Title: Suffer the same fate
Rating: M
Pairing: VergilXOC
Status: Complete since this is a one-shot.
Disclaimer: Capcom owns the Devil May Cry series, not me!
Summary: "I need to break her heart." He decided. If only he knew what a bad idea it was…(I know the summary is bad, but I am sleepy and out of imagination :P).
Freya opened her eyes, long eyelashes fluttering open almost hesitantly.
Where am I? was her first coherent thought. Then she remembered. Oh yes. In a hotel.
Even though she was more than used to sleeping in places besides her home, she never really managed to get out of this habit of feeling confused whenever she woke up in any place except for her own house.
Grow up Freya. She told herself. For a scholar who constantly travelled around the world, she was way too homesick. She had her reasons though. She still was so young; at only eighteen years of age, she was a young prodigy among her fellow academics.
Liar, she berated herself. You will be eighteen next month.
She reached out with her hand to the other side of the bed, but found only empty space instead of the warm body she was anticipating. She growled softly and turned her head, making sure he really had left the bed. One day she was going to stop his habit of getting up in the middle of the cold night when they could sleep blissfully snuggled together.
What is his problem, really? Damn, she had a lot to talk about with him. She had to notify him about the information she had found in the old documents they found last week. She had told him they were useless, but after the thorough inspection she had done last night it seemed finally she had some good info for him.
Stop, Freya. This is not the time to think about this kind of serious stuff. This is the time to drag your asshole boyfriend back to bed.
She still felt a bit dizzy after hours of non-stop wild sex, so it took her quite a long time to persuade herself to wake up. Sitting up, she rested her head on the headboard of the king-sized bed, her body sinking further in the soft material of the plush divan. The comforter covering her body fell down, revealing the ivory-skinned beauty in all her undressed glory.
She didn't really care to pull it up. Who is going to watch me anyway? He's the only one here, and he…ahm, would be more than delighted to see me like this. After all, there isn't anything that he hasn't seen already.
She blushed a little when she recalled what had happened earlier in the night. She had been surprised when he had barged into her suite in the middle of the night. He rarely opted to meet her for any reason that wasn't involved with his purpose. especially not so late at night. Besides, there was an extremely powerful storm raging outside; she had been staring at the flashes of lightning that adorned the night sky before he arrived. She always had this poet inside of her.
When she opened the door of her room and found him standing outside, she was taken aback. What is he doing here now? was the thought that first came to her mind.
Not to mention that she had never seen him so…disheveled before. His hair was wet and messy, long platinum locks hanging in front of his forehead like a silver curtain, very different from the usual regal way he had it. He was wearing that blue coat as usual, but it was all wrinkled in places and he didn't even seem to care. The thing that confused her most was the expression of his face. There was an incomprehensible look on his features which she had never seen before, a mixture of severe desperation and raw lust. And…something else she couldn't put her finger on, but she was sure something was wrong with him.
She had opened her mouth to ask him why he had bothered to come here in such bad weather, but her questioning words never managed to leave the confines of her mouth as his own mouth came down over hers violently, silencing and mesmerizing her completely. After a flurry of kissing, touching, groping and groaning, he had swept her off her feet and carried her to the bed bridal-style with the speed of light.
Both had somehow managed to get naked without breaking the contact of their lips before he threw her on the large bed and pounced atop her.
The rest of the night was a blur. All she could remember were the hazy images of their two naked bodies coming together, their panting, sweaty forms rolling about on the mattress kissing, scratching, marking each other.
Well, him marking her, actually. All of the scratches and smears she had left on his arms, back and thighs had healed almost instantly, something that she always envied about him. He never needed to cover up himself while she was forced to wear her disgusting long-collared shirts to cover her neck after every one of their wild romps. Scratching that, sex with him was still very, very satisfying.
God, it was heaven. A smile grazed her velvety lips, still a bit swollen from the fanatical kisses they had indulged in during their height of passion. Tonight had been the best night of her life. Sure, she had enjoyed many wonderful nights with him before, but never had their union been so fulfilling, so intensely satisfying, so blindly euphoric that she couldn't even find the words to express it.
She never thought he had that passionate side in him. Sure, she had managed to break through the barrier he had constructed around him long ago and was maybe the only person around whom he acted like a normal person, but still, he had never completely dropped his guard. Sometimes during sex he did so, taking her body for himself withanimalistic and uninhibited lust, unmindful of the steely reserve he usually displayed, but after that he would immediately leave her. He would then and shut himself up from her for days, refusing to talk to her at all. She had to go through a great length to make him act normal (well, as much it was possible for him to) again.
But for the first time since they were together, tonight, he had dropped the usual mask of stoicness he always wore and finally let his emotions drive him completely for once. He had let go of all the inhibitions and let his desires, his inner instincts guide him into taking what he wanted without holding back himself. She had never seen this playful, teasing side of him, a side that liked to tease and smile and torture in the most delicious ways possible He had taken their sex to a new level, exploring every last part of her, contenting himself completely while mindful of his woman's pleasure.
She smiled shyly again, now remembering it all – how he had utterly, completely overpowered her and sent her to the highest peaks of pleasure she didn't know existed, how he had chuckled with his face buried in her hair when she had tried to deny how badly she actually wanted him, how he had punished her for that by making her practically beg him to take her, over and over again. Sometimes he had denied her requests, making her wail in frustration, and sometimes had granted them, letting her languish in the euphoric bliss she desired so much.
When his self-control cracked as well, he had fulfilled her wishes to an extent she could hardly handle, and sent them both over the edge again and again, making her loose count of how many orgasms she had, until both of them were totally spent and couldn't even find the strength to move an inch.
He had never been so passionate, yet so relaxed with her. Never had his kisses been so loving, yet so damn orgasmic. Every time he kissed her, he did it like a dying man trying to grasp the last strands of straw to stay above the water, as if he was living the final moments of his life, holding on to her as if he was afraid that he would be forced to leave her, wanting to live the moment to its full promise before it was taken away from him.
All the time he was with her… He drank in her beauty hungrily, cravingly, longingly, plundered her body like a famished man, inflicting such raw, unadulterated hunger in her that sometimes she felt like she was going to lose it, pass out from sensory overdrive because of the overwhelming sensations he was making her feel.
But she didn't pass out. Oh no, she didn't. She, as well as he, had savored the moment to the fullest, filling the of gauntlet of satisfaction to the brim, crying out and holding out to each other desperately as their bodies went through the never-ending raptures of their climaxes, their bodies uniting as one, their moans and pants creating an erotic musical that was sure to disturb the other residents of the hotel, but right then, they couldn't care less.
And the most important of all – he had told her he loved her. She couldn't believe it. He loved her. Could it be real?
She knew she was being a drama queen, but she couldn't help letting a solitary tear fall down her pale cheeks. How she had dreamed to hear this from him; every time she had looked at his sleeping form after sex, she dreamed he would open his eyes and say those three little words she yearned to hear. But those words never came.
Until tonight.
He was on top of her, sweat dripping down his forehead as he thrust into her harder, pressing her lithe form deeper onto the mattress and eliciting a loud cry from her. His mouth was wide open, his breath coming out ragged and labored; she could tell he was putting a lot of effort into not moaning loudly. Her hands became claws he filled her even deeper, and the way her nails dug deep into his back, it would surely have left gouges if not for his super healing abilities.
His mouth was right above her neck, and she could feel his hot breath hit her saliva-moisten skin, making her shudder. His strong fingers were tightly laced with her small ones and his iron grip told her that he was losing control… Just like her.
God…he was so good…
He knew just the right spots to hit, the perfect way to drive her insane with the expert ministrations his lips, tongue, fingers and of course, a certain part of the male anatomy that he was becoming quite skilled at using.
He interrupted her wave of thoughts as shifted his mouth from her neck to her lips, and she squirmed under him when his eager tongue delved inside her mouth, hot and needy. Meanwhile, one of his hands had started travelling downwards while the other eagerly massaged her warm, soft breasts, the feeling of his amazingly smooth fingers driving her crazy.
Her banshee-like cry almost hurt her own ears as he began rubbing her sensitive nub furiously, threatening to send her over the edge right then. But, damned teaser that he was, he just knew when to withdraw his hand to leave her hanging from the cliff, unable to reach the heaven only he could take her to.
Only seconds before the moment he drove her through her first orgasm, he had altogether stopped his movements. She was annoyed beyond all reason. What that the hell? She thought it was just another of his tricks to tease and torture her, but then he had moved his lips to land a soft kiss on her earlobe and said in a low voice, barely more than a whisper, "I love you."
That had petrified her completely. Her ears strained to make out the words that he had whispered, her heart beating so hard against her chest that she feared it would burst. She looked in his eyes, and when he resumed his movements, for the first time, she felt like this relationship actually had a meaning to him.
She saw a tiny glimmer of hope, that he would finally let her through the barrier of ice he had built around himself
Fulfillment. It was the word that rang in her ears as she cuddled the sweet memories of the night in her mind, the contentment of her psyche being expressed in a satisfied, long sigh.
She moved her fingers through the thick tufts of her soft, lustrous hair, moving a few offending strands in front of her forehead during the process. Her eyes searched the room for the signs of her lover. She could still hear the thunder rumbling outside, and the grandfather clock in the room showed the time was 3.00 p.m. Where was he? Had he left?
She saw a dark silhouette by the door. What that him? Before she could say anything, she heard his calm voice. "You are awake."
"Vergil?" she asked. She noticed he was fully dressed; she could make out the outlines of his trademark blue coat hanging from his shoulders even in the dark. "Are you leaving?"
"Yes." His reply was in one word; no explanation, no regrets, no loving words of assurance was there. Only dead, solid fact.
She looked at him, puzzled.
"Why, is that a surprise for you?" he asked, and Freya couldn't help being alarmed by the disdain in his voice.
"Well, why now? It's still storming outside." She asked.
He didn't reply straight away. Instead he inched closer, and she could finally see his handsome face faintly illuminated by the dim light of the bedside lamp, his pale complexion looking even more pastel and cold because of the sharp contrast.
"Do you think I am not aware of that, woman? Unlike you, I do not have time to waste rutting around when I have enemies out there to be taken care of." His voice came like a hiss, like an angry poisonous serpent alarming its prey.
Freya felt like she had been slapped hard on the face. She could not believe what she was hearing. What had happened to him? Why was he acting like this? "Vergil…Wha…" she stammered, "What are you talking about? I…"
"Hmph", he growled, "I cannot believe how dense you are. I thought someone like you would have figured out my intentions long ago. Or, at least, gotten wind of it. But no, even as I am shoving the truth on your face, you still don't get it, do you?" He said the last part in a leering tone, as if he was sickened by her ignorance.
A dark chuckle escaped his lips seeing the awestruck expression of her face. "Oh come on, stop staring like a pathetic excuse of a creature you are and say something!"
When she still didn't say anything, he sighed, and pulling out a chair, sat on it. Keeping his gaze fixed on her face, he continued in low, cold, but seemingly amused voice, "You foolish woman… What I'm trying to say is, I don't have any need of you anymore. You gave given me all the information I needed, and I've also grown tired of the physical 'pleasure'…" He cringed a little, as if the words were biting him. "…you have offered. I need to say, though, you deserve some credit for the information you provided me with. The accuracy of it surpasses that of all the informants I've had in the past, and you were so easy to handle… Instead of using money or threats, all I had to do was to use my talents in bed and you would do anything for me…"
The ugly sneer on his face did his handsome features no justice. Icy blue eyes and a straight, almost cruel-looking mouth, with a long nose which reminded her of famous Roman sculptures. Fine platinum hair slicked back, giving him that aristocratic look. She kept staring at him, her mind in complete chaos
How? How could she have been so wrong about him? She tried to find a trace of the love he had confessed earlier this night in those beautiful blue orbs, but all she saw was coldness and scorn.
"And now, I can finally raise Temen-ni-gru and unlock Sparda's seal to gain his power, the power that is rightfully mine. Then no one, no one would be able to stand up to me. Then I shall be complete, and purge this wretched human blood from my veins." He seemed like he was talking to himself rather than her, a weird look in his eyes as he did.
God, how could she be so foolish? How could she even hope that he would be any different from other devils? How could she believe those lies, that he wanted to use Sparda's power to kill the demon emperor and bring peace to the world?
She was such a fool. A pathetic, wretched fool.
She struggled to prevent the tears that threatened to leave the confines of her eyes. No, she wouldn't cry. She wouldn't give him the sick pleasure of seeing her break down because of him. But still she couldn't help asking the question.
"So… Everything… This relationship…didn't mean anything to you?"
"Relationship? What are you talking about?" He raised a sleek white eyebrow. "Just because I slept with you occasionally you actually thought I have… affections for you? Damn, how gullible are you, woman?"
"But… You said you loved me…and… you risked your life several times for me …" Her voice was starting to break, but she just couldn't take it anymore. The man she loved… The man she thought loved her back… He did not even give a damn about her.
Could this be a nightmare? Just a nightmare caused by her insecurities and doubts? Oh, how she hoped it was the case, but when he inched closer and held her wrist in his vice-like grip, she snapped out of her trance.
"Do you really think those trivial menaces were capable of hurting me?" he hissed, and getting up from the chair, took a seat on the bed. With a sharp jerk to her wrist, he pulled her face closer to his, "I saved you only because I needed you. I needed someone who could give me in-depth information on the location and history of the seven seals. Arkham helped me, but I don't trust that bastard. He is sure to keep things hidden from me. That bald rat always has something devious going on inside his old, withered head. I'm sure he wants to steal all the power for himself. I couldn't simply act on what he told me, I needed to be sure. Your father's research was very informative and helpful, and even though you are an impractical woman with no insight however, you do have an IQ of 160 and were useful deciphering your father's journal."
Useful? That is all she meant to him? A mere tool in his quest to gain power?
"You were quite unlike the women I have had before, though." There was a twinkle in his blue irises as he said this. "Much better than those sluts. This is one compliment I can spare. I actually had to spend some of my precious time to charm you to my bed. Unlike them, you at least had enough dignity not to open your legs at the first sight of me. When in bed, however..." he sniggered "…you were no different."
So she was nothing more than a plaything, wasn't she? The confession of love… It was nothing more than just an experiment a dissolute act of his sick mind to see how she acted under the false hope.
"Yes," he said, as if he could read her thoughts. "If you are thinking why I showered you with all those false words of affection earlier tonight, then know this, I just wanted to see how you reacted to that. The results were impressive, I must say. That was the best sex I ever had. You women sure perform better in the sack when you hear this nonsense of 'love'. What is actually the difference, really? I never understood."
Of course he didn't. He never did. She was such a fool to expect him, of all people, to understand her feelings. God, how is she going to make up for this? For this terrible, unforgivable mistake? To let a cold, heartless demon to take her innocence and corrupt her mind, body, and soul?
"Consider it a nice 'goodbye' fuck. Something to remember me by. You won't be seeing me again. Don't even try to find me. If you do, I won't hesitate to exterminate your pathetic existence," he said the last words in a warning. His tone clearly showed he meant what he was saying.
He released her wrist from his tight hold and turned away. He motioned to get up from the bed, but changing his mind, leaned closer to her and pressed his cold lips to hers.
Freya didn't move. This kiss was different from all the kisses they had shared before. This kiss didn't set her senses on fire, didn't send that familiar jolt of electricity through her body, didn't fill her with that wonderful feeling of warmth she loved so much.
Because she knew now, none of this had any meaning to him. This was just another way of him to torture her mind and show her what a horrible fool she was.
He pulled away after a few seconds. Flashing an arrogant grin at her, he finally got up from the bed and headed towards the door.
"A whore. That's all I am to you, right? The devil's whore," she spoke up suddenly, staring at his departing figure near the door.
"Well…" Slowly, he turned his head towards her, his icy blue orbs not betraying the thoughts inside his head. "If you put it that way, then…"
A long pause.
"Yes."
Freya watched him walk out of the room, as well as from her life. She remained still, not moving at all, as if her soul had been sucked out of her body leaving only the frame behind. To some point, that was true. She felt hollow inside, the happiness that was in her heart only a few minutes ago replaced by an emptiness she didn't think would ever be able to get over.
She looked at the empty space beside her on the large bed, the same bed they had made love on only a few hours ago.
No, she thought, that couldn't be called 'making love'. He did not love her. Her one-sided foolish infatuation for him had been the thing that had transpired whatever happened between them. It meant nothing, nothing to him at all. All he wanted was to use her for his benefits and now that he had gotten what he wanted, he had thrown her away like a mere pile of dirt. She had never been anything more than a fuck-toy to satiate his demonic lust.
She felt so, so dirty when she looked at the stained bed sheets. The room still smelled like sex, and she felt so disgusted that she wanted to scream out her frustrations to the whole world. Even when he had deeply humiliated and left her, his scent still was here, haunting her, killing her inside. She reached out with her hand and clutched the stained bed sheets, his essence still smeared across them.
Even the sheets smelled of him. Her skin, her hair, her lips, every inch of her body was covered in his scent. With one sharp tug, she threw the bed sheets on the floor and started rubbing her hands with one another, a frenzied look in her eyes as she did so.
She scrubbed so hard that her hands hurt, but she didn't care. She wanted to scrub his scent off her skin, wanted to get rid of each and every reminder of him, erase the last three months of her life altogether.
But she couldn't.
Letting out a frustrated scream, she started pulling at her long golden strands as if she had become overcome with lunacy. She felt like she was going to lose her sanity if she had to feel him on her body any longer.
Suddenly, she became conscious of a slickness between her thighs. Looking down, she discovered that their mixed love juices were slowly sliding down her thigh, and she remembered they hadn't cleaned themselves up after having sex.
Surprisingly, that stopped her frenzied attempts of hurting herself. She reached down between her legs with a finger, and when she brought it before her eyes, she could see something glistening on the slender digit. She stared blankly at it for a few seconds, her face expressionless. Then she got up from the bed. The bedcovers slid completely from her lithe body, but she didn't pay any notice and trudged towards the bathroom in long, leisured steps, almost like a zombie.
She got into the shower and turned on the spray. The water spurted on her naked body, rinsing the sweat off her pearly white skin. She closed her eyes and ran her hands down her stomach, her eyes closed.
Slowly she washed her body; first her face, then her hands, her legs, her back and lastly, her front. While moving her hands down her chest, memories she would rather forget started coming back in her mind.
She cried out as his hands caged her soft breasts, his hot, warm breath falling on her neck as he pinned her against the bathroom wall…
She held her face in her hands. No, no, no, no, no. Such thoughts… She hated them, she wanted to forget them, push them into the farthest corner of her mind so they could never torment her again.
Ever.
But alas, her traitor body memorized every single one of his touches perfectly; it wasn't likely she was ever going to get rid of them.
The water falling over her eyes was blurring her vision, even though she wasn't sure if it wasn't the dynamic sensations he was inflicting upon her. She gasped as he started nibbling on the sensitive skin of her neck, mumbling something about the softness of her skin…
Don't do this to me, she pleaded. To whom, she didn't know, but she did. Just…Stop this torture. This cruel punishment of being reminded of him by everything around me. Eyes closing,she leaned her head against the wall, and more memories came flooding despite her struggles to hold them back.
She squirmed to get free from him when his lips tickled the extremely sensitive skin of her inner thigh, lips that drove her to insanity with every touch….
No. She turned and leaned her forehead against the wall, the water rinsing her bare back.
She gasped, her fingers curling themselves into his hair as he suddenly plunged his tongue deep inside of her. Her knees giving out, she would have fallen if not for the strong hands tightly latched upon her hips. Her cry of rapture echoed in the large bathroom as he…
Please God no. Please. She clutched her hair in a tight grip.I don't want to remember. I don't. Please.
"Vergil", her voice was rasped as she tried to collect her breath, "Please."
Take me.
I need you.
I love you.
I hate you.
Her nails dug deep into his back as he thrust into her with one fluid motion, letting a pleasured gasp fall from his normally stoic lips. Her legs immediately wrapped around his waist as he lifted her a few inches and trapped her against the wall with his weight. The movement caused his hardness to bury itself even deeper inside her, and she screamed at the top of her lungs until….
"Why can't I forget you? WHY?"she screamed, hitting her head against the tiles of the wall.
His hoarse cry of release joining hers as she her legs tightened around his waist, her teeth sinking deep into his flesh…
"Why must I remember how you screwed me, fucked me, used my body for your sick pleasure? Why?" She started punching the wall like a mad woman, bruising her knuckles.
His lips meeting hers in a passionate post-orgasmic kiss, tongues moving against each other with playful yet unbearable slowness…
"Bastard! Murderer! Swindler! Pig!" She couldn't find any other words, partly because of her deranged mental state and partly because of her poor vocabulary in bad language. "I wish... I was stronger. I wish I could fight! So I could follow you to that filthy tower and beat your cold-blooded, cruel ass into a bloody pulp! I…" She stopped to take a breath. She curled her fingers into a fist and hissed because of her hurt knuckles.
Vergil would easily murder her without even using his sword. She knew how strong he was. An average human like her couldn't even think about doing anything to him. But the realization didn't stop the vindictive thoughts plaguing her mind.
I hate you.
I hate you.
I hate you.
She repeated the words like a mantra, her knuckles now sporting a deep shade of red.
"I love you, Vergil." She kissed the tip of his long nose, her pretty face radiant in the sweet afterglow of their lovemaking. "I love you so much that it hurts. I… Be careful when you raise that tower, will you? If something happened to you…I don't know what I would do without you."
What an irony.
What should I do? she wondered. She had dedicated the last few months completely to the research about the ancient tower of Temen-ni-gru. She hadn't cared about her studies and dropped one semester, intent on helping the noble, brave son of Sparda to reach his goal and defeat the horrors that threatened to invade the world.
Now she knew he had been lying to her all the time. All he cared about was gaining power for himself. He didn't give a damn about the humans. About her.
She had made the biggest mistake of her life by trusting him. She remembered the words an old woman had once said to her. She had taken her for a pessimistic loony, and didn't pay any heed to her words.
My dear, never give your compete trust to anyone. Never rely upon another person for your protection. It's a cruel world, my child. The only true friend you can ever have is you, remember that.
She wished she had trusted her then.
You really are worthless, Freya. A fool. A hapless dupe. A blind, gullible idiot.
The devil's whore.
His last words came back to her and she finally let her pain come out in the form of streaming tears. She sank to her knees on the wet floor, her arms hugging her wobbling legs.
Someday, Vergil, I will find you. And I will make you regret breaking my heart, she swore to herself before burying her face on her knees, dropping her attempts to control herself and crying her heart out.
Vergil stood in the sidewalk of the dark street, ignoring the droplets of rain-water that drenched his expensive clothing. His eyes were transfixed upon one of the windows of the second story of the building he was standing in front of.
Almost fifteen minutes had passed since he come out of Freya's room, but the dark slayer found himself still standing in front of the front gate of the hotel. He berated himself for wasting his time here, but for some reason he couldn't move away.
He could imagine what Freya was doing now. That girl was as transparent as air. She opened her heart so heart so easily to everyone.
She would be sitting in her bed right now, her eyes full of tears, trying to forget the pain and humiliation he had caused her. That woman had complete faith in him, something he wasn't used to. With that trust broken, she must be feeling completely dejected.
So naïve.
So gullible.
So beautiful.
His heart ached when the mental image of her came to his mind, sobbing on her pillow, throwing away his picture that she secretly stashed under it, her bloodshot eyes filled with sadness and regret.
He hated the things he had said to her. And he had been completely stunned when she had asked whether he only thought of her as his whore. He had almost blurted out the truth, that everything he had said earlier was nothing but a sham to keep her away from him. But thank God, somehow he had managed to keep his emotions in check during this whole facade.
"I'm sorry, Freya," he whispered to himself. "But this is the way it has to be."
She couldn't be with him. Never. Not with the duty of his father's legacy on him. He was always jumping headfirst into danger, fighting with demons, murderers and cultists; his life wasn't a suitable one for her. He couldn't endanger her life by tying her to him.
He was doomed from the day he was born. Everyone he cared for ended up dead because of him. He was as bad as a death omen.
Besides, who knows what might happen to him after he raised the Temen-ni-gru and found a way to the demon world? The journey will definitely not be smooth, and he knew she'd want to come with him. He couldn't allow that to happen.
Once he was inside the demon world… He'd have to fight the demon emperor, he knew that. It was his fate. His destiny as the son of Sparda. After he defeated the scum who had his mother killed (which he knew he will be able to, he was his father's son, and after he had gained Sparda's power nobody would be able to stop him), he didn't know if he'd be able to return to the human world again. There would be much unrest in the demon world after Mundus's defeat, making his return very difficult and if he failed… No, he wouldn't even think like that. Failing was not an option. He had to succeed.
He wanted her to be out of this. That is why he had to let her go, no matter how much painful it was.
He hadn't wanted this to happen this way… Even earlier tonight he had been considering telling her everything and explaining why they couldn't continue their relationship. But then…
Standing in front of the door of her suite, he ran his hand through his rain-soaked hair. He needed to tell her. Right here. Right now. The longer he spent planning how to break the news to her, the more she would be heartbroken when the time came.
"I will act calm. Explain everything to her in a matureand rational way, just like a reasonable adult should." he said to himself as tiny droplets of water flowed down his chin. He wiped them off, irritated at himself for hurrying too much to reach this place. His haste to get here had gotten him drenched in the rain that had started suddenly when he was en route to the hotel.
It took her a long time to open the door. But when she opened it and stood in front of him, every single one of his brain cells suddenly shut down.
She looked like a goddess, clad in only a skimpy and dangerously short bathrobe, golden strands of wet hair hanging loose in front of her eyes. The robe was tightly lashed around her thin waist, hugging every curve and hill of her finely sculpted body. Her skin was slightly flushed from the pink shower, and he could see goosebumps even in the dim light. His gaze trailed to her lips and he admired how full and rosy they looked, just like always.
God, she was so beautiful. One look at her and already his resolve was weakening. Damn his human weaknesses! He wasn't a horny teenager who got happy in his pants at the sight of his girlfriend!
Right?
Oh shit, he was a horny teenager who was getting happy in his pants at the sight of his scantily-clad girlfriend.
Damn, damn, damn! What should he do? Perverted teenage hormones, DIE.
She was staring at him, bewildered, and he couldn't blame her for that since he knew he looked quite messy, drenched like a cat and gawking at her like that.
She opened her mouth to talk, and he could see the soft, warm tongue there, just waiting to be…
His instincts took over.
Before he knew it, he was crashing her against his chest and kissing her like there was no tomorrow, one hand holding her lithe form tight against him and closing the door behind them with another. The girl was stunned at first, but he could feel her relaxing, her long legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. He pushed her against the door, her bottom colliding with the wood with a smacking sound.
For the next five minutes, he simply let his impulses guide him, feeling his way up her body with his greedy hands and ravishing that sweet mouth of hers with his own… But when he had eventually drawn back to breathe (he silently cursed his body's need for oxygen, yet another human weakness), he took a moment to ponder the situation.
His body needed her… He couldn't just walk away from her now. He neededher. He had to have her body, her love one more time before he left. And since this might be their last time, he decided to get the best of it.
So he scooped her in his arms and carried her to the bed, pushing away all thoughts of devils and demonic towers from his mind.
Tonight, he wouldn't be an assassin, a half-demon shunned by both worlds, a monster in the eye of humans, a traitor to the devils, a broken man burdened with the responsibility of his father's legacy.
Tonight, he'd just be Vergil. Nothing more than that. Just the young man who had come to say goodbye to the woman he loved before he ventured into the darkness he was born within.
Clothes somehow found their way to the marble floor, and they were soon on her large bed in an entangled mess of limbs. Even though they had experienced each other's body many times before, the realization that he will never be able to do this again, to touch her, to feel her body, to hear her words of affection, to simply be with her… It made him sad, but at the same time it gave him the motivation to treasure these moments even more.
He had never been able to relax fully when he was with her during the last few months, afraid to drop the mask of ice he always wore, afraid to show any signs of vulnerability by completely indulging in the mind-blowing pleasure of their lovemaking. But tonight he didn't care. He didn't want to.
That is why when he saw her twisting beneath him in pleasure, about to go over the edge with his skilled manipulation of her body, he couldn't help but stop to admire the view.
She was so, so beautiful, not only outside but equally on the inside, and there was no denying the fact that he was madly in love with her. She loved him too, and she had always been frank about her feelings. She always voiced those words after they made love, those words he had never been able to utter in fear of dropping his guard. He knew she wanted him to, but he never did.
Until today.
What harm could it do? He would never have the chance to do this again…to tell her how he felt.
He needed to tell her, to declare his love before he had to leave her for good… He would remember these moments, these silly illusions of happiness when there would be nothing except darkness in his life.
He needed to do this.
So he lowered his face to hers and whispered the words she had wanted to her.
"I love you."
There. He said it.
He looked into her eyes and saw the awe-stuck expression of her face, soon changing into one of pure bliss.
She eyes watered and when she kissed him, he could taste the tears of happiness gliding down her cheeks.
It seemed like a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders, finally being able to breathe after being choked under the pretences he put up for so long.
As he resumed his movements again, things somehow felt…different. He had never felt this content and relaxed, yet so aroused at the same time. Maybe confessing his true feelings wasn't a bad idea after all.
God, he was seriously considering dying at that moment with the feeling of complete satisfaction and happiness in his heart. This would be the best way to die, away from all pain and hatred of his life, just relishing with the feeling of her in his body and mind.
But the thought that he would leave her unsated if he did so made abandon the thought.
And the feeling of being loved… It was incredible, even as he pounded his hard member into her body he was still planting amazingly affectionate kisses against her lips, her cheeks, her throat. And she was responding just as eagerly, while their hands explored each other's body with desperate need. They had sex many times before... But this time, he could finally tag it as an act of love, not just a way to satisfy the cravings of his body.
Soon the heat between their joined bodies was building, and he was feeling so lost in the euphoric feeling of her warm, hot and inviting insides clenching around his rigid hardness that he couldn't breathe.
And when he finally lost control, he came, deep, deep inside of her, his vision blurring and his voice breaking into a guttural moan. He was seeing sparks behind his eyes and he felt like he was going to pass out, the feel of her lips against his was the only thing that kept him from screaming in pleasure.
Her climax closely followed his own, and her cry of sheer rapture made him want to capture and relive the moment over and over again.
He buried his face in her hair, his eyes closed.
He loved her.
And she loved him.
The perfect illusion of happiness.
They lay together in the bed after another two hours of wild, steamy sex, Freya's head over his chest. The girl slept peacefully while Vergil silently stared up to the ceiling as he contemplated the consequences of what he did tonight.
He hadn't left after his confession. Even after having her, his body's desire for her only seemed to have increased rather than sated. They had gone at it until they exhaustedtheir reproductive organs.
He felt like he was starting to get addicted to this. For the first time he hadn't held back at all when they made love, and the memories were still fresh in his mind. He even remembered all the sweet nothings he had whispered in her ear during the aftermath, as if he didn't have to leave her the next morning.
He hated himself for it. Being too concerned for his own pleasure he had forgotten about how hard it was going to be for her to let him go.
She'd never be able to let me go willingly after my confession tonight. Damn, Vergil, what happened to your iron will? Why couldn't you just tell her the truth and walk away? Why did you lull her with false hopes that you'd never be able to fill? Why?
That's when he made the decision.
I have to undo what I did. I have to break the hopes I just made her believe.
I need to break her heart.
It's the only way to get me out of it.
She would be heartbroken by what he did to her. But she will get over it. He was sure of that. She had such strength in her. She was human, physically fragile and clearly beneath him, but he never could call her weak. Never. She might not have physical power, but her mental strength often amazed him. Losing her mother at the tender age of two, then watching her father die in front of her eyes when she was twelve, then being chased by demons for so many years… That girl had gone through so much pain in her life, but she still managed to be happy and cheerful all the time. Always the optimist, his Freya.
She would get over this. She would get over him. Maybe settle down with one of those nerdy classmates she met him with last week.
Funny thing was, the mere thought of another man touching her made his blood boil. Whenever someone tried to even pat her on the arm he would get jealous. And now when he was considering the consequences of leaving her, that scorching feeling returned with a vengeance.
Great. You won't let her stay with you, but you cannot see her in the arms of someone else. What the hell do you want? he berated himself.
Then he found the answer.
I just want her to be safe.
Even if that costs her her happiness.
Forgive me, Freya.
What he didn't know was that he had just caused her a lot more pain than she would have suffered from if she had stayed with him. That instead of just hating him, she would start hating herself, and pretty much everyone around her. That she would transform from a kind, sweet girl into a cold, distant woman who was only a shell of her formal self.
He didn't know that if he had stayed, she would have told him exactly what she had discovered in the seemingly "useless" documents last week. That she could have informed him of the fact that a set of Sparda's blood along with the one of a human priestess was needed to break the seal to the demon world. That Arkham was misleading him, having the perfect amulet wasn't enough.
Maybe then she could have convinced him to work together with his brother. She had tried that before, but he never listened. If he had known the truth… Maybe everything would have been different.
If he realized how important Dante was to his goals, maybe he would have agreed to a temporary alliance with his brother. Maybe that could have saved him from Arkham's betrayal, and if Dante knew what he really aspired to do, he would have followed Vergil to the demon world on his own. If not in anything else, the twins were perfectly matched when it came to their hatred for the demon that killed their mother.
Maybe that would have changed the course of his life altogether. Because if he had Dante on his side and wasn't suffering from the injuries from their final battle, he would have won against Mundus.
The eight years of suffering and slavery he would have to face could be avoided if only he didn't make the choice he did tonight.
But the young man didn't know that.
The only thing he knew was that he had a mission to finish, and he had to cut all bonds to his past in order to get rid of his weaknesses. Poor fool. He had no idea that by letting her go, he had just lost one of his best allies rather than eliminating a weakness.
Unaware of the consequences of the decision he made, Vergil started walking away from the building. His work was done. She was out of his life, out of the danger he carried with him.
It was for the best. He wouldn't let her be harmed because of him.
The image of another blonde woman, lifeless and lying in a pool of her own blood flashed in his mind, and he stopped and closed his eyes.
Two different women… even though their relations to him were different, both were dear to his heart. One was dead, and another would be if she stayed with him.
He wouldn't let Freya die. He wouldn't.
Both cases were the same, in some prospects. His mother needn't have died. If he and Dante didn't exist… If she didn't try to protect them…
She might still have been alive.
It was his fault. If only he had been stronger…
He hadn't been able to protect his mother, but he would protect her. He promised himself that, his fingers curling to form a fist.
He wouldn't let her suffer the same fate.
Gaining back his determination, he finally walked off in the dark, silent as a shadow, leaving only a number of watery trail of footsteps behind.
Not to mention a certain broken-hearted woman who stared at him from her window with red and swollen eyes, her face expressionless.
Go to hell, Vergil.
She had no idea that how true her words would turn out to be.
A/N: This is my first try at an angsty Vergil X OC pairing. I can only hope I didn't mess it up…anyway, this fic is set a few months before the events of DMC3, and my original character, Freya, is Vergil's secret partner in his research regarding the Temen-ni-Gru (Since it was clear in the game that Vergil didn't trust Arkham, I guessed he might have sought extra help from someone else). She isn't a Mary-sue, that is one thing I can proudly tell you guys. Her strength is her knowledge, and she is nothing more than a simple human. There are both a prequel and a sequel to this fic, the prequel showing how they met and how did she exactly help him in his research, and the sequel it set after DMC1 when Vergil returns to the human world after he was freed from Mundus's clutches. Sadly, it will be months before I can take up that project, so just read this and tell me what you think!!
Hugs and kisses for everyone who managed to read the fic to this point!!! Now could you just click the "Submit review" button and show me you awesome you guys are:D