It was a conversation they'd have frequently, initiated by the twin that succumbed to boredom much quicker than his brother. Reading books, playing video games, watching TV; he had had his fill before morning had ended and now he was nagging to go somewhere, interrupting the peace and quiet his sibling thrived in. The headlines of the morning newspapers were drowned out by the constant drone of his deep voice as he faced the opposite way of his brother, lifting his tired eyes from his iPad and watching his broad back heave dull sighs of dissatisfaction at having to spend the weekend at home; after rolling his eyes to the Bermuda Triangle without the guarantee of getting his sight back, a thought had crossed his mind as he reached for his phone on his bedside dresser. His sibling continued the heavy sighs until turning upon hearing the confirmation of a booking, perking as his brother set his phone aside and lifted the covers to climb out of bed.
"What are you doing?"
"You heard the call, you idiot. Get packing."
He was in a playful mood, pulling him back onto the bed. "Are we gonna play?"
"Maybe." He bit hard down on his hand. "If you behave."
The gigantic glass and metal pyramid stood tall as a beacon to the previously unknown Capulet City, only ten years after its reopen from its outdated misuse eons before the concept was born; originally a flat piece of nothing reduced to dust, the foundations of the building were laid for the purpose of becoming a rest-stop for tourists, equipped with a kitchen and bar and just ten rooms with the bare minimum of resting aids: a single bed and a small dresser, and a communal bathroom in which luck was either on your side or not; during winter it became a makeshift shelter for the lost and found – human and otherwise – until the customers came pouring through from their long journeys across to the neighbouring towns. Asking for little, the institution turned from a tourist haven to a desolate building honing electricity and water for the ghosts that roamed the stretch of land on either side, untouched by any of the city's inhabitants owing to the gloomy tales that rose from the cracking foundation.
Now, almost three hundred years later and with a thriving city under its belt, it took one man to flip the concrete and turn it to what it is today, starting slowly from the bottom and building his dream from the ground up; with no experience and a bundle of cash, a man by the name of Schaffer applied for the true ownership of the downtrodden shack and vast space of land around it, ready to put the town on the map as competition in the hospitality industry, something the town was vaguely aware of. A meagre fifteen years was all it took to complete the huge structure made up entirely of various types of glass and metal, opening its doors to the public under the watchful eye of numerous investors that Schaffer had swindled to assist in getting the project afloat. It took two years after its opening to pay them back in full, interest included, whereas he could use the profit to expand his staff roster and trust fund over the years its popularity would take to mainstream media.
The Crescent-Onyx hotel was at the heart of the ever-growing town, working harmoniously with the townsfolk to bring about the finesse in which it was most proud; it was elegant, prestigious and exclusive, catering to the most delicate of tastes exquisitely crafted by the best of the best that had been flown in from all reaches of the globe for the utmost care and concern for their clients to divulge in for the duration of their stay – rich fabrics lined the walls and floor, decorated top to bottom in grandiose materials and patterns most pleasing to the eye; each of its ninety six rooms boasting a different experience from its predecessor for any returning customer, armed with all the gifts and trimmings needed for their tailored stay.
It comprised of five floors, the topmost broken up into a further four owing to the shrinking space to support the peak of the pyramid: the ground floor hosted the grand ballroom perfect for big events such as weddings or birthday celebrations, a fully-equipped gym, restaurant, reception area, spa, indoor cold and heated pools, and booking-required Jacuzzi jets for the first three floors to indulge in; the first and second floors homed the business clients, out-of-town men and women looking to stay over the maximum of a week to attend meetings and business taking place away from home, the jittery bunch taking advantage of everything on offer by the hotel within, sometimes, less than twenty four hours with sixty rooms at their disposal – twenty on each side at the first, ten on the second; the third floor was allocated to honeymoon suites, totalling a stretch of sixteen couples at once that preferred to stay within the confines of their room for inordinate amounts of time, only resurfacing for their breakfast, lunch, and dinner and occasional spa and Jacuzzi trip as part of the exclusive package offered by the hotel.
The fourth floor is trickier to explain. Seemingly hosting both the nocturnal and diurnal, the occupants on these floors are almost never seen by the untrained eye owing to the secretive and crepuscular nature of their stay; they have specialised, trained employees catering to them and a host of benefits the other three floors do not considering the jump in value of each of the floors. The financial climb steeps the closer you are to the tip – floor four-one has four rooms on each side, four-two three, four-three two, and four-four one, making it twenty rooms as a unit. The floor is only accessible by a different entrance altogether, most of the transactions and interactions happening by phone or mail, or whichever method suited the client most, its whereabouts kept secret from the rest of the inhabitants. To the outsider there was no fourth floor; to the seasoned veteran of visitors, you were either on that floor or never saw anyone breathing from it.
But why was it so imperative to have everything they wanted and needed so close to them or at the end of a telephone call, you ask, the staff giving them preference over any of the other clients on the lower levels? What made them so special as to be offered perks that the rest of the hotel could only dream of, even though they went unseen to the rest of the occupants? What did they have that the others didn't? The answer boiled down to two things: money and sex. The usual occupants on the fourth floor needed secrecy as their main benefit, seeking refuge behind high ceilings and soundproof walls to conduct their covet state of affairs. A fake name, credit card number and arrival by taxi was all that was required of them while their weekend away from home was made as comfortable by the staff and their strict ruling toward these clients: they get what they want and that was that. Morale and dignity intact, these employees were handpicked based on previous experiences at the hotel, and owing to its success the owner made an official ruling that it would be set aside for the gratification of such pleasures, and to this day there hasn't been a room on that floor left empty.
Also having a sweet tooth for the obscure, Schaffer altered the company policy for the sake of his staff, having each occupant and staff member of and working on that level signing a term and condition clause protecting the hotel against any legal measures to be taken into court where the risk of its longevity was at stake, and as of yet no such occurrence has been recorded. With a gleaming track record of satisfied customers, many competitors grew nauseated at its success in being simple on the inside and even simpler on the outside, begging on their knees to know the secret of the thriving establishment.
Known to everyone as the Prism, it provided the best views of the town very few places in the city could offer, given its robust balconies both to the east and west and the closest thing to being a home away from home, with a few added returns of course. The staff uniform differed in rank of the floors with a subtle nod to their individuality thrown in the mix, preventing it from seeming identical and boring yet still instilling the sense of unity and companionship among them. Nero's uniform had many changes to it, so much so that many of the forth floorers were heartbroken to see him in the combination of yale blue and black as opposed to the midnight hue that served them, one darker tint away from the true happiness of the customers: there was little he could do to his their custom navy Converse sneakers so he simply tied the laces differently and the compulsory back jeans he had no problem with either; he left the top two buttons of his long-sleeved white shirt unbuttoned, showing off the silver onyx crescent moon necklace every employee were obligated to wear alongside his dog tag and multiple other pieces of black nylon draping his strong, smooth neck; the snug single-buttoned blue blazer was upturned to his elbow along with the white sleeve underneath, the strength of his forearms accented by a two single-beaded distance bracelets on his right wrist and a small tattoo of an arrow across his left; with their non-existent policy on how their hair should be – the only rule of it looking neat and presentable – he sported an undercut to die for, most of his longer hair covering it from unsuspected gawks and only visible if he was in the mood to tie it up. Most significant to his attire was the presence of a sour lollipop in his mouth, which he had made so famous that a vast percentage of the extra revenue came from them being sold in the cafeteria of the gym and given as a welcoming gift at the reception area. By request, he was always in front to greet the new clients, offering a genuine smile as their eyes locked for a few seconds, occasionally winking to the very few he'd be seeing on his trips across the second floor.
Most of the staff saw him as the angel that seemingly fell from the sky as he popped out of nowhere, joining them out of the blue and winning over everyone's heart with a mere fifteen second conversation, women and men alike. The female staff describes him as the sexiest cupcake imaginable, while the men see his huskier and more masculine side, some openly admitting their want to bend him over a kitchen counter; his charm, his smile, his personality, his sense of humour, so carefully constructed and tightly wrapped in a creamy, muscular succulent beast too untamed for anyone to handle and too mysterious for anyone's own good. None of them could figure him out which sat just right with him; that was the last thing he needed.
They were all in dreamland when Schaffer stormed through his office doors and into the foyer, claiming everyone's attention the instant the doors flew open. "Guys, we might have a tiny problem-"
He went quiet as the glass double door swung open, pulling a face that screamed the aforementioned had just barged in: everyone straightened at the positions they were in, assuming the pose that had been embedded in their heads since training. Two godly creatures padded through holding identical overnight duffels wearing identical clothes with the tiniest of detail altered for distinguishable recognition and styling their hair for the same purpose. The females in the room sighed simultaneously, causing a ripple of hands to reach for their mouths in pure embarrassment as the one with the parted fringe looked up at each of them and offered a smile, getting them wet between the legs before their shift even began. The room went quiet again as the other one looked up from his phone and found the man he was looking for, setting his bag down at his feet and walking to Schaffer with an extended hand and a smirk that may have earned a louder squeak from the foyer's female counterparts. "We are terribly sorry for this."
Schaffer threw on an award-winning grin, one that plastered over the teensy bit of trouble he was feeling in the heat of the moment. "Don't be silly," said Schaffer, swishing his hand in mid-air looking like a waving gesture to the visitor, a decipherable command to his staff to signal the arrival of a late fourth floor guest – all were required to check in before six in the evening and they had just enough staff for the fifteen rooms already taken. Doing the calculations in their head, each staff member witnessing the scene unravel clicked to the glitch; being in their professional mode they waited for orders to be barked at them, slightly taken aback by the revelation but not stressed to the point of no return. "Your normal room is available for the weekend; could I interest you to sit at the bar for a few minutes for us to give it a brisk seeing to?"
The man stood to his full height looking relieved, but not too happy to break out of character; Schaffer was a tall man, and these two easily towered one head over the owner. "Of course – take as much time as you need; I think Dante wanted to visit the bar anyway."
The one named Dante was too busy flirting with the receptionist to be bothered with their conversation, looking towards his brother as his name piped up. He excused himself and grabbed the bags set at his feet, halfway to him when he was stopped suddenly by one of them tugging at the fibres of his sleeve; Nero moved in front of him and took them, a bold and unpredictable move on his part given how he usually kept to himself apart from interacting with the people on his respective floors. Everyone waited for a scolding, but none came as the bigger man loosened his grip on the robust material as the employee handled the luggage with utmost care. "Let me take those up for you."
The sultry nuance to his voice flipped the situation on its head, making his colleagues turn their heads in confusion at one another, also perplexed at his stroke of genius; it was unlikely for the internal staff to handle the luggage but the gesture was so cute they wondered why they hadn't thought of it themselves. "Thanks," he said, keeping his eyes on Nero as he made way for him to pass and join the party of two waiting for him; his eyes were the same colour as the first floor's uniform, a shade of blue so compelling it should not be permitted to be an eye colour. The orbs gave him a once over of his uniform, complete with a raised eyebrow and his tongue in his cheek; the employee repaid his expression with equal vigour, pursing his lips as one corner of his mouth twisted to an irresistible taste in Dante's mouth, causing him to ruffle through his fringe for a quick, unhindered view of the breathtakingly handsome assistant.
His brother pulled closer him by the small of his back, steering him to where they were standing as the subsequent pair of double doors opened and Schaffer led them through, throwing a small thumbs up to Nero and mouthing 'thank you' in his direction, closing the doors quickly for the room to empty into his office. He opened his mouth to the girl next to him and she popped the lollipop back in its rightful place, giving her a wink as he headed in the opposite direction to join Schaffer at their room via the alternate entrance.
Sitting comfortably alone at the bar with two full bourbons, the twins drank in utter silence waiting for the other to say something; Dante wouldn't be bored now, considering they were at least out of the house and there were many options to choose from as opposed to his room, the lounge, his office, and backyard. He was grateful his brother had connections in the town and could literally swindle his way into anything – it made his life more exhilarating, knowing that anyone who dared say no would have their heads chopped off and mounted on a pike. Thankfully Schaffer was an old friend whom he had saved a while back, being the unlucky culprit of 'the wrong place at the wrong time' syndrome for an evening and escaping within the skin of his teeth alongside the blue-clad warrior. He continued to sip at his alcohol feeling Dante's eyes burn through his suit, trying really hard to ignore the intention behind the extreme stare. "Why are you looking at me like that?"
He faced straight ahead while Dante was turned toward him, his eyes unwavering as he sipped his drink. "I'm trying to picture how good he'd look between your legs. Or on top of you, maybe."
They finished their drinks at the same time with their refills in grabbing distance. "Please don't; I'm hard enough has it is."
"That's good news."
"How is that ever good news? It means someone's going to get hurt."
Dante finished his second glass in a flash, asking for two orders of the strongest cocktail on offer. "Gosh, it's such a pity you already know who that someone is." He chewed on his ice; one habit he could never get rid of whilst in the mood was the need to stay hydrated before the tensing act, letting his inhibitions be sucked into the liquid and flow out of him when the time came. He remained cool and calm, his demeanour granting him nothing less than appearing as a perfect gentleman but deceiving those uneducated to his rampaging spirit. "Fuck, I want him."
Unlike his brother, his thirst was properly quenched, handing over the remainder of his bourbon to ease his excitement jitters. "Keep your panties in a knot; we don't know that we'll get him."
"At some point we will." Another offset; his voice grew deep and intimidating, as if something inside him growled along with his nonsensical words. "And when we do, you need to hold me back."
Their drinks had arrived and placed in front of them, both using the straws to mix their layered Long Island iced teas. "I can't hold you back while I'm fucking him senseless, Dante." He watched him bite at the thick straws before glugging it down, squinting at the various flavours that attacked his senses and confused at the pleasant aftertaste on his palate.
"Well, I have a picture of it and you don't…" Typical Dante: always wanting the one up, and justly so.
The office was calm when they returned, the very few of the internal staff gathered around Schaffer's desk to discuss the small grain of wheat that had fallen in their lap; their boss had made it out to be a bigger deal than it appeared on the surface, but he knew them – he knew the creatures they were, he knew what they were capable of, and if he was being honest he was half petrified and half cunning about the angle with which to approach this. He was the sole individual who knew where Nero had come from; his history divulged on the need to know basis for the sake of the welfare of the roster that worked for him. There was no other option he could take.
Schaffer plopped heavily into his chair and swung to face them, opening the jar of sweets at the corner of his desk and letting them each take one. "As many of you figured out by now, we're one short on level four." The sound of plastic wrapping filled the space with a few chuckles here and there trying to relieve the tension that they had no clue hovered over his head. "Darcy, who usually takes them isn't on the continent; she's probably in the air as we speak." He took one for himself, butterscotch soothing him into the soft leather of his office chair. "Any takers?"
He looked strangely stressed. "They can't be that bad, boss."
"They aren't; they're lovely people." Schaffer shook his head, swirling the creaminess in his mouth to savour it. "The twins have supported this place since they found out about it."
Two words dropped the ball and shifted the puzzle pieces in place. "Wait… Did you just say-"
"Yes, I did." At long last they'd come across the elusive brothers that were famous among the residents here; an indescribable aura penetrated the room at the new information, the fresh faces looking around the room to avoid his gaze to not be chosen. "You can't tell me no one noticed." That was true – in retrospect that should have been the first thing to pop into their heads, never before seeing twins that identical. Schaffer didn't want to scare them as much as the stories already did, evident as ever at the silence that had ensued. "So again, any takers?"
"I'll do it."
He was relieved Nero came to the challenge on his own and not having to convince him to take the job; in every essence of the word he was the only one who could handle it. Properly. "I'm not going to do the usual 'are you sure' trick to talk you out of it."
The apple-green lollipop shifted sides in his mouth before he pulled it between his lips, twisting the sourness all over his lips; he was more than the perfect fit for the two guests, not a pushover and very vocal when it came to the clients he looked after, but also persistent in seeing a smile on their faces and doing whatever needed to achieve it. "No need."
The least he could do was warn the boy. "You'll get triple this weekend." He'd almost forgotten the other nineteen presences in his office with their mouths gaping at the bump in his paygrade. The boss simply shrugged, exhausting the excuse he used repeatedly to defend his spending sprees. "Therapy is expensive these days."
As luxurious as everyone made it seem, the transition to the fourth floor was a change in blazer and shirt, with the darker midnight blue attire bringing out the paleness to his skin and the true intensity of his eyes Schaffer knew the brothers would love; he felt a soft spot for him that almost made him feel bad to send the baby deer directly to the overpowered wolves but no alternative presented itself, regardless of how many times he had mulled it over since the phone call. Nero stepped out of the bathroom suited up in a fresh uniform, looking no different from a few minutes ago other than the darker shade giving him a sophisticated and poised edge very few could get accomplish, and he rethought his statement instantly; those two stood as much of a chance as one of the lollipops he so vigorously sucked on. "How does it look?"
Schaffer dusted the shoulders and straightened it to perfection, helping him with the overlapping collars behind his neck. "I might have to move you to the fourth floor permanently." The men shared a pleasing grin, both more than happy of the way things had turned out for different reasons. "I want to show you the layout and everything you have to do: it's vastly different to what you're used to, so I'm going to need you for another hour at least." He raised a single finger to Nero knowing the point he was about to protest, silencing him to his state of obedience he had long forgotten. "I've sent Sheldon to look after your floor – he would have just roamed the kitchen and do that creepy thing where he smells everyone." The owner stood at the door and waited for him, ready to creep through hidden surface areas to make it seem like they had just come from the twins' room. "You've gone over what I gave you so far? The terms and conditions, the floor plan, the stocking, where everything goes-"
"Yes, yes, yes, and yes. You need to stop worrying." He didn't go anywhere without a sour lollipop in his mouth, and Schaffer wasn't going to bear the brunt of being the one to break that curse. "The only thing that should concern you is how much sugar those two pack in one day."
"If you work here long enough I'll explain it in detail. Right now, we have to fake smile our way into their hearts and you need to get that PING between their legs."
The ceilings were low and Nero barely stood inside the metal corridors to the main hall. "I thought you were banking on me making it through tonight."
"I said I'm banking on you making it through this weekend alive; you won't walk away from this I can guarantee you."
Nero's pace slowed at the new revelation, rethinking what he was really getting himself into in saving the rest of his colleagues; they knew what was in store for them and he didn't, and the best way in finding out was to take a chance at experiencing it for himself, hopefully knocking away their biased opinions with good news when he did return unscathed. "I'm loving the faith you have in my abilities."
"I have faith you'll fare much better than anyone else. Abilities have sweet fuck-all to do with it." They were coming to their exit, the rich red cloth of the main hall and grand staircase that led to the first, second and third floors coming slowly into view. "The only sound piece of advice I can offer you at this moment is to not hold anything in."
Maybe not unscathed. "Hold… anything… in…?"
He stopped entirely, giving him a grave stare that what he was about to say should not be taken lightly. "They thrive on hearing how good they make you feel; be loud – not one will hear you."
Of all the things he'd ever hear come out of his boss' mouth, that never made the list. "So, I should fake?"
"With those two, there's no time." Their exit hid behind heavy cloth and Nero got a good view of what looked like a mirror placed in the most awkward position imaginable; the only way he'd figured out how to tell them apart was by their hair and that was it – as bad of an idea it sounded to him, he prayed they both took him at the same time so he couldn't get their names wrong. What a stupid thought considering… considering… Oh shit, he didn't know the other one's name. "We're here; now, no pressure, but be as you as you possibly can be; they seem to like you a lot."
The employee halted in the middle of the hall bustling with staff making the final arrangements for dinner. "Where did you get that from?"
"Quin texted me earlier," he said; Quin was the barman for the evening and the closest thing to them for the duration of their possible tipsy rambling. "You're all they've been talking about since they got here."
His nervousness to everything sat in a very low pit of his stomach and nothing else; it was a dormant ball of elastic bands deteriorating bit by bit as the seconds ticked by, and he assumed that was a good thing. From where he stood they looked harmless, a pair looking to spoil in the pleasures that they wouldn't normally tuck into. Or was that a comforting-enough excuse he told himself over and over to wipe at the dread he may feel later in the night? "Boss, what am I getting myself into?"
They were almost at the bar now, Quin taking his position in front of the twins to alert them of their visitors. "Either the two best or worst nights of your life. That pretty much sums it up."
Schaffer nodded to the barman; he caught their attention with ease and gestured to the two figures standing behind them. They turned, four piercing blue eyes darting to Nero instantly as they took a sip in sync paying no attention to the owner who was leisurely distancing himself from the three. "I hope we didn't make you wait too long." His confidence was sexy, dignified and fascinating to the senses; the owner was now officially nowhere to be found but that was okay – he could play it as dirty as he wanted without having to hold his tongue with the possibility of his job being in jeopardy. He glanced over to the bar and Quin fixed him his favourite – roughly translated to a Zombie: Bacardi Rum, Spiced Gold, Sour lemon and orange juice with a splash of Stroh rum as his own personal touch – and cleverly set it between the two occupied stools, taking his leave to give them some privacy. "It was my fault. Couldn't find a lollipop."
He leaned in to grab his drink and toyed with one of the three cherries floating at the rim, ensuring that both of them had a good view as he trekked to the seat on the neighbouring corner as innocently as his delectable body could muster. "If you didn't already know, I will be looking after you guys tonight. Sorry to disappoint that your usual is unable to join you." It didn't look like it bothered them which was a good thing; no standard level of expertise he had to beat off the bat, and that in itself was a great start. "I know the hotel prides itself on being prim and proper, but I get the feeling the two of you aren't into that." Then what was it exactly that they were into? Nero smirked at his own joke, playing with the straws of his cocktail in his goal of making enough noise to hold their attention while forcing their gazes into his mouth, begging another part of them to be the plastic he gorgeously sucked on. "I'm Nero."
Why not fight fire with fire from the start? Why play coy to the inevitable? That wasn't his style, and that conclusion seemed miles ahead from where the twins were. The one named Dante rose to his full height and stood behind his brother, massaging the non-existent knots in his shoulders; he needed to touch him, have his hands occupied with something else other than an ice-cold glass – something warm, something willing a reaction the moment he triggered a sweet spot concealed under one flimsy layer of clothing. "Disappoint? You're selling yourself short, Nero."
The seated brother moved along with the pressure, closing his eyes at the tender touches focused solely on him, forgetting for a split second that they were in public and were in close proximity to another being; his burning orbs watched the employee carefully, doing his trademark move of finding a possible weak spot on the boy. To his own detriment the half he wanted to focus on was covered by the sturdy bar, opting to give him a once over later when things got more comfortable. "I prefer 'under-compensating'." For the chance to blow them out of the water? He clearly had no clue who he was dealing with, but that made it all the more fun. "I'm planets away from what you're used to, so take me with a pinch of salt, or the entire shaker; whichever fancies your tickle." Nero was observing intently, obvious to the clues given to him by Dante in mutual understanding; the main culprit here was the one in the chair, the one whose pleasure was paramount to a successful weekend for them. The twin sent a wink his way, and he knew he'd come to know the meaning soon enough. "I'm yours for the whole weekend; we won't be doing the conventional swap-"
"That's more than fine with us." He finally spoke; that voice was dripping in scorching, liquid sex, on a different plane from the man standing behind him. "I'm Vergil, for later purposes. This is Dante." A swift nod was exchanged, acknowledging their earlier encounter that could have ended in both indecently entwined on the red carpet. "Is this your first time on floor four?"
Various clues would have given him away, like his change in uniform, but he guessed the man's reasoning went deeper. "You see right through me don't you?"
"It's my job to. I'm annoying in that sense."
Nonetheless, he had a borderline sense of humour; Nero could work with that. "Yes, it is, but I hope that won't take away from your stay with us."
"Oh no, it won't. Quite the opposite effect, I'd think." Vergil placed his hand over Dante's that had rested on his shoulder, turning to his brother as he leaned back into his chest; the first kiss was easily missed by the blink of an eye, the trailing second a lingering peck as an onset for worse things to come. Their chemistry was undeniable at a distance; the heat wracking their bodies under their passionate need for one another could be felt where he sat, his skin prickling at the cogs clicking into place at having his fate sealed before his eyes. It was guiltless, wholesome, and riddled with desire that few were able to satiate, realising then and there what a daunting task laid before him and having his mind whizzing away at possible routes to accomplish this massive feat. Dante and Vergil were animals in more than one sense of the word, hell breaking loose at the meek idea of not having their wants and needs brought to them on a silver platter; if their hunger and thirst knew no bounds, how far was he meant to go?
Setting his overthinking aside, they were mesmerising to watch; Nero caught himself smirking over the rim of his glass as he finished his cocktail with his eyes fixed to their heaving chests, the unwarranted look of satisfaction looming between them as a faint vibration broke the air, breaking the contact as they both looked his way. "Your dinner is ready; shall I bring it up now along with your booking requests?"
"Please." Vergil now had an excuse to go upstairs. "I need something to sink my teeth into."
Dante was still busy with his drink, sipping it at his own pace much to his brother's disapproval. "And you were telling me to behave."
"I'm behaving. I have yet to reach your level of being out of hand."
"How ironic; I was in your hand when we arrived."
They were feisty; he liked it. Nero set his finished cocktail over the counter and moved toward the pair. Dante could only stare in awe as his brother froze at the soft contact of his upper thigh, giving the employee ample time to sneak under his hairline and plant an eager kiss behind his ear. "I'll see you two in a bit." Vergil's eyes widened as he floated behind him, the boy's hands snaking to the small of his brother's back as he ghosted his lips over Dante's. "And ummm…" Any closer and it would be a fiendish kiss before it was due, the taller man in complete control of his urges but ever so close to the edge of losing the battle before it started. "Don't have too much fun without me." Nero's hand dipped lower and gave him a straight-faced tight squeeze to his right butt cheek, viewing the roots of a faint sneer taking shape in his mouth and leaving him hanging to carry out his contractual duty to the two, drifting with numbing confidence to the double doors they were lead through earlier to find Schaffer at the reception desk.
"Hey! You're alive!"
Nero shut the doors noiselessly, collapsing onto the painted oak. "And in a lot of trouble."
He laughed heartily, very impressed with him. "Well, it gets worse from here, so I wish you the best." He looked at the clock on the wall that read five minutes past nine. "They must be hungry if they want dinner so early."
All he could do was shake his head with an indifferent expression, mindlessly moving to the swinging door that was the entrance to the kitchen with the truth heavy in his lungs and between his legs. "It's not the food they're after."
The silver four-four-one tempted him as he stood immobile on the other side of the door, full carrier in hand and trying to listen in on what was happening in the few short minutes he had taken to assemble everything he was to transport. He heard the shower running, meaning that he'd only have to deal with the actions and comments of one of them upon entry; the notion calmed him somewhat, considering how immensely difficult it would be having to control them in their environment, their element which they are accustomed to and with Nero being at a disadvantage. Was it really a disadvantage though? He managed to establish a crumb of dominance on the pair, dousing every movement in confidence and intellect, bringing their own level of comfort into the mix and in turn making it less awkward for them to make the first move should they see fit. A cruel ploy it was not but a power move to an unfitting prey trotting into the domain of the predators by sheer will and determination to see his own demise for himself. He was blatantly stubborn like that, not listening to a single word of warning but rather plunging his heart and soul into finding out for himself; as per the events of the evening much has been proven true, but still not enough to make a decision on them just yet.
Nero drew deep breaths outside the door, forgetting the last time he was ever this nervous on the job; this had nothing to do with the actual interaction as it was the aftermath of it, the obliteration of his psyche as well as his body as a whole, terrified that he'd end up enjoying the repercussions on the other side of the door he currently stared at. But now wasn't the time to mull over too many unknowns; the three knocks were simple enough, hearing the sheets of the bed ruffle as one of the brothers climbed off and walked to the door. Dead bolts and chains were unhinged and it swung open to its fully capacity, Vergil's face emerging from behind it. "Hello."
So Dante was in the shower. Tricky; he anticipated the opposite. "Hello. Can I come in, or am I interrupting something?"
The twin stepped away from the door, wearing the purple robes only given to the fourth-floor occupants; it hung tightly on his huge frame, unsupportive of his unbelievably broad shoulders and overall physique that his strong chest peeked through, the only part of him properly covered was the one Nero was most interested in with the flimsy belt holding his sanity together on top of a pair of muscular legs. He felt bad for staring, and also didn't care. "Please do; Dante is currently preoccupied, so it's just me."
Nero pushed the carrier into the room and lined it up next to the piece of wall that separated the lounge from the kitchen, bending low in front of Vergil to grab a blue and red robe that Schaffer had instructed to hand over first. "I'm going on a limb here and guessing this one belongs to you," he said, extending his arm that held the blue robe designed to fit every nook and cranny of his towering form. "If I am wrong, feel free to punish me as you see fit."
The employee shifted his lollipop to the other corner of his mouth as the twin clung at the soft fabric, walking backward and untying the one he currently wore, turning at the exact moment the fibres were freed flew at the belt's release. "As much as the concept of punishing you gets me hot and bothered, you're right." In his own fantasy, Nero wouldn't dare look away: the purple mess fell to the floor to reveal the most immaculate view he'd ever seen; every protruding muscle was in proportion to his ungodly body, self-assured in its raw display of his untainted masculinity he so shamelessly flaunted as payback for earlier on; Vergil's back constructed a direct path for his eyes to follow on the massive expanse of skin, his blue eyes scaling the planes of his pale flesh to settle for a few seconds on the small of his back and that delectable dip it made before gawking with a slightly open mouth at his butt in its soft yet perky glory, broken by the blue covering he had offered up moments ago. He pulled pieces of his hair out of the collar and turned on his heel; this one suited him much better, providing more room for unscripted antics than the other ever could.
Nero now busied himself with the array of items they had specified upon their booking of the room, lining up the jars upon jars of sugar they had requested; with that done he moved around the island to check on the stocks of coffee, sugar, milk, biscuits, tea, and other miscellaneous products they might need during their stay. He lifted the fresh towels from the lower shelf, placing them next to the red robe that was set aside for Dante at the instant the twin called out from the bathroom. "Verge, could you pass me a towel?"
He must have been looking for a larger one. "Sure thing," he replied, looking between Nero and the door as he held out to Vergil what his brother was asking for; he crossed his arms at the extended material and solidified Nero's untimely death with a stare. "Duty calls." The blank undertone to his voice made it more inviting and tense, that small hint of dominance powering through his words like the alpha they had made him out to be; stoic in nature his face never changed as the employee moved to the bathroom door, towel and robe in hand and turning the knob for entry, getting a face full of steam in the process. "He likes surprises."
Dante was rinsing his washed hair and facing the door when it opened, looking at the exact spot where the top of Vergil's head was meant to be but seeing it far below eye level; some of the steam dissipated through it, leaving him with a clearer view of Nero as he stepped closer to the mouth of the shower. It stretched the length of the bathroom with no purpose of doors, an accompanying deep bath to its left and a dainty toilet and basin to a direct right of the entrance where a towel warmer bolted to the wall held an array of towels hanging from its rungs. He heard the water pressure die down and slung the robe over one edge of the glass partition, freezing unwillingly at the humungous form walking toward him with the vapour clinging to and sliding off his chest and thighs, melting to drops of water and trailing down his creamy skin to puddle between his toes. Dante's hair dripped on him from every side, frisking his hands amid the clean, vanilla-smelling silver to get most of the moisture out; tilting his head upward and ignoring the outstretched towel being handed to him, he watched Nero's eyes fall to a region far below its intention, taking a step back to seemingly 'take it all in'. To this he chuckled, snatching the material and covering his head, permitting Nero to gawk some more at his impressive bulk. "You can at least buy me dinner first."
His throat was parched, licking his lips stalling to find the right words. "It's… on the table."
It'd come full circle; he really was in trouble. "Is there something you'd like to help me with?"
"No, I just…" Dante used both his hands on the towel, stretching his skin as taut as it would go and presenting a version of himself for Nero to ogle until kingdom come; his arms bulged harmoniously with the swollen muscles at his chest, his ungodly eight-pack leaving a sweet taste in his mouth when mixed in with the steam; his thighs and legs afforded a twenty out of ten, and that was only from the angle Nero was positioned – he had no inkling to venture what the other half of his body looked like in favour of his own well-being. He was someone very hard to please, but even he couldn't deny the damage he must have done between the legs of some very lucky – and unlucky – ladies; it was honestly the biggest he'd ever seen, and the more he gawked the more things fit into place about their unrivalled reputation at the hotel. "You wanted a towel, so I gave you one."
Life seemed more manageable looking at Dante's face this time, greeted by the most devilish of smirks splitting his face in half. "That you did, and I appreciate it." Wiping the rest of his magnetic frame and hoisting the towel over the glass he went for his crimson robe, doing the same as his brother and wrapping the sinful view Nero wouldn't be seeing the last of. As his guest made himself presentable, the thought caught him unawares: was he okay with what was supposedly going to but not all in all necessarily going to happen? Was he banking that it did? If it didn't, was he meant to make the first move? How did things work here on the fourth floor, and would he be overstepping boundaries that he didn't know existed? His mind raced too fast for his own thinking to compute, not knowing how calm or frantic he needed to be to their liking. "You're pale; are you okay?"
"I'll be fine." That snap was just what he needed, keeping his duties in his sights and opting worry about the complexities later; Dante was gentle as he cupped his face, giving off some cold in thinking all the steam was getting to his head. "Hurry, so the two of you can have dinner." And possibly send him on more errands for things you'd forgotten to order…
The boundaries he had lined in his head was obliterated by the man in red looming toward him, tempted with being at clasping distance in bringing his guard down, hoping for Nero to be as every bit of fun as he'd promised downstairs. "You're so silly," he said, clamping Nero to the spot under the intensity of his eyes, confused at how much he liked the control he surrendered for just the two of them. Dante bent his head on route to feel his lips with his own, tasting the sour tinge as he spoke, wishing to register with the inner demon that was dormant for who knew how long. "How can we have dinner if you're in here?"
Nero couldn't take it anymore; Dante's paced breath encased his burning, sour mouth, edging him to make the first move, the visible relief of command handed over to the man that was theirs for three days, giving him the power to dictate what he wanted out of the deal. One hand dropped into the pocket of his robe as he patiently waited, playing with the short hair at the back of Nero's head and slanting his head to fit his posture if a kiss were to ensue. "Wait until your brother hears you keeping me to yourself-"
"Oh, he'll hear you. I'll make damn sure of that."
It was completely unexpected from the twin he thought to be the calmer of the two, smiling against his cheek and leaving the bathroom without so much as a word, undoubtedly winning the first round of the night; the deep exhale did nothing to alleviate the momentary numbness in his legs, the quick comfort of the situation easing away like his moral dilemma at his immediate future sealed between their gorgeous naked bodies, unreservedly encompassed in their spell as his sanity escapes him in exasperated breaths during the course of what the twins had already planned to do to him.