Brightside Blues
the only thing Vergil found attractive about Dante was his demon side. There was something beautiful about watching Dante's mind spin out of control, all thoughts of humanity abandoning him in favor of sedating the lust that raged in his blood. There was something beautiful about watching him become an animal, ever so discreetly pushing it along.
When Dante fell, he'd have no one to blame.
Blue was not his color. But if Dante's color was red (and it was, because it made perfect sense) then he had to be blue. Dante liked blue on him, he liked the way they contrasted. He liked the way they blended until there was no point to telling them apart. Vergil forgot about blue. He liked looking at red. He liked making Dante understand why he was red.
When it gripped tighter, Dante would just accept.
Vergil wanted to be the one to push Dante off the edge. It was a promising thought. It filled him with desire. He wanted Dante to fully lose it, and he wanted to be the only one left who made sense. He wanted Dante to only be red. Because blue and purple was so ugly, imperfect. He needed more than just that. He needed that last piece to belong to him. It gave him chills. It made him want to fuck Dante harder, and give his demon side what it was looking for.
When Dante emerged, he wouldn't need it anymore.
Dante's fangs were long, sharp, and more often used than not. Vergil had the suspicion that his blood took Dante somewhere else, a new plane to nirvana, a new high, and new sort of orgasm. Perhaps that was why Dante bit him hard enough to kill, if he were human. That was why Dante licked at the wound until no more blood flowed. Normally a taste of his blood and a well placed thrust took Dante right over the edge. Now other edges had to be pushed towards.
When it was over, there would be nothing left.
There was no bright side to what he was doing to Dante. He didn't care to look, he didn't want to know. It was a sin, sure. And somewhere deep inside him, he felt an unfamiliar sting of regret and pain. But Dante took precedence over this. He'd rather be inside Dante, making him scream and whimper, than inside himself, exploring and questioning. No one great ever questioned themselves. Besides, this felt too good to ever be bad, wrong, sinful.
When the bell tolled, Dante would be different.
"Your demons, Dante, I want to see them." wanting to see, wanting to touch, wanting to take and screw and make his. He'd much rather have Dante at his feet in pure darkness then suffer through the sunlight with no one to take it out on. It was a 'once and for all' situation. And if Vergil didn't do it, then it would never happen. He wanted to break Dante in a way he's never been broken before. He wanted to release everything.
When I cry for you...but I won't.
Vergil wanted Dante to teeter on the edge and fall off. How was he to know he was right there beside him, teetering, without ever looking to the bright side to see it wasn't blue he was staring at, but an abyss? From which he'd ensure he and Dante would never climb out of.
It was just a matter of who pushed first.
OWARI
hmm. The world needs more VergilxDante. Reveiw please!