Elida stared at Alastor for a long time, face as blank and unreadable as an empty page. Her mind whirred at a mile a minute, a million calculations and questions popping up, each one demanding to be answered first. She kept her breathing calm and reverted to her coldest and most corporate demeanor. It was the best option when she didn't know how to react.

She dropped his hands and looked directly into his eyes, finally settling on a simple query; "Why?"

"As I said," he reminded her, "I'm not asking anything from you."

"That's not what I asked. Answer the question."

"Why am I telling you, or why do I love you?"

"Both."

Alastor had no way out of it now, so he decided to lay it all out, "I'm telling you because I can't stand to lie to you any further. You're too intelligent not to have found out one way or another, so I chose to inform you on my own terms. As for why I've come to care so dearly for you," he said plainly, "I see my equal in you."

Alastor never saw his equal in anyone. But it was the truth; Elida was on his level. She was a superior soul with superior magic and superior cunning. She was a dangerous witch with a peaceful heart and a confusing moral code. The woman was simultaneously his antithesis and his carbon copy.

"What does that mean, exactly?" she asked blankly.

Alastor wished he could tell what Elida was thinking, but as she didn't wall up like this around him often, he hadn't learned to read past her blank expression. It didn't help his nerves. "You are clever, and powerful," he complimented, "and a little bit mad. I've found that I can trust you, which is not something that happens often. I'm drawn to you; to your brilliance, and your magic, and your heart. You've confused me quite thoroughly."

Elida responded in a flat and impossible to interpret tone, "And if I said I didn't want your love, what would you do?"

His heart twisted painfully at her words. But still, he said, "I would continue to be your platonic friend, should you allow it, and you will not hear another word about it."

"On the other hand, what would you do if I accepted you?"

A glimmer of hope. Alastor didn't trust it. "My darling, I would cherish you." He stepped closer to her cautiously. Removing his gloves, he placed a clawless hand on her blood-drenched cheek, "I would drape you in rubies and lay your enemies at your feet." His eyes once again flashed that demonic red, "Were it still mine to give, I would offer you my very soul." His voice had lowered to a soft growl, earnest and intense. "I would call you my partner and be your devoted slave."

"You know I'll likely be going home one day," she pointed out.

"I know," he said.

"And if there's a war, I may not survive it."

"I know."

"And I have no interest in trying to force you to earn your own halo. You'd have to put in that work yourself if you wanted to follow me back home at the end of all this."

"I know."

"We'd be incredibly complicated."

"I know."

"I have high standards."

"As you ought."

She stared for another moment but didn't step away from him. "Tell me," She said, "How long have you felt this way?"

"That's hard to say," he replied. "It happened so slowly, it's rather difficult to pinpoint any one moment. But I think it's been quite some time, now."

Elida closed her eyes, a single tear escaping down her cheek. "I've lost so many close friends to their desire for a romance with me. They either get angry at my 'no' or they ignore it entirely."

"So have I," Alastor said in understanding, "which is why I'm not daring to hope for your love in return. I will not beg." He wasn't sure of that last bit; she of all people could probably find a way to make him beg if she wanted to. But not now. Not here.

"So many people have offered me love, only for it to turn out they just wanted a possession."

Alastor cringed, "I confess, I began our friendship in the hope of gaining ownership of your soul. But I wouldn't accept it now even if you offered it to me. This isn't about that. Not anymore."

"So, what would you get out of me? Sex? Status? Be honest, because if I find out you've said a single lie to me here, I swear I'll-" she stopped herself before she could threaten him. She took another breath, and returned to the cold corporate tone, "What do you want from me, if you could have it? If you could have anything."

He hesitated. It was one thing to fantasize, it was another thing to say his thoughts aloud to her, especially when he still wasn't sure how she'd react once she'd collected the information she wanted. She could use it to destroy him. She could tear out his heart and tear it up in front of him. She could tell his enemies.

She could take his mother away.

His eyes drifted down to her lips of their own accord. She hadn't pulled away from him, but she hadn't moved closer either. She stood as still as a deer, waiting to see whatever it was she wanted to see. His voice was an anxious breath, full of desire and pain, "Elida," her name was sugar on his tongue, "If I could, I would kiss you. Perhaps I would lie with you one day, but as desirable as you are, I'm not ready for that. But good golly, would I kiss you. I would kiss you until we both faded into dust over the span of a thousand eternities."

Elida's heart twisted. Alastor's words were poetry. If he'd said he loved her because of her pretty face, or because he wanted her body, or because she did nice things for him, she'd have known it wasn't love, but lust or obsession. Only he didn't. He spoke of her character, her intellect, and her strength. He offered her an out, fully expecting her to deny him. She could say no. He wasn't trying to convince her, and that made all the difference.

She leaned in closer until her face was inches from his, breathing in the smell of fresh blood that always seemed to cling to him. Pulling his hand from her cheek, and holding it to her chest, she said, "Do it then."

So, he did. He kissed her. Softly at first, with the terrified hesitation of someone who wasn't entirely sure they weren't dreaming. He didn't know what he was doing. But she did; so, she led him, teaching him to dance like he'd taught her. He was a quick study, pulling her closer. He thought his heart might leap out of his chest. It hurt so beautifully.

The broken man dangling above them whimpered. They both ignored his blood dripping down on their heads, focused on drinking each other in. Elida's fingers tangled into Alastor's hair. He needed air, but he didn't want it. He wanted her. Only her.

Back at the mausoleum, the last song of the night ended, and someone checked their watch. "Almost time!" they declared to the group, "Ten, nine, eight…"

Everyone joined in on the countdown. New friends exchanged last-minute hugs, a few predefined soulmates shared what might end up being their only kiss, and ghosts chanted the end of the night, "three, two, one! Goodbye!"

The spell broke. In an instant, the bright and lively mausoleum was as silent as the grave. The pumpkins were gone, the lights were out, and all that remained were a few tables of seemingly untouched sacrificial treats. All was as it had been before.

Returned to heaven's spell circle, sleepy angels yawned and retired to their soft beds, not bothering to worry about what was going on around them. Meanwhile, the cautious and traumatized demons checked their Hellish surroundings to make sure they weren't under a surprise attack. It didn't take long for them to notice the Radio Demon and the Ambassador. The rumors were finally confirmed.

Alastor and Elida, having returned to the same circle as everyone else, hadn't noticed the change in their surroundings. It wasn't until the crowd began to whistle and whoop at them that they opened their eyes and realized they were no longer alone. Elida pulled away, looking around them.

"Oh, we're back," she said.

Alastor took his sharp hand and pulled her gaze back toward him. He wanted to look at her; at her soul. She held his gaze. There was so much intensity there.

"Everyone is staring," she whispered. She still had his hand in hers, pressed against her chest.

"Dearest Elida," he whispered back, "your eyes are the only ones I'm concerned with right now."

He kissed her again, more confidently this time, with a vibrant passion that turned Elida to jelly. Let all of Heaven and Hell know. He didn't care. He would claim her proudly. She was his, and he was hers, and there wasn't an angel, a demon, or any other power who could do anything about it. If God himself disapproved, Alastor would tear his head from his neck and mount it on a spike as a gift to her.

Cruci smirked at her girlfriend and held out her hand. She rolled her eyes, producing a crisp $20 note. She should've known better than to make a love bet with Cruci.

They weren't the only ones exchanging bills. Some demons grumbled, others gloated, and a few stole cash from outstretched hands before running off into the dark. Mimsy's jaw was on the floor. Benjamin looked sadly up toward Heaven.

Snyder snapped a picture for the paper. To his surprise, it wasn't blurry or glitched. Alastor had let him take it. He was going to make a killing on this story; celebrity drama sold faster than cheap porn.

Vox, however, wanted to shoot someone. The Radio Demon was upping his game. Vox never imagined that Alastor of all people would resort to seduction to secure his influence over the Ambassador, but it seemed that desperate times called for desperate measures. And she fell for it. This was bad. This was very very bad. Vox needed to spend more energy on Elida if he wanted to survive when the angel army came. He needed her soul, and he needed Alastor out of the way.

Alastor, not giving a flying fuck about what anyone else was doing, pulled back, resting his forehead against his love's. "I think it's time you went to bed, dearest," he suggested, "You're not normally out this late, and you've had quite a day."

"I don't want to sleep," she said, stifling a yawn, "I want to kiss you more."

"Delightful as that would be," he poked her nose with his own, "We both know you're exhausted. Come along," he offered her his arm, and tore a path through the demon crowd with two long magic tendrils. They rose up from the ground, pushing everyone out of the way to allow a clear walkway back to the hotel entrance.

Charlie had been waiting up for them, sitting sleepily in front of the TV. Vaggie rested on her shoulder, snoring, still holding an angelic spear in her lap. Charlie saw Alastor and Elida and perked up, "Oh! You're back! How was the party?"

"It was perfect," Elida said dreamily, staring up at Alastor, who smiled back.

Charlie was already so accustomed to these two staring longingly at each other that she didn't notice the change in their demeanor. "I want to hear all about it! Is everyone back safe? How are Pentious, and the others? Did the angels all show up? How's Marcel?"

"It was perfect," Elida repeated, too sleepy and distracted to say anything else.

"We'll discuss it tomorrow, Charlie, dear," Alastor promised while he guided Elida to the elevator. "For now, we're calling it a night. Do see to the others, would you? This one needs extra care today," he kissed Elida's knuckles.

"Oh, okay. Good night!" Charlie waved happily at them as the elevator doors closed.

Alastor kissed Elida again. After all, they had to do something while they waited to reach their floor. Never let it be said that the Radio Demon didn't make good use of his time. When the door opened again, Alastor held it in place for a few minutes so that it wouldn't close on them. He didn't want to move. The flavor of her lips reminded him of his morning coffee; a delectable taste that he found himself incapable of describing. Perhaps she used the same ingredient in some kind of lip balm; that seemed like something she would do.

Their progress down the hallway toward their rooms was slow, as they kept pausing to push each other against the wall to demand more kisses. Alastor was forceful, but not so rough that he'd hurt her. Elida, knowing she couldn't hurt him without magic if she'd tried, thoroughly enjoyed grabbing him by the shirt and shoving him into her bedroom door.

He fiddled with the lock, trying to get it open without the pesky inconvenience of having to tear himself away from Elida. Eventually he gave up trying to open it by hand, and just snapped his fingers to open the door. She really did need her sleep.

Elida was a confusing mixture of ready to pass out and completely incapable of settling down. Alastor was intoxicating. She could feel the adoration in his kisses, and it made her hungry. She reveled in the feel of his lips against hers; the careful way he made sure not to squeeze her bruises too tight; the firm command of his strong hands holding her in place. If he hadn't already explicitly said he wasn't ready for it, she'd have invited him into her room for the night. But she would never try to pressure him. She'd let him lead the charge and decide what he was comfortable with.

In the meantime, she had a date with a vibrator.

She broke away, wishing she didn't have to. "I'll tell you this now, so you know it for later," she said, clutching the collar of his jacket and holding him an inch away. He stole another light kiss. She continued, her lips brushing gently against his as she spoke, "You're not expected in my bed, but you are invited. You get to decide if and when. And if you never want to, that's okay, too. Don't ever think that I'll need more than what you've already offered me."

Alastor appreciated that quite a bit. He wasn't sure what to predict regarding her expectations on that topic, but she had it covered. She was always two steps ahead. Golly, he loved her.

"You are precious to me," he said, before placing one last kiss on her forehead and stepping away to let her into her room. "Sleep in tomorrow. I'll bring you a nice breakfast in the morning."

As soon as the door was closed, Elida eroded into mush, melting onto the floor in a smiling puddle of goo and giggles. He loved her; actually loved her. Not her face, not her body, not her power, and not her wealth. Her. She sat leaning against her door for a few moments, grinning ear to ear. She loved him too. Even the evil parts of him were beautiful to her.

[SPICE WARNING BEGINS]

Elida chose not to bother with pajamas. She wanted to feel the sheets on her skin. The heat Alastor had left behind in her had nothing to do with Hellfire. She checked the lock on her door and made sure no one had snuck into her room while she was gone. When she was sure she was alone, she crawled under her covers and let her mind run free.

She brushed her fingers across her skin, letting herself appreciate the soft silkiness of her angelic form. She loved her body. She loved how it felt under her hands. She massaged her breasts gently, imagining it was Alastor touching her. She could see his face in her mind; his wide cocky grin that always knew more than he let on, his expressive but sinister eyes, and that tongue of his.

Oh, the things she'd let him do with that tongue. A dull, pleasant ache twitched between her legs at the thought. Releasing a soft moan, she moved her hands downward, then up again, and back down, teasing herself. Her moisture built with every inch closer she let her fingers get. She should have put down a towel. She summoned one with a wave of her hand, just to make sure she'd still have a dry place to sleep when she was done.

She moved lower, caressing her inner thighs. It sent a jolt of anticipation through her. She shivered, but this time it wasn't from the cold. She tickled her small, carefully-trimmed tuft of hair and moaned again, arching her back. She untucked her wings and let them spread out on the bed. She wanted nothing held back.

Finally allowing her fingers to touch her favorite spot, Elida rubbed her own clitoris in tiny circles, sending pulsing waves of gentle pleasure through her. She closed her eyes and thought of what it would feel like if Alastor was there. Even the thought of his name made her groan. She transitioned away from the wet circles, instead flicking her finger back and forth. It didn't have quite the same effect, so she chose to try rubbing herself up and down. There; there's a good spot.

"Mmmm…" she arched her back again, breasts in the air as another wave of pleasure teased her body. She rubbed faster, tilting her hips in synch with the movement. "Oh… Oh there, that's it…" she called out to the empty room.

Her wings shuddered as she gave herself the first orgasm of the night, a blissful release of tension that made her cry out, "AHH!" Her vagina spasmed delightfully and she tilted her head back, letting the pleasure wash over her. Her skin glowed brighter, illuminating the shadows on the walls. She pretended that one of them was that strange, seemingly sentient shade of Alastor's. She wouldn't mind if he watched.

After a minute to breathe, she was ready to go again. She was going to fuck herself until she couldn't stand it anymore.

Pulling a vibrator out of her bedside drawer, Elida coated it in an aphrodisiac lube of her own design. It was a recipe she'd tested rigorously to get just right. It allowed your body to continue having as many orgasms as you could handle, no matter how long you went. One time, she'd tested it every hour for a week straight, refusing to eat or sleep until she'd eventually passed out from exhaustion, the toy still buzzing insider her as she slept. And it worked every time; 100% satisfaction guaranteed. It was a grueling experience, but she'd do anything to get a recipe right. During the trial period, she was so unreachable that poor Marc thought she'd died again. She never told him what she'd been up to.

She flipped over from her back to her stomach in order to make it easier to keep the vibrator in place. She turned it on, and it hummed imperceptibly. It was heaven made, which meant it was top-notch quality. Self-cleaning, no loud buzzing, and no running out of battery no matter how long you used it. It got a lot of mileage, depending on what mood Elida was in at any given time. Today she was in the right mood.

Positioning the toy in just the right spot, Elida lowered herself onto it. With the help of the lube, and with how wet she already was, she slid easily over the device. She squeezed her eyes shut, grunting at the sensation. Deciding she was too turned on to hold her own hands steady, Elida secured her vibrator with a strap to keep herself from accidentally pulling it out while she writhed in delicious agony.

While it did its work, she clutched her pillow. She held on for dear life. She moved her hips up and down, increasing the sensation. With every thrust she could feel herself getting closer and closer. The toy read her biometrics and adjusted to vibrate in just the right places to maximize her pleasure. It was, after all, the highest quality out there.

To be safe, Elida cast a soundproofing spell on her walls. She wasn't ashamed of experiencing healthy adult sexuality, but she didn't want some random demon jerking off to her moans. This moment was about her, and she wanted it to stay with her. Once the room was secure, she let loose, screaming freely with every wave of ecstasy. Without even meaning to, she called out Alastor's name.

Alastor heard his name come through her radio. From the sound of her voice, she sounded like she was in distress, and he worried she was being attacked again. Fully prepared to hop out of the shower and run to her aid, he checked on her through the radio by her bed.

She was not, in fact, in distress.

He returned to his shower, a little more smug than he'd been before, but still respectfully retracting his awareness from her radio to give the woman her privacy. His smile widened ever so slightly. Strange. Anyone else and he'd have recoiled in disgust.

Elida, not knowing she'd been caught, carried on, gleefully masturbating over and over again, each orgasm more intense than the last. Some may have found it painful, and it was, but she liked it that way. The nice thing about being dead was that mortal limitations didn't plague you as much. And the nice thing about being a woman, was that women could cum more than once. And oh boy, did she.

She cried and moaned. She slapped her own ass, bit her own lip, and pulled her own hair, putting her own body through such abuse that others may have thought of it as masochistic. But Elida loved the pain. And the pleasure only got better with it. She wished Alastor were there to tie her up and lick her.

Only after her head was positively spinning with pleasure and exhaustion did she finally put the vibrator away, clean herself up, and pass out into a deep, dreamless sleep. She'd need to change the sheets in the morning.

[SPICE WARNING ENDS. TLDR: Elida masturbates, Alastor hears her calling out his name through the radio, but he turns to look the other way when he realizes she's not in danger. We establish that Elida is a bedroom masochist.]

Alastor, secure in the fact that his doll was safe, finished showering and went to his radio tower. He had a project to work on. Collecting the bits and bobs needed to construct it, he drew up a reference design. It would be a relatively simple thing to make; but the magic would be the tricky part.

Pouring every decade of skill and experience he had into the project, Alastor painstakingly put the pieces into place. Every wire, screw, and spell had to be just right. It took all night, but just as the demons began to wake up for the day, he got it done. Of course he did. He was the Radio Demon, after all.

Alastor hoped Elida would like her gift.