Control
I don't own Dante, Capcom does.
Control
CH1
God, how he wanted her! Even though she wasn't his usual fare. Short, plump, spectacled; no she definitely wasn't his usual seducee, not physically anyway. There was something in those brilliant green eyes, though, something that had captured his own light blue orbs, something powerful and dangerous that he just had to master. He had really tried listening when she spoke, as well, actually tried instead of faking it because of the excited light that lit her eyes when she spoke of her work, books she read, television she watched. Hell, he could even remember what some of it was, that was how bad he had it.
He pursued her for weeks, and still she denied him. He couldn't figure it out, he could tell she wanted him, everyone did. Still no matter how strong he came onto her, no matter what line he used, she still pushed him away. How? Why? When he could smell the lust on oozing out of her pores like sweat? Was it fear? He could sense that in her movements; see it in her eyes when she gazed in his direction. What could she have to fear? What could she know to fear? Everything fearsome about him was a closely guarded secret.
It was enough to drive any man to drink. So, if one were to closely examine the situation, they could tell this was all really her fault. She should have just relinquished control at the first, "Hey, Babe, why don't you get out of your pants and into mine?" So here he was all alone drinking at the Bull's Eye, only wishing he were fucking, even though there was plenty of ready ass in the area. He had long since drained the place of Jack and was sentimentally working through her favorite, a sweet Italian wine called Rosa Regale. He suspected she'd find it sweeter if she was lapping it off his chest.
He glared forward at nothing, not wanting to go home, and trying to ignore the hard on in his jeans as lurid images of her lap danced in his head. He occasionally drained the wine glass in front of him. The wine glass would be promptly filled, the bartender knew his job well.
A hand fell on his shoulder, and he whirled around, slipping off the barstool and stumbling backward against the bar. He fixed his blurry scowl on who ever had the balls to interrupt his drinking. A small figure dressed in pastel colored nursing scrubs stood, hands on hips, looking sternly up at him. She had just gotten off work, and come into the bar for a little liquid relaxation before going home. She hadn't even let down her hair from it's sensible bun. Dante would give anything to play doctor to her naughty nurse. Zolara.
"Well, jerk off of the Devil! You look even hotter than usual, Babe!" he slurred out.
Zolara's eyes narrowed behind her glasses, "Dante, I'm not your babe and you're drunk! What am I thinking? You're always drunk!" She gave him a green glare that made his skin warmer and colder in alternating places.
"And you're always a frigid bitch!" he sneered, wiping the sarcastic smirk form her lips. Dante regretted his mistake as soon as the words left his mouth. Her face fell and her lips trembled a little as she turned away from him. His arms wound about her waist causing her to stumble against him. Time for some damage control. "I'm sorry Babe, I'm drunk and horny hic and I need to lie down. Help me back home to my place, hic, please?"
Zolara sighed and Dante nearly cheered in triumph. I'm in need, help me. Can't say no to the blue please baby eyes, can you? Zolara placed one of his arms around her narrow shoulders and one of hers around his waist "Fine." She said, defeated for the moment. "Don't you even think of touching my ass, you grizzly old pervert!" And dragged her stumbling charge out of the bar's double doors and into the street.
Author's note: later chapters will be longer and lemony!