Disclaimer: I have nothing to do with Devil May Cry in any official capacity, and am writing this for fun. 'Tis your birth and faith that wrong you, not I!
Rating: M
Pairing: Dante x Nero
Genre: Romance/Humour
Warnings: Yaoi. Language, eventual sexytimes, possible OOC
Summary: Dante seems determined to keep flying around in stupid circles, and Lady's about ready to blast his ass out of the sky. Poor Nero gets to watch while it all crashes and burns. Dante x Nero.
Holding Pattern
by Write-Error
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Chapter 3:
Black Sheep
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-o-o-O-o-o-
Hello again, friend of a friend, I knew you when
Our common goal was waiting for the world to end
. . .
Send you my love on the wire,
Lift you up every time everyone pulls away
It's a mechanical bull at number one,
You'll take a ride from anyone
Everyone wants a ride, pulls away from you
- Metric
-o-o-O-o-o-
.
Dante felt like he'd just been informed that the sky was green.
This had to be some kind of trick. Some new, freakish scam was being perpetrated on him. Dante's world didn't just shift on its axis like this with no warning.
After hogging Nero all day, Lady had just shot Dante in the head, and then snagged the kid out from under his nose when they'd been about to have kung-fu movie night.
Not only that, but the two of them had started flirting.
It was horrible, it was awkward, it was flat-out weird. However, far, far worse than any of that was this: it had been a complete surprise.
Dante didn't enjoy being surprised. It happened so rarely that when it did, he usually became aware of some huge blind spot he'd had. This caused him to wonder about what other blind-spots might be lurking in his otherwise razor-sharp field of perception.
He hated being blindsided, but there it was. It was hard for Dante to think of Lady as a woman. Sometimes he thought of her as a unique, nearly genderless entity that subsisted off rolls of hundred-dollar bills. She did just happen to have fun-bags that she liked showing off at every opportunity, but he'd chalked that up to her just being insanely glad that they'd finally grown in after long years of watering.
He'd always associated Lady most strongly with the pain of being shot in the face. First impressions were the strongest, just like everyone said. In more recent years, her face was inextricably linked with the sad, wistful feeling he got when he only had lint in his pockets and desperately wanted to buy a sundae.
Neither of those associations was even slightly boner-friendly. Now that he thought about it though, he guessed she was pretty hot, definitely a striking woman. Or at least, she would have been, if a person didn't know her the way he did.
Nero had always been around women who dressed like the fashions of the nineteenth century were the height of immodesty. Fortuna women probably thought flashing an ankle was tantamount to advertising for the world's oldest profession. From what Dante had seen of Fortuna, it seemed like they just locked all their women away in the basement - maybe they weren't even allowed to leave the house. The place had sure seemed like a complete sausage-fest when he'd popped in.
That realization provoked a feeling of dread at how this was all gonna play out. Lady's 'work' clothes were nothing compared to the stuff she tried to pull off after-hours. That woman had a pair of short-shorts with corresponding stiletto heels for every fuckin' day of the week. He'd probably footed the bill for half her wardrobe, Dante thought bitterly - it still blew his mind how garments that small could be that expensive. The kid wasn't likely to have any immunity against that kind of optimized leg-exposure. He shuddered to think how this was going to go, especially in conjunction with that witch getting on the dance floor and shaking her girls in Nero's face.
Dante was going to have to go along with this shitty-ass night out and run interference. That sucked hard. All he really wanted to do was hang out at home - decompress, while watching cheesy action flicks with Nero. The senseless flying around and badly synched dubbing was always good for a laugh, especially when Nero got into it and tried to re-enact some of the more improbable wire-stunts.
But no, instead of chilling out and watching Nero ricochet off the walls in his pajamas while making hilarious chopping gestures, Dante was going to have to go with them to a club. Never in his life had he ever thought he'd have to go to such heroic lengths to rescue someone from Lady's no-doubt ravenous vagina. That girl from Love Planet had been right; he was acting like a gigantic chastity belt - but it was all for a good cause. Clearly his supervision was needed.
Dante was fully aware that girls had needs, too. Given that he'd never even once picked up even a hint that Lady was getting her itch scratched, it was likely the kid was in mortal danger. He almost felt like he should give the kid a can of mace and a whistle to wear around his neck. . .
To make it all worse, Dante had really opened a can of worms when he called Lady's attention to her dire and perpetual lack of nookie. She was clearly very angry about the state of things. For all he knew, all those years of not thinking about it would now go up in a spectacular explosion of sexual frustration, taking out full city-blocks in the process. Poor Nero wouldn't know what hit him - at least, not until he was trying to crawl away with his clothing in shreds, doomed to be haunted by a lifetime's worth of nightmares.
Dante was now sitting on the couch, as they waited for Nero to get ready. He'd showered to get the blood and chunks out of his hair, and was now dressed to go out in his favourite black shirt and a pair of black, waxed-denim jeans.
Black on black - perfectly fitting for the day of mourning this was turning out to be.
Dante cautiously looked to his left, where Lady sat next to him, finishing off the remains of her takeout burritos. Nero was getting changed upstairs.
He was going to have a talk with her that he never, ever had thought he'd have to have. In fact, the whole conversation topic struck him as something Lady would be more likely to take him to task for. Not that there was any likelihood of that happening, given the current team roster. This was turning into some absurd dream where everything was backwards: Dante was the prudent, work-oriented one and Lady was the carefree horn-dog. He really hoped he'd wake up soon. Being a protector was really fucking uncomfortable sometimes, but someone had to look out for the kid.
Dante cocked his head to the side, listening for movement upstairs. Nero was still moving around his room.
It was now or never.
He quickly got up, grabbed Lady's elbow and pulled her along with him. He then charged through the kitchen, and down the steps into the laundry area with her in tow. The sound of Lady's boot-heels clicked irregularly behind him as she tried to keep her balance while remaining in pace with his longer stride.
Once they'd reached the bottom of the steps, he leaned back on the hand-railing and ran his free hand through his hair, before turning her to face him.
Calm and cool, Dante thought to himself. Calm and cool.
"Lady, what the hell are you playing at? For fuck's sake, woman!"
Damn. That had not come out as planned.
Dante had anticipated that after his Tourette's-like outburst, she would get pissed off right away, but she was strangely calm. Come to think of it, she'd followed him completely silently. That was definitely not how he'd have imagined she'd react to being dragged around like that. If he'd had to make his final guess with current clues, he'd have said 'Lady, with a bullet, in the laundry room.'
He studied her, puzzled.
Lady shook her elbow free of Dante's grip, and then looked at him with a dispassionate, measuring look in her mismatched eyes. "No. What are you playing at, Dante? We're just going to hang out, unwind, and have a little fun. What exactly are you expecting me to do - ask you for his hand in marriage?"
And that image - well, it was just too wrong to even entertain. Dante hooked his thumbs into his pockets and exhaled in frustration. He was careful to keep his voice low when he continued - not just so Nero wouldn't overhear, but so he could hear his approach if he did come down to find them. God, that would be the most awkward thing ever, but he wouldn't have been all that surprised if the evening somehow managed to degenerate further.
"I'm just sayin' that playing around with Nero is going to be trouble. You don't shit in your backyard, Lady - that's pretty basic stuff. Human relations, intro level - now repeat after me, class: do not shit up your backyard!" He waved his hand in agitation. "Look. If you want to play around, find someone outside of DMC to let it out on. You know that if things go wrong with Nero, it's going to have consequences."
Her brow creased. Dante felt, oddly, like he was a bug under a microscope. Her canny, mismatched gaze seemed to be taking him apart, putting him back together, and coming to conclusions. She was doing some fucking science on him. It was creeping him out.
"And what if things go right?" Her voice was as calm and cool as Dante's wasn't. "Think about it. Maybe it doesn't make sense getting it on with a coworker - if that's the way you're looking at it. But, in some ways, it's the only thing that makes sense, 'cause it's not like we got normal jobs here." She cocked her hip out and made a dismissing gesture in front of her for emphasis. "Outsiders don't get us, Dante. They don't understand what we go through, and they don't get the lifestyle. We don't match up with them." Lady gave him a meaningful look. "And what's with this, anyway? Why am I the one being an optimist here? That's new."
For a second, the image crossed Dante's mind.
Lady, and Nero. Together. Dating - or whatever it was that people did when they weren't just knocking boots with whoever looked good to them that night.
Somehow, it was making him feel ill. Dante could actually feel his gorge rising, and with it a dark, angry tide of anxiety.
"Just. . . lay off him. There are a million other young guys out there who'd be thrilled to help you out with. . . whatever. . . your. . . girl things. . . and stuff." He tried to suppress his discomfort, and completely failed. "It doesn't have to be Nero."
Lady arched her eyebrows, obvious skepticism written all over her face. "You really think there are other guys like Nero out there? I can tell you right now, you're wrong. I'm pretty sure you already know that, too," she said flatly.
Sure, obviously the kid was special, but. . . "Whatever, just keep it cool - an even keel. Things at DMC are going great right now - never fucking better, in fact. There's no point in rocking the boat just 'cause you're interested in Nero's goods. Things don't have to get complicated. Why not keep things the way they are, the way they've always been? No need to fuck it up. You get me? Costs and benefits."
At that, Lady planted her hands on her hips and gave him a firm look. Underneath that, there was a hint of something. Pity? Frustration? Maybe it was a mix of both.
"Dante. You know - you're one stubborn son of a bitch, I'll give you that. But no matter how you try to put everything in a jar and preserve it, things aren't going to stay the same. You can pretend they don't, but things change. Situations change. People either deal with them, or they get left behind."
"I don't like this," Dante persisted.
This was really not his style at all. He didn't get pushy. He didn't butt into other people's business like some kind of neighbourhood watchdog. He'd never been one to twitch the curtain up and get up people's asses about what they did in their own time. Dante did not do the nosy grandma thing. But this time around, he felt driven to keep on it until she saw reason.
This. . . this was really fucking important.
"Nero. . ." he continued slowly, "You know, even though Nero may seem like a cocky little shit, he's been through a lot. Just recently, even. He doesn't need your damage, Lady." He inhaled, pinning her with his most serious look. "If you hurt that kid-"
"What the hell is this?" She crossed her arms, giving him a version of the defiant look he was so used to from her - like she was trying to provoke him. "What's with the overabundance of concern, Dante? You're all worked up. You're giving me the talk. Do you even get why you're on my case when you've never once tried to get in my business before now? Why you've dragged me to the laundry room so Nero can't hear this bullshit? Huh?" she challenged. "I'm losing my patience with you."
Dante glared. This was just going around in circles, and she was pretending like it was his fault? If she'd just back the fuck down, this endless conversation would finally die and they could have been on their way already.
"As I said, Nero's been through a lot, and - hey, I already said this. Imagine that." He threw his hands up in frustration. "Fuck! Fine. You're obviously going to do whatever you want anyway, no matter what I say. Just listen up when I say Nero's not the kind of person you should be messing around with. The kid. . . he takes things serious."
"I think you're underestimating him," Lady patted him on the arm, momentarily dropping her harsh front and softening her tone. "I don't mean him any harm. I actually like him." She paused, looking at him carefully. "You keep calling him 'kid,' Dante, but he's a grown man. He doesn't need you hovering over him like some huge, clueless male mom."
Though the gesture and the words were clearly sincere, they didn't actually make him feel any better. If anything, Dante felt even worse, and it wasn't just anger anymore. It felt like something had just sucked all the goddamned air right out of the room. A stubborn silence settled between the two of them as they stared one another down.
It was fucking stifling.
"What the - why are you guys down here?" Nero's head popped through the doorway. "Lookin' for something? Dude, if you stopped sneaking your socks and boxers into my wash, you wouldn't end up having such a hard time," he grinned.
Dante's usual mask slipped right back on. Lady just kept staring. "Yeah kid, but finding my underwear after you've hidden it is half the fun!"
"Dante, you never find your fuckin' underwear - do you even have any left?" Nero muttered with a shake of his head. "Wait. Don't answer that. Helpful tip - check the box behind the cleaning supplies in the closet."
"Hey Nero," Lady said, snapping out of it. She breezed past Dante on her way up the stairs. "Ready to go? The three of us can take my car to my place, I'll get changed, and we can cab from there."
Dante squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed his temple. Fuck. It was going to be a long-ass night.
.
-o-o-O-o-o-
.
It was lucky that the three of them were hot. The club was a lot nicer than Dante had expected, and there was some obvious face-control going on as they were ushered into the short line. Lady had gone all out - she was wearing a white, silky, shawl-draped top that came halfway down her arms. When she moved, it shifted, baring parts of her back and shoulders, but somehow nothing was ever quite exposed. It was more modest than Dante had anticipated. However, when he factored in the black satin hot-pants, seamed stockings, and heeled, red short-boots. . . the added coverage didn't seem to make much difference in the scheme of things.
Nero looked good, too. Lady had picked out a pair of tight dark grey jeans. They were so worn that they'd had developed a super-soft, sueded appearance. He had on some kind of fitted, distressed blue top with bleach marks and artful tears all over it, and a thin black undershirt peeking out beneath. Instead of looking like a down-and-out housepainter like he probably should have, he somehow managed to look punk-rock fashionable - lanky and cool.
When they finally made it in, Dante headed straight for the bar. The loud music was already bothering him - for one thing, it wasn't really his scene. For another, he'd recently been shot in the head, and he was thinking that might be a factor in the weird throb that was starting up behind his temple.
It looked like most people there were more interested in dancing, so they were able to find three seats at the second bar. For a couple of minutes, they sat there in an increasingly awkward silence waiting for their drink orders to be served up - that was, until Dante was assailed by a cloud of perfume and a felt a pair of breasts press against his back.
"Dante!" a dark-haired woman greeted.
This one was named Candice. At least he could remember that. He absently chatted with her, friendly and a bit flirtatious, as personable as could be. Then she was on her way again, promising to come say hi again later. Dante turned back to his beer and felt two pairs of eyes on him. "What?" he inquired, not even looking up.
Nero chuckled and nudged Dante's shoulder with his own as he lifted his beer. "You know, it's kind of funny - I could swear you're not even paying attention when you talk to them. And yet, they just eat it up. Do you just pull the same shit out every time? How does that work?"
Dante flashed Nero a toothy smile. "Just my natural charm, kid. The girls love it." He winked.
Lady shook her head, swirling her martini glass. "They just know he's a no-risk proposition. Nero, honey. Don't be like that. Fucking around is probably fun for a couple of years, but after you reach a certain age, it gets harder and harder to pull it off."
Dante pressed a hand to his heart in mock offense. "I pull it off just fine! What the hell is with everyone calling me an old man lately? I'm in my prime, damn it."
Nero patted Dante on the head. "It's okay, Dante. You're not old. You just act like a dirty old man. . . a lot of the time. But you know what?" He smiled. "The rest of the time, you're actually pretty cool."
Dante scoffed. "Thanks kid, you really know how to bring the joy."
"No charge," Nero shrugged.
Lady shook her head and took a considering sip of her aviation cocktail. "It's not that you're old, Dante. As you said before, we're pretty much the same age. The issue is that a mature man living this lifestyle sort of brings me down." She swirled her drink before knocking the rest of it back, meeting Dante's eyes seriously. "Isn't the meat-market a bit unrewarding? I mean, you must've seen it all and done it all by now."
Dante drained his pint and signaled the barkeep for another drink for himself and Lady, sliding a bill across the counter. He couldn't really deny that, so he didn't. Sometimes the best defense was a good offense, anyway.
"Hey, I'm not the one who desperately needed to go to a club tonight," he rejoined. "Drag me out to the meat-market and then give me shit for being here? Not seein' the logic there, Lady. If I had my way, I'd have been watching a dude in a chicken suit learn kung-fu from a centipede right now."
Nero made a sound of dismay. "Wait, tonight was the chicken guy one? Awwww, it sounded so stupid. . ."
Lady smirked. "Guys."
Dante took a long drink from the sleeve the barkeep put in front of him. "And what about you, Lady?" he shot back, peeved. "It's not like you've got someone you're going home to, so it's not like you have room to be ridin' me about this."
Nero gave him a funny look, opened his mouth, froze, and then closed it again.
Lady ran her hand up Nero's arm. "Well, maybe I'm going to fix that," she said.
Dante drank more.
.
-o-o-O-o-o-
.
There was usually a point in the night when people got just wasted enough - or the music got just good enough - for everyone to hit the floor.
That moment had come, and Lady wanted to dance. She led Nero onto the floor not far away from the bar they'd been camping. Dante, waylaid as he followed after them by another girl of his past, got roped into another conversation. After a while, he decided to just stick by the bar - he could keep an eye on them without subjecting himself to too much flashing light bullshit.
At first, everything seemed fine, and Dante was starting to wonder if his worries had just been a pile of paranoia. Nero looked a little bit uncomfortable, doing his version of a typical awkward guy dance.
Dante relaxed and ordered another drink. After about half an hour of more idle flirtation with more chatty girls, he looked up and felt his mouth go completely dry.
Apparently the alcohol had kicked in, or maybe the music grew on the kid, because. . . wow.
It wasn't like Dante hadn't seen Nero dance before. He'd come down on many an afternoon, when Nero was trying to get some exercise in. Nero always got the jukebox set up with his 'go-music,' as he called it.
Then, he'd start his workout - going through a set of push-ups, followed by crunches, followed by pull-ups, then some free weights. After he was done his usual reps, sometimes he'd head out for a run. More often, though, he'd get so involved with what he was listening to that he'd start thrashing around the office in some spontaneous blend of slam-dancing, head-banging, and drumming on random furnishings. Sometimes he'd even start yelling along with the vocals in his full-throated growl.
From the description, it sounded weird as hell, but it was actually pretty awesome - an extremely physical form of music appreciation and stress release combined. Nero looked like unadulterated energy when he did that - the music blasting while he enjoyed himself and completely let loose. Even his devil bringer shone super bright.
When Dante saw Nero like that, it provoked an absurd surge of affection. It was just so him - Nero, reduced down to his most essential qualities. Once he got past the barrier of embarrassment or caring what people thought, he just went all out and threw everything he was into what he was doing - no holding back.
The first time Dante had walked in on that, the kid had immediately gone still. Then, he'd acted all gruff - a pretty sad attempt to hide how he wanted to die of humiliation. Dante had just laughed and sat down at his desk with his feet twitching to the music, pretending to read a magazine. The kid had blustered around, trying to pretend he'd been doing anything else to save face. He'd cleared the trash from the front room and wiped down half the kitchen before it sank in that Dante wasn't going to make any comments about what he'd seen.
Now, Nero went on with his routine even if Dante was around. He wouldn't start it up, but he would keep going if Dante just happened to enter the room. . . which he always happened to do, pretending as best he could that he wasn't watching.
But, yeah.
This dancing was totally different from that.
Dante supposed that the way the kid liked to rock out at home was not appropriate in this crush of a crowd, or with this kind of music. Still, no matter what, Nero put everything into it.
Somehow, Nero managed to move like a break-dancer who'd once had a job at a classy burlesque joint. God. Dante hadn't known the kid could isolate his movements like that. Even the smallest shift of his body seemed laden with heat. The kid moved his body in a fluid, lazy way that was getting all kinds of attention, every now and then pulling something that really showcased how athletic he was.
Damn it. He wasn't even trying - he was clearly pretty buzzed.
Where the hell had Lady gone, anyway? The kid being on the dance floor alone like that was just asking for trouble.
Dante noted with relief that he wasn't getting droopy in his inebriation like he had the night at Love Planet. Since that evening, he'd discovered that Nero wasn't naturally a sad drunk - he was a really chilled-out, happy one after a couple of beers, when extenuating circumstances weren't at work.
At the moment, Nero's eyes were half-closed, and he had a faint smile on his face. He started cracking up at the shrieking chaos that ensued when someone bumped into him and fumbled their drink, pouring half their cold beer down some girl's shirt.
On a dance floor, it was always easy to pick out the people who were displaying their goods, trying to catch the eye and find someone to take home. There was always something. Trying a bit too hard. A lack of joy. Stiffness that sprang from the self-consciousness that came with putting on a show for others' eyes.
It was equally obvious that Nero was just naturally having fun and letting loose. That was always hotter. Dante could already see people picking him out of the crowd and slowly making their way closer to him.
Dante had drained his beer in record time and had gotten to his feet by the time he realized he was in motion.
He froze and tilted his head to the side, wondering what the hell he was doing. He wasn't sure what was going on anymore - just that Nero was up there, moving like he was advertising the best night of someone's life. He'd be swimming in it tonight, if the interest of the girls on the dance-floor was any indication.
And Dante needed to do something, right? Help him out of this situation.
Why? He frowned.
He had to rescue Nero from pussy. . .
As he'd thought, that didn't sound quite right, but the beers Dante had been slamming were not helping him identify his damage.
Just then, as he was arguing with himself, he saw Lady return to the dance floor from the bar area. He was momentarily relieved when she appeared - thank goodness for the arrival of adult supervision.
Dante quickly took back his relieved reaction when she offered Nero her drink and then slipped a possessive hand in the back pocket of his jeans, moving in close as he sipped it. The kid looked a bit disconcerted at her sudden touch, but a couple of beats later, he was back to dancing - blushing and laughing at whatever she was saying in his ear.
Dante gulped. This was the first time he'd seen Lady engage in anything even remotely resembling PDA. Well, if you didn't count Kalina-Ann.
The both of them had turned slightly as they moved in the jostling crowd. Dante could see the two of them in profile now, silhouetted among all the other bodies under the multi-coloured throb of the lights. Lady was obviously enjoying having a game partner to work with, and they played well off each other - nothing too raunchy. Good friends might dance together like that if they were really familiar with each other, Dante told himself. He saw Lady's mouth move as she glared at a girl who was rubbing up behind Nero.
Dante was no lip-reader, but it was simple enough to interpret the syllables shaped by her sneering lips. 'BACK OFF.' That's right, you tell 'em, Lady.
Then, she pulled herself closer to Nero and tilted her head back. The hand she'd planted on Nero's ass wasn't going anywhere. She was rubbing up against the kid, and as it turned out, she was actually a good dancer, too. The two of them looked hot together - or, at least, they would have, if Dante had not known both of them well enough to find the entire situation wildly disturbing.
He gulped. No, this was so weird that it couldn't possibly be happening. She was just saving the kid by giving him an out - a fake claim that would give him some room to breathe out there.
Or not.
Dante choked on his beer when Lady ran her free hand up Nero's arm, then his neck, then up through his hair. She fisted her hand gently in his silvery locks and tugged the man's face down to hers, whispering something mere millimeters away from his ear.
It was like some kind of slow-motion horror reel. . . only, instead of someone's guts exploding, all Dante could see was Nero's lips parting in surprise, his sweat-dampened face reddening as he took another sip of the drink in his human hand. The fingers of his glowing devil bringer landed lightly on Lady's shoulder before slowly sliding down her arm and settling on the exposed skin at her hip.
Lady took the glass from him and drained it, before carelessly leaving it on the top of a nearby speaker. The kid's eyelids lowered slowly as Lady's mouth slid from his ear, to his jaw, and then hovered. Her lips were practically brushing Nero's as she moved in the fraction of space between them, close enough to swallow the air he exhaled.
She let go of his back pocket, running her hand over his side before hooking her fingers into his waistband to yank him against her. Then, her fingers were slipping up under the back of his shirt while she moved so close she was practically glued to him.
The kid. . . the kid was going along with it, licking the remnants of the drink from his lips. A lazy version of his cocky smirk curved his lips as they danced, the beat of the song becoming louder, deeper, more resonant.
Dante swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry despite the beer he'd just finished inhaling.
Holy. Shit.
His night's objective officially driven out of his mind, Dante ordered another drink.
.
-o-o-O-o-o-
.
One problem with being a half-devil with a cast-iron constitution was that it made it a little difficult to properly get one's drunk on.
It wasn't necessarily that getting drunk was difficult. In that respect, Dante did have a high tolerance, but not an inhumanly high one.
No, the problem was keeping one's drunk going. It got damned expensive really fucking fast, but the thing about it was if Dante stopped, it made starting in the first place seem kind of pointless. Once he got it going, he had to drink almost continuously in order to maintain a decent level of the poison in his blood. Otherwise, he straightened up way too quickly for it to be worthwhile.
He'd been giving it a damned good try that night. Hell, every time his eyes found Nero and Lady on the dance floor, he'd ordered another fucking drink. Then, he'd gotten gregarious, trying to distract himself from the grisly scene. People around the bar had started buying, handing him shots because he was a hell of an entertaining guy once he got started.
Those shots were strong stuff.
That was why, by the time the flow of alcohol dried up and his blood cleaned itself out enough for him to see straight, Dante was already in the back seat of a cab, with a girl sucking on his throat as they got a ride back to her place.
This. . . really hadn't been how he'd envisioned the night ending. Nero, left to Lady's nonexistent mercies.
Dante, left to this.
He turned his head slightly, looking out the slightly fogged glass of the taxi's windows, trying to figure out where the hell they were. All he could see was the faint halos of streetlights going by, distorted and fuzzy through the condensation on the glass. The cab smelled like cigar-smoke and really oniony hamburgers.
The girl's hands were now pulling his shirt out of his waistband and sliding up over his abs. She was just going to town on his neck.
Well. This wasn't so bad.
Dante hadn't gotten any for quite some time - he couldn't even recall how long it had been, exactly. He just hadn't been all that interested in going out and pulling tail. Maybe venting it out a bit would help him stop acting so uptight. He had been weird lately; even he could see it. High-strung. Things were too tense. Random shit was setting him off.
Maybe if he just got some release tonight, he'd be back to his normal self - the teflon Dante that all shit just naturally rolled right off of.
Dante'd never been one to say no to something when it was served up all hot and convenient like this, and he wasn't about to start now. It looked like he had already put the work in, so he might as well enjoy the benefits. He turned his attention to the woman half in his lap - it wouldn't do to phone it in and just lie there like a fish, after all. He had a reputation to maintain, and it sure wasn't one for being passive.
The girl was nice to look at, at least - but she was not his usual style at all. Her light blonde hair was shorter than he usually liked, and her rack considerably smaller. Tall, if those insanely long legs were any indication. Big blue eyes. Definitely pretty, and not a lot of makeup to fake it, either.
He jumped a little when she raked her fingernails over his chest.
Yeow - aggressive as all hell, too. This might be more fun than he'd thought.
"Hey, kitten, no need to get rough with me just yet," he chuckled. "Where you live at?"
"Cap West bank," she breathed, before looking out the windshield and getting back to it. "Almost there."
"Good stuff," Dante mumbled against her mouth. She tasted like cigarettes and fruity girly drinks. Not his favourite combo ever, but not a deal-breaker, either. She wasn't a bad kisser, but he'd never been a huge kissing guy in the first place - it was just number one on the checklist for him before he got to the good stuff.
Dante slid his hand up her back as their tongues pushed back and forth. Oh. Skin. A backless top - good to know.
He felt strangely disconnected the entire time. Maybe it was some kind of after-effect of getting shot in the head, or being kind of sloshed - he didn't really know. It was almost like he was floating up above himself, watching shit happen.
And something was off. This wouldn't normally bother him. Sucking face with a willing lady in the back of a cab - hell, this was generally one of the first indications that he was about to have a pretty damn good night, by his standards. This was what happened when things had proceeded according to plan.
He had to admit, though, that he could have done with being a lot more sober for this. Dante didn't like just coming back to himself in the middle of shit. When he drank, he drank, and that was it. When he was looking to fuck, he focused on that. He didn't mix the two things. He couldn't. It was such a bad idea, given how easy it would be for him to accidentally hurt someone.
He was off-balance, out of control. Dante was always in control of himself and the situation, and somehow this set of circumstances was feeling more and more messed up. . . and for no particular reason, either
The cab pulled to a stop. Dante removed his hand from her thigh and fished out a few bills, paying the cabbie without really thinking too hard. The girl pulled herself off him with great reluctance, sliding her long legs out of the cab and yanking her miniskirt down, and then they were going up the walk of a pretty generic-looking apartment high-rise.
The trip from there to the elevator was a bit of a blur. Dante was still not feeling like all of him was there. He stared at the wooden paneling in the elevator, the little mirror, the chipped-off button for Floor 5, the tan linoleum tiles.
The girl reapplied herself to his body, hands roaming. Dante wasn't even that turned on, come to think of it, but that was something that just happened when a person put enough alcohol in their system. Shit just didn't work quite right. It would be fine though; he'd never let a girl down, even under sub-optimal conditions.
Besides, with the way she was looking at him, kissing him, grabbing his belt, calling him 'baby' - probably because she had as little of an idea what his name was as he had of hers - things were gonna get hot right away.
And then they were inside her place. It smelled a bit like cigarette smoke, but the odor was overpowered with some kind of fruity air freshener and her perfume. It was dark, but she didn't even bother turning on the lights. She just kicked her shoes off, shoved him onto the couch and started attacking his belt buckle.
"Whoa, whoa, honey," he mumbled, "Let me help you out before you rip somethin'." He undid his belt and then let her at it. Seconds later, she was pulling him out of his boxer briefs. He was half-hard at least, thank god.
"Wow, you're big," she breathed, stroking up and down, her blue eyes wide. "I'm going to enjoy this."
Dante watched, still feeling very far away. She pressed her cheek to the side of his erection. Meeting his eyes, she turned her head slowly until her wet lips met his cock.
And in a bright flash, suddenly, Dante wasn't there anymore. He was somewhere else.
An opera house.
Nero was there, his double-barreled gun shoved in Dante's face. Arrogance and devil power were radiating off him. The sharp smell of aggression permeated the air, the chaos around them fading away into a grey blur of noise. Nero's chest heaved with his heavy breathing, his husky shout of anger echoing through the huge space as he launched his body at Dante's. Those strong, lean thighs wrapped around Dante, Nero's blue eyes bright with anger and challenge.
And then, Nero's wicked, sneering mouth - sliding up the side of Ivory's barrel, teeth scraping over the metal, ruining the shot Dante had lined up as he fired.
"Fuck," Dante breathed, eyes closed.
"You like that?" the girl asked in a breathy moan.
Dante shuddered. His erection suddenly swelled, growing hard enough to smash bricks. Pre-come started to well out of him, beginning to leak liberally down the shaft.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck," Dante groaned. "Oh my god."
All he could see was Nero, superimposed on what was actually happening. Nero, kneeling between Dante's spread thighs, nuzzling at his cock like it was the most delicious thing he'd ever tasted. Nero, lapping at Dante's erection slowly, like he was going to break him down into an incoherent mess of need and he was going to enjoy every second of it.
Nero, getting ready to swallow it whole. Mouthing the tip, rubbing his sweet, hot little tongue over the ridge where the crown met the shaft. So warm and wet, his eyes a dark cornflower-blue, sex-hazed, throwing sparks. . .
Nero, Nero, Nero.
Dante's eyes snapped open.
What the fuck was he doing, what the fuck was he thinking? He couldn't. . . he couldn't.
"No. Damn. I can't do this," he breathed. Words were just rushing out of his mouth. "I'm real sorry, I've gotta get out of here. You're super hot and everything, but I've just gotta go."
Then, the girl was blinking, not at all pleased with the way Dante pushed her face gently away, and then actively displeased with the way he was pushing his aching dick back into his jeans and wincing. He got to his feet and moved as fast as his state allowed towards the door, as though the hounds of hell were at his heels.
"What the fuck is your problem?" she yelled, as the door swung shut behind him.
He barely heard it, his head completely done in. Dante's boner went down pretty quickly - his arousal had died a rapid death from the shock and horror that were overwhelming him. He was able to get out of the elevator without limping, which was a plus at least.
God. He couldn't believe it. What the fuck was wrong with him? He rubbed his hand over his face. This was unreal.
This was not happening.
The cab was still there, idling as the driver finished eating a burger. He seemed very surprised to see Dante again so quickly.
"Slum Street, Devil May Cry, I'll tell you when to turn," Dante said gruffly as he got into the backseat again. He pressed his eyes shut.
No thinking allowed. No fucking thinking.
.
-o-o-O-o-o-
.
It wasn't until he was back in his own room, naked in his bed, that Dante allowed himself to think again.
Just as he'd feared, his imagination broke free from the restraints he'd bolted down, and suddenly Nero was there.
Dante's eyes closed. His hand slid down his stomach. He saw it in his mind - so vividly that it was like it had already been in his head, fully formed.
His own hand was fisting in Nero's hair, grasping hard in the fine silk, pushing that handsome face down, fingers massaging roughly at his warm scalp. He was sliding his blood-dark, obscenely aroused sex over that pristine cheek, those parted lips. He was watching Nero's lashes flutter, hearing him let out a low, needy sound as Dante pressed himself against that perfect mouth.
Dante's lips were forming words, silently, compulsively, as he stroked. Just his mouth moving, and he couldn't stop it. The words formed and were choked down, destined to go nowhere - just like this would go nowhere.
Nowhere, nowhere, nowhere.
Nero, that's it. Your mouth is so hot, baby. Take it, suck it, let me into you. Just like that. Oh, fuck. Baby, I'm going to dirty your sweet mouth, open up wider for me, take more of it.
Oh, Nero.
And then Nero's mouth was opening to him, giving in to the pressure Dante was applying. He was letting Dante's cock press at his tongue, at the wet, soft flesh between his firm palate and his throat. That scalding mouth, wrapping around him. Nero's cheeks hollowing, as he sucked wetly at Dante's invading erection, sloppy and loud and fucking divine.
Oh god Nero, baby, take it all, need you to swallow me down. It's gonna be a lot - fuck, Nero. I got so much for you. . .
Afterwards, Dante stared at the ceiling. His breathing was still heavy, his mind a careful white blank.
White, like the ceiling he was counting the cracks on. White, like the walls. White, like the semen slowly drying on his stomach and chest.
White, like the milky skin that stretched over Nero's hard muscles, like the pale down of Nero's silky hair.
Blank.
.
-o-o-O-o-o-
AN - So! *rolls lifelessly onto the floor*. The whole thing felt like the worst kind of work; thank god no one can tell what I'm writing while I'm waiting for teleconferences and meetings to start - shee-it.
Now more than ever, I would benefit from some ass-kicking. I just acquired Dragon's Dogma. It's mocking me from my coffee table and I am incapable of focusing on two things, so I'm trying to just blaze through this and finish this story. Reminding me that a few people would like to read it helps a lot.
I have revised my plan and stripped stuff due to pathetic endurance and fears of trying to pen another epic. With luck, I'll be following through with my cheesy romance and finishing within 2-3 chapters, depending on how much porn I decide to include. Let me know if you spot a typo. As usual, comments and criticism are so very appreciated! Thanks guys.
Edit: It has come to my attention that someone was surprised that this story was yaoi and/or would have sex in it. I'm kind of flummoxed by this and laughed quite a bit. But then, it occurred to me that there is a subset of the population that needed warnings on cups to let them know that pouring hot coffee on your crotch will, in fact, result in a burned crotch. So. For anyone else who thought this might not be a romance story that will contain sex between Dante and Nero even though I think it's pretty clearly marked up top, I am so sorry to blow your no doubt prodigious minds. It is, and it will.