make them better at this— and it would've, had it been the old, bully asshole and not whatever he is now. Still they move their attention to Caine, watching him zip around the bar non-stop, talking to himself or Bubble sometimes (and when, when did that little shit get here?), probably still trying to find a way to dissuade them or whatever rogue AIs do when they need to bend their own rules around. Not that Zooble really cares. Tech stuff has never been something they were that interested in back home and it only got down to negatives after joining the circus. Angel never seemed that fazed either, not now nor before, and they don't care enough to bring themself to ask anything personal about him.
(They can't help but steal another glance; the rabbit is resting on his side, watching Caine with the same faux interest he always shows, the perfect little actor no one cares to give too much thought to, but there's something still wrong with him today, something they can't point at and maybe they shouldn't, really.)
"What's with today's wardrobe?" Zooble still asks despite their better judgment, and sure enough Angel's eyes snap at them, hands quickly tugging the fluffy coat closer to cover his overexposed chest as if only now he's noticed how indecent he's looking. "Never seen you show this much fur before."
"So what?" He barks, so defensive it almost hurts, and for a second time the same day they almost feel bad for pushing his buttons, not that they intended to right now; the reaction isn't the one they were expecting, for sure, and it only serves to deepen their concern— not that they should worry, not about him, but the feeling is there anyway.
"Just curious. You could go around butt naked for all I care."
Angel's eyes soften for the briefest of moments, ears sinking even lower on his shoulders, before he looks away again, expression still guarded but Zooble doesn't fight it when a lower hand closes around their wrist, tugging them close once more; he's a prick through and through, really, but they know better than expect him to open up about whatever's bothering him today, not with Caine — or any other person or NPC — within earshot.
(And it's hard to pretend not to feel a shiver running down their figurative spine as the rabbitoid runs his thumb over their gloved hand; it's out of habit, or alcohol-induced reflex, a too small gesture to really mean anything.)
"Alright, your sinful heathens!" Caine's voice booms too loudly in the small space and Zooble feels their body flinching involuntarily, eyes snapping to the ringmaster; they haven't even noticed him teleporting right back to their face, the shadow of glitch more proeminent now and that makes the abstract hesitate for a second before the shimmer is gone. "Same rules as the bar! No devious intimacy will be allowed outside this area and BOTH of you!" And his gaze lingers for far too long on Zooble. "Will be participating in every adventure for the next, let's say… 100 adventures! Without COMPLAINING!"
Oh that's going to be more than torture, they can already tell.
And Angel is standing by their side in a second, nodding a bit too eagerly as if that means anything at all when he rarely complains about any adventure Caine throws his way. The rule is pretty much targeted, the ringmaster's eyes never leaving Zooble's face, waiting for their answer, and there's nothing else they can really do or right now. The idea of being able to have sex again is more interesting than their dread of being stuck in a deal with Caine for over 3 months and they trust Angel enough to keep their behavior in check if Zooble ever needs it.
"Fine, deal."
Caine laughs loudly, flipping mid-air, and maybe, just maybe they should be at least a little bit concerned about his sheer enthusiasm when they know well enough what kind of reaction he's got last time they brought up the subject— and then he snaps his fingers and the whole bar seems to shift for but a second that lasts for far longer than it should, lights going out and leaving them in complete darkness, the silence so sudden and raw and overwhelming Zooble even feels Angel moving closer, arms brushing against theirs, fur standing on its end.
And then the moment is gone. Neon lights shine bright as ever throughout the bar, background music rolling softly from the jukebox even though it'd been turned off until now. Zooble allows their eyes to glance around, trying to pinpoint what exactly changed— and it's quite easy to spot it, the new set of red curtains where a lonely table used to be, a soft light escaping from under the fabric. Angel moves first, bolting towards the new area as if his tail is on fire, and Zooble can't help but limp behind him, not curious enough to run and risk tripping and falling on their face.
It's no real surprise to see a new large corridor engulfed by a red light, pulsing neon almost too painful on the eyes, a sharp contrast to the blue and purple from the bar behind them, but at least it's safely contained inside by the thick curtains, and they doubt they'd be lingering in the corridor long enough for the lights to really bother them. The doors on both sides of the walls get their attention more easily, only six of them, numbered and decorated with a red heart sticker and the same stupid censor bar— and Angel is already checking the first room, humming in approval, his tail wagging so fast it's almost… cute.
(The urge to grab it to mess with him crosses their mind for just a second, tucked away into somewhere in their mind to do when the rabbit actually deserves it.)
Zooble whips their head around, their eyes quickly finding Caine still floating in the bar area, arms crossed and huffing, his gaze fixed somewhere else and it's easy, a bit too easy to notice the comical, cartoonish blush on his giant teeth; he's not going any further than that, probably battling his own system just to give them access for all the 'not so family friendly content' and honestly, they're more than happy and relieved with that realization. They poke Angel's side, motioning at the ringmaster when the rabbit bends his neck to stare at them, and he seems to reach the same conclusion in a moment, a too wicked smile taking over his face.
"Ain't he cute. Maybe we should drag him here and—"
The abstract give his tail a soft, warning tug.
It shuts him up, alright— but the hungry grin Angel gives them is more than enough to make Zooble regret even thinking about putting their hands on him. The abstract rolls their eyes, making their way back to the entrance as quickly as their mismatched legs would allow. It's been a stupid idea since the very beginning, one they shouldn't even have backed up because what's the point when their body is this mess of parts— and Angel follows them quietly, keeping some distance for once, and they can't decide if that's a good or a bad thing.
(Considering his long record, it's probably bad.)
"Hey Caine, how does this work?"
"Oh, right!" The ringmaster backflips mid-air to stare at them, a lot less enthusiastic than before but Zooble really can't bring themself to bother. "Each room will have an interactive panel that'll alter your avatars! It'll allow you to add the parts that you'll need. You'll also be able to summon a NPC of your liking if you want, and no, you cannot keep them. They'll despawn once the bar is closed down, and your avatars will reset as well. No extra parts outside the naughty area!" And for some reason, Caine gives Angel a too long, too judgmental stare, and the rabbit grins lazily in response. Weirdos, both of them, really. "The NPCs available in the interface are the same ones used in your memories' adventure, Jax, given their… sinful nature."
"Works for me."
(Something small in the amalgam's voice almost betrays him, but Zooble refuses to let their thoughts linger on that for longer than a second.)
And suddenly Caine jolts, babbling away about something related to his stupid watch, and he's gone in a cloud of colorful confetti, leaving them alone with Angel; not that the rabbit sticks around for long, quickly disappearing into the first room again, and Zooble feels their treacherous body following close, more out of curiosity than anything. And the room is… actually decent, all things considered. It's bigger than it looks on the outside, the lights softer, more enticing. The bed, of course, is heart-shaped, and they can't really bring themself to be fazed by the cliche, brothel-like vibes. If their assumption is correct, Caine probably stole all the assets from Angel's memories and if they remember well, the room is exactly the same as the one at the weird club Gangle and Pomni spawned in.
There's a smaller door on the side and they make their way to it, and sure enough it's exactly what they'd expected: a bathroom, nothing really special to it but charming anyway, and they back away quickly, more interested in anything else they could find in the bedroom— their eyes fall on the interface Caine mentioned, mounted at the wall right by the main door, and Zooble approaches it quickly, the panel lighting up at their touch and a blueish screen unfolding mid-air right in front of them, holographic but still simple enough for them to understand it easily.
And maybe, just maybe they shouldn't have expected an option to alter their entire avatar. Caine would never be that merciful, and they shouldn't be surprised nor disappointed at the lack of decent, humanoid whole bodies for them to pick. And why are they even looking through this right now, anyway? It's not like they're about to spawn a NPC. They'd rather wait for Gangle to come back from the adventure to show her all the new stuff—
"So. Wanna test it out?"
Angel's question rings so suddenly, so nonchalant on their ears, as if he's asking about the weather or something, and Zooble feels their brain short-circuiting, gaze quickly moving to the rabbit just to make sure it's him talking and not some sort of digital hallucination— and sure enough he's sitting on the bed, upper hands working on taking off the fluffy coat, boots long gone from his feet, kicked away, his whole behavior resembling nothing the guarded, confusing mess he was only a few minutes ago. Right now he's only the porn star, the sex worker, and Zooble can't say if they despise that or if they're curious.
(Maybe a very dangerous mix of both.)
"You're drunk." The abstract mumbles, as if that'd be enough to convince Angel, of all people, to back off an idea. They're pretty sure that'd only make him go after more liquor because he's probably not drunk enough. "And you were about to bite my head off earlier just because I was breathing near you."
"One, I'm not drunk. And two, you were staring." He corrects, a shadow of smile on his lips as he finally gets free from the coat, throwing it at the end table without even looking if it'd hit or not. "We already exchanged lovingly words to make up for that. It's whatever, if ya ain't up to it just leave so I can grab a NPC."
"That's a new low, even for you."
The offense isn't heartfelt as usual, the words rolling off their figurative mouth out of habit rather than trying to get back at him for something he didn't even do (yet, because that prick is always planning a prank or worse), and Angel probably notices it, his soft laughter filling the room, easing whatever tension building up Zooble's body somehow and maybe it's something about the new area, or the idea of finally, finally having sex after all that time because sure, it'd be more than nice to test things out, to check if Caine actually got everything working as it should but…
It's still Jax, for fuck's sake.
But… there's no way to tell Gangle would actually want to do anything with them. They've been getting closer and closer, sure, but…
(What if she doesn't want them that way? Or any way at all?)
"I don't see ya movin' your ass to leave."
And Angel is offering, right? That can't be so bad.
"I'm still trying to decide if it'll be worth it to spend that much time with you." Zooble bites back, fiddling with the interface for another moment. "You can wait a few more minutes, you're not that needy."
The rabbitoid laughs again, and god isn't it weird to hear him laughing without any hint of mockery; not that Zooble can dwell on that thought for too long, a presence suddenly right behind them before they could really notice, his lower arms wrapped tightly around their torso, bringing them close. His fur is soft, impossibly so, his warmth a sharp contrast with the cold shiver that runs down their spine— and Angel rests his head on their shoulder, cheek rubbing ever so slighty against their crooked neck.
And they should move away, should push him or do something other than stand there, letting him do whatever he wants but the embrace is too soft, too entrancing for a reason their brain refuse to acknowledge.
"Lemme test somethin', toots."
There's something about him using that word directed to them, a too warm feeling they refuse to name or pay attention to right away, when he's this close into their personal space, arms lowering to rest around their waist as he pushes their hand away from the interface, tapping fast as if he already knows his way around the stupid thing— and maybe he does, really, or Zooble is just too slow. Not that it matters. They don't move, don't even try to escape his arms, treacherous body frozen in place as they watch the rabbit fiddling with options they haven't even seen, stopping on a 'fur color' setting they're pretty sure wasn't there before; maybe the thing adapts to whoever is using it, Caine always being a perfectionist freak, and of course he wouldn't give them a real body option, because the ringmaster hates them or something.
(But the abstract doesn't even try to hold back the soft, surprised gasp that escapes them when they notice purple melting away from Angel's fur, quickly replaced by a soft, almost pinkish white.)
"Wait, you can do that?"
The rabbitoid chuckles against their shoulder, loosening his arms enough for Zooble to step away and take a proper look at him and maybe they shouldn't have because they can feel something hitting them at full speed, leaving them breathless; the white fur looks too fucking good on him when it shouldn't even be a thing, the marks and spots way more prominent on his shoulders, tips of his ears and fingers tinged in the same baby pink. The yellow in his right eye remains, only a bit softer than before, the black in his iris completely replaced by the same pink on his left eye, and it doesn't really bother them as badly as they'd expected.
If they don't think too much, they can almost believe it's someone else standing there, proposing to have sex to test whatever Caine created.
And the idea isn't a bad one, really. They've even talked about this before, sure, but Zooble never cared enough to think about a hypothetical situation for it to be a problem. Back then, Caine agreeing to let them have sex within the circus was beyond impossible. Now, they're standing in a brothel-like room with someone they used to despise more than anything in that place, actually considering it.
(They're losing their mind, that's the only explanation Zooble can come up with.)
Their eyes land on Angel again, trying to read something on his face, trying to convince themself he's just joking around and the whole thing is another of his endless pranks but the rabbitoid is standing there, hands resting on his sides and hips, foot thumping against the floor— not stressed at all, not even annoyed, merely a soft thumping out of habit, waiting for Zooble to either leave or make up their mind already about the whole thing.
And they could simply leave. They should. They should pretend the 'naughty area' is just another crazy dream.
"You're not gonna charge me or anything, right?" Zooble asks instead, their voice a bit more amused than they'd first intended but the tone is more than enough to make Angel chuckle, not offended by the stupid joke, thankfully.
"So little faith in me, goodness." The rabbit coos mockingly, pressing a hand to his chest as if Zooble had hit him or something, always too dramatic for his own good. "And very bold to assume ya'd ever be able to afford me. I like it, Zee."
The nickname is one they haven't heard yet, way less condescending than anything else he uses; it hits differently, in a good way even— and then Angel is too close again, towering over them, face only a few inches from their weirdly-shaped head, dragging a finger down their 'cheek'; another shiver runs down their spine, body betraying them once more when the rabbit pulls them against his chest.
"Gonna need words here, toots." And he has the fucking audacity to purr against their face, chest rumbling with it, and Zooble drags in a ragged breath, clinging to his arms as if that'd be enough to keep them balanced. "We doin' this? Last chance 'fore I throw you out."
And there's no doubt in their mind Angel would do exactly that, probably just to royally piss them off rather than out of spite for being rejected.
"Y'know what? Sure, why the hell not." Zooble sighs after a last moment of hesitation, eyes falling on the avatar interface; they still have to mess with that to make this whole thing work, right… they're not all that thrilled, but it's not like they got any other options right now. "Give me a second to… figure out how that works."
To his credit, Angel's smile is softer than what they've expected when he lets go and steps away, moving back to the bed and just laying down, and Zooble finds themself breathing a bit more easily now that he's not so close, that his hands aren't on them— and it's kinda weird, really, how any other day they'd be ready to throw the rabbit out the nearest window just for getting that touchy. They still have no idea how Pomni can even stand him nowadays, with her blatant dislike of being touched by everyone else, and maybe she's just like them, letting themselves get used to Angel touching and holding for some unholy reason Zooble dares not to think about too much.
Instead they move back to the console, its greenish light making them hesitate for a moment before the abstract starts messing with it again. It's easy to ignore the NPC list, to pretend it doesn't exist and they're sure they don't even want to look at its content now or ever; their ugly, weirdly-shaped avatar pops up on the screen a second later, along with another list, one that's as stupid as they'd have expected from Caine, genitals from different shapes and sizes and some other stuff Zooble refuses to acknowledge right away, assets probably stolen right from Hell's adventure just as the room around them, and they find themself standing in the middle of a digital club room, trying to pick a genital as if it was another of their parts they have to choose from every morning.
It's dumb, the whole thing is dumb. It feels as stupid as trying to find a good arm or leg to use but worse because how, how is a cock or a pussy even supposed to work in that fucking distorted avatar? How is their toylike body even supposed to feel anything good? If they could at least change their whole avatar, it'd be easier. Anything else would be better than whatever this is.
(Angel saying he wants to 'test it out' with them still feels like a trap, too, because why would he even want to do anything with them, when their body is… this?)
They steal a glance at the rabbit, a part of their brain still on defensive mode, still expecting him to be laughing or mocking or planning something— only to find him laying in bed, chest completely exposed now, watching them with almost curiosity, nothing else; and that throws them off a bit, the lack of judgement, of malice that used to be there all the time when it was just Jax. He's not walking them into another trap, into a cruel prank. Right. Zooble can deal with that for a little while.
There's a really good opportunity to make fun of Zooble for taking so long with the avatar console, so long to decide on whatever options Caine gave them but Angel keeps quiet this time, toying with the hem of his shorts, waiting; patience feels too natural, too engraved into that part of his code (or brain, soul, whatever others call it) he'll never understand, his whole system running on auto-pilot since he woke up, the last, murky reminiscences of yet another nightmare still too loud on his ears despite him not being able to remember what exactly got him so worked up today.
Maybe it's not worth it. Maybe he shouldn't even be thinking at all.
A soft chime echoes, cutting through his dangerous thoughts before he got in too deep, and Angel lifts his head enough to look at Zooble again, the little artificial light from the console disappearing from their hands but the abstract stands there, unmoving, gaze fixed somewhere on the floor. And they're probably reconsidering the whole thing, no surprises there, not that he'd feel hurt by that at all; his suggestion had been almost a joke, something he'd spurt out of habit and it's a small miracle Zooble even took that seriously for more than a minute but the idea is appealing anyway, one stuck in the back of his mind since their little chat god knows how many weeks ago.
(He blames loneliness and Zooble knowing more than everyone else and barely judging him for all that shit he keeps underneath, for them always reminding Angel's brain of someone he once held very dear and can't even remember properly anymore.)
The rabbitoid pushes the thoughts away fast, flips onto his side to stare better at the abstract; Zooble is still standing in the very same spot from before, seemingly too lost in thought, expression guarded in a way that they always look at him when he's out and about pranking everyone. Maybe they finally reconsidered, after all. They still resent Jax, old grudges that they refuse to mention but he knows, he just knows it's always there, buried deep, within reach. Well, nothing Angel can do about that now or ever, really.
"Changed your mind?"
"I don't know." Their answer comes a too long moment later, voice low, but he doesn't miss how their brows furrow, how their expression shifts ever so slightly, even if they refuse to look at him still. "This is stupid. Nothing in this body is… y'know. Good enough."
And he should've known something would still be bothering them, really, just how there's still something ugly and deeply twisted inside of him trying to choke him, to keep him down for no reason and the rabbit shakes his head to push the thoughts away once more, pushing himself off the mattress, approaching the abstract with quick, soft steps. Zooble fits so nicely in his lower arms, upper hands cradling their face with an unfamiliar kindness Jax himself never thought he could muster— but it's more than enough to make them finally look at him, and he offers a soft smile before pressing his lips to where he thinks Zooble's would've been, had Caine been more merciful when creating their avatar.
It's a surprise, a very good one, to realize he can feel their lips, and he lingers for a moment more, the kiss too gentle, of the same kind he'd reserve for Pomni only any other day.
(The small noise Zooble makes is the cutest shit he's ever heard, totally worth it.)
"You're perfect, Zee."
Silence falls over them for a moment, not uncomfortable at all despite everything that's happened between them before getting in that room, not enough to stop him from planting another kiss to Zooble's face; Angel has no idea if they believe his words or not, if it makes any difference because he's not someone they care about that much anyway, but their gaze still softens when he moves back enough to look at them, their pupils blown out in a way he's never seen— not directed at him, at least, and something unravels within his chest, spreading too fast, too warm.
A part of him, that loud, obnoxious one that insists in making a joke out of everything and everyone tries to rise up and rage against himself, too full of animosity and old anger, and he locks it deep, deep into his code and throws the key away.
Right now, he doesn't need anything from Jax. Right now he's Angel Dust, no one else, nothing more to him than that.
"You're just saying shit to make me feel better." Zooble's voice cuts through his dangerous thoughts, a hand resting on his hip, almost tentative. "You being corny wasn't on my bingo card."
The rabbitoid clicks his tongue in fake annoyance, more out of habit than anything else, not granting them a response right away. He presses another kiss to their lips, pulling them closer, tucked safely in his arms as he moves them around, guiding them towards the bed slowly, just in case Zooble wants to bail out last second— but they don't, not even fighting his hold on their body, deepening the kiss themself, another hand crawling up his back, fingers digging into his fur.
"Special occasion, y'know." He mutters against their lips when they finally break the kiss, flashing a fake, too innocent grin that makes the abstract rolls their eyes. "Can't have you being a depressed loser when we're trying to have a good time, kinda ruins the mood."
"Charming."
Angel laughs at their unamused response, easing down their body onto the mattress, resting a knee against their crotch— and his eyes move to their new part before he could really hold himself back, curiosity winning over now that they're this close, and it's everything he'd have expected from Zooble, big and thick enough to get him salivating at the sight, too many colors that almost resembles a toy but still realistic, and god he needs all his self control not to get too touchy right away.
"I know it looks stupid, alright?" Zooble groans, their antennas twitching, voice low, a hint of something barely hidden… disappointment maybe, always expecting the worst when it comes from him and he shouldn't be that surprised, really.
Still, Angel can't help but take in a deep breath, raw annoyance quick to rise and almost take over his instincts, threatening to get him walking right out the room; maybe the whole thing had been a bad idea from the start, maybe he should've grabbed the first NPC on the list and it'd have been so, so much easier than whatever this is, because he doesn't get it, he can't understand why Zooble is still so defensive but that's a can of worms the amalgam wouldn't touch even if someone paid him good money for that.
"Okay, I'm getting really tired of whatever your deal is." He snaps anyway, ears pinned against his skull, and he doesn't miss the way Zooble's expression shift ever so slightly. "I'm not here to join your pity party, I'm not here not to make fun of how your body looks like, so you either stop actin' like I'm the purple guy trying to fuck with you for shits an' giggles or you leave."
Zooble looks away and goes quiet for a long moment, and the rabbitoid doesn't move, waiting. There's enough room for the abstract to get out of the bed and walk out if they so wish, and they sure look like that's exactly what they're about to do— but their fingers wrap on his arm tight, pulling him down without warning, their lips on his again on a furious kiss, and Angel feels his body relaxing. It's easy, maybe a bit too much so, to let himself trust himself for once, to shut his brain down and enjoy the moment.
The abstract still has a soft scowl on their face when he pushes away, breaking the kiss, but the rabbit doesn't let his thoughts linger on that anymore. Zooble's body is soft to his touch, something that almost resembles silicone but firmer, warmer, and he presses his mouth against their shoulder on a warning kiss before dragging his tongue on their 'skin'— the texture is as smooth as it looks, nothing really special; it's the taste that makes him hesitate for the briefest of moments. Some part of his brain has been expecting something else, probably taste of plastic or no taste at all, but it's a sweet, acidic flavor that fills his mouth, like sucking on a piece sour candy of too many different kinds and god that shots a wave of pleasure right to his dick, a soft moan escaping his mouth before Angel could even notice it.
(Using tight clothes surely had been an idea today, one he's almost starting to regret. At least it's easy to get rid of his leather shorts, kicking them away without even thinking.)
Zooble takes in a deep breath, focusing every inch of their shaken self control not to grab Angel's ears, pressing their eyes closed, breathing hitching under the pleasant ministrations on their skin. They'd expected his tongue to be like a cat's for some reason, as they'd expected to feel nothing at all on their chest area because why would this stupid body be useful for anything— but his tongue is warm and smooth, sending shivers down their spine every time he licks and nibbles their skin, slow, enjoying himself somehow.
Not that they're about to complain, really. They're grateful he's only using two hands to touch and caress their body, keeping himself balanced over them with his lower arms, because more than that would surely be too overwhelming and Zooble's brain is already fried enough as it is. He's experienced, way more than they'll ever be, and it shows so easily it's jarring.
"Didn't think you'd remember a lot about this."
They should just shut up at once, should stop talking and let Angel do whatever he wants, but their brain still can't stop overworking, going too many places at once; the words escape them before Zooble could really think it through and for a second they hold back the sudden urge to smack their weirdly-shaped face because why, why would it be something they need to mention right now when they're starting to enjoy themself? And the rabbitoid doesn't answer right away, his expression unreadable when he moves his head up for nothing but a moment— he moves fast, always does, straddling their legs, pinning their wrists above their head, mismatched eyes not leaving their face.
And their brain completely shuts off and restarts when Angel rolls his hips, the friction of his hard cock against their dragging a moan out of their metaphorical throat, their heart beating too loud on their ears, like electricity running all over their body.
That's the weirdest, greatest feeling in the world right now.
"Let me guess, you wanted someone all shy and inexperienced on your hands." Angel purrs, his grin too wide, voice too smug in that way that always made them want to strangle him, but the abstract can't find words to clap back when he moves again. "I can play pretend if you really wanna."
There's an implication so obvious in the words that they feel almost tempted to throw him away from their body, to just be done with the most stupid idea they've ever agreed to because of course he'd be insufferable even now, of course he'd find a way to push their buttons— his gaze soften, a hand coming down to rest on the side of their head, finger caressing their 'face' too gently for someone that loved to make their life so miserable. He looks… almost beautiful, if he were anyone else.
(And he is, they know that much; if there's any leftovers of the man they used to know, it's now buried under someone else's persona, nothing but weak hints shining through, not enough to make them regret their decision just yet.)
"I don't really wanna think 'bout how fucked up my brain is right now." The rabbit says after a moment, voice quiet, that same guarded, unusual tone from before, too small to be named or addressed anytime soon, not for them (or anyone, probably) to poke and prod. "I know it's bad."
"Who's about to throw a pity party now, huh?" Zooble replies without thinking, expression as amused as their voice, and that seems to take Angel by surprise, his eyes widening for a moment before he chuckles, his face shifting into something more open, almost happier. "What about we both stop talking and just enjoy this?"
And he finally relaxes, a dangerous smirk on his lips and Zooble almost regrets saying anything, trying to comfort him when they'd probably never get that kind of consideration. Not that they care, really, nor expect it. Right now, their aching new part is the most important thing to worry about.
They try to buck their hips, chasing the same friction Angel offered before but the rabbit is taller, still keeping his full weight over their body, upper hands still keeping them pinned on the mattress, and of course he notices it, his grin widening in a too malicious way for a moment— some part of them short-circuits right then and there when Angel wraps a lower hand around their cock, pressing his thumb at the tip, smearing pre-cum all over, and the moan they let out is louder than they've wanted.
"Fuck…"
"You picked something so nice, Zee." The rabbit mutters against their face, dragging his tongue across the side of their head, and Zooble bites back another shameful noise when he finally starts moving his hand. "You know what would feel even better next time? Both options. Can you imagine how you'd feel if I suck you out and finger you?"
He's just saying anything to mess with them, always a tease no matter what but the idea gets them burning with sudden, blinding need, their stomach recoiling— because god they've considered it, they really did, always too indecisive to stick to a single thing for too long but a dick had felt the safest option for a single run with Jax Angel, and now they're letting themself think about a next time, about exploring whatever Caine had crafted for them to enjoy. Not that it should really matter right now, when they're trying so hard not to give in to the pressure pooling at the bottom of their stomach. It's been too long, the new 'part' working too well, perfectly so.
"Who said anything about a next time?" They manage to breath out, trying too hard to keep their voice from breaking when Angel's hand stops, almost as if retaliating. "You motherfucker—"
"Not enjoying yourself?" He coos playfully, voice too sweet, nothing but another attempt to rile them up when he doesn't really need to. "And I thought I was doing such a good job."
And if Zooble was about to reply, Angel doesn't really know nor care; he slides down their body with a swiftness that's muscle memory induced, kneeling right between the abstract's legs, and he doesn't even need to think too much before closing his mouth around their cock— and the taste is so much better than what he's been imagining, just like their skin but elevated tenfold, and he takes in the full length easily, body catching up quickly with old memories or whatever Caine did when he fixed his avatar. Zooble's hand finds his ears easily, grabbing tight, keeping him in place, and he can only moan in approval, pain nothing but forgotten in the foggy daze set in his mind.
"Jesus, Angie…"
The nickname is new, Zooble's voice dripping with pleasure, and for once it catches him off guard for a second, long enough for him to barely notice when they sit up, pulling his head back before thrusting into his mouth again, the motion so familiar Angel moans again, body easy to fall back into the same autopilot he trusts so much, quick to help them fall in a steady rhythm, letting Zooble take the lead, allowing them to use him as they so wanted, their noises filling the room as they fuck his mouth almost mercilessly, thrusts getting bolder and bolder the more he relaxes in their hold.
And for once, the thought of being used like that doesn't make his skin crawl in disgust.
For once, it feels good. He feels good.
And it doesn't take long for Zooble to lose the rhythm, thrusts getting faster, their moans louder, and he doesn't really need them to say anything— the taste that fills his throat is surprisingly sweet, like some sort of candy he couldn't bring himself to remember the name, not as the abstract keeps cumming, pressing his face against their crotch, and he drinks every drop happily, sucking and licking their cock clean until the abstract pulls him away, eyes half-lidded when they look down at him, face flushed, chest heaving as they catch their breath.
"You good?" The abstract's voice is low, their humanoid hand replacing their claw appendage, petting his ears, and Angel melts under their touch, not fighting their hold when they guide his head to rest on their fuller leg. Still, the question doesn't really make any sense in his dazed mind because… why would they even care, really? "Angel?"
(Why do they care? Why would anyone care?)
No, he's not thinking about that, he shouldn't even be thinking at all. The rabbitoid presses a kiss to the side of their leg before pushing himself up, onto their lap, and Zooble's expression morphs into worry for a second; he flashes them a practiced smile, pushing them onto the mattress again, straddling their hips— but they keep their hands on his shoulders, not letting him get any closer, and Angel frowns. This feels good, it really does, so why would they even worry?
"I'm fine, Zee." He finally replies, taking the opportunity to reach out for their chest piece, dislodging it out of its place gently, ignoring the soft scowl shining in Zooble's face. "And I'm still hard, so can you just fuck me already?"
Zooble doesn't insist, despite guilt gnawing at the back of their mind. They know better than push Angel for answers, to try to get any explanation for his sudden mood swings, and it's not like he's the sort of person that'd stick around if he didn't want to be there. He wouldn't have let them take control like that if he didn't enjoy it, not when he'd been the one leading the whole encounter up until that point. And the rabbit is still staring at them with expectant, wide eyes, his tail wagging fast.
Maybe it wouldn't be a too bad idea to give in, to let instincts take over.
And maybe that's exactly what Angel was expecting; he doesn't fight it when they grab his hips, rolling over him and changing their positions, just allowing them manhandle him easily. He's smiling again, less strained, more relaxed, and Zooble lets their worries melt away, hands exploring all over his body, undoing his fur; the rabbit doesn't try to escape when a hand go right to his cock, thrusting into their touch, moaning, and they push two fingers into his open mouth without thinking.
He gives them a curious stare before licking and sucking, coating their fingers with saliva, gaze never leaving their face as he works; the wet sensation sends a wave of electricity right to their dick. They're already hard again, body thrumming in antecipation of what they're about to do, Angel's needy moan sending shivers down their spine when Zooble finally pulls their hand away from his face and down his lean frame, slowly pushing a wet digit against his entrance— he arches his back, hands clinging to their shoulders, eyes closed tight as he fights to relax, and it doesn't take long for them to be able to add a second finger, movements slow and steady, working him open.
But the loud wail Angel gives when they curl their fingers, hitting that special spot, is totally worth their patience, and they keep repeating it, faster and faster until he's nothing but a writhing mess.
"Zooble, please…"
The rabbit's voice cracks pitifully and for a moment they can't help but stare at him, allowing their gaze to wander all over his body, and their brain is probably too dazed by lust or by him taking their fingers so easily, because he sure is a sight to behold, looking so desperate, so needy, completely undone, white fur nothing but a mess, pupils blown out, teeth sharp enough to dent any of their parts if they dared to get that close. And there's something about the way he's at their mercy, begging them, after all those months of making their life a living hell, something about being able to control him after all the bullshit he's made them go through— even if it's not Jax, not anymore completely, even if Angel is just playing along because he's a freak as much as they are.
"I don't know." Zooble hums under their breath, slowly their hand, and he grants them another pathetic whimper. "You've been kinda an asshole for a while. I think I should just leave you like this."
"Pleaseplease—" And he shifts under them, trying to move his hips against them, to fuck himself onto their fingers but the abstract keeps their weight fully on him, not letting him get any friction, an almost perfect mirror of what he'd done to them before; the string of desperate moans Angel lets out is the best thing they've heard so far coming out of him. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, please…"
God he sounds at verge of tears, and they can't almost believe they're the reason he's making all those noises, pride swelling inside their chest at the realization, and it's so, so tempting to toy with him just to keep listening— but there's only so much teasing they can do before losing their mind, really. They pull their fingers out, shifting to kneel between his legs, taking only a moment to grab their hard cock and line it up with his loose entrance. Angel whimpers again, long legs wrapping around their waist, trying to pull them closer but they hold back for another second or two before finally, finally allowing themself to sink into him slowly, inch by inch.
It's almost overwhelming, all the sensations almost unfamiliar but right now they couldn't care less, forcing themself to breath, to ignore pain running down their back at Angel sinking his claws into their shoulders; the rabbit wails and whimpers at every inch he takes, begging and pleading under his breath, writhing under their hold until they're completely inside, the warmth and tightness surrounding their cock almost driving them right to the edge, body begging for release already but it's Angel's shameless moan that helps them push the thought away.
"You're so tight…" Zooble mutters, managing to dig his claws from their skin, pinning his arms above his head; the amalgam complies easily, letting himself be held, trapped under them, and the thought only makes them thrust into him, his walls clenching around their cock as if to prove their words. "Fuck, Angie…"
Angel can't think, can't bring himself to even try, not when Zooble starts pounding him, quick to find a perfect pace, moving harder, deeper each time, every thrust hitting that spot that makes him see stars, their thick cock stretching him nicely, their hands still pinning his arms against the mattress despite him not even trying to get free— he feels so full, moans ripping through him easily, pleasure flaring up his body every time the abstract slams against him, mind completely lost in the moment.
"Gonna cum." The abstract moans, leaning closer to catch his lips in a messy kiss, a particular hard thrust making him wail, heels digging into their hips as if he needs them as deep as possible, and Zooble can't help but keep moving, letting go of his arms to hold his waist, another hand wrapping around his neglected cock, pumping fast, fucking him hard against the mattress, rhythm all but lost.
Angel comes first, clinging to their shoulders again, cumming all over his stomach, moaning their name in a way they've never heard before, and that alone sends them right to the edge, climax hitting them with enough force ot kick air out of their digital lungs, fingers digging into his fur, their cock buried deep inside him; the rabbit keeps making little noises as their cum fills him, almost enough to get them hard again only at that. God they're so pathetic, aren't they, but how can they even care about that right now?
Zooble doesn't pull out right away as they ride the last waves of climax, thrusting against Angel with slow, weak motions, taking a few minutes to find their breath again, to get their heartbeat into a normal pace; the rabbit doesn't let go of their body either, trembling, panting, eyes clouded, clinging to them as if his life depends on it.
(Right now, he's the prettiest thing they've ever seen and they couldn't care less if it comes to bite them in the ass later.)
"You're beautiful, holy fuck."
Angel gives them a quiet, exhausted chuckle.
"Who's being corny now?"
Zooble rolls their eyes, suddenly too tired to really take the bait; for once every removable part feels like their real limbs, muscles heavy with that same kind of exhaustion they haven't felt in a long time. They pull out slowly, mindful of their partner's sensitivity, and Angel moans softly, body completely limp, barely moving when the abstract eases him on the mattress. They both are a mess, Angel's fur probably sticky thanks to all the fluids and sweat and whatever else clinging to him now, and Zooble finds themself taking a quick trip to the bathroom and back, clean towels in hands.
It's weird to think that not so long ago, they wouldn't care to stay, they wouldn't care to go that far, to offer him that much care. So they don't let themself linger on the thought, focuses instead on cleaning him off as much as they can, ignoring the rabbit's eyes tracking their every move, nothing but a satisfied ehxaustion in his expression; they don't question themself when they climb the bed again, laying by his side, and they don't push him away when Angel snuggles against their side, arms wrapped around them, head resting on their shoulder.
Always clingy, always touchy. (They find out they don't really care that much right now.)
"You good?" The abstract asks after a minute or two, a soft, pleased hum escaping them when the rabbitoid nuzzles their face.
"Mhm. Really needed that." He replies easily, his eyes bright in that same way that always meant he was planning something Zooble wouldn't like, tail wagging so fast they can feel it hitting their arm.
(They've never seen him this happy, this content before.)
"Me too. I hope Caine was serious about our avatars resetting when we get out, tho. You kinda wrecked my shoulders." They sigh, amused, but of course their voice doesn't carry the same tone. Angel blinks slowly before his eyes flicker to their arm, ears pinned against his head, and for a moment they feel tempted to smack themself for the faulty joke. "Relax, it's no big deal."
He clicks his tongue, not looking all that convinced but at least the rabbit goes back to nuzzling their cheek again, making a soft noise, almost like a purr, and Zooble can't help but rest a hand on his head, allowing themself to pet his ears gently; it feels… good, somehow, to be laying there, basking in the afterglow despite their companion being Jax, of all people, when they used to be at each other's throat every day, when they didn't even feel allowed to let their guard down if he was in the same room. And they've seen so many sides of him in a single afternoon than they've seen in months… it'd be easy, very much so, to pin it all on Angel alone, but it wouldn't be fair, would it?
(This feels… so normal, even if they couldn't remember the last time they really stayed that long after.)
The purr gets louder, the rumbling sending warm waves down their chest, and they relax, eyelids shifting in that particular way that let others notice they're smiling. The abstract knows they should go, that others are probably back from the adventure, but they can't bring themself to move right now, with Angel's warmth over them so cozily, his fur coating their tired body like a comforter, his purring lulling a quiet sense of satisfaction into their chest.
They could get used to this, if they really try. (Maybe they even want to.)
--------------------------------------------
[extra scene.]
