Chapter 1

Dante sat at his desk in his signature pose, legs raised and a magazine draped over his face. It was nearing the time he was meant to make his way out for a mission, one he really didn't want to take. Lady was out of the country attending to different infestation wreaking havoc on some barren land next to a farmhouse, and Trish was with her, hoping to not do much work as her boss forgot to pay her proper wages after a previous assignment. Since then she had been despondent and it was quite a task getting hold of her anywhere.

The phone call came at three in the morning. Dante was too anxious to sleep, so he sleepily dragged his feet to relieve the phone of its incessant nagging. He was given the address and told to only come during the day: the demon, much like anyone else, liked to have its beauty sleep before tearing through innocent people's homes. It possessed a cloaking ability, so regardless of it being in broad daylight, it couldn't be seen by humans and demons alike. Dante spent the whole night plotting a strategy to capture and kill the demonic fiend, but his daydreaming halted when the figure on the bed next to him shifted, immediately sensing something was brewing. He remained asleep as he shifted closer to Dante and held his hand. The bigger man returned the gesture, kissing his fingers tenderly, and he earned a content smile.

If truth be told, things weren't going too well for the couple. Dante was a round the clock demon bounty hunter. He worked for himself more than anything, thinking it would be easier in terms of almost never working, but being the only demon hunter in a city centred around constant infestations proved to be tougher than he anticipated. His working hours went from nine to five to twenty four seven; the entities he fought had no sense of time and neither did the humans that were calling him to take care of them. He would be called out to investigate noises in garages thought to be supernatural and ending up being the next door neighbour's cat. His ultimate favourite were the calls from neighbours believing someone was being mauled or murdered down the street or down alleyways, and it was simply teenagers squeezing a tenuous romp behind the bushes or dumpsters before going home to their over-lenient parents.

Because of these continuous calls, he spent very little time at home. He never had a problem being away from the shop – he actually thrived in it – but he was no longer the only one he had to worry about. He could go for days without so much as eating a morsel of food, mainly because he could and didn't care, but the younger man in his life was having none of it.

He met him on the way home from a tiring group of scarecrows; the figure walked down the side of the road, defeat in his posture, kicking stones along the sidewalk as if they were the only action keeping him sane. He wore a long sleeved black shirt, a bandage on his right arm, navy blue jeans and really thin sneakers; his outfit juxtaposed the cold weather Capulet was having, and Dante couldn't help but feel bad for the guy. He was the only person he had seen for miles on the deserted boulevard.

Dante pulled over to the side of the road and got out of his car and startled the man. "Dude, I've been through enough crap today; I have nothing you can steal. If you're going for the sexual assault approach, please know I don't mind, as long as you buy me dinner first."

"I choose neither, sorry to disappoint." Dante folded his arms over his chest, now worried at what was standing in front of him. "You okay, kid?"

"I'm not a kid." His pose stood defensive. "And no, I'm not." He looked at his shoes. "Not at all."

Dante shrugged. "Suit yourself. Where you headed?"

"I have absolutely no idea. I'm just walking in the opposite direction from which I came, and I think I'm doing well so far."

"Well? Really?" Dante moved closer to him and he flinched, thinking he was going to inflict some form of pain on him. Instead, Dante grabbed his left arm and lifted his sleeve – his bones stuck out unnaturally, his pale skin had become translucent and his blood turned grey on his skin. The man was freezing his ass off, and it wasn't even that cold. His lips were blue, and his skin mirrored the same shade as his arms. He felt for a pulse and it was there for the sake of evidence, but it was weakening at an alarming pace.

"What happened?" He pointed to the bandage. The stranger just held it closer to his body and, using his eyes, pleaded with the older man not to enquire further. "Fine, I won't ask. What I will request is that you get into the car. You are in no state to be on the highway in what you're wearing. You'd be dead before morning." He gave Dante an alarming look. "Oh come on, you welcome me raping you but getting into my car is too dodgy?" Dante had a point; he got in the car and waited for the stranger. "I'd love to get some nutrients in you this year, if that's possible." It wasn't long before he heard the passenger door open; he turned the ignition and pushed the temperature on the heater for his companion to get comfortable. "You got a name?"

It had been seconds and the heater was already working wonders on his guest. His defensive stance faded with the cold in his body, and he sank into the seat as if it were the most comfortable thing in the world. The exhaustion that fatigued his limbs took over and the poor man used all his remaining energy to answer Dante. "Nero. My name's Nero." He took a second to look at his saviour. "Yours?"

"Dante. Hi." He put the car into gear and it drove forward.

"Not a bad name…" were Nero's last words as he drifted into much needed sleep.

Dante gazed at the clock; he unknowingly counted the ticks in his supposed sleep and knew he had to leave soon. He was already washed and clean shaven, full of leftover pizza for breakfast, his uniform was pressed and clean, and his weapons stood at the ready whenever he needed them, missions and emergencies alike. He tried to be as quiet as possible because Nero was still sleeping upstairs. As of recently, it had been easier to simply slip out of the house before he woke up as opposed to Nero being awake and watching him leave for another full day of killing. He never liked watching him go, especially since there was a chance he wouldn't see him until he climbed into bed for an hour only to be called for another job. Dante quietly grabbed Rebellion off the wall and made it to the door. He turned the knob and drew a deep breath, deflating at the sudden presence at the bottom of the stairs.

"Another mission?"

The question always stung. This had been the umpteenth time Nero asked this of Dante, but it pierced his heart as if it were the first. It had become a ritual before he left the shop and it never ended well. Nero made Dante feel guilty about having to cut their time short when it was in actual fact a mutual flaw. When Dante took Nero in, the first couple of months was focused on his health and helping him recuperate to his former self. Dante had no idea what to expect, but the results spoke for themselves and his progress was impressive. He had assisted Nero into following his dream of studying law; his face was stuck in textbooks and studying material, and had time for little else. He didn't have a social life – he wasn't into the whole 'go out with your friends' trope, so he spent most of his time inside the shop, taking phone messages should the need have risen. Because of the nature of Dante's work, he got all of his regular customers to use certain code words over the phone, so as to confuse anyone that bothered to eavesdrop on his conversations. Nero paid little attention to the mumbo jumbo people said when they called, but promised to quote Dante's customers word for word. There would, however, be the one fateful day a new customer would call the shop and Nero would answer.

"Can I ask you something, Dante?"

The bigger man slurped at his spaghetti – Nero cooked, so he had no choice. "Hmmmm?"

"What exactly is it that you do?" Nero played with his portion, breaking the meatballs into smaller biteable chunks. "I mean, if you don't want to tell me its fine, but I don't see how anything anyone says over that phone makes any sense." He dug into his plate and chewed a mouthful. "If it's the CIA, don't even bother answering-"

Dante's fork dropped out of his hands and onto his plate, raucous laughter coming from the other side of the table. "Really? Me? The CIA? Is that your best guess?"

"What other job description includes weird words, Dante?" He looked seriously at Dante for a moment. He contemplated the possibility of it being true, and that meant he'd have to lose his life. Shit.

"They are code words, kid. Plain and simple." Dante resumed picking at his plate, disgustingly pulling a bay leaf through his tomato sauce and resting it on the edge of his dish.

"See? You can't blame me for assuming it's the CIA-"

Dante held up a hand to stop his humiliation, trying to chew faster, and Nero stayed quiet. "Okay, I'll spill. Only if you promise to never tell anyone and not ever want to go with me." He gave him a 'why the fuck would I wanna go with you' look. "Trust me; it's better than the CIA." Dante moved closer and stuck out a pinkie. "I need you to promise me. You have the potential to come with me, but I want you to tell me that you won't want to."

"I can't promise that, but I have a lot on my plate and will have for the foreseeable future, so you have nothing to worry about." He held Dante's gaze and warped his pinkie. "So, what do you do?" Dante waited for Nero to add a forkful of noodles into his mouth before speaking.

"I hunt demons."

Nero could feel the food travelling down the wrong pipe and started coughing furiously; Dante moved to his back and slammed a flat hand on the younger man's back and food carried across the room in slow motion. "WHAT?"

Dante tried to stifle a laugh. "See? Better than the CIA-"

"HOW ON EARTH DO YOU HUNT DEMONS?" Nero's lungs still burned, the volume of his query was uncontrollable.

"What do you mean?" Dante's confusion was genuine. He walked to the kitchen and filled two glasses of water for his struggling counterpart. "You have to be more specific."

Nero downed the glasses at lightning speed, and the burning subsided. He eased his breathing to a steady pace before enquiring further. Wait. Wait just a damn minute-

"What does that make you?" The question left Nero's lips dry. The answer was obvious, but he needed to hear to from Dante.

"Same as you, kid." He gripped Nero by his bandaged arm and held tight: Dante flexed his fingers and transformed them into razor sharp crimson talons, surges of white hot electricity emitting through his skin that tore the surrounding silence apart. He ran one digit down the bandage and it cut like paper. "I'll give you props for trying to hide it." The cloth fell to the floor, and Dante traced a talon across his hardened skin: his forearm was covered in red armoured scales that shone a cerulean blue underneath. The red hide had a cracked texture – breaking under the pressure of the power of the pulsing glow – and the blue skin underneath was inflamed from underuse. "This is the real reason I found you alone on that street, isn't it?" Dante could see he hit a nerve. "I'm not asking you to explain. I want you to know you're not alone." With no warning, Dante morphed his arm to adorn similar scales up to his elbow. "You can call it whatever you want, but this is the potential I was referring to." Dante's arm changed back to normal and he resumed eating his dinner.

"So I can come along then?" Dante's eyes shot a quick 'NO' at Nero, and the matter was closed.

Nero scratched at his bringer as Dante stepped over the threshold. "During the day?"

"I know, right. Can't catch a damn break."

The days had gotten worse. For Dante, there were more jobs, more demons, and more innocent people died by the day. For Nero, his days were jam packed with binders of work and court cases that needed analysing, and they were both tired. Exhausted, in fact. Not just physically, but emotionally and mentally. When they tried to set time aside for one another, something would always pop up and interrupt them in their attempts at fixing their fractured relationship. At the moment, it seemed to be Dante's fault that Nero never saw him, but it did benefit him in some way: without any distractions, Nero was able to pass his exam with flying colours. All that was left was the trial in a few days' time, and it was something he could wait for. He crossed his fingers that he could manage to squeeze Dante into his schedule, and he couldn't have been more wrong. Dante's calendar was chaotic and he couldn't slow down – there were bills to pay, and the work he received paid them off well and on time. Nero began feeling neglected at the time he managed to see the love of his life, and it pained to see him want to walk out of the door when they could be in bed making love like there was no tomorrow. Things were not so simple in Nero's eyes. He had tried his best to be there for Dante, waking up early to make breakfast and staying up late to eat dinner together, cherishing what time he had with Dante until the next phone call. He was closing on his breaking point, and Dante didn't seem to be doing anything to change it.

Dante couldn't face Nero. The small man had crept into his heart and soul relatively early in their friendship. He had let the emotion seep deep into his psyche for him to be completely sure. He had been wrong in the past, mistaking involuntary lust for deep emotional connections that left him scarred from the inside out. Nero looked at him in ways many people would wish their partners would: his gorgeous blue eyes were filled with intrigue and wonder when he looked at Dante, and all the love in the world could be contained in those amazing orbs. Dante was head over heels in love with Nero, and he was sure he felt the same about Dante. Nero was never good at hiding his feelings; he wore his heart on his sleeve, and Dante always loved how straightforward the man always was with him. Dante couldn't understand why Nero had fallen for him, but he knew he was grateful. Nero had completed him on a deeper level than anyone else, and their connection was intense enough to make any lovesick puppy puke in revulsion. Nero was his soul mate, his life, his heart, his everything; pride had gotten in the way of him ever freely admitting this, and it made him sick that he couldn't give Nero what he deserved. Nero needed a pillar of strength he could always depend on, and Dante was the furthest thing from that. When they decided to be together, Dante didn't consider the thought that he may need Nero more then he would ever be needed. He felt ashamed at his actions when he compared it to the work his boyfriend put in to make them work after all they had been through. Dante thought loving him would be easier.

Nero was at his side, massaging his imposing shoulders and kissing them. "Just come home in one piece, okay?"

Dante turned and lovingly encased his lips with his own, his gloved hand tracing Nero's jaw. "Always." He kissed him on the forehead before heading out. Nero would now have to wait for several hours before he saw that face again. Watching Dante walk out of that door wasn't easy. It was as if an essential piece of him escaped his chest and he was left pondering if it would ever return back to him. It always did, but never the same way it left.

Dante finally came home, balancing two pizza boxes on one hand. It was never a good sign when Nero asked if he could sort dinner out, not to mention that he asked for pizza specifically. He walked up the table Nero sat at, his face buried in another publication comprised of legal jargon. Dante went around the table and laid his hands on the young man's shoulders and bent down to read the page – oh goody, civil law; his favourite. He gave Nero a quick peck on the cheek and made himself useful colleting two plates and glasses from the kitchen. He secured cans of tomato juice and beer under his arm; damn the day he would ever make a second trip.

"I'm just finishing up – last page," Nero said. But Dante knew that if he had his way, no page would ever be the last.

"That's okay, kid. No rush. Don't gloss over any crucial detail because of me." As soon as the words left his mouth, he knew their implication. It could be interpreted as Dante wanted it, that Nero shouldn't feel obligated to stop his studies or misread any details on the page in front of him, or the other route implicating Dante to being a selfish, hungry, stupid, jealous boyfriend who would wait impatiently with a pout on his mouth for the page to be finished. He hoped it was the former.

"What's that supposed to mean?" It was the latter.

Dante took a deep breath: this was going to turn into a fight. "Nothing, Nero. It meant absolutely nothing-"

"And what the hell is THAT supposed to mean?" Nero snapped his book shut and crossed his arms over his chest; he was beyond pissed off and almost at his boiling point when Dante casually sat down and chewed on a slice of pizza. He tried not to look at the enraged form to his left; you couldn't speak logic to Nero when he was angry, and anything you said was taken beyond the borders of its context. It was extraordinarily difficult to speak or reason with him when he was in this state, and Dante learned a long time ago to simply give up and let his steam blow over, not take offense to anything and not take anything to heart, because Nero would be overcome with such intense blind rage that he would forget what he said after a good night's sleep. But that didn't mean Dante forgot. He forced the insults to the back of his brain and dropped the matter and carried on as normal as Nero would. The younger man would never know just how deep it hurt Dante to see him go through all the pain and agony. They both developed a thick skin over the years of being together, sometimes teasing and sometimes serious, but it broke his heart to see such a loving creature endure all nine circles of hell to be with someone like him. It shook his body when Nero spoke at him and not with him, but Dante wasn't good and handling or communicating feelings to anyone. That's what started all the tension in the first place.

The bigger man didn't have the energy for this. He could feel the heat off the younger man, but blocking it out and concentrating on his meal was the calmer option. "Fine," Nero said. He collected his books and was about to storm to his room when a deep crimson demonic arm blocked his path. Now was as good a time as any.

"Sit." Dante's eyes were glowing the same colour as his armour and his voice attained a demonic echo. Nero tried to pull his arm away to seek comfort alone in his room, but the elder wasn't having any of it.

"I don't want to."

"Why not?" Dante released the grip on his boyfriend and he struggled less. If it appalled Nero to be in the same company as the person he was meant to be in love with, there was no reason to stop him.

"Because if I have to look at you for longer than a second I'm going to burst into tears." Nero looked at the older demon and sure enough tears were brimming under his eyes. The expression on his face was stoic, but the image he tried portraying was melted by the lone tear rolling down his cheek. Dante had never felt a blow to his lungs this vast. His demonic scales dissipated under his skin and his blue eyes returned to normal, letting go of Nero's arm – the broken man that stood before him was his all, and being the reason for his anguished tears gave him no right to touch him. Dante calmly walked back to his seat and his eyes appealed to Nero's.

Dante whispered. "Please sit down, Nero. Talk to me."

When Dante spoke in that manner, Nero knew he hit a nerve. Dante's bravado cracked under his scrutiny and he was reduced to a crumbling mess of emotion and chaos that was agonising to watch. Dante's fingers raked in his hair and Nero pulled the chair next to his; the older man's form was shaking uncontrollably and Nero had no clue why. With all the love in the world, Dante looked at his lover and held his face in his hands. "Tell me what I'm doing wrong."

A few seconds of silence hung between them as the flaring rage in them subsided. Nero shuffled closer rested his forehead on Dante's, a hair width separating their lips. His hands encased Dante's forearms as he sunk into the older man's touch, reminiscing and burning his feeling and texture to memory. The moment ended and he opened his eyes, searching for his boyfriend's piercing gaze. "I'm not happy, Dante." And there it was. The words Dante dreaded most. His heart stopped beating in his chest, but his position didn't falter. "I know you are heavily reliant on being a hardened son of a bitch most of the time, but would it hurt for that façade to dissolve when you walk through that front door? Would it kill you to want to be vulnerable with me?" Nero lost the control over his emotions and allowed more tears to fall down his cheeks. Dante watched his distress solemnly, wiping them away as they reached his neck. "You don't have to prove anything to me, Dante. You are everything I ever needed you to be the day we met. But everything is different. The way you hold me is different. The way you kiss me is different. The way you make love to me is different. It's like you're scared of something-"

"I'm scared you'll leave me." The words came out defeated. "I'm scared I can't give you what you want, what you deserve. You're so good to me and I don't think I could bear to lose you-"

"Then why are you afraid to show me how you truly feel? What's holding you back?" Dante let his head fall searching for the answer. He couldn't find it. Nero lifted his head and pecked his lips caringly. "Dante, I want us. I want you. I want us to be better. I want it back to the way it was. We were inseparable. We couldn't get enough of each other. Do you have any idea how much you drive me crazy? Fuck what you think I deserve. You make me complete, and you are the only person that will ever do that for me. I spend every waking moment of the day thinking of you, dreaming about you, wanting you more and more as time passes on, and it hurts when you don't take the time to tell me what's really going on in that beautiful head of yours. But you make me feel like I don't complete you, that I don't make you feel perfect."

"But you do-"

"Then show it. You need to tell me that I am still worthy standing in your amazing presence. Make me believe that you want me here with you. I don't like any form of space between us, Dante. I want to be with you forever, and you know that." The sentiment alone brought a smile to both of their faces. "We need to get out of this limbo and move forward to our own version of paradise."

Nero stood and gathered all of his notes and walked toward the stairs. He stopped and faced Dante.

"Because for me, you are its true definition, Dante. You always have been and you always will be my paradise." He stalked up the stairs owing to the bulk in his arms. The door to the main bedroom clicked into place, and Dante assumed Nero would get back to studying. He busied himself with a second slice, but couldn't bring it to his lips. The lump that formed in his throat would hinder the effect of his taste buds, rendering his favourite food tasteless and unsatisfying. Throwing half of the slice back in the box and finishing the rest of his tomato juice, Dante placed the boxes in the fridge. He would hate to distract or bother Nero while he was busy, so he seized a spare blanket and extra pillows and made the couch sleep-ready.

He hadn't realised how tired he really was. The day had drained him, and this evening was one he hadn't prepared for: there were too many emotions floating around his head in one day, so this much needed sleep was a perfect way to end his day. Snuggling under the covers, Dante noticed the light in Nero's room. It was still shining bright, and he knew his partner would go into the depths of the morning trying to fill his law quota. Rubbing the sleep in his eyes, he contemplated Nero's words. He had failed at the one thing he sought as his purpose for living and breathing. He was ashamed to hear that he wasn't able to provide the most basic need to someone he considered closer than family. He had to make things right. He needed to. But before he could concoct plan to win his lover back, fatigue overpowered him and he shut his eyes, promising the wake of a new day to mend the connection he had lost.

Nero glanced at his door every so often, hoping to see Dante storm through and fall asleep next to him. Hours seemed to have passed while he went over his notes in absolute silence. He knew Dante was giving him the space he needed after their talk, but the clock was nearing four in the morning and Dante was nowhere to be seen or heard. Nero didn't hear the front door, so Dante was definitely still in the house. He closed his eyes and focused on subtle movements or sounds from below, and he heard a tired heartbeat. Dante's signature rhythm had put him to sleep many times, more times than he could count, and the gentle hum of vibration his chest massaged all and every tense muscle and slight worry out of his frame. He loved sleeping in his arms, feeling his strong hold sheathing him from every form of danger imaginable. Nero carried no doubt in his mind that Dante would do anything and everything to protect him.

He remembered the day he moved into Dante's room and claimed rights to the opposite side of the bed. When Nero moved in, Dante prepared the spare room for him; it wasn't too far from the main one, which presented a big problem for him. If he suffered from his recurring nightmare, Dante would surely hear his screams of torment, and possibly reconsider finding new living quarters for his guest. He got lucky for a short while, until Dante heard a scream that pierced through his psyche; luckily he was in his room getting into his pyjamas when he heard the lament. He burst through the door and saw Nero screaming uncontrollably, his body tensing in excruciating pain. Nero's claws dug into his skin all over, leaving crusty blood and scars all over his body. He was about to claw at his neck when Dante blocked him in the nick of time, intertwining their fingers and crushing the shining overactive bringer. The act caused the glow to dim and Nero worked at fighting Dante off – it was a bad idea in general, but Nero surrendered under the control of the trauma. Dante's arms triggered in full effect and fought Nero with little effort. "NERO!" The echo in his voice was menacing, and it quelled Nero somewhat. "You need to wake up, kid. As in NOW."

Breathing deeply, Nero's eyes opened slowly and bared witness to what just happened; the cuts on his skin burned and bled, and two strong demonic arms were holding him down. He saw the sweat on Dante's brow, and realisation set in. Dante could feel the younger man's muscles relax under his touch, but one look at his face was all it took for the bigger man to curl next to him and hug him close. Nero was on the brink of tears and Dante moved to his side, relieving the congestion welling in his throat and buried himself in the strong contours of Dante's chest. In return, he embraced him as if his life depended on it, one hand resting in Nero's soft, silvery hair. "You scared me for a second there, kid."

Getting Nero to talk would take the attention away from what he was going through. Dante used this tactic as much as he could, and it worked each time. He spoke between sobs. "I'm so sorry, Dante-"

"Don't be sorry. Don't ever be sorry, Nero." Dante was lost in the moment and kissed his guest on the forehead, lingering. The younger man was touched at the gesture and curled his body around his protector. He revelled in Dante's form and scent; being this close to Dante played with his senses, and he couldn't help but snuggle closer. Dante moved off the bed and pulled Nero with him. "Come on. You can't sleep here tonight." He offered a hand and Nero took it. Dante led them to his room were a four-poster king sized bed sat huddling in the centre. "There's more than enough space." Before Nero could decline, Dante swept him in his arms and rested him on the edge. "I swear on my life I won't do or try anything funny. Just don't rub up on me, that's asking for trouble." Dante was trying to be cute. How adorable. If Nero was feeling feisty enough, he would test that theory. The bigger man slithered under the covers and held it open for Nero. His smile faded when Nero made no attempt to join him. "What's wrong, kid?"

Nero looked at the marks gracing his body. "I think I need to patch these up before I get blood all over your bed."

"Don't stress over it. Now come on in, it must be freezing that side of the world." It was. Nero slid into the bed, staying as close to the edge as possible. Dante watched him and chuckled. "You can move closer if you want. I won't bite." The visitor slipped in deeper, close to the middle. Dante copied him, holding Nero in his arms as he did minutes ago. "Now sleep, okay? I've got you."

The rest was history and they shared the room ever since. He refused to let Nero be alone that night and every night thereafter, and it was their special ritual. It wasn't the same without Dante, so Nero ended his studying and journeyed downstairs to locate his partner. And there he was, sleeping soundly on the couch, the blankets rising and falling with his beautiful chest, his eyebrows frowning. It was strange seeing him sleeping in another position. A smile creeped onto Nero's face, walking to the couch and locating a spot the broad-shouldered demon had not taken up. He was unbelievably calm. He was at peace. His usual sarcastic demeanour was nowhere to be seen. He started playing with Dante's fingers and he woke; his eyes found Nero's and was clouded with sleepy shock and horror.

"What's wrong? What happened? Are you hurt? Is there someone here-"

Nero silenced him with his lips. "I'm just looking at you, okay? Sue me."

Dante was still embarrassed to look his lover in the eye after their conversation. He concentrated on the open window to his right, feeling tears pool at the verge of his eyes. "I couldn't come upstairs. I'm sorry." Dante sniffed and clasped Nero's hands in his. "I know you did and didn't want to be alone, but I'd rather you focus on studying." That wasn't the only reason, but he carried on. "The pizza is in the fridge. You must be hungry." Nero's stomach growled the music of its people, to which Dante sniggered. It was a wondrous sound to Nero; he could listen to it all day. "I still got it. Let me get some for you."

Without another word, Dante shifted the covers to retrieve Nero's dinner. He halted as he stood, making his way to Nero and kissing him roughly on the lips. Dante bit on Nero's lip and his tongue was allowed entry, permitting the caress to stretch to a depth they had both never explored. He bit forcefully on Nero's bottom lip, using his pelvis to push his back flush against the couch. Dante straddled the younger man and ground his hips, and the friction sent white lightning up their spines. Nero reached under Dante's cotton vest and split the skin on his back, his blood coursing freely down, and played with the hem of his boxers. Dante broke this kiss. "Shit. Sorry. I'll get the pizza," and left Nero on the couch, befuddled, sporting half an erection…