Isobel spent a frustrating morning at the library. Try as she might, she could not find any new information about demon royalty or their magical abilities. Every time she thought she found a promising book it would be in some ancient language that she couldn't read. What she wouldn't give for an occult version of Google Translate.

She explored shelf after shelf of dusty tomes and soon her annoyance was so complete, it felt like everything was out to get her. Including her hair. She was not used to it being just loose and free, it got in her mouth and stuck to the back of her sweaty neck. She swept it all up and began to braid it again as she delved deeper in the library.

In a back aisle she found a huge ladder for reaching the very top of the stacks, but it was too heavy for her to move. She cursed her lack of demon strength. In the end she settled for an old volume depicting demonic family trees and a copy of The Handmaid's Tale.

She sat reading at the hotel's kitchen table eating a lackluster lunch. The sound of scraping chair legs on the floor broke the silence and she begrudgingly raised her eyes. Angel and Charlie sat in front of her. They both sat uncomfortably, hands folded, looking anywhere but at Isobel.

She sighed heavily as she lowered her book.

"May I help you two?"

They both instantly leaned in. Angel's eyes positively alight with excitement.

"I have so many questions," he said.

"No," Isobel said flatly.

Angel's face fell, completely crushed.

"Oh come on," he pleaded. "I'm dying here."

"I don't really want to talk about it." Isobel dropped her head on the table. Oh, this day. She was tired of this day. If only she had just stayed in bed that morning. Charlie reached out a comforting hand and patted her on the shoulder.

"It was that bad, huh?"

Isobel jerked her head up somehow offended. "No!", she said perhaps a little too defensively.

"Oh, ho!" Angel laughed, excited again. "It wasn't bad, which means it was good. How good?"

"I don't think Alastor would like me giving out details."

"Come on, it's just girl talk." Angel put an arm around Charlie and pulled her close. "If you can't talk to your best gal pals about your boyfriend, then who can you talk to?"

Isobel choked as though someone just punched her in the chest. "Not my boyfriend," she coughed.

"He's not?" Charlie seemed almost disappointed.

"What else would you call him?" Angel pressed.

"I don't know, Angel. You call every dude you bang your boyfriend?"

"Unfair comparison."

"It's not like that," Isobel said directly, trying to bring some sense and order to this conversation. "You don't understand. It was a means to an end. There was a purpose. That purpose is complete. So it will not be happening again."

Angel stared at her shrewdly.

"But it did happen," he said. "And I got questions."

"One question," Isobel conceded.

"Five," he countered.

"One," she said firmly, holding up a finger.

"Fine," he didn't have to think. He knew exactly which question was forefront in his mind. "Is it like a deer penis?"

"Oh, my god!" Isobel yelled pushing away from the table. She wanted to pull her hair out. "I'm leaving." She grabbed the books and bolted toward the door.

"You said I could ask one."

"Not that one."

"Ok," he called after her as she tried to escape. He decided to just quick fire all of his questions at her. Charlie could only sit in shocked silence, hands over her mouth and eyes wide. "What noises did he make, like is he a talker? Did he talk dirty? Did he want to do weird positions? Uh, what did his cum face look like?"

Isobel could not get out of that room fast enough. But at the last question she stopped, turned around, and stared Angel right in the eyes.

"Terrifying."

She spun on her heel and left before he could ask any other highly personal and incredibly embarrassing questions. She did not slow her pace until she was at the top of the stairs. There she stopped and sighed. She felt exhausted both physically and emotionally. This had literally been the day from Hell. Which was a shame, because it had actually started out rather nicely.

She thought back to that morning and remembered what it was like laying in bed with Alastor tangled up around her. She smiled. Maybe when she got to her room she would spend some time thinking about the events of the night before.

She walked slowly down the hall lost in her ruminations when suddenly she was attacked. She felt coils wrap around her body, pinning her arms to her side. They covered her mouth and eyes so she couldn't scream or see. The books clattered to the floor as she was dragged from the hall.

The coils slammed her against the wall of a small alcove before releasing her. Maybe at one time it had been intended for cleaning supplies or extra linens, but now was mostly bare. Disoriented, she tried to fight. Her fists balled up ready to strike as her vision came back to her. Alastor stood before her, his black tentacles dissipating.

"Damn it, Alastor," she exclaimed. "That scared the shit out of me."

"Good," he replied. He had been wanting to scare her all day.

"What's wrong with you?"

"A lot of things." Leaning in, he could smell the cortisol and adrenaline coursing through her veins. He put his mouth on her neck, all the better to feel the rapid thump of her pulse. He reached behind her head and gently picked up her long braid.

"You braided your hair again," he said.

"Yeah."

"I told you I prefer it loose." He wound the braid around his fist and pulled. It didn't hurt, but it was enough for Isobel to take a reluctant step closer to him.

That was it. She was tired of the push and pull from others today. People treating her as if she did not have firm dominion of herself. And now here was Alastor treating her like a plaything for his personal enjoyment. But a concept that Alastor did not fully understand was that of a two way street. If she was to be his toy, then he would be hers. She would show him that she too had power and control, and she could exercise them over him as she wished.

Isobel firmly pushed him back to arms length and leaned back against the wall. This confused him. Hadn't their arrangement changed? She had given him her body. Did he not have the authority to do with it as he pleased, when he pleased? Plus, he didn't like being shoved.

She kept intense eye contact with him as she sighed heavily, sliding down the wall and onto her knees.

"What do you think you're," his sentence was cut short as Isobel deftly moved into position. Button, zipper, tongue, mouth. Her fingernails dug into his hips holding him in place. With a sharp release of air that ended in a groan, Alastor's grip on her hair tightened. His body contracted and he had to put a hand out to brace himself against the wall. Looking down at Isobel, he found her green eyes staring back at him, mouth open, tongue out.

Between the touching, licking, and sucking, she made quick work of the job at hand. She could feel his muscles tremble under her force as he came closer to the edge. Suddenly the sound like someone spinning a radio dial, hitting every station in frantic succession, until the screech of microphone feedback silenced the jumble of noises. Then silence, just the sound of Alastor's heaving breaths.

Isobel spit on the floor and slowly stood up. He had practically doubled over still propped against the wall, so she met him eye to eye. He panted at her as she smiled. Delicately she pulled her braid from his fist and raised a finger to poke him on the nose.

"Boop."

Isobel ducked under Alastor's arm and out of the alcove. She picked up her books and without looking back continued toward her room. After the day she had, she believed she deserved a nap.

Later that evening they all ended up for one reason or another in the parlor sitting on the couches and each talking through their days. Isobel and Alastor each took care not to sit near one another. Neither wanted to answer anyone's overly curious questions. The others seemed to have gotten the message and simply did not ask. However, that did not prevent both of their minds from replaying the events of that last 24 hours over and over again to the point that they were both quite distracted from the conversation.

Mainly, Angel complained about his upcoming filming schedule. Valentino apparently was pissed about something and had him performing and filming all kinds of acts on all kinds of people all night long.

Isobel along with most of the others tried to comfort him. But he was beyond consoling, and just ended up yelling at all of them.

"You just didn't understand," he wailed.

Isobel didn't really feel like being shouted at, so she stood.

As she left the room she said, "You're right, Angel, I don't know the first thing about sucking dick." On the last word she locked eyes with Alastor and held him in her knowing glare for a split second before she was out the door. His eyes narrowed and he silently fumed over her ill perceived dominance.

Isobel went to bed feeling very smug. Alastor now understood she was not for his amusement alone. She had the power to reduce him to a sweaty, gasping heap and she would not be afraid of him.

So when he tried the same thing again three days later, she was ready for it. They had barely spoken in those three days. Each occupying themselves with varied tasks waiting for the other to come crawling.

Isobel knew her patience could out last his, so when she found herself once again snatched from the hall and pressed against the wall under Alastor's weight, she didn't even flinch. He probably wanted another blowjob, she thought to herself, and luckily for him she happened to be in a good mood, so she decided to throw him a bone.

Placing her hands against his chest she pushed him away so that she could kneel down, but to her surprise he didn't budge. He pushed back onto her and grabbed her wrists holding her fast.

With a perfectly controlled growl, he whispered in her ear, "not this time."