Summary: My first M-rated fic ("Sins of the Father" doesn't count; those chapters are individually rated!). My original character, Heather, is caught between her own desires, and the love of everybody's favorite half-demon twins. Her heart is divided between them. Can she choose between them, especially once the stakes are upped? Or will Fate step in and take the choice away from all of them? Read and See!

Disclaimer: I know the twins, but I do not own the rights to Devil May Cry. If it didn't cost me one million dollars, my immortal soul, and my firstborn child I would buy it from them, but I can't, so I cannot claim ownership. Heather and Zak are mine, so if you take them, I will hunt you down and slay you!

Word to the Wise: This fic will have some pretty explicit sex scenes and language in it. No twincest (no one who knows the twins would ever think that could possibly happen!), simply good ol' girl-on-boy. If you don't like to read such things, or are offended by them, then I'd suggest you go back to the fic listings RIGHT NOW!!!

He Has What She Desires

She crept into his room with hands held behind her back, moving slowly so as to not awaken him. The white-haired man sleeping in the bed had something she greatly desired, and thus far he remained oblivious to her presence.

Exactly as she had hoped.

Upon reaching the bed, Heather carefully straddled his waist, making sure not to rest too much of her weight on him. Dante was a heavy sleeper, but she didn't want to inadvertently wake him up.

Not yet, anyway.

From the bag she carried she extracted the tools of her heinous crime. She had wanted to do this for so long, she had to remind herself not to laugh and give herself away. It was hard; the mental image of his reaction to her actions was absolutely priceless. But she succeeded, and with a mischievous smile she got to work.

A short while later, she carefully stepped off the bed and swept her tools back into their bag. She then extracted her Supersoaker and, aiming most carefully, squeezed the trigger.

She'd made extra-sure to fill the tank with water from the pitcher in the fridge.

"THE HELL!!!!!!!!" Dante shot out of bed as the icy-cold water hit the crotch of his boxers, straight through the half-opened fly. She fled his righteous wrath before his feet hit the floor, delighted laughter trailing in her wake.

"That's for the cold shower two days ago!"

She was out of the room like a ghost, before the demon hunter could gain his senses enough to chase her down. He glared at the door with enraged eyes, then grabbed his towel and stalked down the hall to the bathroom. Now that he was up, he might as well silence his bladder and then take a shower.

Once he'd finished using the toilet, he went to turn on the shower. He glanced in the mirror, and went back to testing the water so he could turn on the showerhead.

Then something clicked in his sleep-fogged brain.

He immediately whirled back to the mirror and grabbed the gold-marbled green porcelain of the sink with white-knuckled fingers, staring at his reflection with absolute horror. His lips were coated with the reddest lipstick he'd ever seen, and his cheekbones were colored with bright pink blush. His eyelashes were blackened so his eyes stood out in stark relief, and there was deep, deep blue eyeshadow on his lids. Black liner was carefully etched around his horrified blue orbs, and there were haphazard ribbons tied in his white hair.

Pink ribbons.

He looked like a drag queen.

That bitch…

"HEATHER!!!" he bellowed, shaking the foundations of the house and waking up everyone in the building.

Up in the attic, Heather snickered while Dante pounded through the house, searching for her like a maddened bull. She had thought this up when he had turned off the water heater while she was showering two days ago, and it was her greatest prank yet. Judging by the laughter wafting up through the vents, he hadn't even taken the time to wash off her handiwork. The derisive laughter was only making him crazier, and that meant he would be twice as angry when he finally found her hiding place.

Still, Heather knew exactly how to calm down an angry, no, rabidly enraged Dante.

When he finally charged up the stairs and slammed in the attic door, he found Heather sitting at the upstairs entertainment center, calmly watching one of his favorite porno movies and playing with a sex toy.

That combination alone was enough to make him forget what he was so mad about. Heather was no raving beauty, but watching a girl play with herself was one of his favorite fantasies, especially if he was going to get a piece of the action.

"That's playing dirty, babe," he grumbled, climbing onto the couch beside her, yanking the ribbons out of his hair and throwing them as far from him as possible.

She rolled her head towards him, opening her eyes enough to give him a self-satisfied smirk before returning her attention to the extremely explicit scene playing on the big-screen before her.

Dante watched until she finally came, then yanked her onto his lap. "I'm feeling a little neglected here, babe," he said low, kissing her neck.

"Love to be of service," she panted. "But A) we have a date tonight, and B) you look like that guy from the Rocky Horror Picture Show."

"Your fault." He slid a hand under her shirt, sure that she wouldn't resist him this time. No woman could resist him forever.

"Not without condoms, Dante." She gently pulled his hand off her breast and slid off his lap. "Besides…" She reached into his pocket, seized the object of her desire, and yanked it out too quickly for him to protest. "I have to get to work."

He watched her as she sashayed away, car-keys in hand. Once she was down the stairs, he turned his attention to the porno and lowered his boxers. "Condoms, eh? That can be arranged…"