Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Patrol paperwork was such a drag. If Nero never saw another stupid timesheet, it would be too soon. 

The backlog of work keeping him at the Order’s main office was purely his own fault, but in his humble opinion, writing the boring step-by-step routes he took was too tedious to jot down every day. He could barely remember what had happened for most of the requested forms. They were way too long ago and way too boring to make an impression on him. 

Nero ended up fudging the details and guessing for most of them. It was so annoying to actually fill these out. Usually, his missions were more… ‘secretive’ - for lack of a better word - and he didn’t have to do any paperwork. But Credo had been up his ass since the incident in the woods with Kyrie. He wanted a real daily report, even if he didn’t encounter any demons, to be filed away in his office. 

Nero grimaced, touching his wounded arm, remembering the graphic injury the demons in Mitis had inflicted on him while he was protecting Kyrie. Writing these reports was the least he could do after worrying his brother so much. When Credo learned Nero had been injured, he was frantic. He said it was pushing back an important ceremony for him, or something like that. It kind of made him feel bad. His brother was always looking out for him and his record, even if he didn’t really care to advance any further in the Order. 

The secret he was hiding underneath strips of cloth burned and pulsed with a dim blue light. 

Nero still bandaged his right arm tightly and kept it immobile in a sling, even though it was far past the point when it should have been. It was his most important lie yet, one that his life depended on. But how long would his newfound family buy it? The Order? He made a ‌point of ignoring the throbbing pain lancing down the cursed limb. The thing ignited something fierce whenever he was at headquarters. 

He let out a deep breath to calm himself. It wouldn’t do any good to worry about what he couldn’t change. That’s why he was training with the dreaded thing. Stealing a glance at the ornate wall clock revealed it was long past time to head home. Hastily throwing the report papers onto Credo’s neat desk, Nero headed straight for the cottage he shared with Kyrie. 

The walk back was peaceful. It was past curfew, so no one was outside. The silent walk gave Nero plenty of time to think, for better or for worse. When he opened the front door of his home, the lights were already out. A quick glance around confirmed that someone had cleared the kitchen table of any morning-time mess. Kyrie must have done her chores and gone to bed a while ago. He felt bad she’d ended up clearing his mess of burgeoning gun mechanics, but Nero felt a thrum of fondness sweep through his body when he noticed a note on the kitchen counter in her delicate script. 

‘Sorry, I couldn’t stay awake! You need to finish your paperwork on time, or we’ll never have time to see each other!’ 

She’d embellished the note with a drawing of a cartoonishly angry face scowling. Nero’s heart felt warm, even as he felt a little ashamed for putting Kyrie out. She obviously wanted to see him today. Patrols had increased since the attack, and it was a direct order from Sanctus, so they hadn’t been alone together for a while. That, and they weren’t officially courting yet either. Credo would announce that soon, or so he promised. Nero took the note into his bedroom and placed it aside. 

He kicked off his shoes and socks as he staggered over to his lumpy bed. Pulling off the layers of his clothes, he left his bandaged arm for last. The peeled-off strings of heavy bandages hung heavily off of his arm. Now free of the dressings and sling, Nero’s ‌scaled flesh gleamed in the pale light it emitted. Touching it gingerly, it felt like the maroon scutes that trailed up his bicep had gotten harder and thicker. His ‘Bringer’ was growing even more securely to his flesh. 

Nero looked away in disgust. 

As strangely captivating as his arm was, the fact remained that it was demonic. Even the power it contained was dangerous. He still struggled to control the spectral fist that could emanate from it. If anyone found out about his affliction, if Credo found out… No. No one would find out. He’d been careful. Not even Kyrie was allowed to redress his ‘wound.’ 

Nero slipped under the covers silently and tried to relax. As he breathed in and out carefully, the light from his devilish arm faded until it was nearly nonexistent. The room was blessedly dark and peaceful. For a moment, he could forget the curse. He could forget that his life would inevitably spiral out of his control. 

…

But even still and quiet, Nero couldn’t fall asleep. Rest felt just out of his reach. Alone with his wandering thoughts, his mind eventually drifted back to Kyrie. He wished he’d stop procrastinating on those reports. Between his responsibilities and hers, their last date was forever ago. At least her solo was coming up soon. That would be nice, even if he was going to be forced to attend mass to hear it. 

Her note was glaring at him from the end table, folded neatly into a square. He almost picked it up to worry the paper between his fingers, but stopped himself halfway. Even from his bed, Nero could smell her distinct scent on the note, and that was much nicer than touching impersonal paper. It was strange, but ever since his arm changed, he noticed little things like that more and more. He could identify people from more than just their looks now. Their scents were so heady and distinct lately. 

The new sensory details were nerve-wracking at first, but… Kyrie's aroma always felt comforting. It reminded him of the sound of crispy autumn leaves and the smell of cinnamon. Her scent always made him feel calm and collected amid his frenzied mind. The light tang filled him with flowing warmth, a warmth that spread throughout his body. Even in… lower places. His innocent thoughts suddenly took on a decidedly sexual nature. It was a bit of an emotional whiplash from his earlier anxiety, but his mind had grabbed on to the new distraction with ferocity. 

Nero usually tried not to dwell on ‘sinful’ feelings, but he couldn’t help but indulge in his memories of Kyrie. Their relationship was still new. He’d never seen her in anything more scandalous than a loose nightgown. The old thing she wore to bed was more akin to a comfortable smock. But it was sexy in its own ordinary way. Glimpses of her long legs, too long for the old nightgown, made him blush. Her legs were delicate and hairless - pale in a way that betrayed how they were almost never exposed in public. The neckline of the garment, stretched from repeated washes, always exposed her ample chest a bit too much. When Kyrie leaned close to hug him goodnight, he could feel her pert nipples press against his chest. 

Now, those vague suggestions of her body felt naughty. It made him embarrassed, the way his length twitched and filled at the thought of her in innocent undergarments, but he’d never seen a woman naked before. Nero shifted uncomfortably under the heating sheets. Delicately, he laid his human hand over his angrily throbbing crotch, just massaging the bulge indirectly. Alternating between firm and soft presses was making a wet patch grow around his sensitive cockhead. Cut like all the other men in Fortuna, it was easy to manipulate the exposed nerves through rough cotton. At least he could pretend that what he was doing was less wrong if it was just over his clothes. 

The Church thought premarital sex was a sin, but that rarely stopped people from finding ways around the rule. Case in point, what he was doing right now. But there were other ways too. People didn’t see drawings or photos as the same as actually having sex. When he was in training, the older boys would laugh and pass around lewd photos they got from graduated Knights. But the depictions of busty women in tight clothes and provocative poses shoved under his nose always made him recoil. The thought of taking a longer look always embarrassed Nero. Now, he almost regretted not studying the raunchy images his fellow cadets used to lord around. 

What would Kyrie look like with those layers peeled away? Her frame was petite compared to the brief flashes of women he’d seen. He had to use his imagination to fill in the blanks. When he hugged her, her skin felt soft and warm - curvy in a way that was subtle. So, her whole body must feel that way too, right? Strangely, the thought of marring her pristine skin with bite marks and suctioned bruises sent a bolt of lust through his stomach. 

He couldn’t help but let out a shaky moan when a line of muscle in his stomach tightened. The more sinful his desires, the more images of Kyrie flashed behind his eyelids. When she tilted her neck in abject submission, Nero would mark her. He’d make sure his own scent was embedded into her skin by the time he was finished with her. A prickle of guilt and shame was tickling his scalp, but his thumping heartbeat was drowning it out. 

Nero couldn’t take the light touching through his clothes anymore. He never could when it came to Kyrie. Another flash of shame tried to crest over his body, but the lust running through him didn't let it. The passion he felt burned away his hesitation. Fuck what those old geezers thought sin was! With his arm like this, it hardly mattered to stay ‘pure’ anymore. Besides, nothing could be closer to heaven than his angelic songstress. 

Hurriedly, he yanked his boxers down and let his stiff, bobbing cock bounce against his stomach. It left a trail of pre-cum messily smeared against the happy trail on his lower belly. Depravedly, Nero watched the way it pulsed under his gaze. Lewdly admiring his state of arousal, he couldn’t help but preen under the heft and length of his dick. It was always a challenge to take himself in hand all the way around, thick as he was. 

What would he do first? Leaving ghosting trails over his veiny skin was always tantalizing. But lately, he had enjoyed being rough on himself even more. Maybe it was that damned arm, or his own sense of shame, but the thought of being yanked around and stroked like he was an object got him off more than he wanted to admit these days. Nero shivered in anticipation, watching the way his sack tightened under the thin skin. 

For a moment, he didn’t dare touch himself, for fear of orgasming immediately. Thinking about touching himself was sometimes even better than actually doing it. He could edge himself for hours, and that would satisfy him too. But tentatively, Nero’s human hand came to rest on his hardened length. He was gentle, just swirling his index finger around the head as he fantasized. A pathetic whimper left his mouth as he finally got some relief. Pressing a blunt nail into the spongy head made him shiver in deranged, masochistic pleasure - pre-cum was beading up on his slit. Kyrie’s name beat like a brand on his skull.  

Her breasts curved downwards, heavy and full, much more life-like than the lewd images the cadets preferred. He’d seen that when his girlfriend asked for his help to zip up an unruly dress layer or two. He imagined himself taking hold of her soft skin, delicately tracing patterns while she sighed in pleasure. Nero wanted to latch onto her breasts, pull and suck at the nipples that tortured him with brief touches through nightclothes. The claws of his Bringer ached, desperate to sink into oh so willing flesh. His delicate touching turned into gliding strokes, desperate to really get going. 

Nero let out a small groan. Those gaudy images from his youth could never compare to his Kyrie. She was refined and delicate, but also strong. He knew her returning touch would be just as pleasurable on his skin. The light calluses from a harp's bowstring would feel heavenly on his cock. Scratching just so on his throbbing member until he was complete. His girlfriend's grip was surprisingly forceful. Nero felt it when she adjusted his hands for him during guitar lessons. 

Dipping down to fondle and press against his perineum felt heavenly. He wasn’t brave enough to push a finger into his asshole, so this would have to do. It was a taboo topic - women fucking men. But he’d heard about it before, whispered about by some of the more curious cadets. Nero wondered if Kyrie would do it to him after he filled her up. The lewd imagined image of his cum sliding out of her loose pussy while she thrust into his hole made Nero’s thighs quiver. His heavy pants and groans sounded thunderous in his quiet room. 

He pumped his stiff length in earnest now, lungs full of Kyrie’s distinct scent. All too soon, he could feel the ‌tension in his lower abdomen was going to give way. Forcefully, he gripped the base of his cock to stave off his impending end. He didn’t want this to stop so soon. The sudden pain was just as intoxicating as the pleasure. He envisioned Kyrie in his ear, praising him for taking it so well. “Nero,” she’d whisper, lust-drunk herself, “you're a good boy, right? You can take it.” He could. He wanted to be good for her so bad. He wanted to fuck her tight cunt so badly. He wanted her to fuck him. “I can be good,” Nero murmured to the still air. “I’m a good boy.” 

Heaving, Nero wondered if Kyrie had ever thought about him this way. Did she like the way he had changed over the years too? He’d been scrawny when her parents first took him in. It used to make him embarrassed to change in front of her. Underfed and neglected for years, it was hard for him to put on meaningful weight. But years of training in the Order had made him stronger, sturdier. He’d gained a fair amount of height lately too. He wasn’t hugely bulky, but his strength was undeniable these days. 

Had she ever touched herself to images of his reformed, muscled body, just a room away? Did she ever dip her fingers inside herself wishing that it was him touching her? His cock? He could picture her gently probing her entrance the same way he gently palmed himself - clumsy and ignorant of the finer points of sex. The thought made him writhe under his sheets. He didn’t want to learn about pleasure with anyone other than her. Nero knew his first time would be awkward, but he also knew it would be revelatory. 

He switched to imagining his own hand as Kyrie’s. She would be exploratory here, just how she was in music. She liked to touch and feel before she made her instruments sing. Her tender fingers would trace down the throbbing vein underneath his cock before she came to rest at his tight sack. She’d want to know every part of him before ruthlessly exploiting her knowledge. The other cadets had bragged about the way they drove into their partners from above, but Nero didn’t want that. He wanted her to be on top. Kyrie’s presence was a gift. He didn’t want to wring his own pleasure out of her body and leave her wanting. 

What would that feel like? To lie down and have her weight on top of him, sheathed inside as far as he could possibly go? Nero imagined the slippery warmth of her cunt around his cock as his own fluid oozed over his fingers. He was thrusting brutally into his slickened palm now, uncaring of the pathetically small grunts that fell from his mouth. 

She’d like the noise. She always told Nero how much she liked to hear him talk. He was certainly talking now, whispering filthy nothings into his pillow. “Please, please, please,” he muttered, “let me cum. Please let me cum!” The imagined Kyrie was unrelenting, selfishly plunging herself down on his cock while Nero cried for mercy. He didn’t really mind. Being hers was a dream come true for him.‌ 

He’d like to cum in her, if she let him. Nero’s hips moved in a facsimile of how he’d pump his seed deep while she moaned and spasmed against him. Vaguely, he knew that was how women got pregnant. Something primal scratched at the walls of his brain at the thought of Kyrie heavy with his child. It was even more alluring to think of painting her belly with his spend if she didn’t want it inside. Either way, he’d be happy to satisfy her. 

The urge to orgasm was unbearable now - he had to consciously fight against the pull in his stomach. 

Without thinking, his scaled hand came to grip and pinch at his sack, drawing even more pleasure from Nero. He tried to wrench it away from himself once he realized what he had done, but the cursed arm was too intoxicating. The warmth radiating from the cracks of light felt like the searing heat of the sun on his bare skin. His tight balls were rolled around roughly in the demonic claws before coming to rest on his length, his human hand falling away in the face of a better pleasure. 

Could Kyrie love this part of him too? Despite his fear of discovery, he knew in his heart the answer was yes. Kyrie didn’t have a cruel bone in her body, she would still love him for this. There were times he debated telling her before someone else could spread his secret. He could reveal it tentatively, in small glances and glimpses at a time. She liked scaly things. She saved garden snakes all the time. Kyrie told him once that the scales of a snake were a blessing from Sparda himself. 

Her lithe fingers would be no different on his arm. Exploratory and kind while she ripped pleasure from his throat. She’d lick up and down the heated cracks, drawing moan after moan from him, cock spasming untouched. Nero would be weak to her praise too. Kyrie wouldn’t be able to help herself from remarking on his newfound flesh. “Beautiful,” she’d whisper, before taking his taloned fingers into her mouth to suck. The rippling skin of his Bringer was trembling in waves of undulating movement. It felt like his curse wanted to consume his entire body. 

Nero’s claws left pinpricks of blood leaking from his shaft before quickly healing. The scent of blood in the air made him growl lowly. The imagined worship of his body made his arm shine even brighter. He would love to place the demonic limb against her throat to feel her swallow and moan under his grip. Now, with his bringer sliding against the wetness of his cock, orgasm really was inevitable. The snag and scrape of his scales against the delicate skin of his genitals was overstimulating in the best way. It hurt, but it also made spikes of pleasure wedge themselves in his skull. 

Nero’s throbbing cock was subjected to furious pumping. Flipping onto his stomach, he ground mercilessly against his rough sheets until he came with a choked cry into his pillow. The spurts of heavy semen spattered onto his demonic claws in lewd stripes. “Kyrie!” He cried out hoarsely, “Kyrie!” The bright white against his blue and red scales was too tantalizing to look away from. Nero brought his cum-covered claws to his mouth, licking up his own release like a proud whore. It tasted satisfyingly salty, while also being electrifying - like licking a live battery. 

As he slumped boneless back onto the dirtied covers, Nero could feel only a bone-deep satisfaction; the wash of shame that usually accompanied such an act had vanished. He couldn’t believe he lapped up his release of his Bringer like that. A primal feeling reminded him he’d done what he needed to do. His body held a power that needed to be re-consumed, lest it fade away.

He didn’t care to realize how he knew that. 

Lying in a wet puddle of the rest of his release was a filthy delight in itself. Something all too human reveled in defying the Order by acting whorish. Though Nero’s heavy scent and claim in the air made something otherworldly purr deep in his throat too. In the back of his mind, he only lamented that he had ruined his sheets. The quiet snarling in his mind that was once only directed towards demons now called for something else. It called to its mate. It wouldn’t be satisfied until he had the real thing. 

Fuck. This arm was more trouble than it was worth. 

Chapter Text

It was raining. Quite thoroughly, too. 

Massive sheets of pelting rain battered the aging walls of Fortuna’s only archive. The thundering growls of lightning strikes in the distance were akin to a mighty demon’s roar. While the ordinarily soothing noise should have put him at ease, Vergil’s mood was turning foul. It would be impossible to rest here tonight. 

The library had been a safe haven for Vergil while he explored all the documents it offered. He usually slept in the eaves of shelves where the scant employees of the institution wouldn’t notice him. Now, that would be difficult, as old as the building was. The steady beating of rain was dripping inside the building, dampening the corners he so often frequented. There were no good places to lie low, soaked in dirty rainwater as they were. He couldn’t help but let out a long-suffering sigh of irritation. 

“What’s the matter?” A light voice interrupted, “Can’t handle a little rain? Heh, I’d bet you’d melt away, thin as you are!” Mad, cackling laughter rang out in the quiet reading room. It was a laugh more befitting ‌of an old crone, not a young librarian. Though somehow, it made his foul mood lighten some. 

Vergil felt unwelcome heat rise to his face. It was ridiculous that he’d forgotten his companions' boisterous presence while he was lost amidst his wandering thoughts. It wouldn’t do to have this woman see how poorly off he really was. It had taken ages to convince her he was staying at a local inn at night, not lurking among the texts he read during the day. Spending the few coins he had wasn’t worth leaving the valuable research material behind. Besides, languishing in libraries had never bothered him before. He’d been doing it since he was a small child. They were usually quiet and lacking in interesting people. Well, besides her. 

“I am merely thinking about the longevity of the texts. Your director should invest in a better roof,” he snipped back. The woman didn’t respond right away, she only smiled toothily at his sharp words. The sight relieved Vergil somewhat, he was hoping she wouldn’t press any further. If she asked him outright what was wrong, he wasn’t sure if he would be able to lie or not. Lately, he had an odd habit of opening up to her about things he had long considered private.  

"He probably won't care about my opinion," she quipped, "or one from a foreigner." Her voice was still teasing, but she re-shelved the book she was reading with a bit more force than strictly necessary. Vergil could sympathize with her plight. He hated that disgusting director too. That ‘man’ used and abused his administrative privilege for his own political gain, disallowing the general populace access to the wealth of information the building contained. It had taken much skillful manipulation to gain access to the library's archives at all. Even now, an unknown magic blocked him from some restricted areas. Though his companion was noticeably skillful at finding ways around the obstructions. 

The young librarian seemed to sense his sudden agitation spike alongside her own. Vergil heard her breathe steadily in and out through her nose. After a moment, she gently plucked Vergil’s bound tome from his tight grip and placed it aside. He let her do it. Protesting wouldn’t do any good; it was her own way of caring for him. She was a stubborn thing with a will that rivaled his own. 

If she had decided he was finished with his book, then he was. Usually she was right anyway. The woman had an uncanny ability to tell when he finished reading something worthwhile. But when she spoke again, her words were more aloof than he expected. 

“Are you interested in seeing anything else today?”

The words were quite business-like for her. His companion usually spoke as if she were raised in the wilderness, but now, she was a little cold. She saved this voice for patrons or her director. The young librarian busied herself with reorganizing the loose manuscript papers they had poured over back into their archival folders. His companion's face was turned away from him, and he struggled to understand her tone without her vibrant expressions. 

Vergil felt foolish for thinking it, but her voice… it appeared as if his companion wanted him to stay, despite the rain and the late hour. He wanted to as well. Oddly, her animated presence often invigorated him, despite the obvious contradictions in their personalities. On the scant few days he was alone in the archive, he found himself missing her inspired commentary. She’d helped immeasurably in his research as well. But the truth remained: he needed to find suitable shelter for tonight. Without her prying. 

“No. That is all for today.” He said firmly, not letting himself get caught up in unnecessary human emotion. Just as he suspected she would, she frowned petulantly, stamping her feet around in childlike annoyance. He wasn’t worried. She was merely putting up a front in case she was denied his company. Though obviously, she couldn’t maintain it for long. 

“But you haven’t even seen the new room I unlocked yet. You’ll like it! I found some interesting portraits inside.” His companion's bottom lip was pushed out in a huffy pout. “We don’t have to spend long, just a little while,” she wheedled. 

“I don’t need to see portraits!” Vergil snapped, suddenly aggrieved by the lonely feeling gathering his chest. “That’s useless to me.” Her face immediately fell with genuine disappointment. With a sinking feeling in his stomach, he was realizing how much her puppy dog expressions were making his heart pound with an unknown emotion. Taking back his abrupt words with a swift apology was on the tip of his tongue, but Vergil bit back his voice with a vengeance. 

He hated these feelings. It meant that he was weakening, becoming more human than he wanted to be. Those acerbic words should have been enough to make any human back away. They had many times before. But his companion wasn’t like other humans. She never backed down from a fight. 

“Dick!” she snarled, kicking him squarely in the shins with all her meager strength. It was enough - the stinging pain in his leg made his eyes water. “Fuck you, asshole! I won’t unlock shit anymore!” She dashed the precious notes he had made into the air with one broad sweep of her hand. A harsh demonic hiss erupted from Vergil’s throat before he could stifle it. 

“Don’t kick me!” he seethed, “And stop acting like a child!”

“Then don’t be an ass!” she retorted. She spoke as if she were speaking to a naughty schoolboy, not the son of her islands' God. It was simultaneously infuriating and endearing. “I’m only trying to help you. I want to see you! Is that a crime now?” 

They fell into a tense silence, broken only by the howling wind and pelting rain. Her angry expression was making Vergil feel bad about his harsh rejection. He liked this woman more than he wanted to admit, losing her attention was a fate he had no desire to endure. He thought he could see her eyes watering with furious tears, though she angrily wiped them away before they could fall. 

He did want to see the portraits, just not right now. The rain was putting him unfairly on edge. 

His companion made him feel so odd sometimes. Vergil couldn’t tell if he wanted to get closer to her or run away and abandon Fortuna for good. While he brooded in dark silence, she bent down on the ground to pick up the papers she’d dashed to the floor. The wide, angular hem of her dress made a flower-shaped pool of fabric on the floor. She’d even worn his color today, a fine blue garment she’d sewn herself. He remembered the fabric well. After all, he’d bought it for her on a festival day. 

Vergil felt miserable. She was right to get angry with him, but his stubborn pride made it difficult to apologize. Ultimately, the desire to cleanse her face of that unhappy look won out. 

“I’m sorry.” Vergil stiffly bowed, dropping down to help her. “You are my… partner. I didn’t mean to yell. I merely wish to see these things another day.”

She didn’t look ready to accept his apology yet. His companion was still angrily gathering up strewn papers. She was like this occasionally, very flighty and hostile after they had a disagreement. Once, she hadn’t spoken to him for an entire month. It had made him strangely melancholy. Vergil’s hands instinctively came to cover smaller ones. “Truly.” He added quietly, “I am sorry.” 

With a sly smile, she was suddenly back to her usual teasing self. Was she just pretending to still be mad?! Devil woman! 

“Humph.” She pretended to sulk, tapping the back of his knuckles like a ruler on a disobedient student. “I know how you can make it up to me.” 

“And how is that?”

“Come home with me tonight.”

Her small apartment was strangely cozy. It almost infuriated Vergil how easily he’d caved to her demands, but upon seeing how secure her space was… well, it was ideal against the harsh elements tonight. She was the only tenant in this cottage, she explained, so she could do whatever she wished without nagging neighbors. 

As he eased his coat off, Vergil couldn’t help but notice she lacked any furniture for him to sleep on. There was only one gigantic bed piled with an absurd amount of pillows in the far corner of the room. Maybe she intended for him to sleep on the floor as payback. 

“Where… shall I sleep?” 

His companion let out a loud guffaw at his tentative remark. “Here!” she laughed, gesturing to the single bed. Vergil knew his face must be bright red. He’d gone unexpectedly quiet at the thought of laying down next to her. It seemed too intimate, like what proper partners did. Is that what they were?

“What?” she said bluntly, seeing his nervous expression. “You can kiss me but not sleep next to me? I don’t bite! Usually. Or… Don’t tell me! Is the great Son of Sparda actually shy?” 

“No!” He couldn’t help but counter childishly. Vergil tore his boots off with more force than necessary. The quicker he disrobed, the quicker he could slip under the sheets and sleep. He yanked off his trousers and vest hurriedly, leaving him in nothing but boxers and a thin undershirt. Gods, he hadn’t been this undressed in front of someone else in ages. For a quick moment, it looked like his companion was ogling his newly exposed skin. But she quickly snapped her head away when they locked eyes. 

Vergil turned around to give her some privacy. He methodically stroked over the Yamato’s corded hilt to calm himself. After a few minutes of shuffling fabric, she tapped him on the shoulder. The sight of her unexpectedly made his throat go dry. 

She looked beautiful. More than beautiful, even. Angelic. 

His companion had taken out the elaborate braids she often wore, and her loose hair became wavy and stark against the pale line of her neck. Her simple shift was a pale blue color, probably faded from too many washes. It was perhaps one size too small too. The fabric hugged her curvy waist and emphasized her ample cleavage to an unfair degree. 

Her legs, always covered by long dresses, were surprisingly toned. When she bent over to remove her socks, her perfectly heart-shaped ass was on display for his viewing pleasure. It wasn’t a sexy garment or position per se, but for Vergil, she might as well have been wearing the most scandalous lingerie and putting on a burlesque show. 

“Well?” 

He’d been staring like a fool. 

Vergil couldn’t find a snappy retort to give her. He placed the Yamato next to him against the bed, and silently slid under the heavy covers. All the while he tried valiantly to will away the hardness that had appeared in his boxers. For once, he actually felt nineteen, not an unaffected older man, as he liked to imagine himself. Her looks were making him wiggle uncomfortably in his skin, and tendrils of arousal crept over his prone flesh. The brief flashes of her skin he’d seen in the dim light were making his mind race. When she lifted her legs up to scramble on top the truly egregious amount of pillows, Vergil caught a glimpse of her bare inner thighs, no undergarments in sight. 

He was going to die. 

She took her time wrapping herself in the blankets and getting comfortable, either uncaring or unknowing of his plight. Then, in the darkness, they were silent. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but it was heavy. Vergil could hear his jackrabbit heartbeat sloshing in his ears. The noise was almost deafening. Could she hear it too? He felt like she could see right through him. Did she know how nervous he was? How aroused? His untouched length was warm and stiff against the rough cotton of his undergarments. 

He chanced a look at her in his self imposed agony. 

She was looking right back at him in the dark. Her wide eyes were blown in the dim lighting, and it almost seemed like she was tracing his features reverently with her gaze. His companion stuck her tongue out when she noticed his eyes on her. Vergil wondered whether he could touch her. His mind was suddenly overcome with the thought. They’d never done anything like that before, but he wanted to now. It was juvenile, he knew, but he hoped she’d make the first move here, just so he wouldn't have to suffer the embarrassment of rejection. 

Ever the bold one, his companion less than subtly wiggled from her side of the bed and sidled up close to him. Her generous… assets were pressing into his rapidly heating nether regions. He said nothing; he wasn’t sure if it would break the gentle heat her body was radiating. He wanted to keep this peace to himself. Vergil hesitantly slipped his arms around her waist and tugged her even closer. He closed his eyes and prayed she’d do the same. Nevermind the arousal. It was nice to feel her too. 

It was quiet again. Then it was decidedly not. Little giggles were leaving her mouth as she tried to stifle them with a closed fist. 

“You’re a little dense, huh?”

“What?”

She started laughing, shrill and crone-like once again. It made Vergil’s heart beat funny in his chest. She was going to give him health issues at this point. 

He wondered if she had felt the way he’d shifted and pressed against her. It’d been impossible to prevent. Again, Vergil felt his face flame with embarrassment, but he could see the way his companion smiled in the dark. She wasn’t upset or disgusted. Her heavy eyelids suggested that she more than welcomed his carnal feelings. She propped herself up so that she loomed over his face. He let her kiss him gently. He had been letting her do a lot of things to him lately. 

Again, this woman had weakened his resolve beyond reason. And again, he couldn’t find it in himself to refuse. Was this how father felt with mother? The thought slipped away as his companion enticed him again. 

Their light, teasing kisses turned heavy and passionate. Vergil slipped his tongue into her mouth, exploring the hot crevice with fervent need. She met him just as excitedly. Her hands rested on his back as he plundered her mouth ruthlessly. She tasted like nothing he had ever experienced before. Spicy, like a rich chile flake, but deep, like a swirl of expensive dark cocoa. He wondered if she’d had her favorite hot chocolate today. It had been rather cold lately. 

Pressed against her overwhelming warmth and filled with feelings he couldn’t describe, he couldn’t help but let his human body slide away from him. Vergil’s tongue, once flat and short, was now twistedly long and serpentine in her mouth. He didn’t bother trying to reel it back in. His companion had never minded before, and she certainly didn't mind now. She nipped at the long appendage playfully, sucking on the protrusion in her mouth as if it were a phallus all its own. He licked over her teeth, suddenly desperate to mark her with his saliva. 

Eventually, they had to heave apart, gasping for air. Vergil was resting on top of her now, his hands braced beside her head. It was her turn to be shy. “I-I’ve never… Well, you know…” Her voice was wobbly, like she thought the admission would make him turn away. But it just made his blood pulse hotly at the thought. They would be each other’s first. That made him purr with delight. He swallowed ‌her next embarrassed sentence with another snake-like kiss. 

“I haven’t either.” He finally confessed in ‌the shell of her ear. “We’ll learn together.” That made her shudder underneath him. His demonic instincts, usually so easy to ignore or push away, were raging now. Vergil couldn’t get the picture out of his mind; he was going to take her virginity and her, his. It was making his head spin with need. Claim her, something hissed, shifting under his pulsating skin. Before you drive her away. 

What would it feel like to have her wrapped around him in a way no one else would ever get to experience? He was about to find out. 

Gently, she tugged the tight shift over her body. The sight underneath was even more erotic than he’d thought. His companion wore nothing underneath, clothed only in her tanned and freckled skin. The scent of her excited musk filled the room. Vergil’s cock throbbed and ached in his contained undergarments. She’s ripe, his demon snarled, mine for the taking. Scales rose unbidden on his softer areas, and it took mental force to will them away. He didn’t want to lose control of himself too much. 

Still, he couldn’t help but lean down and bite into her pale, unmarked flesh with sharpened fangs. Distantly, he remembered not to unhinge his jaw and sink in with his sharpened teeth. If he went that far, he wasn’t sure he could pull back. Images of her blood christening their union were too sinful to ignore. He was sure she would look wonderful painted in blood and viscera, her own or some other lesser being’s. Vergil could hear his companion's blood rushing in her veins, matching the marching thrum of her heartbeat.   

Blossoms of red rained down on her skin with the same relentlessness as the sheets of rain outside their window. They soon turned purple from the force of his jaws. “Vergil!” She whimpered, “Come on. I need you.” But he wasn’t finished. He needed more. 

A sharp, precise nip on her inner thigh let a thin trickle of blood out in the pattern of his teeth. He suckled the tiny wound with an untapped fervor. The taste of her blood was just as exquisite as he thought it would be. Blindly, Vergil's long fingers found purchase against her cunt, parting the flesh and exploring her sensitive outer areas while he fed. The hot, wet pulsing around his fingers was driving him mad. The slick arousal let his digits slip inside her shallowly as he fed on her blood. 

Nose practically pressed against her sex, Vergil finally parted with her skin when he felt he was becoming too frenzied. He was loath to leave where she smelled the most desirable, but his aching cock combined with her husky cries was too much. Hastily, he shoved his boxers down and stepped out of them. His cock bounced and slapped against his stomach as he reoriented himself. 

His companion was moaning softly at the sight of him, and it made a thrill of pride run through his body. Vainly, Vergil let himself linger on his full length, pumping himself firmly and emphasizing his size for her viewing pleasure. If he languished and lingered a bit longer on his twitching length more than necessary, she didn’t have any complaints.

Gently, he parted her clenched thighs until her sopping wetness was on full display for him. The wet sheen on her thighs was incensing. He’d done that. He made her feel this way. Her coarse pubic hair tickled the head of his cock as he made to line himself up with her dripping hole. Take her, a deep-seated instinct screamed, make her yours and no one else's. Her greedy cunt is ready for your seed. “Slowly!” she gasped out between heaving breaths, sensing the way he was straining to press against her harshly. “Go slow.” 

Slowly. He could do that. Even if Vergil’s whole body wanted to cram itself inside hers, he knew that this gentle ease would be necessary for them both to enjoy this. The newfound screeching in his mind wanted her to feel pleasure too. The head of his cock bumped and ground against the protruding bump of her sex. She seemed to like this, grinding herself against him awkwardly. 

He rewarded her with more pressure and rolling thrusts against the outside of her lips. The desperate rutting of their sexes reminded Vergil of the few times he had masturbated. He hadn’t found it particularly enjoyable at the time. Now, with another person, it was infinitely more pleasurable to hump against a warm, wet body. Her wetness made smooth gliding stokes between her inner thighs immensely pleasurable. He could be happy with just this - Just humping against her body like a desperate dog until he came on her legs. 

But Vergil felt the moment his length caught on the edge of her tight hole. In a moment born of greed, he sank deeper into her welcoming flesh. He felt as if the velvety walls of heaven were wrapped around him. His companion's tight cunt was squeezing the life out of him to an almost painful degree. Just this, just this brief feeling, had Vergil close to releasing inside of her. They both panted from the exertion of the slight penetration. “More!” She finally pleaded. “Go more!” He had no choice but to oblige. Inch by tortuous inch, he bullied his way inside her wet walls. 

When he pulled out slightly, just to check if he could withstand a single thrust, Vergil noticed his cock had a thin coating of her blood on it. That made his mind go wild. Like a rutting animal, he frantically pumped in and out of her tight heat, no longer concerned with his appearance or potential embarrassment. She obviously felt the same; her legs came to lock around his lower back, and she rocked herself in time with his inexperienced rhythm. When he brought his hand down to rub at the exposed nub he ground on before, she pulsed around him with a shout. The frothy mess they were whipping up between them was obscene, and Vergil reveled in the depravity of it all. 

“Yes, yes, yes!” she chanted between intoxicating groans. He agreed. He couldn’t stifle his voice either. “You feel so good,” he murmured foolishly. “So, so good.” His companion smiled dopily, her normally foul mouth struck dumb by his cock cramming its way deeper and deeper inside her. “Hghnuhhh… Fuck me! Fuck me!” She demanded, petulant little lip stuck out again. 

“I am!” he whined back, voice broken and ragged. Surprisingly, Vergil found himself laughing at the incredulity of her statement and his own need. 

He wanted to own her. Consequences be damned. Vergil wanted this foolishly human woman who beguiled him into her bed. He told her as much between more pounding slaps of skin. “You’re mine,” he growled. “You belong to me. You're mine to fuck, mine to keep full.” He wasn’t sure what compelled him to say these things, but his companion heartily agreed. “I don’t want anyone else! I want to be yours forever.” Her throbbing heat was like a furnace around his twitching length. “Good girl. Just like that.”

The more he praised her tight cunt, the more she pulsed underneath him. The pressure was indescribable. Her walls were textured and smooth at the same time, not allowing him to map her body accurately. His companions' gentle hands gripping and heaving his ass to pull him closer inside her made him let out a horrifyingly long moan, calling her name like a prayer. Vergil couldn’t help but throw his head back and move. He pumped deeper and deeper as he hiked her wrapped legs higher around his waist. The new angle had him drilling into her cunt, hitting the back of her channel with every thrust. 

Her expression was downright pornographic. Eyes rolled back in her head, her hands came off his body to pinch and pull at her pert nipples. The flesh of her breasts bulged in her tiny palms and the sight had Vergil’s rhythm stuttering as he tried to take it all in. Smacking her hands away, Vergil’s own came to cover her chest. He was nothing but attentive. Alternating between rough pulls and mouthing over the reddened peaks made her writhe and call his name.  

Vergil was gripping her hips like he was afraid she’d disappear. It certainly felt like she would. Weirdly, the tight hold was making his back ache and burn. The devil under his skin ranted and raved in his mind, desperate to keep her by its side by any means necessary. It wanted to kill her now, right at the precipice of orgasm, so she’d only know pleasure from him. But paradoxically, it also wanted to rip and tear at his flesh and bone, just to feed her his blood in a desperate bid to extend her human lifespan. His other fantasies ranged wildly from staying in the human world forever with her, to dominating the underworld with her as his mate. 

In a voice deeper than his own, some of the obscene visions it supplied slipped out. “You’ll be my Queen. I’ll have you rule by my side, strong and lovely. You can bounce on my cock while I kill those scum who dare threaten us. I’ll give you a realm of your own, filled with our spawn. You’ll be a beautiful mare for my brood. Would you like that? Being bred by me?” His companion whimpered and ground even harder against his pubic bone at the words. 

“Yes!” she gasped out, “I want it!” Her soft hands, never having known a day of swordsmanship, now clawed at his back like a wildcat. Blunt nails drew long lines that welled up with blood. Her palms scrabbled against his skin to gain deeper purchase. The sensation made Vergil buck and roar like an animal. A heavy counterweight he couldn’t see balanced him back upwards and deeper inside her. His companion screamed her pleasure, unashamed. “Just like that, fuck! Fuck me, fuck me harder! Come on, I wanna feel it!”  

He felt scales ‌close over the surface wounds with pride, his body desperately trying to keep her mark despite his healing factor. He panted with abject exertion, tied to his lover in ways he never knew possible. It wasn’t close enough. He wanted to live inside her beautiful skin, just so he’d never know pain again - only her overwhelming love and acceptance of his dual nature.

“Cum in me!” She started crying over and over. “Please give it to me, Vergil!” He would. He would. He’d give her anything. Vergil knew at that moment that her grip over him was firm. Strangely, he didn’t even care. His body knew what to do. When his balls tightened painfully and the cord of pressure in his core snapped, he pressed her down firmly onto the bed and pumped her full with shallow thrusts - moaning raspily in her ear all the while. It felt biologically right to stuff his load in deep, kissing a knotted protrusion deep in her cunt with the head of his cock. “Yes, yes, yes,” he chanted, “I-I love you. Please!” 

Vergil wasn’t sure what he was begging for. For her to love him too? To admit that they had an inseparable hold on each other? The jerking aftershocks made his hips twitch and slide through the mess of cum he’d shot inside her. Some instinct had his hand moving towards her sex, roughly rubbing that protrusion to ensure she came too as he finished shaking. But she pushed his hand away with a groan. The wetness sliding down her legs wasn’t just semen, it was her own release too. The monster in his chest was deeply stratified to know that he’d done a proper job bedding his companion. 

For a few moments, Vergil was lost hovering atop her. His softening cock inside her warm walls was comforting and her twitching muscles were dragging the last trembling pleasures from him. Lost in the sweet afterglow of sex, he dimly noticed a thickly armored tail wrapped around her lithe waist. That was new. It tightened reflexively when he tried to untangle them. Little spills of her blood trailed down her slightly pudgy stomach from the sharp scales piercing her skin. The tail immediately disengaged so he could arch down and lick it from her. 

Now that he had slipped out of her, he could see the obscene amount of semen stuffed in her reddened pussy. When some of the spend dripped out, Vergil felt a spike of irrational fear and roughly fingered it back in. He couldn’t bear to see her empty of him - devoid of his marking. His companion looked deeply satisfied. Her smaller hand came to join his over her cunt, also pushing his hot load back inside with a soft whimper. Now that it was over, he was a little embarrassed about how quick the encounter had been. 

But he wasn’t left to linger in his own thoughts for long. His lover pulled Vergil up for a lazy embrace of tongues. 

“I love you too.”

Chapter Text

“You’re fucking crazy!”

Lady couldn’t help but hiss her displeasure at being suddenly pushed up against a dirty alley wall. A pair of broad hands pawed at her sides while familiar tasting lips locked with hers. She had half a mind to complain about the swift change of pace, but Dante had taken care not to let her head hit the rough brick behind her. It was annoyingly suave. Still! He acted like a desperate dog! She’d achieved girlfriend status long ago, leaving behind the violent romps of their youth. Despite that, Dante was up close and personal, humping against her like he was a teenager again. 

Even his scruffy beard was rubbing against her cheek like an old mutt begging for a bone. She couldn’t help but play coy and turn her head to the side, returning his insistent press with one of her own by palming his erection. He let out a long, drawn-out moan into her ear. “Come on babe, let me take you for a ride~”

It was tempting. But they had finally finished their hours-long hunt in one of the abandoned portions of Redgrave, and he wanted to get frisky here of all places?! The empty alleyway was hardly the picture of romance. Lady much preferred the comfort of a bed, thank you very much. But the pressure of Dante’s hips on hers briefly made her forget they were literally out in the open, with Trish just out of sight but surely not out of hearing. 

Lady snapped back to awareness when their lazy grinding and juvenile make-out session knocked over an old metal trash can. The blonde demoness would never let her hear the end of this if she caught the pair screwing in public! She tensed involuntarily when the echoing bangs of Trish’s pistols rang out in the distance. 

“Relax,” Dante mumbled into her ear, “no one’s around.” His playful grin and the press of his firm erection on her body made it difficult to argue properly, but Lady gave it her best shot. “Moron!” She whisper-yelled, yanking on his silvery hair. “We're in the middle of the city!” He just moaned at the rough treatment of his unruly locks. Typical. Dante loved it when Lady got physical with him. “Harder!” He whined playfully, wrapping his arms around her waist and groping for her ass. 

She made a half-hearted push to get the half-demon off of her, but a skillful kiss stole her strength away. Shockingly, Dante’s mouth never tasted like strawberry sundaes, even if he was constantly scarfing down more than the average human could bear. But that didn’t stop him from having a uniquely addicting flavor all his own - it was like swallowing a shot of smooth whiskey. His dexterous tongue in her mouth efficiently stopped any more verbal abuse from her. Lady licked over his pointed canines with a familiar swipe of her tongue. The sharp points just barely nicked her, adding a little blood to the already heated kiss. 

When they finally broke apart, Lady couldn’t help but look down the alleyway, scanning it for any sign of Trish. “She’s not around, trust me, I would know.” Dante’s tone implied he was going to complain about her constant vigilance, but his gentle nature betrayed him. He leaned back just enough so Lady could wiggle away if she really wanted to. His teasing grip on her sides became light, and Dante poked her soft spots and she tried - and failed - to regain some composure. 

Panting from the lack of air, her head was spinning in a combination of air loss and lust. Dante was so amazing at setting her at ease that she forgot about not giving in to this… exhibitionist kink he’d picked up somehow. Lady was no prude, but this was a lot, even for all the strange ways they’d had sex. 

Unless… he thought it was some contest? That smug smile on his face was just the same as when she challenged him to a shoot-off. That was something Dante loved, finding various ways to compete, even in bed. Damn her competitive nature. 

Lady had to turn the tables on him. Dante was way too confident about his sex appeal these days. Though she had to admit, while raking her gaze down his slightly disheveled form, that he had aged well. His handsome face had a light amount of stubble, and his slightly exposed chest strained against his Henley. In those stupid leather pants, his cock was nothing to scoff at either. Long and thick, it always filled her mouth up just right. Lady’s mouth was watering at the thought of him sitting heavy on her tongue.  

But his pecs were begging for attention, and Lady wasn't going to deny him. Leaning forward as if she were about to caress his face, she dipped down at the last moment and bit at his exposed skin. Dante’s wobbly knees were proof she landed in the right spot. His large hand came to cover his mouth as he fought back an undignified yelp. He was a slut for pain. Well, at least when it came from her. It wouldn’t shock her if he had popped a boner when she shot him in the head all those years ago. 

That young, arrogant boy from her past had definitely turned into a man worthy of her picky standards. Now, his slight wrinkles and broad build made her heart swell with lust and love. She licked over his bruised skin to soothe the fierce love bites. He tasted like salty sweat and old gunpowder. Dante sighed in relief, bumping against her pelvis more insistently now. Lady ran her fingers underneath the hem of his red shirt, as if she was debating giving in and stripping him down. He was really smirking now, completely assured of his win. 

Before he could see her move, Lady yanked him down by his shirt and swept his legs out from underneath him in one smooth movement. With all the air abruptly knocked out of him, Dante was slack-jawed as he landed prone on the dirty pavement. The smack he took in the head looked a little painful, but Lady took the opportunity to plant herself directly on his chest. He opened his mouth to speak indignantly, but she shushed him with one dainty finger on his lips. “You don’t want Trish to hear anything, do you?”

Dante dutifully nodded his assent like a happy puppy, content to play along. He kissed her finger while it rested on his mouth and mimed sealing his lips and throwing away the key. Lady could see the wheels of his mind turning, thinking about how he could flip this situation to his advantage. But he never got the chance. With all the grace of a predatory horny teen, she shoved her hand down his jeans to grasp at his hardened length. Her firm jerking movements lacked sufficient lubricant and finesse, but Dante hissed in surprise and quickly arched his back when Lady got down to business. 

She slipped off his ample chest to rip and pull down his tight jeans just enough to free his erection completely. Dante’s cock was red and swollen from her aggressive pumping, but Lady took him into her mouth to remedy the fact. Kitten licks soothed the rough treatment while her hands came downwards to fondle his heavy sack. She deliberately ran her tongue down a prominent vein just to hear him growl and shake. Hollowing her cheeks, Lady desperately suckled on his cock, coaxing more deliciously tangy pre-cum into her mouth. 

Between lewd slurps and deliberate grazes of teeth to his shaft, Dante was clearly struggling to contain himself. His bitten-off moans and cries of pleasure were intoxicating. He would catch himself cracking and thrash like a trapped bird in her grip. On a particularly long glide back up his throbbing cock, he made to thrust deeper into her mouth, but Lady pushed him back by the hips so he was flat to the ground. She was going to win this battle! Not him! 

Though she had to get some relief for herself. Stuffing one hand down her tight leather shorts, Lady’s fingers greedily massaged her protruding clit. She keened when she twisted the sensitive nub to the brink of overstimulation while Dante’s dick pulsed wildly in her throat. She knew he could smell her musk now, overpowering his advanced sense of smell. The frantic gasps and clicking noises from her cunt were the only sounds that filled the alleyway. Dante was still being a good boy and stifling his grunts of pleasure. 

Sliding down as deep as she could take him, Lady let her throat flutter against the large intrusion. Tears were gathering in her eyes from the strain, but the unique spicy taste of Dante’s imminent release made it all worth it. Gagging, she deep-throated his length a few more times before she had to back off. Her own sanity was fraying watching the way Dante heaved for breath and tried to remain quiet. His hands were flexing by his sides, like he didn’t know if he wanted to force her back onto his cock, or caress her face while it was bulged out with his length. Ultimately, he didn’t get to do either, because the next sound echoing out in the alleyway made them both freeze.  

“Lady? Dante? I’m finished over here. I’m ready to leave when you are. Where did you two run off to?” 

Trish’s voice was terrifyingly close. She was maybe a few yards away from the pair, just out of sight from their impromptu rendezvous. Dante shoved a fist in his mouth to keep any noises from escaping, but Lady saw his weak point. Just as she’d suspected, his dripping and bobbing cock hadn’t flagged at all. It was proof that he was getting off on the lewd act of public sex. But Lady also felt the effects. The throbbing of her neglected cunt was on pace with her fluttering heartbeat. The thought of Trish, or anyone really, seeing her with Dante’s cock in her mouth while she touched herself was sending waves of heat flowing through her body. 

The click of the blonde demon's heels as she walked away splashed a cool relief down Lady’s back. That was way too close. Dante’s face was pale, and he whispered conspiratorially. “Okay, I promise I didn’t know she was that close!” he wheezed out. Lady wasn’t so sure she believed him. She’d have to take interrogation matters into her own hands. Well, more than she had so far. 

Tapping his reddened cockhead against her lips, Lady let a thin stream of drool connect them. Dante let out a gasping shudder at the dirty display. “Are you sure?” She murmured, slipping her hand out of her wet hole. “I think you want to get caught.” Taking her slickened fingers, she traced down Dante’s shaft in teasing grazes. “N-noooo…” He breathed out shakily while he denied it, but his body betrayed him. His balls were drawn up tense from the brief scare, he must be this close to cumming. Lady was about to secure the win. 

Abandoning his cock entirely, she ran her fingers lovingly through his coarse stomach hair. She patted ‌his slightly pudgy belly nicely, letting him feel the way she explored his body. The quivering sigh Dante released was her cue. Now that he was relaxed and unguarded, Lady swooped in for the kill. Gripping his length tightly, she lurched up his body so she was covering him. Nestled in the curve of his neck, she jerked his wet cock until Dante was unabashedly moaning in her ear. “Ah! Yes, please, more! Lady!” 

Lady couldn’t resist his plaintive calls. As he gripped her waist, pulling her even closer to his overwhelming warmth, she felt him explode over her fingers. His release kept coming in deep pulses and twitches, spilling out of her hands. Dante grunted in her ear as he thrust and worked himself through the last vestiges of his orgasm. Overwrought, he was blissfully quiet for once. But Lady hadn't finished yet. 

She yanked down her shorts and underwear, making sure Dante saw the way she thrust her cum-covered fingers into her pussy. “Fuck, Lady,” he whispered, blue eyes eclipsed by wide, dark pupils. Lady couldn’t bring herself to care about the abject filth she was lying in. Pressed against the wide expanse of Dante’s body, his huge hands reaching underneath her shirt to grasp and pull at her breasts, she wasn’t going to last. Back bowed, she came with a shout, quaking and crying out her pleasure. 

She just breathed afterwards, letting herself come down from one of the hottest encounters she’d ever had. Dante was just as quiet, kissing her scalp soothingly and flattening her spiky hair. 

“Well, well, well,” a familiar voice mockingly echoed through the alleyway. “It looks like you two were here after all.” The sharp click-clack rhythm of Trish’s heels was like the swoosh of a guillotine on their exposed necks. Dante and Lady could only fumble to hide themselves on the filthy ground. 

Chapter Text

Nero still wasn’t quite sure about this. 

They had talked about… toys before. Mostly in a vague joking way, but over time, it had gotten more serious. Nico hadn’t built Sweet Surrender for nothing after all. But that was for Kyrie, not him. Trying things out on himself sounded intoxicating, but it was a logistical nightmare for his anxiety. He worried that his newly reformed body and trigger would act out when stimulated. As it was, he’d been a shaking mess in bed lately. The changes in tactile sensitivity didn’t only extend to his demonic body. The last thing he wanted was to hurt his girlfriend because he couldn’t control his reactions. 

It was better to focus on pleasing her in bed and think about his release second. It was kind of funny. Even though most men Nero had known complained about finding the right spots on their female partners, he found it much more straightforward than they explained it. Somehow, connecting to Kyrie’s anatomy was much simpler than connecting to himself. Though that probably said more about his own self-sacrificing attitude than anything else. 

Regardless, he wanted to try, and so did Kyrie. They took it very slow. The pair explored each other’s bodies gently, just like always, before introducing simple additions. A sturdy cuff, a length of rope, and even a gag at one point. They were all things that they could fashion at home with little effort or purchase in local shops. By the time they got to browsing explicit websites for more specific ideas, it still made them both blush. But they pushed through their naivety until they found something simple and fun to emulate. 

That’s how they ended up like this, with Nero stretched out on their bed lightly fingering himself open with an absurd amount of lube, and Kyrie adjusting a harness and strap around her waist. 

The comically neon pink dildo was more than a little disarming in person, but really, that was part of why they'd chosen it. Nero had almost busted a gut laughing when he first saw it come out of the discrete cardboard box. Now, at the moment of its use, he had to admit he was apprehensive. The fake cock wasn’t very long at first glance, but it was thick. His girlfriend's small hands looked even more petite next to the monstrosity as she thoroughly lubed it up. 

She traced the veins of the silicone toy with more care than necessary, and it made a bolt of heat curl up in Nero’s stomach. His cock twitched and jumped untouched on his belly. Despite the exhilarating fear, he couldn’t wait for cute little Kyrie to wreak his ass. It was hard to be sure, but Nero always blamed his need to be dominated on his demonic side. Outside their bed, he was brash and hardheaded, but with her, he was as pliable and submissive as a kitten. He’d always craved his girlfriend’s subjugation in ways that other people couldn’t understand, and this was the perfect way to execute it. 

Nero’s fingers pushed deeper into his tight hole in anticipation. He couldn’t help but moan softly as he pet his soft insides, scissoring his ass into a looser receptacle. Reaching deeper inside, he searched for that place that would make him writhe. Just barely, he was able to brush it with his fingertips, coaxing a little cry from his mouth. But the angle was awkward, and Nero couldn’t keep the pleasure with him as he prepped himself. With a large huff, he contented himself to wait for his girlfriend's first move. 

Kyrie giggled when she saw how desperate he was to have her inside him. It wasn’t cruel, but it made him grin abashedly. He liked to take his time stretching her - his own cock was rather large - so it made sense to apply that same treatment to himself. She leaned down to kiss him, and he lost himself briefly in the tangle of tongues. Kyrie nipped at his tongue and licked over his teeth with a hunger Nero mirrored. When he felt the way the slick toy slid against his thigh, Nero couldn’t help but release a muffled noise into her mouth. 

“Ready?” Kyrie murmured, pushing his hands tight to his sides. “Yes,” Nero groaned, “Please just do it!” The anxiety was killing him. She obeyed his command, albeit slowly. Touching the barely warm silicone cockhead to his loosened hole, he tensed in anticipation. The excess lube he’d used to finger himself open was dripping down his thighs, pushed away as the dildo gradually breached his entrance. It felt huge. He scoffed at the length before, but it felt ridiculously big and thick now. The heavy feeling in his gut only intensified as she slowly pushed in. 

Nero thought the shallow burning stretch would put him off, but it was surprisingly pleasant as his girlfriend shimmied her hips. The sensation was odd, but not off putting. The gentle pain made him tighten instinctively around the intrusion, making sparks of distant pleasure go off in his gut. “How-how far in is it?” He couldn’t help but wonder aloud. Kyrie giggled again. “Maybe an inch or two?” Only an inch?! The pressure was already so much… “Do you wanna stop here for now?” Oh God, she was too sweet. No, Nero didn’t want to stop at all. Now that he knew he had so much left to enjoy, his tight hole was clenching rhythmically on the hard silicone- trying to suck it in deeper. 

“No!” he gasped, shocked by how absolutely wrecked his voice sounded already. “I want more.” Kyrie stroked a gentle hand down his jaw to calm him. His tongue lolled out to lick her lube-covered fingers. “You gonna take all of me?” she teased, imitating the dirty way Nero would tease her with his cock. It made his body burn with arousal. He nodded his assent furiously, widening his open legs to coax her in further. Pressing another kiss to his slack mouth, he felt the way she pressed more insistently inside. The aching slip of more, more, more, had him whining like a dog. The girth was amazing, reforming him in the shape of his girlfriend's heavy dick. Lubed and prepped as he was, the burn had transformed into a pleasurable shake of muscles.  

Finally, after ages of pressure and small gasps, Nero felt Kyrie’s hips press flush with his own. A sweep of pride ran through his prone body. He’d taken it all! A quick glance down made him thrash in a fit of pleasure. Through his thin skin, the bulge of the toy was visible in his toned stomach - stretching it out obscenely. Kyrie noticed too, and with a small gasp of her own, she pressed down on the protrusion. Pops of light flew and danced across his blurry vision. The pressure had shifted the dildo directly into his prostate. 

It couldn’t get better than this, it just couldn't! The unconscious grinding against his deepest part was making his cock weep. Nero could get off just like this, from a fake cock just barely treating him to what was next. It was already so good, the heavy pressure in his hole like he was going to break in half, combined with his lover's skillful manipulation of skin was bringing him close to a mind-breaking orgasm. His aching length was pulsing untouched on his belly, brushing obscenely against the swell. 

Kyrie’s breath had turned heavy too, obviously turned on by watching his eyes and body glaze over in gratification. But her gentle hands were sweet on his cheeks as she wiped tears away. Nero hadn’t even realized he’d cried, overwhelmed with all the sensations. “Are you still alright? Do you still want me to fuck you? I can stay just like this,” she started massaging the bulge again, softer this time. “Yes, yes, yes!” he chanted. “I’m fine. I want it. I want you.” That made her eyes darken. Rearing back slightly, the long, thick length retreated slightly, perhaps halfway out, before it abruptly forced its way back inside Nero’s tight hole.

He screamed aloud when it hit home, nailing his sweet spot head-on. He couldn’t help it! The rough slide of faux veins and texture felt amazing. Kyrie was unforgiving, working up a punishingly fast pace once she sensed Nero’s body was ready. With every thrust in, he worked his body back onto her cock, hypnotized by the way her breasts swayed and bounced with each thrust. He reached down to stroke his length in time with their fierce coupling, but she smacked his hand away. 

“I tell you when you can touch yourself,” she roughly growled. That made his cock jump and throb. “Yes, yes, thank you! Thank you, mistress!” he mewled. Nero hadn’t meant for the dirty moniker to slip out, but it felt good on his tongue. Kyrie clearly liked it too, leaning down in his ear to whisper hot commands into his ear. “Good boy. You like mistresses cock? You like the way your greedy little hole feels?” He didn’t get to respond right away, since she ripped the toy out of his tight ass with one rough movement. 

“No! Please, please, please!” Nero didn’t have to beg for long. Kyrie rolled his hips over, flipping him onto his stomach. He arched his back upwards, unable to stop the way his hole throbbed without her inside. In one aggressive movement, she stuffed it back inside him, forcing him to take back shot after brutal back shot. In this position, Kyrie felt even deeper inside him. Every thrust had the hard silicone sack slapping into his skin. 

“Yes!” Nero howled, completely overtaken by the way her ramming thrusts were punching the air out of his lungs. “I’m yours! Fuck! Gimme more!” Kyrie obliged, planting her feet on the mattress so she was practically fucking down into him in a straight line. From this view, she could see how gloriously wrecked he was. Nero’s slutty hole was clenching around her length as he tried to keep her inside. He thrust his hips backwards like a desperate whore, bucking and moaning like he was being paid. She leaned forward so she could lick up the intoxicating trail of sweat on his spine. Kyrie couldn't resist giving him a sharp slap on one pert buttock. 

Nero fell face forward, moaning unashamedly and rutting into the sheets while his precious girlfriend gaped his once tight hole. He could barely clench down anymore, numb from all the pleasure she inflicted on him. “Kyrie!” he sobbed, “I’m close, I’m so, so close!” The friction of the cotton sheets on his untouched cock was making him go wild. A running stream of pre-cum was making a wet puddle underneath him. He thought about reaching down to jerk himself off, but restrained himself. Kyrie rewarded his brief internal struggle for obedience. “You wanna cum, good boy? Beg. Tell me how much you love being fucked.” 

“Hgghhh! I love it! Wish you could cum inside me. Want my slutty little hole filled up with your load!” The filthy words from his slack mouth just wouldn’t end, no matter how embarrassing they were. Nero didn’t have the will to stop. “I’m your cumdump, your hole. I love the way you fuck me mistress!” He was nearly blind with pleasure, rutting desperately back and forth to impale himself on Kyrie’s cock and stimulate his painfully hard length and tight sack. “Awwww,” she teased, “should I let you cum on my dick, whore?” 

Nero just sobbed and nodded as best he could, pressed deep into the mattress. Kyrie, taking pity on Nero's drool-covered face, bent his back upwards and grabbed his aching cock. Her rough strokes were everything. Faster than he would have liked, his knees started to tremble and sweat, signaling his impending end. Pressed firmly against his abused prostate and grinding in slow circles, Nero’s release exploded over her fingers. He moaned and cried her name as she milked his overstimulated length for everything he had. Even after he finished, she kept fisting him until he weakly pushed her hand away. 

Everything was a blur after that. He vaguely registered her pulling out of his puffy, abused hole with a sinful ‘pop.’ The lube flowing down his ass made him shiver in delight. He just lay in his rapidly cooling cum, content to be boneless and soft. Kyrie had taken off the strap and was wiping a warm cloth over his body when he next realized she was there. “You did great,” she whispered. Nero smiled, dazed and happy. He was so glad they had taken the plunge into the world of sex toys. “Dude, we definitely have to do that again,” he slurred. Kyrie laughed, a pleasant sound in the aftermath of such rough sex. 

“Of course! But I’m pretty sure it’s mistress to you~”