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emerald_embersTitle: Completion
Fandom: Devil May Cry
Pairing: Dante/Vergil
Rating: NC17
Word Count: 1395
Summary: After the world ends.
Dante let Vergil shove him into the shower, laughing already at the state they were in, the handprints of blood and mud on the walls lining the way to the bathroom. It didn't matter that they'd ruined their clothes or that the only reason water came through the shower head was that they willed it to, not because any part of the plumbing actually worked. The very fact Vergil was there stopped anything else from being important.
"You're filthy," Vergil growled, and Dante rocked into the hands gripping him, welcoming the touch, the demanding grab of hands on flesh, strips of leather and clumps of dirt falling to swirl around their feet in black water. He couldn't tell if it was meant as a curse or compliment, cared even less; Vergil sounded like himself for a moment and Dante nearly came as sharp teeth reopened the wound Vergil had delivered to his shoulder.
They'd fought in the rain before. Fought more than a few times - but always on solid ground, and as soil gave way to mud any pretence of elegance soon fell apart as they started slipping and sliding; wrestling when their weapons became useless, punching and scratching and biting until they gave in and kissed.
Dante could have lain there for hours, fingers dug into Vergil's ass while his older twin showed off exactly what his tongue could do. There wasn't any other weight out there he could take on his chest without flinching away instinctively.
Strange how parts of the world still mimicked normality - robots walked around without purpose now their creators were gone, imitation life, while despite sunlight being a distant memory there was still an identifiable climate; rain, fog, snow all taking their place across each year. Hell was so backed up with souls it needed to pull in that getting Vergil out had been insultingly easy - Dante still doubted anyone down there had noticed their missing resident. Either that or they'd chickened out of following; no honour left in Hell after Sparda.
Vergil's tongue had been brutal in his wound at first but quickly started to soothe it, anti-coagulant and anaesthetic in his spit that gave away the wrongness of their heritage, and it was so easy to give in to the painkiller effect, let himself go dizzy as Vergil pulled him closer, water running down Dante's neck a moment longer before it cut out.
It was still raining outside even though they were the only beings left on Earth that could appreciate it. Dante wondered briefly how much poetry and prose and research about rain had been lost in the first blasts, wondered what use all that paper ever had. It wasn't a thought that lasted long, Vergil opening him up with clever fingers that made use of all that blood and anti-coagulant before pushing in. "Do you remember Nightmare?"
"Huh?"
"He was self-lubricating too," Vergil replied, thrusting in again maddeningly carefully, taking it slowly despite having all the time in the world to waste.
Dante remembered their first proper conversation after bringing Vergil back, remembered it all the clearer for the knife that had been pressed to his throat at the time.
"Could you kill me again?"
"No. Fucking god no."
"Then you've got to keep me alive," Vergil replied, eyes dark with the things he'd seen but refused to talk about. "No one else could kill me right."
It was a strange sort of trust, one first explained to them by their dad - Dante severely doubted most children barely past toddling were made to sit through an explanation of what exactly happened to a demon during exorcism, given most human theology ended at "Demon cast out; everyone gets back to work".
You could put curses and blessings on swords, use bullets of silver or iron, line an entire room with bible passages but the only way either of them ever ended up in Hell was direct entry. It had been decades before Dante came close to dealing with the fact Vergil chose Hell over him, and if it weren't for Vergil's face on being rescued, he might never have got over it at all.
The lights had gone out again, electricity too difficult to maintain without Alastor around to do most of the concentrating. Dante pushed as rhythmically as possible into Vergil's steady hand, all too aware of the bizarre poetry, the two of them alone in the dark. Strange that they only had each other to fear these days.
Vergil thrust up violently to come, hitting Dante's prostate hard enough he thought he'd be seeing stars for weeks after this orgasm, keeping quiet while Dante found himself unable to shut up, swearing and gasping and almost sobbing Vergil's name as they redecorated the shower. Forget being half-demon, his human side was going to be sore for days, and he couldn't quite find the energy for a reply when Vergil whispered "I win," against his ear before pulling out, wiping them both clean with a wet flannel before helping Dante's unsteady legs towards the bedroom.
"You're stuck with me forever now," Vergil said as he grabbed a towel, drying Dante off before himself. It wasn't as if Dante needed reminding - they'd worn matching rings as a joke for a week before realising the metal loops interfered with more interesting activities.
"As long as you don't bore me, we'll be okay," Dante grinned back, throwing himself onto the double bed and enjoying the show as Vergil dried off. Didn't matter the movements were purely functional, Vergil was naked, gorgeous, and so graceful he'd make cooking omelettes look sexy.
Fuck. Now he was hungry.
"Shift," Vergil growled as he moved to spoon against Dante, demanding an equal share of the bed even if he never used up the extra space. They'd shared beds all their lives, before it started getting wrong, before they realised it was wrong - neighbours had brought that to their attention, whispering about how you weren't meant to do that with your brother, how sick and disturbing it was.
God bless those neighbours for being concerned enough to give it a name. Incest. It was so much kinkier when you realised what the world as a whole thought of brothers slipping cold hands under the bedsheets and working out how much better it felt having someone jack you off who knew you as well as you did yourself.
If it weren't for the fact it would have got them arrested at the time they would probably have left the curtains open when they did start fucking.
Dante winced a little as Vergil's hand settled across the bruise at his stomach, head already a slightly painful dull weight against the healing wound on his shoulder. Morning would be worse than a hangover, but it'd be a lie to say he didn't enjoy it.
Two years he'd gone without Vergil - then more. Then ten.
He didn't feel alive without him and it was harder to feel more alive than freshly fucked and fucked up, warm and wounded against the person who'd done it to him.
And forget Vergil's attention-hogging demands that Dante kill him, because killing Vergil was the one thing that stopped Dante's life being liveable. "Verge?"
"Vergil," Grunted warm breath at his neck.
"You ever kill yourself, I'm coming after you."
"Promise?" He could feel the smile when he nodded, one of Vergil's thighs slipping between his own legs to put them closer to one another. "Same here."
"I'd never top myself, I'm not the emo kid," Dante huffed for all of two seconds before grinning as the thigh between his legs nudged upwards.
"Stop pushing your luck and go to sleep."
Dante knows the words Vergil whispers when his breathing has steadied and his body is on the verge of sleep aren't meant for his ears, they're just a way for Vergil to get them out of his system, but tonight he can't stop himself smiling. He'd rib Vergil about it in the morning, but some secrets aren't meant to be shared. It's just part of being a brother. Knowing what to keep secret, even when the secret's already been shared.
As far as trust and vows go, 'till death do us part never was good enough. Dante's never planned on letting death get in the way.
The End
Fandom: Devil May Cry
Pairing: Dante/Vergil
Rating: NC17
Word Count: 1395
Summary: After the world ends.
Dante let Vergil shove him into the shower, laughing already at the state they were in, the handprints of blood and mud on the walls lining the way to the bathroom. It didn't matter that they'd ruined their clothes or that the only reason water came through the shower head was that they willed it to, not because any part of the plumbing actually worked. The very fact Vergil was there stopped anything else from being important.
"You're filthy," Vergil growled, and Dante rocked into the hands gripping him, welcoming the touch, the demanding grab of hands on flesh, strips of leather and clumps of dirt falling to swirl around their feet in black water. He couldn't tell if it was meant as a curse or compliment, cared even less; Vergil sounded like himself for a moment and Dante nearly came as sharp teeth reopened the wound Vergil had delivered to his shoulder.
They'd fought in the rain before. Fought more than a few times - but always on solid ground, and as soil gave way to mud any pretence of elegance soon fell apart as they started slipping and sliding; wrestling when their weapons became useless, punching and scratching and biting until they gave in and kissed.
Dante could have lain there for hours, fingers dug into Vergil's ass while his older twin showed off exactly what his tongue could do. There wasn't any other weight out there he could take on his chest without flinching away instinctively.
Strange how parts of the world still mimicked normality - robots walked around without purpose now their creators were gone, imitation life, while despite sunlight being a distant memory there was still an identifiable climate; rain, fog, snow all taking their place across each year. Hell was so backed up with souls it needed to pull in that getting Vergil out had been insultingly easy - Dante still doubted anyone down there had noticed their missing resident. Either that or they'd chickened out of following; no honour left in Hell after Sparda.
Vergil's tongue had been brutal in his wound at first but quickly started to soothe it, anti-coagulant and anaesthetic in his spit that gave away the wrongness of their heritage, and it was so easy to give in to the painkiller effect, let himself go dizzy as Vergil pulled him closer, water running down Dante's neck a moment longer before it cut out.
It was still raining outside even though they were the only beings left on Earth that could appreciate it. Dante wondered briefly how much poetry and prose and research about rain had been lost in the first blasts, wondered what use all that paper ever had. It wasn't a thought that lasted long, Vergil opening him up with clever fingers that made use of all that blood and anti-coagulant before pushing in. "Do you remember Nightmare?"
"Huh?"
"He was self-lubricating too," Vergil replied, thrusting in again maddeningly carefully, taking it slowly despite having all the time in the world to waste.
Dante remembered their first proper conversation after bringing Vergil back, remembered it all the clearer for the knife that had been pressed to his throat at the time.
"Could you kill me again?"
"No. Fucking god no."
"Then you've got to keep me alive," Vergil replied, eyes dark with the things he'd seen but refused to talk about. "No one else could kill me right."
It was a strange sort of trust, one first explained to them by their dad - Dante severely doubted most children barely past toddling were made to sit through an explanation of what exactly happened to a demon during exorcism, given most human theology ended at "Demon cast out; everyone gets back to work".
You could put curses and blessings on swords, use bullets of silver or iron, line an entire room with bible passages but the only way either of them ever ended up in Hell was direct entry. It had been decades before Dante came close to dealing with the fact Vergil chose Hell over him, and if it weren't for Vergil's face on being rescued, he might never have got over it at all.
The lights had gone out again, electricity too difficult to maintain without Alastor around to do most of the concentrating. Dante pushed as rhythmically as possible into Vergil's steady hand, all too aware of the bizarre poetry, the two of them alone in the dark. Strange that they only had each other to fear these days.
Vergil thrust up violently to come, hitting Dante's prostate hard enough he thought he'd be seeing stars for weeks after this orgasm, keeping quiet while Dante found himself unable to shut up, swearing and gasping and almost sobbing Vergil's name as they redecorated the shower. Forget being half-demon, his human side was going to be sore for days, and he couldn't quite find the energy for a reply when Vergil whispered "I win," against his ear before pulling out, wiping them both clean with a wet flannel before helping Dante's unsteady legs towards the bedroom.
"You're stuck with me forever now," Vergil said as he grabbed a towel, drying Dante off before himself. It wasn't as if Dante needed reminding - they'd worn matching rings as a joke for a week before realising the metal loops interfered with more interesting activities.
"As long as you don't bore me, we'll be okay," Dante grinned back, throwing himself onto the double bed and enjoying the show as Vergil dried off. Didn't matter the movements were purely functional, Vergil was naked, gorgeous, and so graceful he'd make cooking omelettes look sexy.
Fuck. Now he was hungry.
"Shift," Vergil growled as he moved to spoon against Dante, demanding an equal share of the bed even if he never used up the extra space. They'd shared beds all their lives, before it started getting wrong, before they realised it was wrong - neighbours had brought that to their attention, whispering about how you weren't meant to do that with your brother, how sick and disturbing it was.
God bless those neighbours for being concerned enough to give it a name. Incest. It was so much kinkier when you realised what the world as a whole thought of brothers slipping cold hands under the bedsheets and working out how much better it felt having someone jack you off who knew you as well as you did yourself.
If it weren't for the fact it would have got them arrested at the time they would probably have left the curtains open when they did start fucking.
Dante winced a little as Vergil's hand settled across the bruise at his stomach, head already a slightly painful dull weight against the healing wound on his shoulder. Morning would be worse than a hangover, but it'd be a lie to say he didn't enjoy it.
Two years he'd gone without Vergil - then more. Then ten.
He didn't feel alive without him and it was harder to feel more alive than freshly fucked and fucked up, warm and wounded against the person who'd done it to him.
And forget Vergil's attention-hogging demands that Dante kill him, because killing Vergil was the one thing that stopped Dante's life being liveable. "Verge?"
"Vergil," Grunted warm breath at his neck.
"You ever kill yourself, I'm coming after you."
"Promise?" He could feel the smile when he nodded, one of Vergil's thighs slipping between his own legs to put them closer to one another. "Same here."
"I'd never top myself, I'm not the emo kid," Dante huffed for all of two seconds before grinning as the thigh between his legs nudged upwards.
"Stop pushing your luck and go to sleep."
Dante knows the words Vergil whispers when his breathing has steadied and his body is on the verge of sleep aren't meant for his ears, they're just a way for Vergil to get them out of his system, but tonight he can't stop himself smiling. He'd rib Vergil about it in the morning, but some secrets aren't meant to be shared. It's just part of being a brother. Knowing what to keep secret, even when the secret's already been shared.
As far as trust and vows go, 'till death do us part never was good enough. Dante's never planned on letting death get in the way.
The End
