Chapter Text
With a sigh, Dawn closed the book she was studying and set it down on the couch next to her. The stress and disappointment that came along with still being unable to find a solution to their memory problem radiating off of her. "Alright, we gotta leave in an hour. I'm gonna go get ready."
Alastor finished writing down the notes they made for the morning, just as frustrated with how little progress they had made within the past year. He turned to give her a reassuring smile. He would figure it out eventually, he had to.
He hummed, gently grabbing her by her waist to pull her onto his lap, her legs straddling his thighs. "You don't need the entire hour, do you?" he purred, attempting to brighten her mood. The last thing she needed was for Baphomet to notice her exhaustion. She was already on incredibly thin ice with him, the goat tiring of her lack of effort when it came to cleansing her batch of souls each day.
Dawn giggled and threw her arms around his shoulders. "I guess I could skip a few steps in my routine if I got good reason to."
How he went so long without her body pressed to his at nearly all hours of the day, he had no clue. Just a flash of her smile could send him into a mouthwatering frenzy. He was never close enough. Even buried inside her, he wanted more; there was no limit to his affections.
In short, he was addicted to her, all of her, and had no desire to get clean. She made the highs worth while and the lows disappear. She was finally his and he was finally hers. He felt like he needed to make up for lost time, making sure that she was completely satisfied with him anytime that he could. Her toy was already destroyed and discarded of, she had no need for it now.
His smile turned roguish and he decided to give her more than just one good reason to not leave his side until absolutely necessary. His hand glided down her waist, nails lightly scratching at her thighs before slipping under the short skirt of her nightgown. Her breath hitched and she let out a soft moan when his finger began rubbing gentle circles around her clit. Alastor was always so appreciative of just how responsive she was to his touch.
"I could think of a few good reasons," he whispered into her jaw before scraping his teeth over her skin.
She shuddered. Her back arched and her hips began to mindlessly grind into his hand. She gripped a fistful of his hair and brought her lips to his. Alastor was still learning her and what he himself liked but his composure nearly broke every time she decided to not be gentle with him. He wondered if Dawn's demon strength would tear his antlers from his head when they met in Hell... and if he would welcome it.
Her grip on him tightened, his moan that followed a low and defeated sound.
Her grip quickly loosened and she broke apart their kiss to look at him shyly. "Too much?"
"Ha! I could argue that it's not enough, darling."
Her cheeks rushed with blood, a nervous delight in her eyes. With that, her body made it more than clear that she was ready for him. He slipped two fingers inside, finding that sensitive spot she liked so much.
She gripped his hair again and pressed her forehead to his, knowing that he wanted to watch her fall apart for him. He searched her eyes, needing to ensure that he was doing everything right; that she wanted him just as much.
Dawn had learned quickly to not hold back her moaning, Alastor wanted to hear it. His chest swelled with pride and his confidence soared when the sound of her song filled the room. He wanted her to burst his eardrums from the pleasure that only he could give her.
She fisted his shirt as she fought to keep her eyes open while he pumped his fingers in and out, the pitch of her whimpering climbing higher and higher.
Alastor's smile widened. He'd lost count of just how many orgasms he had given her during those first few weeks of their relationship but each one excited him beyond reason. This woman feared nothing and no-one. All of Hell would be groveling and begging at her feet just to be spared from what he could only imagine would be her inimitable power when she finally dropped down but here she was, crumbling by his hand, clinging to him with desperate need.
A strangled scream he knew was an attempt at his name ripped from her throat as her walls clenched around his fingers. Dawn was satisfied but, as previously stated, he wanted more.
After guiding her down from her climax, he removed his fingers and gripped her waist to reposition her onto her back. The little squeals and giggles she let out whenever he would do that made his stomach flutter. She was having fun, he was the cause of her fun.
She hummed when he brought his lips to her neck, nipping at her skin gently. "You're really surprisin' me, Al."
"How so?" he murmured into her skin.
"I just pinned you as more reserved. You're like a cat in a room full of rockin' chairs, always pawin' at me."
Alastor paused before bringing his gaze to meet hers. "Is that... unwelcome?" he asked nervously.
"Not at all!" She grinned at him. "Just thought you'd have a little more self-control, Radiohead," she teased.
"Oh?" He laughed. "You don't think I have any self-control when it comes to you? My dear, I am the pinnacle of self-control."
Dawn bit her lip. "You wanna bet?"
Not in the slightest. "Are you trying to strike a deal, chérie? Not one foot in Hell and you are already betting with an overlord."
"Not much of a bet when I know I'm gonna win."
Alastor felt his ego and his desire enter a ring, only one coming out, the loser of this battle screaming for another round. "After I go an entire twenty four hours keeping my hands to myself, what will I win?"
Dawn rolled her eyes. "Only one day? Nah, you gotta keep it together for a whole week." She smirked when she saw his expression sour slightly. "Winner gets full control of the radio for a month."
He hummed. The deal benefitted him in almost no way. Full control of the radio would have been lovely but was it worth the distance? Not at all. But Alastor now had a point to prove. "So it's a deal then?"
She held out her hand. "Deal."
Shaking with no magical sensation was jarring. A simple handshake, no binding contract -not that he would ever hold her to one- felt unnatural after so many decades of dealmaking.
Dawn giggled. "I'll give you ten seconds before the timer starts."
He chuckled, bringing his lips to hers as he counted the seconds down in his head. Her hands snaked over his chest, only making the separation so much harder. Why did he agree to this again?
"3... 2..."
Before she finished her countdown he was standing next to the couch, his hands clasped firmly behind his back. "I wish you the best of luck, chérie. Now, I believe we have work to get ready for. Off you go."
She stood slowly, eyes heavily lidded and lower lip trapped between her teeth, before dragging her finger over his chest and walking out of the room.
*****
Alastor sat in the kitchen, enjoying a quick breakfast, while he waited on Dawn to finish getting ready for the day. He didn't have to wait long, thankfully.
She skipped down the stairs, humming to herself. He was surprised to see that she seemed to be playing fair, at least on this first day. She actually chose to wear looser fitting clothing, her jeans not hugging her curves at all and she wore a simple tee shirt, the fabric tied up exposing a few inches of her stomach.
"If you think a bit of midriff is going to break me, darling, you are sorely mistaken," he stated plainly, his focus on the book he had brought down with him.
He saw her head cocked to the side out of the corner of his eye, an amused smile painting her lips. "I wasn't tryin' to. You're the one overthinkin' 'a bit of midriff'."
He raised his brows and looked at her over his glasses. "Whatever you say, dear. I'm ready for work when you are."
Dawn walked a pace in front of him as they made their way to the heart of Purgatory, her hands held behind her back. No teasing, no heated looks behind her, not even a sway to her hips. There was no part of him that thought she would be taking it so easy on him for this entire week. The anticipation of what she was planning sent sparks of electricity through his veins.
She practically ignored him for the entirety of their shift. Even Baphomet seemed baffled by her behavior, the bruising on her neck from the previous evening's activities still prominently showing. She kept her head down, cleansing the souls she was assigned for the day with no complaints and no breaks.
Alastor hated Baphomet but their were more than a few silent, confused glances directed at her and each other. She hadn't asked Alastor for any runes that morning. She was willingly taking the burn, hardly even showing the pain of it in her expression. Perhaps that clause should have been added to their deal. An entire week of her allowing herself to be burned by the holy water just so that he could prove a point did not feel worth it.
She finished for the day much quicker than he did, skipping her way back home without so much as a goodbye.
When Alastor finally finished, he was practically running back to the house. Work was one thing, it wasn't like he even had a choice to touch her there, but home was a whole different playing ground. She was cunning, he knew that, but what was her plan to break him? He needed to know.
"Darling! I'm home," his voice echoed through the house but received no reply. Curiously, he tip toed his way up the stairs and up to his bedroom. Inside was a Dawn-less room, no copper haired witch lounging on his couch.
He quietly walked down the hall to her bedroom. They hardly used it now, still in the process of moving all of her belongings into his room that they had been sharing. Alastor opened the door and found Dawn curled up in bed, seemingly sound asleep.
"Dawn?" he whispered. She didn't answer. He stepped further into the room and walked to the other side of the bed. She had her eyes closed but was clearly still awake. "Are you really going to stay in here tonight, chérie?"
Without opening her eyes, she answered, "well you could always stay in here with me."
"I'm assuming I will be given no free pass while unconscious?"
She giggled and shook her head. "Nope. No free passes, Radiohead."
Even though she couldn't see him, he still made sure to keep his face neutral, no matter how disappointed he was with the reality of sleeping without her due to this incredibly terrible deal. "Not even to draw runes for you before work? I do apologize for not bringing that up earlier. It slipped my mind."
"Nope. Like I said, no free passes."
She couldn't be serious. She would burn for a week to prove her own point? Was she really that stubborn? "Darling, I hardly think that's fair to you."
Her eyes finally opened, the piercing blue melting him on the spot. He was hardly an entire day in and already he was miserable without her.
As if she read his mind, she smirked at his dissatisfaction. "If you really think that, you could always just forfeit."
His eye twitched. She really was that stubborn. "Not a chance. Goodnight, chérie."
"G'night," she mumbled as she snuggled up into her pillow.
Alastor hardly slept that night. His mind raced as he tried to figure out what she was trying to do. It didn't make sense. How was she to prove her point if she completely avoided him? There was no temptation if he hardly saw her or even spoke to her.
The next morning, he woke up to Dawn casually sitting on his couch, head buried in a book and scribbling notes down. Alastor didn't think he'd ever seen her in such modest sleepwear and that was saying something considering that she was still in a nightgown. The dress fell down to her knees and she was wearing a thin silk robe over her clothing.
"Good mornin', Radiohead," she chirped, not meeting his gaze.
He blinked one eye at a time, his groggy mind attempting to catch up with him. "Good morning, darling," he rasped.
She smirked. "You sound like you hardly slept, hun. This might be the first time I woke up before you."
Alastor believed that he was beginning to understand what her game was. She was attempting to starve him.
He went two years without her affections, almost a century if one were to count his existence before meeting her, one week would be nothing new to him.
"I had the entire bed to myself. I slept like the dead."
She snorted. "Well you slept through study hall, it's 'bout time we get ready for work."
*****
Dawn continued this game for the next five days. No touches, no lingering stares, not even a glimpse of what she hid under her clothes. Alastor was confident that he would win, this was all too easy.
On the last day of their deal, he woke to an empty room. He half expected to find Dawn sitting on the couch in a nun's habit. Only twenty four more hours until he had full control of the radio and Dawn back in his bed. He could do it.
She decided that their next visit to Earth would be for New Orleans so they'd agreed to save their potion for the month for their next day off to make it up to her sisters at a later date. Alastor would be alone in the house with Dawn for the entire day.
He heard the radio playing country music outside his window. When he took a gander at what she was doing outside, his heart nearly stopped. Dawn was laying on her stomach, her feet kicking as she laid there in nothing but red lace undergarments while she read a book. He hadn't realized how much he missed her curves until they were right there in front of him. He was a man dying of thirst in the desert, denying himself the oasis that called out to him like a siren's song. He longed for a sip, even just a splash over his skin would have been enough.
His skin flushed as his jaw feathered. Only one more day, he kept telling himself, only one more day until he could touch her.
Alastor got dressed and put on a carefree facade before walking out to the back porch. She didn't make any show of acknowledging that he was there, just bobbing her head to the music and continuing to read.
He sat down on the stairs that lead to nothing but the white empty space that was their backyard. "And what do you think you're doing out here, chérie?"
"Sun bathin'."
"There is no sun."
She shrugged. "Thought I'd at least try. I'm gettin' pale."
He laughed and leaned back to enjoy the view. "A valiant effort, darling, but I'm afraid it will be in vain."
Dawn smirked. She knew that he wasn't referring to her attempt at tanning. "We'll see. What do you wanna do today? I'm sure there's some board games in the closet we could play. Maybe some cards for strip poker."
"Strip poker? It looks as though I already have a bit of a head start," he teased.
After dog earring the page, peeving Alastor slightly, she shut her book and turned to lay on her side. The lace covered nothing, she was practically laid bare in front of him. "Well I would go change first obviously."
He swallowed hard. One more day. "Perhaps another day, chérie."
"Oh? That scared you'll lose?"
Terrified. "I never lose."
"So then play with me."
The wood of their patio whined under his grip. "Which game?"
"Texas Hold'em."
"That would make for a short game wouldn't it?"
"No blinds then."
"How many articles of clothing?"
She hummed, "eight."
Alastor was a grown man, not some hormonal teenager. Skin had never affected him before, not until he got to know the halfway goddess currently lying naked in front of him. A scandalous game of poker would be nothing but a bit of fun. Besides, he never cowered away from a good challenge.
"Alright then. It seems I've already met your requirements."
Dawn sat up quickly and sauntered past him back into the house, the smell of her perfume knocking all sense from him. This was beyond stupid. Why did he always fall for the little witch's baiting? He knew exactly what she was doing and yet, he gave her exactly what she wanted.
With a quiet groan, he forced himself to standing and made his way to the hallway closet to grab their deck of cards.
After only a few moments, Dawn was running downstairs, wearing his clothes with a cowboy hat and sunglasses to top it off. She looked ridiculous but seeing her in his oversized clothes awakened some primal, claiming urge in him. He nearly broke right then and there to pounce on her but only gritted his teeth as he sat patiently on the ground in their living room, the deck of cards already cut and ready to play on the coffee table, a tower of eight chips on either side.
"You ready to lose, Radiohead," she asked smugly.
"Not in your wildest dreams, chérie."
Alastor dealt first. He was left with a eight of hearts and a nine of spades. A good start to this doomed game.
He looked up to study Dawn's reaction. She did a fairly good job at hiding her expression but he saw the tiny twitch at the corner of her mouth. He placed a single chip in front of him.
She placed two.
He placed another.
"Check."
With that, he laid out the flop: nine of clubs, king of hearts, three of spades.
She glanced at her cards, another twitch in her smile.
"Check."
"Check," she repeated.
He laid out the turn card: ace of spades. He checked.
She placed another chip on the table.
He hummed, "fold."
She giggled and dropped her cards: a seven of diamonds and two of hearts. His mouth fell open.
"Strip!"
He just lost to the absolute worst hand anyone could have been dealt. His eye twitched as he stared at her cursed hand laying on the table, practically pointing and laughing at him. "How dare you..."
She was clutching her stomach laughing at his bewildered expression now. So she was a good bluff. He should have known that, he really should have.
He kicked off his shoes as well as socks, earning him an annoyed look from Dawn. "Game on, little witch."
She dealt the next hand. He won with four of a kind, three chips on the table.
Dawn removed her hat, sunglasses and boots.
He won the round after that, Dawn folding after the turn. She lost her socks and her pants, the latter she was sure to stand up and remove slowly, bending over as she rolled to cotton down her toned legs. Alastor kept his focus on shuffling the cards, his own pants feeling tighter than usual.
The next round was won by Dawn, Alastor removing his sock garters and his belt.
"You're no fun," she pouted.
He chuckled. "I am plenty of fun, dear. You are the one hardly betting on your hands."
"Tryin' to hurry this game up?"
Did he want to win? Of course. Did he want Dawn to remove her clothes? Absolutely. Did he want to hurry to the end and lose their week long game? No. He would fold every hand if it weren't for his competitive nature, delaying the inevitable until she tired of the game and he could hold out until tomorrow with ease.
"Of course not. But I know that you are."
She smirked at him, shuffling the deck and refusing to answer.
Dawn lost on the next round, only one chip on the table. She took her time unbuttoning his shirt that she was wearing.
Alastor couldn't find it within himself to look away, his eyes locked on her hands as she slowly made her way down the front of the shirt.
"You hungry, hun?"
"I... what?" He hadn't realized just how much of his focus was stolen by her delicate hands working to reveal her barely covered chest.
She giggled and undid the last button of the shirt before crawling around the table and placing both hands over his thighs. "I was askin' if you were hungry." Her lips were so close to his, he could feel her breath fanning over them.
"I could make us some lunch after our game," he barely choked out. What sort of curse was this? He was still not entirely convinced that she hadn't cast some sort of spell on him, one that made her the star of all of his fantasies, the root of his desires.
She hummed as she pushed him onto his back gently, his hands balling up into fists. Dawn settled herself over his hips, smiling wickedly when she felt the evidence of his want pressing into her.
Holding himself back from touching her when he thought that it would be unwanted was one thing. Her sitting on top of him in nothing but her undergarments and a shirt that belonged to him falling over her shoulder was an entirely different thing. Alastor wanted to bang his head into the ground repeatedly for denying himself something so sweet. He never denied himself of anything, he always got what he wanted and the thing he wanted more than anything was practically begging for him to take her.
"This is entirely unfair."
"But I thought you were the pinnacle of self-control?"
He swallowed hard when her hand trailed down his chest, slipping between her legs to unclasp his pants.
"Dawn," he begged through gritted teeth.
She paused, only the tips of her fingers having made it under the band of his underwear.
She stared at him through lidded eyes, a hunger like he had never seen from her devouring his very soul. Her chest rose and fell dramatically, the swell of her breasts brushing against him with every breath.
"Do you want me to stop," she breathed, her lips only an inch from his own.
His breath was a ragged thing now. If he had the claws that his demon form kept, they would have been digging into the rug. Deep gouging would have been left behind on the hardwood floor of their living room. He felt his control slipping from his grasp, tumbling down the hill before he could catch it.
He shuddered before slowly shaking his head.
Her hand dipped deeper into his pants, wrapping around his hard cock. Alastor threw his head back, meeting the ground with a thud. He groaned loudly as she stroked him. The pitch of the sound would have mortified him if he were capable of any cognitive thought.
A week without her soft hands roaming over his body was torture, but the aching in his hands as he fought with everything he had to not grip her tight to his body was so, so much worse.
Dawn's teeth scraped over his jaw, sending a violent shiver through his body. She giggled and brought her lips down gently on his neck. He tried to focus on his own pleasure, just enjoying that she was touching him at all. She felt wonderful, of course, but she was entirely too quiet for his liking. He craved her song.
She hummed before slipping his cock under the fabric of her underwear. Fucking hell. He gasped and worried his expression, his grip on himself nearly shattering at the sensation.
Rocking her hips slowly, he could feel just how much she wanted him. More than anything he wanted to grab her by the hips and bring her down over his length but he kept his trembling hands at his sides. He was less than a day away from winning, from proving to himself that he still had control over himself even when it came to her.
Why did he want to control himself when it came to her? What was the point? She clearly didn't want him to.
His mental attempt at justifying the need to touch her against all logic was ended abruptly when the sharp pain of her biting down on the crook of his neck shocked him back into the moment. He gripped her waist without thought and strangled out a moan.
They both froze.
Dawn's head popped up to meet his gaze, her eyes wide. She smiled maniacally as she took in his shocked expression.
There was a long moment of silence, just heavy breathing as they stared into each other's eyes, pupils blown out.
She poked his nose. "I win," she giggled.
Alastor's resolve burned to ash.
She yelped when he quickly sat up, crashing his lips into hers. His hands gripped and cupped every inch of her body. He had gone completely cold turkey for a week, this first hit like nothing he'd felt before.
Dawn returned his desperation, her hands raking through his hair and roughly gripping at his shirt.
His hand dove beneath her underwear, his fingers immediately finding their way inside.
She broke apart their kiss to moan loudly. He missed her voice so much, the heat coming from her body, the trembling, the heavy breathing, everything, he missed everything.
Her pleasure pooled in his hand as she sighed his name. He gripped the back of her neck and kissed every inch of her throat while his fingers continued to massage her.
"Alastor, please," she whined.
She could have anything she'd ever dreamed of when she said his name like that.
"Tell me what you need, chérie," he pleaded, breathy and desperate. His own voice was something he felt strangely detached from. The only sound he cared to hear was any and all of the ones coming from her, only her.
She whimpered and melted into him when his fingers added more pressure to her walls. His arm wrapped around her, holding her tight to his body as she moaned into his shoulder.
With a cry, she clenched around him, her hand fisting his hair so roughly that his head was yanked back while she tumbled over the edge.
Before she had the chance to apologize for something he should have been thanking her for, he removed his fingers and fell onto his back, bringing her down with him.
"Alastor," Dawn begged between fervid kisses, "I need you."
Her wish was his command. His hand dragged down her body, gripping at her thighs before wrapping around his cock. She pushed the fabric of the underwear to the side, his length slipping inside with ease.
He threw his head back and groaned. In no world did he deserve this but not a soul in the universe could pry her from his cold dead grip. She was his to enjoy, his to keep.
Dawn sat up. The motion of her hips was mesmerizing to watch. He stared, mouth agape, in awe as her body moved fluidly on top of him. His nails dug into her thighs as he guided her rhythm. She yielded to him completely, her talent in following his lead carrying over to this dance.
As beautiful as the scene was, her song was still far too quiet. His grip on her tightened and he dug his heels into the ground, thrusting into her with a desperation that he didn't know he was capable of.
She whimpered her moans as her chest fell to meet his. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her flush to his body while he continued to rut into her.
Dawn was screaming for him now; he had yet to discover a more beautiful sound. His mouth found its way to her neck again, biting and suckling at her delicate skin.
Nails digging into his neck, she cried out his name and he felt her muscles contract around him.
How she managed to wrap tighter around him was beyond his comprehension. Bringing her down on him one last time, he came in her with a breathy whine.
His body trembled uncontrollably until her grip around his throat softened and he was sure that she was completely satisfied with him.
Alastor didn't release her for a long moment, savoring the feeling of her body pressed against his, the way she clung to him for dear life.
Once he finally got his bearings of the current situation, he laughed. The sound of both relief and bitter amusement vibrating from his chest.
He finally figured out her game. It being that there was hardly a game being played all week! She waited until the finish line was just out of reach to start her game. Dawn walked beside him for the entire race, letting his confidence build, just to stick her foot out and send him tumbling into the ground at the last moment.
He laughed even harder. She could have broken him anytime she pleased but she waited for the fun of it. This cunning and ruthless woman was going to be the death of him, his fate sealed with a delicate kiss to the stab wound she was sure to inflict. "You... are a wicked little witch."
She giggled into his chest before bringing her head up to peck at his cheek. "Hope you like Chris Stapleton, Radiohead."