Chapter Text
Stake outs always made for a boring night. If it was one thing Dante truly hated, as he got older, it was boredom. Boredom encouraged him to think and brood too much, and to over-think more often than not. After Mallet, after the incident with Abigail the Demon, after all that, Dante didn’t need to over-think about anything, ever again. Normal thinking was just bad enough, thank you.
Dante was thinking about that, ironically, when the car door opened, making him give a small start. He scowled, looking at Trish as she sat her ass into the passenger seat, as if she hadn’t just spooked him at all.
“Got you a cheeseburger,” she said, digging into the paper bag she had in her lap.
“No onions?” Dante grumbled, reaching for the foil wrapped, half squashed ball as she went to hand it to him.
“Oh, I asked for extra onions just to piss you off,” Trish said, flippant.
Dante swore under his breath, but his nose told him that she was just fucking with him.
“Did you get me a soda?” He asked, unwrapping the burger in his hand.
“Needy piss baby,” Trish replied, rolling her eyes. “I brought bottled water.”
“I don’t want bottled fuckin’ water,” Dante groused, chomping into his food. He sighed, looking out the windshield at the house Trish and he were casing. “Why the fuck are we here again? Couldn’t you get Lady to do this one?”
“Lady has been on back to back jobs,” Trish replied, unwrapping her own and digging in. She put a hand to her mouth, covering it as she talked through the bite. “And you haven’t been on one in three weeks.”
“My last job was fuckin’ huge,” Dante reminded her. “And I still got money from that, money to spare.”
“Money to burn through, you mean,” Trish scoffed, licking some sauce off her thumb. “Someone has to make sure you don’t put yourself in the poor-house, Dante.”
“Ain’t that what Lady for?” Dante grumped, swallowing. He sighed, looking at her. “Even if I do owe her my left ball at this point.”
“That’s what I’m talking about,” Trish said, looking at him. “This job is easy, it’ll pay you enough so that you can maybe make a payment to Lady and keep her from feeling like you’re using her, as well as staying on top of your other bills.”
Dante rolled his eyes, but didn’t argue. He finished his food and balled up the wrapper. He tossed it over his shoulder into the back, making Trish wrinkle her nose at him, but didn’t bother to scold.
They fell into silence again.
Rain started to fall, pattering on the roof of the car and the windshield.
“So we’re just watchin’ for the vamp to come out?” Dante asked, trying to fill the silence. Trish nodded, reaching down to the passenger’s side floorboard and coming back up with a bottle of water. She cracked the seal and took a few long swallows from it.
“Easy,” she said, shrugging, capping her bottle again. “Once we confirm the presence, we report back to our contact, and then they either go for an actual slayer or they give us the contract.”
“Why don’t we just take our ghoulie friend out once we know its shamblin’ about?” Dante asked, leaning forward to rest his chin on the steering wheel.
“Because, idiot,” Trish tutted. “We’ll be doing it for the price of a stake out job. Honestly, Dante.” She shook her head. “You’re such a goof.”
Dante chuckled, leaning back in his seat.
“Boredom rots your brain, and I am dying from boredom,” he whined. “God, I hate fuckin’ stake out jobs.”
“The whining won’t make time go faster, flyboy,” Trish sighed, leaning back in her seat also. She glanced over at him, and Dante could feel her eyes. “ .. Would you like to be less bored?”
“What did you have in mind?” Dante asked, though he knew damn well what she really meant.
It was more than a little perverse, actually. Dante would never really speak on it to anyone besides Trish. She was a manufactured woman, created by Mundus to resemble his mother. And she was perfection, in that regard.
Dante thought about it when she slid over and straddled his lap. He reached down and pulled the little lever on the side, sending the back of the driver’s seat falling backwards, as far back as it would go.
They had been fucking since a little after Mallet Island wrapped up. It was an emotionally charged time, and Dante had found himself falling into the bottom of a bottle, night after night, trying to make sense of what he had learned.
Trish was there to pull him out of his stupor.
The fact she did it with a blow job was just a petty detail, as far as he was concerned.
They had been fucking on and off ever since. Neither made it well known to their circle of friends and fellow hunters what Trish was to Dante. It was one thing to just fuck a blonde with fine tits. It was decidedly another for said blonde with said fine tits to be the exact copy of the woman who carried, birthed, and nursed him, right down to the molecule. It would raise too many eyebrows, too many questions, and Dante didn’t want to answer any of them.
It was just good to have someone. Good to have someone who wanted him back.
Dante found the idea of Trish looking like his mama less and less troubling the more they fucked. He wasn’t sure if it was because they were fucking or if it was because he finally faced the little demon in his heart, the one shaped like Dr. Sigmund Freud. He hadn’t really admitted it out loud, nor would he ever. It was a pretty Oedipal thing to admit.
What was that thing?
.. That maybe Dante liked fucking Trish because she looked like Eva, and not in spite of it.
More than once, he caught himself looking at her when she was naked, either getting dressed or laying there on the bed, lounging after a roll in the hay, and he wondered .. Did Mom have a bush like that?
Wherever Eva was, if there was a Heaven for poor sinners like her, the wife of one demon and mother to two more, Dante surely hoped that she couldn’t read minds or hear his dirty musings.
All the same, Dante’s thoughts were brought back to the here and now when Trish ground her pelvis against his. Dante groaned, and put his hands on her ass, squeezing.
“Why you always gotta be wearin’ pants?” He grumbled, speaking around Trish’s mouth when she lowered herself to claim a kiss.
“It’s the twenty-first century, fuckboy, women can wear pants now,” Trish replied, mumbling the words out as she tried to bite Dante’s lower lip.
“Makes it hard t’get in,” Dante grunted, rolling his hips up to grind against Trish some more. “S’why Lady wears a skirt y’know~”
Trish sat up a little, smirking at Dante, hair falling over one shoulder.
“What a smooth talker,” she mocked. “Do you think talking about Lady is going to get me wet for you? Try harder.”
Dante didn’t have to. They were going to have sex in the car, one way or another. The rain was heavier now, and the windows were starting to fog. Tucked in a back alley the way they were, Dante was fairly certain no one would see them. And, even if they did, in the skeezy part of town they were in, would anyone even care?
It was awkward, but Trish did it. Women were always so fuckin’ good at that, sometimes it made Dante feel like a complete loser. Here he was, dick hard as a rock, only able to inch his pants down far enough so that they didn’t cover his ass and, in doing so, let his cock and balls free, and Trish had managed to kick her boots off, slide out of her own pair of leathers, sit on his lap naked from the waist down.
Dante’s cock was standing at full attention, the anticipation from the main event enough to get him going. He really was Freud’s own wet dream looking up at Trish’s face as she gazed down at him, eyes hungry and blonde hair forming a curtain around her face.
She shifted and with very little preamble or prep, sank down on his cock. There was some shallow thrusts, some weak up and downs as her natural slick worked to make the shaft easier to slide in. Dante bit his lip, groaning as Trish did the hard work, and shuddering when she sat flush against him once more. Her cunt was hot and tight and Dante exhaled a breath through pursed lips.
Trish leaned down and kissed him. Dante hadn’t been a virgin for a long time, and he was an old pro by the time Trish burst her way into his life. It was probably too kind to say he’d known his fair share of whores, from corner girls to escorts. He knew how ‘working girls’ were, and that’s why Trish’s kisses were something special.
If you had to pay for it, the girl wouldn’t kiss you on the mouth. It was just a sad truth of the universe, in the same way that water was wet, the sky was blue, you had to pay taxes, one day you would die. Whores didn’t kiss you on the mouth.
Trish did.
Trish did kiss him on the mouth and Dante loved her for it, even if the dreaded four-letter word never passed his lips as easily as her tongue did.
Fucking now in earnest, they fogged up the windows of Dante’s car. The sound of their skin slapping against each other, the wet squelch of Dante’s cock sinking in and pulling out of Trish’s velvet pussy seemed to be deafening in the small space. Deafening and obscene and there was a big part of Dante that could easily fall asleep to such symphony.
All things being equal, Dante knew that Trish had sex with him for him. She didn’t need it, and she didn’t need Dante. She had everything, after all. She could have had the world on a string, with her looks, her wit. Instead, she was working with Dante, scraping by to make some cash in between paying the debt to Lady, sitting on stake-outs for chump change, eating cheap burgers in Dante’s junker classic car, steaming up the windows for a quick fuck in the driver’s seat.
Trish did this because she wanted to.
Dante did this because he wanted Trish.
He pushed her corset top aside, the laces loosened through some happenstance of their fucking, his hands cupping her tits once they were free. He moaned around her mouth, though Trish barely panted. One of the perks of being a full blooded demon, Dante supposed.
Soon, as they really got the car rocking, Trish bouncing on Dante’s cock like an over-eager teenage girl after senior prom, all introspective mid-fuck thoughts would leave the feeble space between Dante’s ears. It was replaced with Trish’s taste, her smell, her feel. All senses were consumed by Trish, and Trish, herself, Dante wanted to consume.
Something else left Dante, in a few shuddering spurts, jerking slightly as that spring that was twisting ever tighter in his lower-most gut finally coiled no tighter and instead burst loose, climax tightening his balls, brought up close to his core, despite the heat of his body. He came inside of her, and that was something else whore’s didn’t let you do.
Then again, Trish was no whore.
She just fucked like one.
Dante was coming down from his orgasm, leaning back in his seat as he was, looking up at her as she straightened. Her eyes were closed now, her head tilted back. Hair fell half behind her shoulder, some of it caught to cover one breast. A hand slipped between them, and she fingered her clit, a furious up and down as she brought on her own climax. Her cunt squeezed around Dante’s over-sensitive shaft, causing him to hiss and writhe. Trish came with a flurry of little spasms and waves, the demoness giving barely there grunts and sharp exhales through her nose as she went all the way up and came all the way down again.
As they caught their breath, their fluids still mixed, their genitals still in situ, Dante reached up to run a hand through his hair, pushing it back from his forehead. Trish frowned, the post-nut haze leaving her eyes as she reached up and mused his hair again.
“What, no cuddles?” Dante chuckled, while Trish pulled her corset top back on and laced it again, tight and secure. She got off of Dante, as easy as someone might dismount a horse, plopping back into the passenger’s seat. Dante still watched her. An enigmatic mix of elegant and street, Trish would look good on a throne, and she looked good while she fished in the burger bag for brown napkins to clean herself with, wiping herself and wadding the napkins up before pulling her pants back on. She tossed them out a hastily opened window, closing it again, before she looked back at Dante.
“Jesus, Dante,” Trish scoffed, rolling her eyes at the sight of him. He still was reclined in the driver’s seat, cock out and soft on his belly, pants down around his thighs. “Clean yourself up.”
“Can’t go chasin' our mark with my fruit and veg out, can I?” Dante sighed, taking some offered napkins from her. She had used the lion’s share of the napkins for herself, but he made do.
Trish went back to her food, humming as she ate.
“ .. God, I love stake outs,” Dante grunted, pulling his pants up again.