GEE-ZUS. I went to check my email this morning and I had an inbox jam packed with favorites, alerts and reviews! Thank you guys, so so much!

A/N: This chapter came to me fairly easily. It's much shorter than what I usually write, but it was necessary filler. This time around, we're going to focus on Nero, get a sense of his feelings in all this. I tried hard to touch on the differences (and similarities) between how Nero thinks as a person, and the instincts that drive his demon side. Since he's more human than Dante, I figure he wouldn't be used to it having its own opinion.

Disclaimer: Devil May Cry and its characters belong to Capcom.

Warnings: In this chapter we have the usual bad language and a bit of solo at the end. Beware, the mansex is fast approaching.

Dedications: To all my reviewers and lurking readers, old and new alike.

A freak blizzard has us snowed in, so my weekend may be extended. That just means I can write more, so ENJOY IT


Chapter 4: Plaguing Thoughts

Nero sat on the bathroom floor, knees pulled up as he rested his forehead on them, his ragged panting echoing quietly against the tile. He was trying to collect his scattered thoughts, trying to rationally absorb all that had just happened moments before in his bedroom.

He was the first to admit that the reason he'd kicked Dante off wasn't because he'd been disgusted or afraid or even angry. No, his reasoning went in a completely different direction.

He'd been offended.

Offended that Dante didn't wake him before going down on him.

The teen wondered if he'd been giving off mixed signals that the old man picked up on. It would certainly explain why Dante had been staring at him for days. As creepy as the thought was, Nero found it oddly comforting that the elder had always kept him in sight. But something about the way those eyes felt on him gave away that it wasn't just about watching over him.

Absently rubbing at his chilled arms, Nero relived what Dante had done to him, every detail still fresh in his mind, and it made him shiver in remembered pleasure. A small voice in the back of his head said it wanted more. It didn't surprise him; ever since he woke up after that fucking parasite had left him, deciding to try and take its host out with it, and saw Dante there taking care of him, he'd been plagued by thoughts similar to the ones he was having now.

At first, his human mind had balked at the thought of having feelings for another man. Though he'd left Fortuna behind, he couldn't completely shake all of the beliefs and lessons the church drilled into the citizens' heads from birth. Dante as a person wasn't all that bad though. Sure, he ate too much pizza. He might enjoy killing demons a bit too much. He may even get off on teasing the hell out of everyone he knew until they tried to mortally wound him. But Nero knew firsthand that the old man was also caring.

Nero rubbed his human hand over his face, looking down at his demonic right arm, seeing it was pulsing faint amber instead of the usual blue. It had been doing that a lot lately and Nero wasn't entirely sure why, but since it only did that when he thought too much about Dante like this, he figured that had something to do with it. The sight reminded the younger of another oddity he'd been experiencing lately. Namely, the usually quiet demon inside of him was more noticeable than even when he'd first triggered. He could feel it moving just beneath his skin, the voice so painfully clear and sentient. And it was always coming up with rational reasons why his feelings for Dante were inevitable.

It would go on and on about how pleasing it was to live with a mature demon, that it was the right thing to fall for him. Nero's inner devil found nothing objectionable about Dante. In fact, if anything, the older hunter was the perfect prospect for a mate. He was skilled, experienced, had a vast territory in the city, had proven that if something happened to Nero, he wouldn't just leave, and though it was usually messy and kind of run down, Devil May Cry was even acceptable as a nest. Most importantly of all, Dante was powerful. And the younger's demon adored power. Coveted it.

If he possessed Dante, he could - in a way - possess that same immense power.

Nero shook his head and finally made himself stand. He was tired of thinking about all of this crap. Once he stood, though, a discomforting fact was brought to his attention. He was still hard from Dante half assaulting him.

With a groan, the younger part-devil went over to the shower and twisted on the warm water, intending to wash away the lingering aggravation and confusion clouding his mind. And then maybe try and get back to sleep. He'd been feeling abnormally tired and achy lately. No matter how much sleep he got, he felt like he needed more, and it had been making Nero cranky. After he stepped into the shower, the young man concluded that a lot of his crankiness stemmed from bluster to cover his fear. He was worried that something else might be wrong. Maybe some part of that demonic parasite was still in him and growing again, though he'd yet to start throwing up oil and that nasty taste wasn't in his mouth, so there was hope.

But with that out of the picture, Nero had no clue what else could be wrong with him. Even the shower's spray seemed to be annoying him rather than being relaxing. He figured a lot of that aggravation could be the neglected erection still straining for some form of attention. Didn't take long for him to decide to just take care of it and go back to bed. He was pretty sure by now that Dante had left his room. And no, he didn't feel bad about kicking the pervert into the wall.

Nero leaned against the wall of the shower, eyes slowly closing as he ran a hand down his chest to his stomach, trying to ignore the small scar he felt scraping against his palm along the way, not wanting to think about that right now. His fingers curled around his still hard cock and gave a few lazy strokes, thumb lightly rubbing over the sensitive head. Except that didn't feel like it was enough; sure it felt nice but, and he was a bit irate to admit it, he'd much rather have Dante's mouth there again instead. Releasing a heavy sigh, Nero leaned his head back and let his mind conjure up a mental image of the older hunter. If it would get him off so he could go back to bed, he'd think of Dante.

He shuddered as he recalled the damp heat of the other's mouth, absently moving his hand a bit faster, adjusting the loose grip so it felt more like tight suction. His breath started to come in short pants as heat began to pool low in his abdomen. Nero groaned at the mental image built off of the reality, squeezing his hand a bit harder as his mind took him back to his bedroom, imagining writhing on his back and looking down to see Dante's red-rimmed eyes staring back up at him as he sucked the younger off roughly.

Nero felt his back arch suddenly, moaning Dante's name as he came in a dizzying rush, continuing to move his hand idly until he was completely spent and pulled his hand away. He leaned against the shower's wall for a minute longer, simply regaining his lost breath, eyes opening halfway. I can't believe I couldn't get off without thinking about that fucking perverted old man.

After rinsing himself off, Nero turned off the shower and stood there, watching the remaining water swirl down the drain with a quiet gurgle. His ears tuned into the dripping showerhead but his mind was back to thinking about Dante. He wasn't mad anymore, not really. In all honesty he never had been in the first place, he'd just been on edge for the past week and he blamed being cooped up in the office for so long.

No, he wasn't mad. He was just…confused; about what he was going to do now that he realized he had serious romantic notions about the older half-devil he lived with. Groaning at the memories of the night, Nero covered his face with both hands, suddenly embarrassed.

Great, how am I supposed to look him in the eye now?