Sexy Fight IV

Nero wasn't religious at all. His only reason for being in the Holy Knights of the Order of the Sword was because Credo and Kyrie had taken in the odd and "cursed" orphan teenager that nobody wanted. Fighting demons gave him a purpose and Kyrie was the only one he cared to see at the stupid ceremonies. It was the only place he felt he belonged.

So when Dante had appeared to kill Sanctus, Nero gave three fucks about the old, anal-retentive coot. Credo went all bitch mode, which was to be expected, but Nero hadn't wanted Dante dead. The instant the young knight's eyes fell on the devil hunter it was like discovering a lost kin. The man's white hair glowed brightly like his own...and only like his own. No matter how hard Nero tried to slice him up, the nimble bastard was always two steps ahead of him. The young knight admitted (to himself) that the "maneuver" the perverted old man seemed to like had been his way of getting a close up on the man he wanted to know more about.

Dante had nailed it on the spot. Nero thought if he learned all he could about Dante he would uncover something about his own abnormality. Nero had hated those things about himself so it had further intrigued him when Dante seemed to have a blast with his own anomalies. Like the devil hunter was the punch line to a great prank over all other men.

When Dante, after being pinned to Sparda's towering statue through the chest, detached himself with ghastly facility and removed the impaled blade from what should have been his splintered torso as if he were taking a knife out of a cake, Nero knew what he had suspected the moment his arm glowed at the man's dramatic entry to his life: he wasn't human. And when that inhuman man told Nero they were the same, like the demonic guards he had killed, it had scared the shit out of him. In his desperation to know more he had asked directly what the man meant but the bastard didn't pay him any mind, which had pissed Nero off even more.

Now Dante was there, ready to talk. Nero was both excited and afraid. He thought a kiss was a stupid thing to ask in exchange for information, but no matter. He'd get it done and that was that; but the old man had another thing coming if he thought he was getting laid.

Sox he welcomed Dante's lips with his own when the man dove to take them, and was surprised by the soft feel of them. Kind of like Kyrie's...except the thick tongue that wasted no time in invading his mouth was nothing like Kyrie's. Hers hadn't dared venture so deep into Nero, and Nero had shared her sentiments—it would have felt like he was defiling her. But Dante's made him enjoy that dirty, perverted feeling as it moved against the hot, wet walls like a salacious snake tickling deep inside his mouth. Saliva trickled down the sides of his lips and the "good dirty" feeling was intensified. Electric tingles went haywire in his mouth and stomach, and Nero was left stupefied by the unexpected sensual pleasure. He almost wanted the older man to make him feel dirtier, but he withheld such sinful urges.

A moan of disappointment and lust almost escaped his lips as Dante retreated, but Nero suppressed it just in time, letting out only a soft sigh.

"Enjoyed that did you?"

Nero opened his eyes, failing to recall when he had closed them, and saw the smug look on the bastard's grinning face. Nero had to admit, Dante was handsome in a rugged way. His fine bone structure would have made him a "pretty boy" had he not this rough, hardcore appearance and intense look in his eyes like had gone through some really bad shit in life. .

Placing his Devil Bringer against the broad, rock-hard chest above him, he carefully pushed Dante off and sat up. He looked at the man sternly. "So are you going to answer me?"

Resting back on his hunches and lifting a knee up to prop his arm, Dante smirked at him. "You gotta ask the question first. What do you want to know?"

Nero didn't hesitate, asking the first thing that had toiled his poor mind the first moment he saw Dante. "Why is your hair white?"

The devil hunter laughed. "Should've guessed that one was coming. Father's genes of course. Or maybe the fact that he sired me when he was more than two thousand years old. Although if you ask me, the old man wasn't that old looking if he was still picking up hot chicks after two millennia."

Nero wasn't listening to the dumb crap coming out of the pervert; he was recalling what Sanctus had said before sucking him into the essence of that stupid Saviour. "I'm a descendant of Sparda?"

Dante was still talking gibberish when he was abruptly cut off by the gentle inquiry. "Seems that way," he answered. "But don't worry. You must be the descendant of some chick he screwed centuries ago when he was Lord of this city. That makes this nowhere near incestuous…"

That had pulled the last string on Nero's nerves. "Goddamn it, you stupid old man, that's not what I meant! Can't you take anything seriously!" he shouted, acutely aware he sounded like Credo. Is this how he felt about me? No wonder he was such a sour puss…

"Kid, let me tell you what I learned over the years. Life's too important to take seriously. Can't enjoy it if you create problems where there aren't any."

That actually made a lot of sense. Nero himself thought that way at times. Before Credo found him, he had coped with the harshness of reality by making jokes of it. Hadn't he thought the same of Credo's austereness?

"Whatever," he mumbled, not wanting to give the stupid pervert the satisfaction of admitting defeat. "Now I want to know why I have this arm."

"Beats me. But…" Dante trailed off as he leaned forward and took Nero's Devil Bringer in his large hand. "I want to know what it feels like."

Before he could ask what he meant by that, Dante shot his tongue out and licked one of the blue crevices between the thick, mahogany colored hide of his arm. The mass of the dark red skin was very strong—soft but more impenetrable than armor—but the blue, irradiated dermis beneath it, where the real power of his Devil Bringer came from, was shockingly sensitive. No one, not a single soul, had ever touched his arm until Kyrie earlier that day. Her hand in his had felt pleasantly ticklish and he had been quite embarrassed by the new sensation. But the feeling of Dante's soft but firm velvet-like tongue slicking the most vulnerable part of his demonic arm with his saliva and leaving the wet, glowing, very thin skin cool and tingling powerfully was enough to wring a very loud moan from a distraught Nero. And the tingles were like hot flames raging up his limb, rolling around like a fiery snake inside his chest and stomach before settling with a powerful blaze between his legs. Ohh…FUCK!

Nero was left motionless as he got uncomfortably hard in his tight denims and was astounded by the sound of his own voice. That he could emit such whines made his ears and cheeks feel like matches were striking at them with the shame. Trembles shook his body violently though he was very hot.

Dante pulled back and whistled before splitting his face with a grin, his perfect line of teeth gleaming in the moonlight like a smug bastard. "Damn, kid! If I'd known you'd be affected like this, I would've tried it earlier when we fought."

Nero was so out of it he had to strain a breathy reply. "Like…like hell I would have let you get close enough."

"Heh. Maybe. But it would have been sexy as hell."

"Is that all you think about? You're one depraved old man."

Dante's answer was another devious taste of his wrist which now glowed brightly. Even prepared for it, Nero could not contain another shaky moan. He felt it rumble through his chest and fill the silent darkness with a whispering sort of cry that he never thought he was capable of producing.

"S-stop it. You're not getting what you want old man. I told you no sex!"

"And I told you a virgin pussy like you doesn't know a damn thing about wanting," the pervert retaliated.

Oh is that right? Like hell he was going to let the arrogant bastard win. Nero might do Dante at another time. A big, capitalized Might…if he was drunk enough. Nero snatched his arm away with such force that he fell on his back. Unfortunately, Dante took the opportunity to lay over him once again.

"Although, I'll give you a hint. If you want to beat a devil, you gotta do it at his own game."

Is that right? Nero thought. Being both afraid of destroying Credo's house and waking Kyrie, he wanted to beat the crap out of the conceited asshole, but not here. So, wasting no time with whimsical romantic traps, Nero smashed his lips against Dante's, taking the older man by surprise. Though, by the sound of it, it was a pleasant surprise.

Well, not for long.

Nero battled with Dante's tongue for dominance. The kiss was rough and bruising, not like the sensual, slow and burning one they had shared moments before. Even so, the devil hunter must have a kink for being painfully manhandled because he groaned softly in delight. Taking this as his signal, Nero punched his jaw as hard as he could with his Devil Bringer, sending the man flying back. Hearing the loud thud of a body crashing against the wood floors, Nero didn't bother looking back as he shot off the floor and out his door. He left he house completely but knew Dante would be on his tail soon enough so he headed for the emptiest place he could think of to confront him.

Because of the destruction laid by the demons, the streets down Forrum Hills Avenue and Port Caorula were empty. At the corner was the entrance to the Opera House. It was in ruins so it was off limits to the city's denizens.

That place also had ample space to implement his kick boxing skills. Grappling with Dante proved to be a bad idea; for one the man was more experienced and could kick his ass, and two, Nero didn't want to get too close to Dante. He hadn't had time to pick up his weapons so Nero would have to settle for striking moves. His legs and his Devil Bringer were his strongest assets.

Nero would rather die than become just another number in that playing, womanizing, gay as fuck dirty old man's line of conquests. Indeed, Dante could arouse him more than anyone he'd ever met-Kyrie forgive him-but he was not going to add to that arrogant jerk's list of bitches who gave in. Even if Nero ever slept with another man, he'd rather blow off his own crane than submit to the more degrading role. If Dante couldn't get that through his head, Nero would just have to smash it into it.

Author's note: Forrum Hills and Port Caorula. Yep I'm DMC geek enough to look up at the street signs in the game. Those two are pretty much it and they repeat themselves. Designers obviously didn't give three fucks about details like that.

Look at these unintentional sexual puns, lol: "Dante had nailed it on the spot." and "...Dante would be on his tail soon..." LMAO! Hmmm...author's unwitting foreshadowing? (smirk)