Miscible

by Vergil's Inferno

Wanna know what happens when you're a 20 year old male sitting at a bar stone sober minding your own business catching the eyes of two dangerous and irrevocably handsome twin brothers? Disclaimer: I don't own any of the men in this story (although I must admit I wished I did). All familiar names belong to whom they belong (still not me, just saying).

"Please tell me you're planning on having alcohol this time."

This was how Nero's Friday night typically began. After spending countless hours in lectures, hearing those in charge drone out their already scheduled lesson plans for the day, walking through annoying, tickly shrubbery to have the need for him to rip his ears off ever increasing, the rest of the students collectively ran to their dorms at light speed to gather the luggage they would need to spend the weekend at home, waiting the last few minutes on the usually ugly patches of grass to be picked up by their parents.

Nero would take his time getting to his dorm; he had no parents to pack for, and having the entire dorm to himself was a type of solace his classmates could only imagine. He would bask in the glory a little bit later though; it was the start of the weekend, and like every weekend, he started it off with his routine trip to the club just around the corner. Yes, 8pm was an early time to be in a club, but Nero figured he'd support them at their most vulnerable – when no one else was around – and most probably leave for a quiet evening before the crowd of horny, groping, 'antsy-in-your-pantsy' almost-adults arrived for all the wrong reasons.

He had been going there since his first year of university, drowning all of his troubles and irritation in freshly squeezed orange juice; besides it being the cheapest thing on the menu, his current financial status wasn't as bright as his classmates, so if his attempt at a makeshift life was sitting alone at a bar counter with a glass full of nature's goodness, he would entertain it to the best of his ability. He often caught himself laughing at the banality of it all, but one look at the dance floor and the oncoming bad decisions made him feel slightly better about his situation.

"Why on earth would I do that?" It was already 10pm and the venue was surprisingly full. In his red converse, black skinny jean, baggy t-shirt and leather jacket, he wasn't exactly what one may consider a slouch. At five feet ten, slim, muscled build, broad-as-hell shoulders, piercing icy blue eyes, kissable lips, and white hair soft enough to make a chinchilla cry in envy, it was strange seeing such a creature alone on a Friday night; the very embodiment of innocence and liquid lust had no plans to get drunk, take someone home, and regret it the next morning. This was a sin in itself. Nero swivelled the bar stool to face the barman, finishing the rest of the juice in his glass, habitually licking the solid rim to catch any last droplet that chose to escape its confines.

"You can't keep coming to a bar on a Friday night drinking up all the juice." GD – what the barman chose to call himself – was busy cleaning a new batch of cocktail glasses and stacking them strategically on their allocated shelf just above the schnapps and liqueurs. "I mean, I have absolutely no problem getting to stare at you all night, but I will take it as an insult if you assume the only thing I can do properly is get a bottle out of the fridge and pour." GD was the biggest tease and Nero loved it; he was the closest thing to a friend he had, as cliché as it sounds. He was wholly allergic to the word 'social' and all of GD's requests to 'get out more' fell on deaf ears. The barman would occasionally catch the eye of some girl watching Nero from the dance floor and coax them over just for Nero to get red and funky and storm to a dark hidden corner and wait it out. He eventually gave up and befriended the lonely soul, only to have his first impression of Nero squashed like the plague – he was sensitive, kind, caring, and just bloody dreamy. Their awkward interactions then turned to a friendship only triggered when he stepped through the glass doors on the last working day of the week.

The man across the counter rolled his eyes. "Fine then. You got any sparkling-"

"Champagne?" He had the bottle in his hands before he could complete the question. GD opened his mouth suggestively and shook his body in time with the heavy bass vibrating inside the club.

Nero's cheeks puffed up in a smile that could only be described as angelic. "Water."

GD pulled a sad face, sticking out his bottom lip to its full potential. As he did so, the doors to the VIP section opened and a large figure stepped over its threshold. For a split second, GD took a once over of the figure and smirked as they made eye contact, nodded, and resumed his duty as a barman, fulfilling Nero's wish for a sparkling water. "This shit's a repellent. Prevents anyone from wanting to join you."

"Whoooooaaaaaaa." Nero playfully opened his eyes wide and hit the bar counter with both his hands, his mouth hanging wide after GD's brilliant revelation. "If that's the case, give me two!" In his blind spot, he could see the large figure move behind him to the other end of the bar. He could have imagined it, but he swore the stranger flashed a smile to hide a chuckle at his water joke, but his stupid overly obvious frame was blocking the way. He mentally patted himself on the back for that one.

Nero drank slowly from the fizzy water bubbling in his jaw and GD paid attention to the mass on the other side of the room; he gave up trying to like the awful stuff and wondered whether the champagne was a better idea instead. Trying to get GD's attention, he snatched a glance at the other half of the conversation: a heavy red leather coat sat snuggly across his unusually delicious broad shoulders, his white hair perfectly groomed and matted to his sharp jaw, and the hands around his freshly-made strawberry vodka were soft and strong, no evidence of him working to the bone every day of his life. Nero hadn't even noticed he was staring until both the stranger and the barman turned to his view, forcing him to focus his line of sight on something else. He looked at the second glass of bubbles and downed it in one gulp to cool himself, and no matter how hard he tried to ignore it he could feel the stranger's eyes on the side of his face watching intently.

GD floated to Nero with a glass of juice in his hand. "Would you mind adding something extra to that? For the shock?"

The barman couldn't believe his ears – in a matter of three seconds, he handed the tumbler to Nero, grabbed the flavoured vodka from behind him and poured a shot; Nero looked at him, the glass, then back to him, and GD poured another. The drink was smooth with a small bite at the end which caused him to let out a small cough. He gave him a 'do you want another one' look and he nodded. Careful to not waste time in the opportunity, he raced to refill Nero's glass.

"You don't mind if I sit here, do you?"

Nero tilted his head to look directly into the eyes of the man who was safely tucked away on the other side of the bar. Everything was much bigger up close – his arms, his chest, his waist, his smile – and the twinkle in his eye made Nero's breath hitch in his throat. He opted to blame it on the fact that an outsider had triggered the social anxiety he occasionally suffered from and not any other reason whatsoever, but never in his life had he ever felt his legs weaken by a simple question. A small shake of his head was all he could muster before the barman returned with his drink, reaching over and pulling the stranger's arm down to take the seat.

"You don't talk much either."

He hadn't found his voice yet. To mask his embarrassment and inability to form words at this point, he took a sip and pretended his mouth was full. The man next to him waited patiently for his reply, sipping on his pink drink, which he made look surprisingly manly. "I really don't. He forces it out of me."

"And how do you do it, GD?" He made keeping a conversation look so easy. Of course, his looks made it easy for him to talk to whoever the hell he wanted. Nero could feel the heated confidence radiating from him, and his skin tingled at the thought of such a creature choosing him over the many women that swam in and out of the building. He chose to swallow his pride as a faithful introvert and follow this one through to the very end; he had no choice – he was paralysed from the waist down.

"I tell him he's full of shit and judge his choice of non-alcoholism at such an establishment." And there it was; the moment of truth that would be engrained in the stranger's brain under the 'first impressions' compartment.

"What? He's not drinking?"

"And he's here alone! Can you believe that?"

Nero's mouth held just enough energy to hold the fruity liquid, but his jaw went slack at the bickering that went back and forth. He had to admit, however, that it was really adorable watching two grown men act like teenagers who had just discovered their first beer at the age of fifteen. GD and the stranger continued to exchange looks while Nero's puffy cheeks shrunk at progressively swallowing the alcohol. "Would it be so difficult to wait until I leave the conversation before discussing my clearly questionable habits?"

The elder men stopped giggling to accommodate Nero's request. "You're planning to leave?"

"Well, no, but don't people usually wait until the topic of conversation is out of earshot?" Nero was genuinely confused, and that made him look adorable.

The stranger squished his face and pouted. "Not when you want to see the cute reaction on their faces, no." The younger man gave the comment a few seconds to sink in before allowing his face to turn a deep shade of red. He looked incredulously at GD and all he got in return was a brief smirk as he left them alone to assist other customers. The stranger was fondling his third pink drink when their eyes met and they both burst into fits of laughter. Nero wasn't used to this kind of attention; being isolated and alone was part of his persona, and finding someone worth pulling him out of that daze had never come along.

The older man continued to laugh as GD finished up the last few drinks for the patrons at the far end. Now in a complete haze, Nero focused his attention on what was really going on with the gentleman next to him. A man like that doesn't just handpick someone like Nero to chat up in a club swarming with women who could probably handle him much better than he could. His pessimistic side concocted the notion of it being some cruel trick; he had perfected his ability to read people, and the stranger held a hint of authenticity to the entire shindig. The situation, however, was a bit farfetched, so he did the only thing he could – wait it out until something horrible happened. Something horrible always happened when things were too good to be true. For now, he was going to enjoy his company.

"I'm Nero, by the way." GD replaced their drinks, and Nero noticed a reddish tinge swirling in his glass that was never there before. He didn't care; he just needed to keep the stranger talking.

He played with the black straw that accompanied his pink drink, now in a bigger glass than the previous one. He swirled it around his tongue, nipping at it seductively with his teeth and thrusting it deep into his mouth. "I know." The straw left his mouth; he swallowed, and turned his eyes to Nero licking the last remnants from his lips. He rested his head on his arm and a devilish grin formed across his mouth.

It took everything in Nero's power to not throw in the towel while he still could. He was trying so hard to figure him out, and what he just witnessed threw his inhibitions and morale out of the window. "You won't tell me your name?"

The man next to Nero took both of their drinks and set them aside, catching GD's arm before he could run off and serve more customers. He pulled him close and whispered something in his ear. Why Nero thought he could try and overhear what he was saying was beyond him; heavy bass lines reverberated so deep within his ear canal he couldn't hear himself think. His train of thought was derailed by a hand gripping the back of his head and turning it to face the stranger who bent forward to speak softly. "Have a drink with me, and I'll tell you everything you wanna know."

He massaged the back of Nero's head and ran his fingers through his hair in an attempt to relax him as the drinks arrived. In front of them stood three individual shot glasses each with its own alcohol contained inside; his right hand stayed where it was, continually playing with Nero's hair while the other halved the contents of one into the other two. Grabbing one for himself and handing one to Nero, he said, "Whatever you do, don't swallow." Nero's confusion disintegrated under the older man's fingertips still at work, and he took the shot like the good boy he was, obeying the only rule set out by the other half of his drink. His mind started to wander on the method to this man's madness when the grip at the back of his head grew taut and the stranger crashed their mouths together, pouring his half into Nero's mouth; he slowly tilted their heads to the preferred kissing position and began swirling his tongue to mix the shot. Their tongues hungrily fought for dominance until the shot was blended between them and it moved smoothly down their throats before breaking for some well-needed oxygen. In the heat of the moment of catching their breath, Nero's grip found the rough folds of the collar of the red coat, gently pulling him dangerously close.

"Your name."

It could be the little bit of vodka talking, or the older man just flipped the missing switch in Nero's brain. They both sat on the edge of their seats, panting, and desperately needing to do something with their hands. The younger man could feel the stranger's heart race under his thick layers of clothing, picking up the pace as he drew breath to fulfil his wish. "Dante." The hand at the back of Nero's head snaked tenderly under his chin and left a heated trail under the scrutiny of his fingertips. Lifting his head, their eyes made contact and Nero forgot what he had asked. "My name is Dante."

The fire in Dante's gaze sent shivers down Nero's spine; it would not have been remotely possible for him to foresee something like this happening to him, and in a control-freaked manner he liked it very much. The unpredictability of it all made him crave more of the man sitting beside him, a feeling he had not yet experienced. The desire to want and touch the stranger grew with every passing second of silence, and it was at that point that Nero could no longer resist the urges he had proudly hid away for so long. He shifted to autopilot, removing the bothersome filter through which he always carefully crafted his words, and obliterating the feeling of shame and embarrassment for his satisfaction. "I want you to do that again, Dante."

The intent focus Nero shifted in Dante's direction made him miss the equally large mass of a man that took the seat next to him on the other side. While nursing a traditionally made Old Fashioned, he watched the scene unfold through similarly large icy blue eyes. As he took his seat, GD handed his routine order softly to not disturb the couple, but more importantly to not alert Dante that a certain someone had joined the party. In the normal sense it wouldn't be a problem, but the intention behind it all made the situation more nerve-wracking – a fact Nero would find out soon enough.

"Up to your tricks again, are you?" Delivered crisp and clean, scripted almost, with a hint of distinctive power and sassiness.

For the first time that evening, Dante's attention shifted from Nero. His usual sneer was replaced with a genuinely broad smile as he looked at the face strikingly identical to his. "Indeed, and it's working this time."

Being the curious soul that he was, Nero ventured on turning his head toward the direction from which the sound came – that meant losing Dante's touch – but god forbid if someone were to make him smile broader than he was able to achieve. He stopped midway, thinking that the thought was creepy enough to make him cringe an hour ago, but if he were to be honest, Dante brought this on himself. He who was once an unknown suddenly made Nero jealous conversing with someone else, and that bothered Nero somewhat. Still, the intruder managed to grasp Dante's attention, and the interest was nagging at the back of his head.

He continued on and stopped dead. Staring back at him was an exact replica of the man he was busy falling for: strategically dishevelled snow-white hair, intense blue eyes, smooth lips and strong jawline – the only difference was that this one was donned in baby blue, not the shade of red he had recently taken a liking to. The turn of events had made a complete three-sixty upon seeing the new stranger next to him. Spinning his head back and forth, Nero took turns looking at them, making a mental note that there were two of such creatures in the closest proximity possible, and making another mental note that drinking alcohol and twisting your head at a fast pace was not the best idea. Feeling the onset of the alcohol working its way into his bloodstream, Nero felt slightly light-headed and nearly fell from his bar stool. On cue, the blue-clad stranger reached out with sufficient strength to stop the overall action of the fall and straighten him in his seat, getting up and standing behind him to steady him properly. "GD, can I get a jug of water for this one? It seems like my brother is particularly intoxicating tonight."

Dante watched his brother turn into a complete gentleman from the side-lines. Perfect.

Meanwhile, Nero cradled his head in his hands in embarrassment. The water had arrived and he couldn't pour quick enough. He finished the glass and looked up at his saviour, his ears still scorching and his face an unwelcomed shade of red. "You should've let me fall."

"And miss the chance to rescue you in your state of distress?" He fixed Nero's hair, seductively smoothing it and tucking stray strands behind his ears. His fingertips traced soft lines over his earlobe and down the muscles of his neck and rested his dominant, resilient hands on his shoulders with the right amount of pressure. "Never." The word was barely a whisper as it left his mouth.

The younger man's troubles melted under the stranger's touch. He leaned back and engulfed himself in the raw masculinity of the man behind him, closing his eyes to the spinning world around him and enjoying the moment with...

Nero snapped his eyes open realising he didn't ask for his name; an hour ago, he couldn't bear the thought of having a stranger's hands on him, but denying that it felt good was doing him worse than when he walked in. He had never felt this good in a really long time, and didn't want to think about the next time anyone would make him feel the way he felt at that moment. Taking a deep breath, Nero committed his smell to memory: in his own words it was exotic, spicy, and a hint of 'fuck-me-now' as an aftertaste. He chuckled at that one too.

"Has he been good to you, Nero?" He bent his head and spoke into Nero's slightly open mouth. One of his hands traversed underneath his chin, pushing his head back even further so their lips came dangerously close. They both resisted the nagging urge to consume each other and Nero nodded, causing delicious friction between their lower lips. A smile transformed the face of the man above as he drew Nero's lip into his mouth and sucked gently, just enough to make the younger man squirm in his seat. The situation hadn't gotten better when he felt a hand on his inner thigh, undeniably close to the unmistakable growing bulge in his jeans.

He tilted his head slightly and saw Dante finish his drink. "Vergil, if you think for one minute I wouldn't try and get him as wet as possible, you have another thing coming." He squeezed Nero's thigh, rubbing at the tender skin at his fingertips. "Don't have too much fun while I'm gone."

The one named Vergil soothed Nero's shoulders when he felt them tense up. "Gone? Where are you going?"

"He'll be back, don't worry." Vergil shifted his attention to his brother and gave him the sexiest, seductive look Nero had ever seen plastered across someone's face; they both kept Dante's gaze as Vergil bent low and gave Nero a lingering peck on the lips, running his slick, wet tongue over his victim's lips. "My brother wouldn't dare leave you here with a monster like me."

The younger man lost his senses with the oral attention he was given and it took him a moment to click that Vergil had moved back to his seat and fiddled with the fresh glass GD had placed in front of him. Nero watched as the last bits of Dante's coat disappeared through the service entrance and heard the chair next to him move closer; a mischievous hand crept to the small of his back and traced small concentric circles on his bare flesh. For Nero, too many things were happening in too short a time and he wished his mind was messed up enough to make sense of everything that had occurred up to this point. Sadly for him, he wanted everything involving his new friends to make sense. He turned to look at Vergil as he sipped at his tumbler, watching him with a sparkle in his eyes – no one had ever looked at him the way they had, and that comforted him.

He grabbed at his boring orange juice across the bar top and took a big slug of the lukewarm excuse of something alcoholic. GD was all the way on the other side of the bar, and calling for him would be useless. Vergil, on the other hand, had tons of ice in his glass of whatever on earth he was drinking and Nero went for the simpler choice. "Mind if I grab a couple cubes? This is absolutely terrible."

"Sure."

Without hesitation, Vergil downed his drink along with the three ice cubes promised to the man next to him. He set down his glass and faced Nero. "Come get them."

Nero was about to question his mental stability in actually following through retrieving the ice cubes when the big glass doors of the club swung open and his brother walked through, somehow sexier than before; at his full height he abandoned his red coat and the all black attire suited him damn well – rolled up to his elbows, his matt-black shirt accentuated all the right places and his jeans sat snuggly on his hips. It didn't help that most of his collarbone and chest were in full view either, and apparently that was all it took for him to forget his need of a cool beverage, even though Dante had sucked most of the moisture from his mouth. He walked across the room and saw his brother's cheeks puffed with ice and the muddled look on Nero's face.

"Don't you know how to get them?" Nero wasn't quick in answering, and Dante had no intention of waiting for a reply: in one swift motion he faced his brother, ran his fingers through his slick locks and grasped the back of his head, pulling Vergil to meet his lips in a mollifying battle of mutual supremacy. The twins' tongues were at war and all Nero could do was stare, trying not to let his innermost emotions slip through his gaping mouth. They broke apart and Dante swallowed deeply – it was difficult to guess which thirst he was trying to quench.

"Ghee? Eeghy."

It was easy to forget the interaction was over a couple of ice cubes and apparently one had made it unscathed, but the poor bugger slipped through as he spoke, fell to the floor and glided under the bar. All three were silent for two milliseconds until Vergil broke into the most adorable fit of alcoholic induced giggles Nero had ever heard; mix that with the two blotches of sexy charisma, he no longer bothered with the temperature and drank his vodka-spiced orange juice in one sip.

Halfway through swallowing, he heard a soft voice in his ear. "You ready to go?"

Bare forearms wrapped around his waist and held him close. Dante bent down and rested his chin on Nero's shoulder; he could feel the bigger man's paced heartbeat and chest as he breathed slow and steady breaths against his cheek. Having him this close was doing sarcastic wonders to his psyche and inhibitions and every muscle in his body worked against the signals from his brain. At this point, he couldn't care less of what his subconscious was screaming at him: he loved the feeling of Dante's hands on him, his body rigid from the intensity of his overbearing physique on his skin, and the anticipation of what would happen if the contact was taken further. Nero reached to the back of Dante's head and lovingly fondled the strands, leaning his head onto his shoulder and whispering into his ear, "I don't wanna go home."

"Who said anything about home?" With equal tenderness, he ran his tongue along the crook of his neck, kissing over the wet trail. Nero allowed a small moan to escape his throat at the feeling of his perfect, plump lips all over his weak spots, biting and nibbling, increasing the sensitivity of his senses. Dante smoothly laced his fingers with the writhing mess in his arms and lifted him off his seat. Nero obeyed and shyly moved toward the entrance of the club. He halted his steps when he felt a gentle tug at his fingers and turned to see Dante whisper something to his brother. With a curt nod, Vergil looked at Nero mid sip and winked – he could smell the smirk hidden behind the tumbler, but couldn't return a sneer as he was dragged out of the club.

The glazed doors swung shut and Vergil shifted his concentration to his drink once more. GD sashayed into view, wiping down the counter. "Don't tell me he left you here. That's just too mean for a man of his calibre."

"Calibre? That's a strange word to associate with him." He handed the empty glass to GD.

He took it willingly and poured another. "You know what I mean."

Vergil kept his gaze on GD, observing the obvious red tinge to his cheeks as he handed his drink over. "Oh I do." He held GD's stare, letting the brown contents burn a trench in his throat. "But no, he isn't leaving me alone." As promised, he reached into his pocket and placed his cellphone on the counter as he licked the rim of his glass. "I'm guessing he's trying to show the boy a good time before I show up and show him a better one."

GD had officially given up listening to him; the only thoughts wafting his mind were how experienced Vergil's tongue was.

Nero's jacket and shirt were strewn somewhere above him in seconds after them entering the back of the limo. He was on his back with a shirtless Dante between his legs, working his magic against the untainted pale skin of his neck and running his hands roughly through his hair. In return, Nero bit at his shoulder and ran his hands down his irrevocably muscled back, feeling the muscles tighten under the strain of controlling the growing agony between his legs. Nero raised his leg and rested it on the small of Dante's back, hoping to feel a glimpse of what he had to offer; Dante read the situation in the best way and sat up, throwing Nero's leg to his side and slowly got to work on relieving Nero of his jeans. He held the returned glare, throwing the offending clothing across the space to join the rest of his clothes. The hungry, demented look on Dante's face as he toyed with the elastic of Nero's underwear was all it took for his eyes to roll in his skull and have his body act accordingly.

Dante scrutinised the chaos underneath him; taking advantage, he drew his cellphone from his jeans pocket and dialled the number. Launching his body to cover Nero's, he carefully dropped the phone next to Nero's face while his tongue occupied its inner surface area. His other hand sat between his legs, motivating every ounce of Nero's sanity to amalgamate to the precious spot he was feeling up. The younger man instinctively spread his legs wider to accommodate Dante's actions and lifted his hips against his hand, edging him on. "Dante, please-"

"Again." He moved to peck him quickly on the lips. "Say my name again."

"Dante."

A demonic smile enclosed his features as he kissed him again, biting at Nero's tongue and sucking lightly. His hand at the bottom mirrored the sensation at the top, strategically syncing them and causing a bodily malfunction in the younger man. Dante slowed his rampage and unexpectedly halted his primal urges to hover over Nero's frame; confused, Nero sleepily opened his eyes to see him watching him intently – his eyes burrowed into his soul. "Last time."

The craving that flashed over Dante's features was difficult to ignore, but Nero somehow knew that those two words were his last opportunity to opt out of whatever was going to happen. Even coming this far, the man floating above him was giving him the chance to do a full one eighty, no questions asked. His heart fluttered in his chest – or maybe it was the vodka – as he unconsciously brought his hands to his face and kissed him delicately, and Dante leaned in to savour his warm touch. "Dante."

He ran his fingers down Nero's arms, feeling his way into intertwining their fingers and gripping tightly as he moved lower and lower on his body, leaving small kisses like breadcrumbs on his journey to his new happy place. Dante felt his victim's muscles tense as he reached his abdomen, biting and growling into his warm skin and pecking at the tiny beads of sweat along his hips. Nero tightened his grip as he felt Dante's tongue slip under the waistband that was holding his sanity together, clasping it with his teeth and tugging them sufficiently low, leaving Nero's hands and holding his thighs in place. "You're gonna regret that."

"Make m-" The incomplete thought left his mouth as he buckled under Dante's touch; Nero's gaping mouth and arching back was the picture of perfection he had expected – grinning, he took the younger man deeper into his mouth, slow and agonising, and Nero clawed at his own neck not being able to control his body.

The call connected. Nero didn't notice.

Vergil answered the call almost immediately; acting against his usual instincts to ignore his brother's calls, he allowed it to ring twice – one sounded too eager and three meant possibly missing the entire thing. His face was the epitome of calm as he picked it up; scoping the space around him should his face give anything away, he focused on drowning out the rest of the club to concentrate on the voices on the other end of the call.

The first moan came as a surprise: it sounded as though it sneaked through Nero's mouth and caught him off guard, like he wished he had an ounce more control over what was happening to his body. Measured and passive, velvety but imperious: the sounds echoing along the walls of the limo proved a perfect signal for his brother to keep going, and it was evident Dante wasn't planning on stopping anytime soon.

The second bout was louder – now accustomed to the feeling of being inside Dante's mouth, Nero shamelessly groaned from the pit of his stomach and allowed his pendent frustrations to see the light of day. Vergil tried picturing Dante on the other end, holding the poor boy's legs in an inescapable grip but giving him the best view of what he was doing.

The third couldn't be explained. A few cracks and crunches came from the other end of the line which could only be explained as Nero searching through what seemed like the depths of hell to grab onto something. Nero cried out Dante's name at the top of his lungs – again and again – begging him to stop but that only spurred him on; the deeper he went, the more erratic his body became, and Vergil found himself breathing heavy alongside Nero's whines of redemption. The final straw came in the form of Dante's deep groans on the other side of the car, muffled by his mouth being filled to the brim of Nero's pulsating erection.

Vergil stood still, astonished. For what he had anticipated behind a few layers of carbon fibre and glass was nothing compared to the display in his ear a few seconds ago: the bated breath of pure ecstasy, slow and paced for the owner's own sanity, and the subtle hints of the hypersensitive devise illustrated the man's struggle to keep his composure under the handiwork of one of the deadliest creatures alive. He ended the call as the fourth bout began, peeling out two hundred dollars from his pocket to pay for the drinks. With a wink to GD that could end world war three, he left the club in a sex-crazed stupor and did what he could to hinder the excitement about to ensue.

With balled fists and Dante's head still between his legs, Nero took careful attention to spread them wider as he prepared for his second orgasm. He would occasionally glance down and watch his manhood disappear between his punisher's lips, and that was about all he could handle watching until the crippling sensations took over and rendered him helpless. Nero could feel the build-up bubbling in his abdomen, but it was short-lived; the hold on his thighs slowly faded and Dante took one last taste of him, lapping up any dregs of cum that hadn't made it into his throat. He stylishly pushed his hair back and brought some life back into his neck, keeping his eyes on the man who had just shrieked his name multiple times.

Nero threw his head back and a dull thud reverberated around them. "Dante, I was so close-"

"I know." The younger man didn't care that his underwear was now being completely removed; he needed that godforsaken mouth on him again. "But I have to leave some for Verge, don't I?"

The statement had no time to sink into Nero's brain for proper processing before the back door to the limo opened, bringing in a chilled draft and the ravenous stare of Dante's twin brother. The worried look on his face crumbled under Vergil's gorgeous smile. "Please don't panic." He tried to hide his smile growing wider as he scanned Nero's naked frame. "Are you cold?"

He hadn't found his voice after the shock; he leisurely shook his head at the elder twin.

"You are under no pressure, Nero." In one motion he discarded his long blue coat and shifted smoothly to the top of Nero's head. The man on the floor had no clue Vergil was shirtless underneath. "If you don't want anything to happen, do say so. But not taking the opportunity to ravish you while you lie here begging to be touched is a sin bad enough to fashion another level of Hell." He traced the prominent lines of the boy's jaw, resting at his chin and pulling him upward; Nero flipped over and climbed to his knees, his face an inch apart from the new visitor. The hand on his chin toyed with his bottom lip and opened his mouth for Vergil's teeth to play with the sensitive flesh. "So tell me what it is you desire, and I will try my utmost to make that happen."

A rush of blood to the head impelled Nero into Vergil's undemanding kiss; he closed his eyes to shift his concentration on devouring the elder man's mouth inch by inch. Their tongues met in unison dancing to a tune only they could hear, matching the rhythm to the tandem pounding of their heartbeats. He snaked his arms around Vergil's neck in desperation to deepen the already gut-wrenching kiss, wanting more and more of him to be filled with the other man's essence. He reciprocated, allowing a tour of Nero's skin on his naked back with his fingertips, treading lightly and lovingly over the supple muscles that stirred and contracted with his hunger. The deeper the caress, the harder he dug into him and the more satisfying the growls that left Nero's lips were.

"I'm really sorry, but put the blame on your brother for this."

It was inaudible to his heavy breathing, but Vergil's undivided attention to his body afforded him the advantage of viewing his mouth at close range. "In all honesty, I wish this was my fault." There were muffled sounds coming from behind Nero, but he was in too deep a frenzy at the hands of his captor to pay notice. "You have no clue how delicious you look from this angle. I should be apologising to you for not taking the opportunity to grab you for myself."

It all happened so suddenly that there was little time for Nero to react: one moment he was running his hands down Vergil's chest, tracing his digits along the ridges that made up his solid torso and hooking at the belt on his jeans; the next he felt an invading presence behind him, equal to Vergil in every way, holding him on either side of his waist and digging across the lines of his hips, drawing the tiniest hint of blood from his efforts. Nero anticipated a searing pain to envelop the lower half of his body, but Dante's touch spurred the unbridled, sweltering passion that had hid itself for far too long; what should have been worry shrouding his features was greased in pure decadence for his current position – as Vergil's jeans left the snug shape of his waist, he arched his back against the man behind him and ran his hands through his silvery locks.

Dante controlled himself as best he could, kissing down Nero's jawline until he lined up with his burning earlobe. His hands gripped at pulling back his hair and covering his eyes as the younger man rested his head on his shoulder to temper his scorching lungs. Another pair of hands crossed his form and groped at the pulsating erection hanging heavily between his legs.

"I think you're ready, Nero."

A demonic smile encased the lower half of Nero's face.