Swearing! I also order you to enjoy my total randomness! (I love Vergil and Lady gettin' together, dunno why though.)

Her skin, blazing like diamonds with sweat, under the flash of the night clubbing lights, caught his attention again, for the fourth time that night - even after he promised himself he wasn't going to look.

The Lady's hips where swinging, and she was dipping low on the ground again, grinding against another man.

The man looked like he'd won the lottery.

He was no Sparda, with his black locks and green eyes. He was also extremely drunk, and passed out not long after Lady swapped partners.

She had traded her usual tiny purple shorts and white blouse for something that he much preferred: a tight, black dress that ended mid thigh and started mid cleavage. It hugged her waist, her chest and hips - the rest was loose material, pinched at the top to give it a bit of style. Her boots (and this was his favourite part of all), had been replaced by a pair of high heels that had little silver studs on them, and propelled her to rival even his height. And she had applied smoky eye make-up, and subtle gloss to her already luscious lips. And even better - her hair was longer than he remembered it, and although it stuck to her forehead and neck in some places, it was curled in massive barrel curls that made her look so innocent.

So, insanely innocent.

Vergil knocked down his drink with a careless flick of his hair, savouring the sight of her throwing her body around, almost fervently, so sweet before his eyes. He wondered if he could make her do the same thing…?

Lady saw him through the crowd, and gave him a small smile.

Nothing more than a twitch of her lips, almost sneering, if he was going to be honest with himself, but he still liked the way it looked on her. He liked the way alot of things looked on her.

Like, for example, him.

He knocked back another drink.

Tonight, he reminded himself. I have no cares. No obligations.

But with the way she was moving, her chest bouncing, arms high in the air with a fragile grace - although he'd been on the wrong end of it, he knew just how 'graceful' she was - he might be obligated to go for round two. And round three. And round four.

Tonight, I will let my emotions run riot with me. I will not suppress, nor express, anything unnecessary.

He smoothed a hand over his coat, taking one last look at his true self in the bar's mirror.

Tonight, I will tame the fire that is Lady.

He shook his hair, making sure it was in place, and then flicked his collar up for a little...zest. He unbuttoned his coat, revealing his chest, and loosened his belt so his pants somewhat slipped upon strong hips. His 'V' was bare, and he knelt down to untie the lases on his boots. Every detail would only get him closer.

He wondered briefly if kidnapping her was the way. It should surely be easier than pretending to be his younger twin that he despised with a burning passion from which the deepest depths of Hell had flared in his soul - and he should know.

The lights changed so that they were just flickering on and off over and over. It was fascinating watching her dance like that, in those lights. It was as if she was dancing for him, pulling him in like a worm on her hook. He could only see a few discreet dips of her hips and flips of her hair.

How he longed for her body.

He made his way, effortlessly through the crowd.

Funny, they did not avoid him like usual - maybe it was the blue coat he'd traded for red? - and instead flocked to him in waves.

He tried to weave between them, twisting and turning - but still stuck in the knot of sweaty, dirty people, until a particular pair of hands caught his wrists and rather harshly yanked him out of the tangle.

"Dante." Lady growled, half dragging him to the other side of the dance floor.

There was, funnily enough, a time where Dante was his sun, Earth and moon. He'd do anything for him, all he had to do was name it.

But now? Dante had something that he wanted, and after all, brotherly love was all about sharing.

He did not dare speak. His brother had perfected mimicking his voice from their younger's years of pestering him, no doubt, but he had no idea how Dante spoke these days.

Howdy?

G'day?

What's up?

Possible, although not probable.

"What are you doing here? You know it's my night off, damnit!"

The Eldest Sparda brother lowered his eyelashes, seemingly taking the verbal abuse like a disobedient child.

Even now, telling him off, he couldn't help but gaze longingly at her human splendour. Her skin, lily white from under exposure to the sun, looked almost as soft as a rose's petal. Although this rose had her fair share of thorns.

"Dante, seriously, what are you doing here?"

He raised his eyes to hers, his lips curling upward.

Would he dare speak? Put his whole plan in jeopardy?

No. Of course not.

He lifted a hand and showed it to her, his palm itching to grab a fistful of her curls and pull her into his arms.

But he didn't.

He slowly put it on her bicep, and although she flinched to hit him at first, swiftly grabbed her wrist and then her fingers, linking them with his.

"What the Hell?" she made to wrench her arm away but he grabbed her other her gently, and took a calculated step forwards.

Vergil did not know a lot about 'wooing' a female. He usually walked into a place, found a woman with a nice figure and said: 'I want you. Now.' And if they chose to turn him down? He'd take them anyway. He preferred it that way.

The lights chose then to stop, and float around, in a figure eight that was circling them but never really landing on their faces. A few time, the glare hit the corners of their bodies but never their faces.

If they had, the other would've seen Vergil almost morbid impatience or Lady's flushed and embarrassed cheeks.

The light was blue, which Vergil thought was his most flattering colour.

Would she recognise him in this light?

"So, what? You're here to dance?"

And so much more.

Instead, he nodded, slowly, and wrapped an almost tentative arm around her waist, drawing her close to his chest.

"Oh, no you don't. You'll dance with me, then you'll think you own me." She took her arm away from his hand. "There is no way."

He frowned slightly, but gently pulled her back into his arms.

If she doesn't stay put, I'm taking her by force.

She sighed, and pushed him away, instead turned her back on him.

He was about to growl, about to speak, or yell, or maybe stamp his foot.

How dare she turn her back on him? Her superior?

But then she put his hands on the front of her hips, and began to sway with him in time to the music.

Her skin was blazing even through the thin fabric of her dress and within minutes he was no better – they were bumping against each other and speeding ahead of the music.

Maybe it was the demon in him, and the hunter in her, but being faster than everybody else in the room seemed completely appropriate.

Her arms reached up, and ensnared his neck after a few minutes, holding on tightly as they practically had fully clothed sex right there, in front of any body who cared to look.

Alot of people were.

But he didn't care.

And apparently, neither did she.

"You know," she panted over her shoulder, her smoky eyes finding his for only a second before flicking away again - did he spot a blush on those already rosy cheeks? - "This means absolutely nothing. We aren't getting back to Devil May Cry and you have your way with me. I have standards, you know."

At this, he laughed, and pulled her hips tighter against his own, before the music changed to something very tech-no and he was way out of his league in the dancing department.

Standards? Don't jest, little human! You are the only one who even touches my own standards. They must be high, for my blood surpasses that of normal, common demon blood. How will I ever find a suitable wife to mate with? What woman could ever bare my children?

With these questions in mind, (he particularly liked where the baby talk was going,) he continued to grind up and down and side to side as Lady's hips drove him above and beyond ecstasy.

Almost orgasmic.

Almost.

He liked this new, expressing of emotions. Perhaps her should do it more oft-?

Dante just walked through the door.

The Dante.

The Actual Real Dante.

Oh, dear. He did not see this one coming.

Vergil saw alot of things, and planned ahead with precise detail he had acquired over the years. He was prepared for pretty much everything, and took immense pride in his planning ability.

This. Was. Not. Planned.

He felt the thrill of unexpected shock run through his usually numb veins, then grabbed Lady's hand and dragged her to the door. He liked these emotions. Expressing them was partially difficult after suppressing them for so long, but, his needs where what brought him here, so he was going to … how did humans phrase this? 'Roll with it'?

These feelings were like instinct. They made his already sharp and flawless moves even faster - he believed that he was experiencing an adrenaline rush.

"Air." was all he said for his explanation.

Had she heard him? Heard him and not Dante? Had she seen Dante - the real Dante?

No, no, and no. He was overreacting. Being silly. Had he ever, in his entire immortal existence, ever insulted his own intelligence?

No.

So why would he now…?

It must be the emotions… He mused, ever ready to blame something human on his own personal issues.

She stumbled out after him in those heels - which made her already shapely legs very fine, indeed - then half hid behind his red covered back.

"Hell, when did it get cold out?"

Vergil shrugged, as he supposed Dante would do.

His mind was in over drive.

It wouldn't take Dante long to catch his scent - he was sweating, after all, and that only amplified matters - and follow him outside.

With Lady.

His Lady.

And take her away.

When she was this close.

Perhaps he should just pinch her nerves, send her to sleep the easy way...? But he so enjoyed when they fought.

Noticing the shivering girl, he shrugged out of his coat and held it out to her, purely because that is what his heart told him to do. Lady rose an eyebrow at it, perhaps suspecting this as some kind of come on?

But he was trying to be… although he dare not think it too loudly, as to jinx himself…kind.

"So chivalry isn't dead." she mused, taking it and pulling her arms through the far-too-big sleeves, wrapping the belt tightly around her tiny little waist. It was longer than her dress, and that made Vergil sour slightly, but he brightened considerably when she linked her arm through his.

"Time to go home?" she asked, yawning behind her hand.

Ah, he thought with a sigh of relief as he began to walk. She's given me an escape. I didn't even need to convince her of leaving, even when she looked like she was enjoying herself.

He took a side long look at her, then smiled softly. How such a soft smile set his little black heart on fire, even a little, was far and beyond him. All he knew was, Lady looked like she'd just melted into a puddle and culched his arm a little tighter.

"Indeed." The word, so smooth and so very formal, slipped.

She jumped at hearing his voice, and narrowed her eyes at him slightly, pausing in their rapidly growing stride, but continuing one he tugged on her arm in a very brash manner.

Stupid, stupid, stupid! Dante would never say the word 'indeed'!

He shrugged, and this seemed to please Lady. Apparently Dante had no use for verbal communication - which worked to his needs perfectly. He could still hear the music thumping through the thick concrete wall as they made their way down the dark street. They both walked onwards with out comment, or without fear, because they were both well aware of what laid, hidden, in the dark - and they could both handle themselves all too well.

Vergil made a bold move, and deftly stroked the inside of Lady's forefinger.

She curled it around his, rather timidly.

Neither party looked at the other during the exchange.

He took this as an invitation, and quickly engulfed her small hand in one of his own.

Who knew holding a woman's hand is harder than ruling the armies of Hell?

Lady began to drift off - even Vergil could see she was in another world with out looking at her fully - and lead her in the direction of his hotel room.

It was nice, and spacious, and he had made a few alternations on the room he was sleeping in - like sound proofing it.

This, he thought hungrily, trying not to look at Lady curled into his side like she was, is going to be so much fun.

The hotel itself was an off cream colour, with a flat roof that provided quite the view of the city's lights, at night, if one was to wonder. His room was on the top floor, and it took up half the East wing - because he had money to spare and he did not want to be interrupted.

"Dante," Lady said, a little frustrated, and a little apprehensive as they walked into the lobby.

It was brightly lit, and the bell boy gave her a cheesy grin.

Vergil did not like that, but he tolerated it.

"Dante," she repeated, taking her hand away from his. "Remember? I have standards? You are not seriously going to take me into a hotel room and bang me, are you?"

Vergil snorted, which seemed a very Dante thing to do, and shook his head, trying to dodge the awkward questions.

"Well, this has freaked me right out. I'll just be going."

He grabbed her wrist and dragged her over to the desk, which she couldn't stop because of her heels. He signed them both in, above Lady's progressively loud swearing.

He ended up throwing her over his shoulder and carrying her up the stairs. He was becoming rather impatient.

"Dante! This isn't funny!" she bellowed, thumping his back.

Vergil calmly opened the door to the apartment, kicked the door locked and closed behind him, and laid Lady on the bed – the lights remained off.

"Dante!" she snarled, lips pulling back over her teeth. "Get off of me-!"

"I am not Dante." He growled, holding her wrists painfully tight. "It would do you a service to remember that."

Lady's eyes widened.

"Vergil." She breathed.

His eyes turned wicked. So she did remember him, hmm?

"Yes."

Lady looked, for a second, oddly enough – scared.

"But you're dead!" she finally chocked out.

"Correction, my dear Lady." He said coldly, brushing some of her fringe behind her ear. She jerked her head away from his hand like it stung. "I was trapped, not dead. I have, however, escaped, and after being subject to numerous tortuous over the many months, you can guess the only thing I dare to crave." He wriggled an eyebrow in a severely immature and perverted manner.

Lady narrowed her eyes at him – forgetting just who she was dealing with, it seemed - and flipped him onto his back.

Excellent. Play right into my hands, my little Lady.

"I can guess. And I am fucking appalled."

Vergil chuckled, and raised his head off the mattress some.

"So tell me, Lady Mary-" she glowered at him when he spoke her given name so insensitively – it was still a sore spot.

"You have me pinned to the bed. If you'll notice to your left, I have my weapon just out of reach."

Lady looked, and sure enough, next to his hip – Yamato shone in the dull street lamp light. She gripped his wrists with renewed vigour.

"If you let go of me to snatch up said weapon, I'll have you by the throat in seconds." His eyes flashed. He was having fun with this. He could see the machinery ticking behind Lady's eyeballs. She would conclude that, yes, he was right, and no, she wouldn't be able to mess with him like she messed with Dante.

She had no idea who she was dealing with, apart from Dante's twin brother.

"Or you can try to beat me physically," he suggested calmly, causing her eyes to focus on him. He liked that. "With you're brute strength. Though I doubt it in heels like that."

"Shut up!" she ordered, glaring down at him for just a second. She was looking around the room for help. Any kind of help. A phone? A knife? A FISHBOWL? (A/N: sorry, slightly hyper.) Even a pen would help.

She didn't know how exactly – gorging his eyes out seemed like a good idea.

She glared down her nose at him.

"You set this up. The night club. My night off. Looking like Dante. You set it all up, you slick bastard."

"I did."

"Why?"

"Because you were the last female I saw. It seemed fitting that you were the one I wanted so endlessly in Hell, as it were."

She growled and tried to control her temper, but she was slightly tipsy from a few shots she had done prior to his arrival, and now she knew there was no way she'd be able to come out of this alive.

"Well you can't have me."

"But I will. We can compromise."

She snorted, and tried steady both her ever increasing temper and herself – the room had begun to spin.

"Compro-?" she started in a disgusted voice.

"I won't kill you. I'll leave you and every one you care for alone, in exchange for a night as my mistress." He interrupted, all ready so impatient for her.

"So, I'll be you're little sex slave for a night, in other words."

"Yes." He smirked at those words.

Sex slave, indeed.

Seeing Lady, perched on top of him in such a burlesque manner made his favourite weapon throb for attention, like that of a barking puppy.

Well, his puppy needed to be stroked.

Both the coat and dress had ridden up to allow Lady to straddle the Sparda boy. Her cleavage was falling out due to the fact that she was doubled over to reach both his wrists.

Her lips drew back over her teeth, and she lifted a hand to back hand him one across the face. But he caught her wrist, which she half forgot he could do.

He sat up, inches away from her nose – one of his hands gripping hers and one of hers digging her nails into his skin quite harshly.

"Or I will take you." He said quietly. "It will not be pleasant. No one will come to your rescue."

She flinched back.

He could see he was going to win her over – either way, she didn't really have a choice.

Lady snarled then tried to make a run for the door.

She slammed into Vergil, who pinned her to the floor again.

"Lady Mary," he informed her, over her yells of abuse.

"I WILL NEVER FUCK YOU! EVER! NO! LET ME GO! DANTE! DANTE, HELP!"

Vergil was a little shocked that she called for his brother, but regained his composure and held her jaw shut tight- his palm over her lips. Trembling, submissive lips.

"Choose."

She sobbed – there were no tears, of course, she was feeling the defeat roll over her in waves and could not voice it – and shook her head. How did he know? Her eyes, so full of defiance, watered in a deadly kind of way. He supposed that Lady thought she was invincible, as most humans did, and thought she could get out of anything she pleased.

Well, not tonight.

No, because tonight....

"One."

She shook her head and screamed behind his hand. She clawed at his skin, disgusted at both him for doing this to her, and at herself for allowing this to happen. Hadn't she fought her entire life to fight these asswholes?

… I have no cares. No obligations …

"Two."

Her eyes narrowed and she kicked out, sending failing punches at his face, which was this close to her swinging knuckles. She cussed violently under his hand, and bucked her hips. This only turned Vergil on in soo many different ways.

Tonight, I will let my emotions run riot with me. I will not suppress, nor express, anything unnecessary.

He gave her a look. A cold, warning look.

She did not protest, but merely glared, her eyes hardening.

Good. He thought sourly. I like when they fight.

The thing was, he was hoping for Lady to break under the pressure of the threats alone; maybe then he wouldn't have to be so rough with her. Maybe he wouldn't have to make her scream, and she would, in return, enjoy his intimacy?

"Three."