As she stood in front of Michael's office, she wasn't sure if this 'trying' thing was going to work out. Perhaps it wasn't even going to be fine. By all means, she had brought herself fake confidence—a Shellstrop classic, pretending to be super fine with whatever in an effort to figure something out but actually getting screwed over—and probably shouldn't be toying with fate here. Adjusting her simple white blouse and making sure her jeans were patted down, she prepares herself to enter the lion's den.
"Michael?" She knocks, biting her lip, though she already knew he probably knew what she knew. Pulling on the hem of her jacket, she waits for his response.
"Eleanor, come on in." She carefully opens the door, looking to him. He certainly seems to be unwound, rather than the minimalistic and cleanliness that was normal of him. Papers, stacks of books, and other miscellaneous cover the desk and the nearby vicinity. Perhaps Janet cleaned for him rather than he did? He was a freaky demon after all. "I planned to give you those human pleasantries, but I know Mindy has probably filled you in once again. I know you went to the Medium Place. Just another reboot in the books. Though this is the first time that you're coming in by yourself, I'm impressed. Do enlighten me as to what you planned to do without anything on your person."
Her immediate inclination was to disagree, but she might as well admit it. Continue the conversation.
"Yes, Mindy told us about what...happened. And all those previous times."
"And? What else?" He asks, hands in a Machiavellian peak in front of his face. He watches her stand uncomfortably, fingers playing idly. The longer he stared, the more she couldn't do it.
"I can't forking do this. I can't seduce you. This should be Tahani's job." He raises an eyebrow at the prospect.
"Seduce me? Goodness, that's quite lower than I expected from you. Albeit, you've set the bar quite low but... You wanted to try human emotions on a demon! You should have tried Tahani. She probably would have had a better chance, even if her accent and mannerisms are quite annoying. She has the legs and puts in the effort for clothes at least." He laughs, clapping his hands together in amusement. "If you expected a kiss from me, you're surely mistaken. You humans and your kissing in your food holes! I mean, come on. It's disgusting." He makes the gesture of his hands kissing together in a strange glee.
"But that implies you've thought of it. Certainly, even by a little bit, you must have, bud." She inquires—perhaps she had the chance. If she could just lure him away, it would give Tahani and Chidi a chance to look around the office for anything that could help them figure out what the proper hell was going on and how to defeat Michael. She just needed to play her cards right, even if it was a 0.01% chance she could get this to work.
"I have not. Humans are fickle creatures. Certainly not romantic companions. Even if demons had them." He responds, though his brief slip of hesitance was enough.
"You keep preaching about how you wanted to see what humans were like. Not even like that?" She slams her hands on his desk, leaning forward. Her hands slam on crumpled paper and some of the lighter objects near the edge fall off the desk. He jumps in surprise, grasping onto the arm rest of his chair. "You have got to admit at least feeling something. At least being casual sex companions. Lots of people have wanted that with me."
"I know, I've memorized your file." He waved away at her dismissively, seemingly annoyed at himself for even considering the possibility. "Shut up. You've ruined enough. I do not need to hear any more blabber from your mouth." He huffed.
"I think, for once, I made something better!" She said, crossing her arms below her breasts.
"Oh, do enlighten me Shellstrop! How do you make it better?" She was riling him up; perfect.
"A perfect torture neighborhood wouldn't be as fun if this wasn't how the dynamic was. If we never figure that this was actually the Bad Place, wouldn't it just repeating the cycle of psychological abuse? You would just be sitting here, watching things go along without doing anything. Admit it, Michael, I make your job much more interesting. Rather than whatever you demons do in the Bad Place, you'd rather be doing this. You're glad I figure it out every time."
"Fork you, Eleanor!" He roars in frustration and she could almost swear that her heart skipped a beat. She must be turning insane at this point. This can not be turning her on. No way. She wasn't the type to easily get turned on, let alone for someone who was saying fork out of all things. But that meant he was losing control, losing to her taunts.
"Do it. Fork me, you won't."
"No. Try again next time. Maybe you'll get a better chance towards defeating me than meaningless seduction." He raises his hand and she has to think fast—something, anything.
"How many attempts has it truly been?" He falters in her softness, hand dropping to his lap.
"Four hundred and ninety-two attempts." He responds without delay. "So far."
"How many of those attempts did you think of me in that way?" She inquires, "If I'm going to forget anyway, you might as well let me know that."
"I don't keep count." He mutters under his breath.
"Sure you don't, yet you know how many times you failed, to the dot. Don't lie to me. Not while you're going to reboot again since it won't matter anymore."
"One hundred and eighty-seven attempts did I think in that way. One hundred and eighty-seven attempts that I fell from disgrace." It was a larger number than she had anticipated—was her existence truly that vexing for Michael?
"And now? Are you thinking about it now?" Hook, line, and sinker. She was so close. His eyebrows furrowed, already thinking of what could really occur.
"Do not tempt me, Eleanor. There's no need for it. No point for it anyway. You'll forget." He raises his hand another time and Eleanor has no choice—talking was getting her nowhere. She groans in frustration and he looks up to her.
"That's the point, you ash-hole! I'll forget! Indulge for a forking minute! Goodness, you're so preoccupied with the details! Makes sense for a forking architect, but you're a demon! The literal spawn of Satan, dude!" She finally said, knowing that at this point, she had nothing to lose. He was going to reboot anyway despite all her ministrations.
Maybe it's her urgency, maybe it's just the fact that he's had enough of her playing with him; she wasn't sure. Either way, she leans forward and surprisingly, he meets her halfway. For a demon that expressed kissing was the definition of food holes getting mashed together, he could truly do it. She hadn't even considered that it wasn't going to be all that bad—were demons supposed to be able to do this? Even as she parted her lips to breathe (human habit, truly), Michael was already attempting to further his conquest despite his original claims. She pushed him away and the two of them stared at each other for a moment, his fingers grasping the armrests of his chair tightly.
"Fork. That's not what's supposed to happen." He ran a hand through his white locks, letting out a low exhale. "I've fallen too far." Eleanor said nothing as she jumped to sit on his desk and brought his chair close to her. She knew she had an ulterior motive of luring Michael away earlier, but at this point, if she was going to lose, why couldn't she let herself fun? It's all she really could do.
"Fork it. I do hope your parts are compatible." With a lean and a pull on his lapels, she brought their lips back together again. She could feel his resolve shifting, instead of denial, he was completely enthralled. With a grunt, she assumes he means yes and opens her mouth to him, allowing his tongue to explore (which is oddly doing things right, all things considered). She wraps her legs around his waist, pulling him closer as necessary.
"I'll have you know, Eleanor, they are." He says between kisses, trailing down to her collarbone. Even as she knows it's all wrong, she lets him take off her jacket and shirt, her bra just left of her top half. "All things considered, I have spent a lot of time studying humans. I've seen them tortured, ripped apart over and over again, and have watched you four mingle amongst yourselves. I hope, for even the shortest of time, I can offer you a sense of bliss, even as this is actually the Bad Place." She rolls her eyes at his admissions.
"You're doing good so far demon, don't ruin it by talking too much. Fork, don't even talk about anybody else or about what you demons do. Just pay attention to this human." With each kiss, she knows she shouldn't be doing this. Purpose starts to fall apart as he slips a hand under her bra and breathing begins to fall into small bursts. She tries to keep a clear mind, opening up her thoughts to the philosophy lessons Chidi pulled her through to keep her in control, but it was just so hard. Hard like her trying to determine what margarita mix flavor she should buy to drown her miserable life when she was on Earth. Hard like...her eyes widen at the feeling of his sex...or whatever it was, against her already sopping wet underwear. Holy shirt.
Somehow, he was already pulling her pants off and she was only in her underwear. He still had all of his layers, save for his belt and an undone bowtie. Pulling a Shellstrop original, she pulls down his pants and underwear in a sweeping motion and he kicked them away. All looks aside, it was not what she was expecting. It was conveniently for her, a human cock.
"I thought you were going to have windchimes for a penis." Eleanor murmurs against his lips, burying her hands within his white hair, disheveling him. He lets out a low chuckle, his own hands snaking behind her back to unclasp her bra. As the white falls to the ground, he rakes in her body like any other normal human lover when they see her for the first time in this way.
But Michael was anything but normal.
After what felt like an eternity, Michael made his moves that he probably learned from the Kama Sutra or some equivalent. In another motion, her underwear had disappeared and she was displayed in all her wantonness. She definitely must be going insane after all of these reboots.
"Fork, Michael. Please." She begs, feeling his sex at her own entrance. Even without properly looking down and those pesky fabrics gone, she feels it.
"Since when have I ever denied you, Eleanor dear?" He asks, close to her ear. His breath is warm, sending shivers down her spine.
"I can only assume plenty!" She grunts, almost tempted to rub herself against him. "I know you want to monologue since you want to gloat that you got the human in this position, but I kinda need this right now, Michael." He ignored her words, grabbing onto her hips with force to make sure she knew who was the architect in this moment.?
"I have only denied you exit. Everything else has all been for you. Torture, opposite torture." He muses, though he was fully aware that this was partial torture for her. He knew the pressure was driving her mad. "This is definitely opposite torture. If Shawn could see me now, he would be rolling in his cocoon."
She opens her mouth to respond with a snarky remark since she didn't really know what the heck he was talking about, but Michael only responds with a wicked grin. He sets in the first thrust and she slips in with ease. Eleanor lets out an uncharacteristic moan, louder than what she had intended. She never let out moans that fast—especially when there wasn't any any large foreplay involved. The sound seems to rile him up, more so than any of her previous insults from earlier. It seems to invigorate him even, giving him desire to nip around her body, trailing small love bites everywhere—if that's what she could really call them. His hands, by all means, sprawled around her, tweaking a nipple here, perhaps caressing her in other areas with each push.
It was completely unfitting for what he really was. She had worser companions, human by all means. People who were more than willing to drag her through the mud if it meant satisfaction. Though with Michael, even as her original charade was to seduce him, seemed to hold her like a glass figure. Like a painting from some museum. Like...like she mattered. For an emancipated person who did way too little good things in her life, she was quite proud of her accomplishment to...quite frankly, bring a demon to his knees as Mindy said.
He let out a low grunt of surprise to the welcomed locking of lips once again. Eleanor moaned against his thrusts, begging for more without even having to really say anything more.
"Call my name out, Eleanor. Tell this office who is offering you such opposite torture." He said against her cheek.
"You're gonna have to try harder than that, chief." She grunted, quickening her pace so it wasn't just mainly hime dictating how things would work. It took him off guard, sending sparks within this human body he adjusted himself to. In a quick motion, she wrapped her legs securely around his waist and with her hands, pushed herself off the messy desk. Michael, without pretense, grabbed her by the bottom and lifted her up. In suit, she hooked her arms around his neck and smirked. "Now you're getting it. Can I even get an orgasam here? Can you?"
"Never had the need to know. I suppose we will now, Eleanor." Using his newly gained control of the situation, he slammed her against the wall, the lamp beside them crashing with a halt. She continued to moan without a care in the world and Michael took advantage of the wall to slip a hand between them, thumb rubbing along her clit, all the while as his thrusts were throwing her off the edge.
"Yes, right there. For a demon you're not..." She let out another groan, "that bad. Michael!" He pushed harder against her, feeling those beautifully crafted walls flutter and pulse around his human cock; if his studies allow him recall, her orgasam was to come to a near. With one more thrust, he allowed himself to follow her towards his own orgasam, riding it like one whole wave.
"Fork..." He muttered, "Eleanor...that was amazing." The bright shine was back in his eyes and he spun, bringing her back to the desk to sit as he pulled out. He let out a few breaths, even if it was a force of habit at that point. He listened carefully as her pulse returned to normal and he looked at her in expectation.
"Michael, I-" Eleanor fumbled with words, trying to figure out what to say, but as with all things in the Bad Place, good things don't last (besides the torture—the torture always lasts).
"Michael!" The two, enamored by each other for the briefest of moments turn to see Vicky. For Eleanor, it was the lady who ran the potpourris store in the town square who was named Clara. For Michael, it was the party pooper from down the lane. The one time he doesn't lock the door. "I...For fork's sake!" In an effort of dignity, Eleanor pushed Michael away, causing him to fall into his chair. Vicky looked between Eleanor and Michael, standing with her mouth agape.
"This is an office! There's such a concept of knocking, Vicky!" Michael grumbles, adjusting his jacket. Eleanor grabs hers and puts it on quickly. Vicky facepalms, closing her eyes in frustration. "Knocking! Literally one of the first things I described to you when offering this job."
"This has to be an all time low of yours. Forking the human...the very things we are meant to be torturing! It was one thing for you to suggest at one point that you and her should be soulmates—this is ridiculous! I cannot believe you! What if Shawn called you during your escapade!? What if literally anyone besides me were to walk in? They already doubt you! You would be forked!" Vicky glares, "It would not be hard to arrange a sexual favor if you're that horny! Goodness!"
"It might look like an all time low for you, but it was supposed to be torture! If you didn't decide to interrupt, I would be able to torture Eleanor in assuming she had really forked up further than just being a mistake from the system! Imagine it, the guilt of causing the Good Place Architect of all people to have fallen from grace! Oh wait, we can't, since you ruined it!" Michael bellowed, his left hand still on her knee.
"Excuse me, I still don't know what the hell is going on. Clara, what are you talking about? Michael?" She squints between the two, playing the part of being confused but also having her own questions. Were all the residents present really...all demons?
"Well, I don't want to see this display any further and she already knows now. Reboot her. Eugh." Vicky snaps, looking at the two before storming down the hall and away. Michael stands, close as he was before. She leans into his shirt, smelling the pleasantry of fresh laundry. She supposes, even for a demon, smelling nice was needed to make a fake Good Place. The demons in the real Bad Place probably liked Axe Body Spray that smelled like when one was in line for a Black Friday sale and the one thing that they want is sold out if anything could be turned into a scent. For even the briefest of moments, he was the complete opposite of what demons were supposed to be—at least the concept, she thought.
"That was convincing." Eleanor said, surprised. "I really did believe there that it was torture." He smiled bittersweetly, shaking his head.
"I was hoping I could erase your memory a little after, perhaps do a few more things even if you will forget it afterwards. It will at least be a fleeting memory to me." He sighs, taking ahold of her shoulders, pushing her off lightly to look at her face. For someone who was an easy liar, she could read him quite clearly for once. He seemed to not know what he was feeling nor doing, even if there was probably no moral code to not do this with a human. Heck, there probably wasn't a moral code to begin with those demons.
"Do you have to?" She asks in a useless attempt, looking down to the side. Michael smiled softly, in a rare compassionate way that didn't feel like she was being deceived. Something she never really felt with any of her other previous suitors. She couldn't really explain why she felt so vulnerable under a literal spawn of Satan's gaze, but in a way, he made her feel real. Even if this was just reboot after reboot.
"Another time, Eleanor. Another time. At least you won't remember this, but I will. And when I see you, the real torture will be for me." He lifts her face up by her chin and kisses her with more passion than before and before she could reciprocate properly, it all turned white.