A/N: A story somewhat different from a lot of my others, but hopefully still enjoyable. I warn you now, it is very citrusy: lime and lemon run rampant. It's practically Sprite or 7Up, except maybe not as sugary. The cursing is at a mininum, as is the violence. It is complete, four chapters of approximately the same length, and will be posted fairly quickly.

I welcome your thoughts (reviews), questions (reviews), comments (reviews), or reviews (reviews). ;P

Jimli :)

Disclaimer: To anyone truly associated with the franchise: You really going to push the issue? I've no money, no status, no lawyer, and no way to make anything here. Total waste of your time and effort. However, I'm willing to negotiate over any of my ideas, as I find that the fandom is hard-up for games. ;P

Chapter 1

He'd been plagued with dreams of late. Dreams so real in their feel, vivid visions in his sleeping mind.

He was asleep in bed and woke when she made a small movement. He snuggled closer to her, caressing her swollen belly. She murmured something, negating the idea that had not yet formed in his brain. He nuzzled her neck and throat, teasing her more than anything else.

"I'm sleepy," she mumbled, but she was smiling under her still closed eyes.

He slithered on top of her, kissing and caressing despite her playful protests. She tangled her fingers in his hair, kissing and nibbling at his neck in all the right places. The intense pleasure of their lovemaking-

-woke him up. He was panting, holding himself. He looked at his hand as though it had betrayed him, then sighed and finished what he'd been doing. He looked at the ensuing mess distastefully; not so much because of the action itself, or its necessity. He was much more disgusted because it had not been as satisfying as the dream. He rose from his lonely bed, walked into his bathroom and showered. As the hot water cascaded down his body, he closed his eyes, remembering another of these recent dreams.

He was getting ready to walk out his door, then felt as though he were forgetting something. He frowned, bowing his head in thought. As he did, he saw that he had neither his favorite turquoise blue silk coat, nor his belovéd Yamato.

He wandered back into his room, and saw a figure standing there, dressed in his coat, holding his katana. The imposter turned slowly, one of his own dramatic mannerisms, if he were honest, and he caught sight of the familiar face. Not the face that he and his twin shared: it was her.

A smile ghosted his lips, despite himself. He approached her with a sexual swagger of his hips. Her eyes flitted towards his lower body briefly, but she maintained a stiff, cold expression that was no doubt her imitation of him. He stood in front of her and she shifted her hand to Yamato's hilt, before abruptly reaching for the edge of the coat instead, opening it to reveal her naked body.

A spike of lust coursed through him, the devilish voice in his mind demanding he take her now. He didn't get the chance as she threw her arms around his neck, engaged him in a passionate, somewhat clumsy kiss, and jumped into his arms. Her legs wrapped around his waist as her mouth worked down to his throat. He somehow managed to undo his fly enough to release himself and thrust inside her warm, wet, willing body. A low moan issued from his throat-

His eyes snapped open in the shower. He shook his thoughts away, finished his shower and went back to his room. It was early, but he decided to dress and head out to start his day anyway.

Hours later, he was almost glad he had started so early. The book he'd set out to 'acquire' had proved more difficult than he'd thought. He grimaced as he stripped off his clothes and flopped onto his bed.

"Poor Vergil. Let me look at those."

He nearly pushed her exploring hands away, but sighed instead. She gently prodded at the bruises and still-healing cuts, then started a gentle massage, working the muscles harder as she progressed. He relaxed under her ministrations, closing his eyes. When she pushed him onto his stomach, he buried his head in her pillow, taking immense pleasure in her touch. She straddled him, working her way up to his shoulders again, then he felt her soft lips on the nape of his neck. He smiled, turning his head to look at her.

She continued kissing him, rubbing her breasts against his shoulder blades, her fingers slowly exploring around his shoulders to his chest. When he became painfully stiff, he rolled, leaving her on her back, and he shifted around to face her. Her delighted squeal when he'd moved spurred his desire. He began kissing her, working his way down to her soft wetness. He wanted to be inside her, he wanted her to bear the fruit of his seed, but for now, he wanted to pleasure her more. He slipped his tongue inside her warmth, teasing her until she was writhing, begging for him to enter her. He finally obliged her, thrusting deep within her body-

His eyes popped open, and he let out a frustrated growl that was far more devil than human. This had been happening for a few months. He would dream of this girl, always the same girl, rarely the same dream. Although each dream was an individual episode, usually quite graphically sexual in nature, he could piece them together to make a single continuity. He never saw how they'd met, nor did either of them ever say her name. Though she did become pregnant by him (one dream had even had a sweet scene between the two of them where she almost shyly told him of her condition), and several of the dreams showed her progressively gravid state (such as the one he'd had that morning), he never saw the birth of their child, nor did they ever discuss gender, or even names.

He knew her appearance, her smell, her body, her taste, the feel of her touch. He knew that his dream self was in love with her, and he didn't want to speculate on his waking self's feelings. He knew she was utterly in love with him. She always greeted him with a smile and open arms. She knew his devilish nature and loved that, too. Indeed, there had been dreams in which he'd been passionate with her in his Devil Trigger. Upon waking from those, he invariably was triggered, and he had to spend much time and effort to finally sate his lust.

He prided himself on his cool, collected control, but he knew that if he didn't do something, these dreams would likely drive him mad. He only knew of a very few sources of help, and all of them required his brother. Little though he liked the idea, he made plans to go to Devil May Cry.

A bare week later, he was standing in Capulet City, perusing a phonebook. He was mildly surprised to find that Dante's shop was in the same building it had been all those years ago. At least it would be easy to find. Grabbing the duffle he'd brought, he made his way to the seedy side of town.

He could hear his twin's laughter as he approached the doors to the shop.

He won't be laughing once I walk in. He'll probably pull out those wretched guns of his and give me that 'kiss' he had promised all those years ago.

Vergil grimaced sourly and opened the door.

For a moment, he thought he'd fallen asleep again, because he saw her standing in his twin's office. She had turned to face the door as it had opened, still smiling from whatever Dante had said. He blinked only when he heard her gasp. Her hand flew to her throat as she whispered his name, not in soft tones of desire, or in playfully guilty tones, but in tones of fear. Two guns came up; between them, his brother's handsome visage was marred by hatred. Vergil couldn't focus on his twin, no matter how important it was. His gaze kept drifting to the female impossibly and inexplicably standing between the sons of Sparda. She darted to the side, clearly wanting to not be between them. His eyes followed her every movement, and he was very aware of how hard he was. He pulled his gaze back to his brother, forced himself calm again, and slowly lowered both his duffle and Yamato to the ground.

"Nice to see you, Vergil. How have you been?"

The words were friendly; the tone was anything but.

"Dante, I know this is most unexpected. I have come to request your assistance in a personal matter."

She made a derisive snort, catching his attention, and her eyes grew round and fearful when he looked at her. She snapped a hand over her mouth and shrank back. His devil muttered dark, delicious suggestions of what to do to her, but he firmly pushed them aside, focusing on the dangerous hunter in front of him.

"You know I would not have come here, risking this very situation unless I was being genuine."

"I know what happened the last few times you wanted my assistance. I think I'll pass."

This wasn't going well, Vergil knew, but Dante hadn't shot him yet, so perhaps he could still salvage the situation.

"If you were going to shoot me, you would have done so already, so I will assume for the moment that you are reserving judgment. I-"

He hesitated. How was he supposed to explain he was being haunted by a woman in his dreams when she was standing right here in Dante's office?

"I have need of the library."

Dante cocked his head.

"You don't need me for that. I'm sure you can figure out a way to get into Pop's library without me, and you sure as hell aren't asking for my permission."

Dante followed Vergil's gaze as it flicked once more to her.

"Virgin sacrifices are off the menu, Big Brother," Dante growled menacingly.

She blushed, but Vergil had to keep from moaning as his devil started clamoring for her again.

"Dante," she said tentatively, causing both half-devils to look at her. "I think he's telling the truth."

Dante cocked his head at her questioningly. She nodded.

"He has stuff, look," she pointed at the duffle, "and he can summon those swords, right? But he hasn't. Hell, he put down Yamato, and from what you'd said, I always figured it'd take a small nuke to accomplish that."

Dante's mouth twisted into a smile. Vergil held still and said nothing, waiting to see if she would disarm his brother. His twin slowly lowered his guns, then put them away.

"All right, Vergil, let's say I believe you. What do you want from me? Like I said, you don't need me to get into the library."

"I have a rather persistent problem. You are the only other half-devil I know. I thought perhaps we could work out my issue together."

"Sorry, I think your issues require professional grade assistance."

"Indeed, and as you are the only professional in this particular field, you'll find my decision was quite logical."