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Babbling

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Warning! Well, beware – a bowjob and an intercourse! You have been warned!

All the thanx go to my wonderful BETAS, Tora-Katana and Nimlinven, who beta my english and my logics and flow fer me! I luv you dears, you are fan-fucking-tastic!)))))

Errrm…. Those who know QueerAsFolk will now know who's my favourite char)

Italics – words that were never said but everyone knew they were there

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Chap 04

Prince Charming kidnapped

Part 2. / Little Red Riding Hood

Then there was the Underworld. Mundus and pursuers. The death of the Devil Prince in the Human world, the rebellion. And – it.

Lies, ties, cries. Humiliated, isolated, violated.

Vergil chuckled. What nice sets of words. If only they were not about him. But in the dungeon everything was still pitch black, his attenuate hands were chained to the wall above his head, rough bracelets painfully cutting into his wrists. Vergil could still feel his own blood, sliding languidly along his elbows down to his shoulders; dripping from cuts on his chest, from the whip traces on his back. Thanks for the darkness though. There was only one thing that could probably break Vergil down now, and that was a mirror. Luckily, he could not see anything, only feel.

The semen has long ago cooled down and stuck unpleasantly to his skin all over his cold naked body. He spit out the mixture of blood and cum, but the disgusting taste did not leave him. Everything around smelled like sex. Never-ending rape.

How long had he been here? Vergil did not remember. He vaguely remembered that the reason he did not want to break down here was… What was it again, though?

Oh, that stubborn face, the spitting image of himself. What was his name again? Dorian? No, that's the bastard that fucked him thee times ago, who poured liquid steel on his back. What was the name of that stubborn, always happy person with snow-white hair? Oh, Dante.

Yeah, he should find Dante. Or, better, his brother. Yeah, first he should try to find the idiotic brother of his, because that Dante person is the last hope. He should not trouble the one who always supported him, not yet.

Find the idiot. And ask for help. This was not the freaking way he pictured his death, so forget about pride, beg for salvation, then revive, mend the pride and be the one who laughs last. Yeah, Verge, good plan, you should stick to it.

Every cell in Vergil's body ached. He tried pulling his ice-cold hand through the bracelet, all the torn tendons screaming 'Stop!' to him. But he did not falter, grazing off the skin, his body helplessly swaying on the chains, unable to reach the floor.

In what seemed like an hour, Vergil ripped one hand through the cuff. Immediately the whole weight of his body pulled his shoulder down and dislocated all of the bones in his arm. Lips parted in silent scream, Vergil shut his eyes tightly and stopped breathing, wishing the pain to go away.

It didn't. Getting used to it took another couple of hours, but then Vergil felt he could try to move. His trembling fingers started to draw the symbols with blood, and the letters, in hope that the person would see them. One groundless hope.

'brother, here

brother help me

deliver me brother

help

save

brother…'

And he waited, nervous and tired, on the verge of losing consciousness.

Later, much later, after thousands of black liquid minutes, the answer was slowly drawn on the wall. Vergil could have laughed in disbelief, but he was too weak to even smile.

The person on the other side asked 'What do you need?'

Vergil's hand did not move. "Please, come on, I have to write!" he panicked. "Not now! Move! Please, this is my own bloody body, don't shut off on me now!" Finally, the hand trembled and rose. Fingers though did not move at all, frozen; the muscles were getting tired too fast and left his arm falling down helplessly. Vergil somehow managed:

'Mato,'

The answer from his brother never came. Even in three days, when his letters were found, when he was re-chained and re-raped.

The only thing that was still the same was the darkness. The sharp, ice-cold darkness. Vergil stopped feeling his hands and legs, but his wounds he could describe in detail: location, size, instrument; just by the feel of it.

So much for his noble goal – to prevent war against the human kind. Well, the original idea was brilliant in its simplicity. His brother, whom he was not supposed to let into the Underworld, would have stayed with the humans and helped them, while Vergil himself would have entered the Demon world to restrain demons from the other side.

He definitely was one pathetic failure.

Eventually, Vergil gave up all hope. The transportation sign was his last resort. One arm he managed to get out again, but the other broke down: it was stuck in the bracelet and got ripped away from the body at the shoulder. Vergil would have screamed if he still had his voice. Then there was too much pain and his body chose to cut it off: he stopped feeling anything.

Vergil hurriedly finished up the spell with the blood from the wound and threw himself onto the bloody floor – and into oblivion.

Dante… and everything's gonna be fan-fucking-tastic, dude.

Vergil regained consciousness from the pain when he was stuck in between the worlds. The hell fire was burning him alive.

"Oh, good," he thought. "Burn me. Let all the dirt be burned along with this disgusting skin. Burn to ashes the smell of my humiliation. No matter how I end up in the Human world, let me be purified by this. At least, I myself wanted to tear this violated body of mine apart… So save me the trouble, the fire of hell…"

A hospital, Dante, Trish, Devil Never Cry, a potion to heal. And the abyss of darkness.

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Vergil stilled in Dante's hands and fell to the floor, fast took the broken body in his arms and lifted his brother's weakened form; he put Vergil on the couch, pulled away the snow-white locks plastered to his forehead and went upstairs.

Hell, he was tired after several hours of struggling with a crazed adult demon. Finally it was over: Vergil would wake up tomorrow, exhausted but able to move. It pained Dante that he had to resort to such means. He hated in advance the cold features of his brother, his 'I can see no problem' and 'Everything is going as it should, there is no need for your stupid enquiries' when it was obvious Vergil would need help. Why was it so hard for him to accept that he could also be weak sometimes? To accept help?

"But then, I myself would never accept help from him, no matter how I want that," Dante was preparing the bed for Vergil. "As soon as Verge realizes I am no rival for him – our little game is over and he is over me. Oh well, I don't want to lose this parody for a family, even if it means his never-ending hate… So there is only one thing I can do: grow stronger to be able to follow in his footsteps and look after him for he is a demon, too."

"But as he is now…" Dante sighed and went to get his brother. Vergil was lying there, seemingly relaxed, but tears of blood were rolling down his cheeks – the tears that demons only shed in utmost desperation. Dante snapped.

'Fuck!' He kicked his desk out of the way; it smashed into the wall, pouring papers all over the floor. 'Why is it always like THIS? You will never tell me, right?' He shouted at his brother. 'You will never ever tell me anything! This is absolutely your way of doing things! You simply do not know that words please or help exist! Why do you always have to take everything alone? Why you, fucker!..'

Dante roughly grabbed Vergil from the couch and practically dragged him into the bedroom, then tossed him onto the bed and threw the blanket over.

'Now you cry the Bloody Tears, and I know that this damned potion brings up the most important memories, but I have no fuckin' idea what you are thinking about! Aren't we supposed to be brothers?' Dante was enraged and he was railing desperately at Vergil. 'You never say what you want to say, you only say things that you consider appropriate!'

He grabbed something heavy from the shelf and almost threw that bronze chandelier at Vergil, but stopped and flung it angrily into the mess of books and boxes.

'You never show any human emotion, do you take pride in being a heartless beast, treating every other living person like scum? I could have helped you thousands of times, why do you choose to stay alone? Do you like making me unworthy and miserable? Do you get some twisted pleasure from dragging me through the mud over and over again?' Dante clutched his head. 'I refuse to believe you have no heart! Do you hear me, fucker, I don't believe you are really like that! So… why?' Dante fell to his knees and hid his face in the folds of the bed-sheet, close to Vergil's slender fingers. 'Why?…' He fisted the white cotton and whispered.

'You will never open up to me, right? I worry. About you. But…You are never going to accept me, right? You turn your back on me and I don't even have the slightest idea where I got it wrong. I guess I misunderstood you from the very beginning.

In the end, you never took the hand I offered you, first when we were just kids. I don't think you would have taken it if I offered now… or ever. Maybe you really simply hate me. Do you hate me, Vergil?'

But Vergil was asleep, his cheeks in crimson streaks, blood dripping on the pillow. His features were still like the ones of an antique marble statue, thin lips pressed tight together, eyes closed. There was no answer.

Dante sat on the floor, put his cheek against the bed-sheet and sighed. His eyes stung, but the tears were not there.

'Did you know, that one can love hate, because it is the most they can get and the only other choice is being buried into oblivion?

Verge, did you know that the sharpest pain rips through your heart when you can not help the ones you care for the most, because they do not want you. Did you know?

Do you know, Vergil?'

Dante sat on the floor of the bedroom, ashamed of shouting at his brother and angry with himself for losing control. He studied Vergil's face, every millimeter of it – the same as his, yet a completely different person. An enigma, never to be solved.

'I feel like shit, Verge. I am all messed up. So… you… heal here. I need something to get all these complications out of my head.' Dante quietly stated and got up eventually. 'You'll be okay here. This is my territory, and it means it's safe.' He wiped Vergil's cheeks, ruining the new white shirt with blood stains.

'Whatever,' he muttered, and left the bedroom. In the lobby of Devil Never Cry Dante picked a paper from the floor and scribbled a note for Trish. She found it on the door to the agency in two hours.

'Went to fuck it outa my brain. Take care of him or I'll kill ya. D'

'Doesn't seem like a lot of progress anymore, with all the deep-running issues,' she snorted. 'Okay, so he will be here tomorrow blind drunk. I can still brainwash the other one, at least this one has something to brainwash,' Trish disappeared into Devil Never Cry, throwing the paper out angrily.

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Dante slowly walked into Succubus, the bar at the end of the street. Who the hell picked up the name for it? Whatever, it did give the idea of finding a quick fast fuck, no strings attached. It was noisy inside, the girls in shorts dancing around on catwalks, the beat exhilarating, the guys at the bar all sitting with their backs to the barman and practically throwing money at the dancers. The crowd at the dance floor was either moving to the music or fucking or both.

'Hey, Sunshine,' a gloomy Dante flopped into the seat leaning on the counter.

'Come on, Dante, not you, too,' the young blonde barman threatened. 'I have enough trouble as it is with this nickname. The usual, strawberry sundae?'

'Okay Justin, forget what I said. Gimme some Jack Daniel's.'

'Wow, did something happen?' Justin was pouring the whiskey.

'Remember, when I get drunk I tend to brawl about my brother?'

'I thought you did not remember anything 'bout those nights. With so little blood in your alcohol, after all.'

'Unfortunately, I remember every single word. So… he showed up at my doorstep.'

'I see you're still alive – here's Jack –that's good news isn't it?'

'I don't know anymore,' Dante looked at the glass skeptically and drank it all in one gulp.

'You are killing the good booze, man. I suggest that you don't.'

'I definitely do not feel like savouring the taste tonight.'

The music went down and the audience started hooting and cheering. Even the gals were clapping their hands.

'You better have a look at this chick,' Justin chuckled, turning towards the stage. 'They call her the Redhead Witch. She is drop-dead gorgeous and doesn't do 'mortal men sex'. If anyone could screw her – that would be you. Here she is…'

From behind the crimson curtain a tall figure appeared, slender hands sliding along hips, dark blue dress clinging to her body like the second skin, showing off the red lace of her bra, the ties of the thong visible under the fabric. She tucked a stray lock of her red silky hair behind her ear and her vicious full red lips smiled a nasty smile.

'Nevan?' Dante was glad he did not spit the whiskey back. 'What the fuck is she doing here?'

'You know this babe?' Justin was definitely undressing her with her eyes. Well, every male creature in the premises was doing that. The name of the bar did not seem that strange anymore.

'Nope. Only heard of her. Why is she here? '

'She's the new dancer, appeared in the bar about two months ago, stark naked and horny. During the first day she tried over ten men and never got to the actual intercourse, saying she would not be satisfied by just them. Since then she is an unreachable wet dream alive.'

'Sounds exactly like her. She killed anyone?'

'No! What are you talking about, she is just a stripper! Chill out, Dante!'

The demon on the stage was flirting with some rich brunet who was supplying her generously with money, when she heard the name.

'Oh,' she walked fast across the stage on her high heels, ass swaying and breasts in alluring motion, then jumped down, stood in front of Dante and grabbed him by the necktie, making him lean closer to her. 'Look what we have here…'

The music died out as the dj stuck out his head to see what was going to happen next. Dante narrowed his eyes and turned his

head to the side. He remembered all too well what kissing this bitch could be like.

'Long time no see, Nevan.'

'Still one handsome devil, aren't you, sugar,' the demon's hand lay on his shoulder and slid tenderly to his chest. 'How about we chitchat?'

'I wasn't planning to see you so soon.'

'I got stuck in this city after our last encounter. You did leave me there all alone, you naughty thing.'

'How could you, man?' taunted someone from the crowd. 'Yeah, if you don't need this chick, give her to us!'

'You are pretty popular, so leave me be,' Dante tried to turn to the bar, but Nevan held him firmly in place.

'Some family issues again? Let's find someplace private, and we can discuss one talented young demon that looks precisely like you.'

'You know something?' Dante eyed here questionably.

'I might help you with a little consolation,' smirked Nevan. 'I am sorry gentlemen but this evening is over,' she was interrupted by the disappointed noise, 'come one, give me a day off.' And she dragged Dante to the backstage, holding him by the tie. The devil hunter could but follow.

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The room was dark, lit up only by the candles in old-fashioned chandeliers. There was a dressing table with a huge mirror and a bed, predictably big and covered with embroidered velvet.

'Your taste doesn't seem to change, Queen of the Flooded Opera…' Dante didn't finish the sentence as he was pushed roughly against the door.

'Oh, it has been awhile since I had a decent meal. So would you shut up, honey, I am sure I can find quite a few better ways to use your mouth,' Nevan's hands roamed down Dante's chest to his stomach to tug at his shirt. Then she simply ripped the annoying fabric apart, hungrily kissing the newly revealed skin.

The sound of cloth being torn and the distant rolling of buttons on the floor shot through Dante like a shock. It really had been awhile and every electric touch of the demon's moist lips reflected throughout his body, teasing and arousing. Was she marking him with that red lipstick of hers?

When was the last time he had sex? Not human sex, but rough sex that was almost like fighting for survival? Was it…

But Nevan's hands were working the buckle on his jeans and Dante didn't want to think anymore.

'Kiss me,' he breathed out, powerless.

'I thought you were afraid of doing that, after the last time we met,' he surprised Nevan. True, she wanted this demon right now, but such outbursts threatened to make sex personal – that, she did not accept.

'I don't care,' it was too hot in the room, Dante's body like in agony because of an illness that had no cure. 'Kiss me, poison me, kill me… I don't want to think. I don't want to feel. Make my pain a pleasure for me, Nevan. I want to be free, so poison me and give me that freedom…'

'You are ill, Dante,' Nevan straightened up and looked at the demon before her: pearls of sweat rolling down his forehead, plastering the white locks to his hot skin; hungry lips parted, obviously seeking sin; the torn down shirt almost fell down, a snow-white frame for the rapidly raising chest and flat stomach with the first red traces of her work; opened jeans, a trail of white hair disappearing – her guideline. 'For all I care,' Nevan's voice was shaking.

She grabbed Dante by his hair, rough and demanding, and smashed their lips together fisting his white locks to guide him. Dante's fingers found their way to her ass quickly, squeezed and went up, tearing the blue fabric of the dress apart, his little revenge.

Nevan opened her mouth – and felt like she almost got fucked. Dante was insistent, powerful and wild. His lips bruised her, his tongue caressed hers, caressed every part of her mouth leaving Nevan with the feeling, that it was impossible to be more revealed. But Dante proved her wrong.

The kiss ended abruptly, the devil hunter pushed the demon back, and the shreds of the dress slid down Nevan's body, leaving her only in her underwear. Bewildered, she looked in his eyes.

Dante's eyes were red, his fangs sharp, his hand with the blue fabric trembling. Nevan knew this feeling, when she wanted to run and hide, the animal instinct for survival begging her to leave this place. But the other side of her was exited. Nevan stilled herself, putting her hand on her abdomen – there was this fire that she was afraid of – the fire she longed for. The fabric of the red thong she wore was soaked and a drop was sliding slowly along her inner thigh. By the smug smirk on Dante's face she knew he smelled it. And Nevan was not going to deny it – this pure power that now stood in front of her was driving her crazy. So crazy she could come just from looking at him.

"This madman doesn't need my poison, more like he is going to poison me," she smiled.

Nevan stayed still, trembling with agitation. Dante threw the dress away and moved past the demon, as if she was just a decoration in the room. The sharp scent of thunderstorm and rain washed over her, a regal trail wavering after him. The devil hunter sat leisurely on the bed, his hands put back for support and slowly opened his legs, despite the old jeans and the red All Stars – he was the blood and flesh of the Demon Lord, and every cell in Nevan's body was screaming that to her. His predator smile spoke for him:

Get to work, bitch.

She quickly approached Dante, losing her high-heeled shoes in the process, and fell to her knees. This was not a friendly fuck anymore, Nevan thought, it was serve or die.

Her trembling fingers pushed the zipper down, stroking Dante's length through the jeans. Hell, was he exited. Nevan nervously licked her lips and carefully took Dante out of his confinement.

His head fell back, lips parted in relief. 'Hurry,' he hissed, his voice husky and low.

Nevan knew better than to disobey, so she stroked his chest with one hand, his thigh with the other and lapped at the dark head of his length, kissed it sensually and when she was gifted with a throaty moan, she took him in her mouth, whole.

The velvety steel on her tongue was hot and trembling with arousal. So Nevan closed her eyes and sucked hard and fast, almost forgetting how to breathe, alive only by the panting and low moaning that came from above her.

The demon was good. She could read what he wanted and – she could give it to Dante. He was kind of happy he met her; it spared him so much money for prostitutes and so many worries about how not to slip. Nevan… she was like a doll that would never break. She was a demon and had no heart, so why bother with her feelings? Just use her, fuck her senseless and break her.

The strong fingers riled up Nevan's hair and for a second she was afraid she was no good and he was going to punish her. She never before felt so powerless and feminine. It was always her, who commanded and used. But being on the receiving end only sent pleasant shivers down her spine so far.

Dante's hand got a strong hold on the red long locks and started a new fast rhythm, forcefully sliding his member down the demon's throat. She moaned, wishing desperately that she had this silky steel in her other cavities. Her long-nailed fingers slid along her heated up body and between her thighs, the power of the devil hunter too much for her, and she shamelessly threw the thong away. Her fingers quickly started to caress the wet folds and one nail scraped her clitoris non-too gently. Nevan gasped and then moaned.

'Are you pleasing yourself there?' a calm, quiet question.

Do you know it is a disrespect to do so in my presence? You are supposed to pleasure me, dirty little bitch.

Dante pulled the demon back by her hair, his member sliding from her mouth, leaving a wet trail on her chin.

'I… just…' it was hard to find words in this heat, and in front of the Demon Lord. He was the one, right? 'I was wishing for you, my Lord… please, forgive me…'

Nevan was thrown on the bed, face down, and Dante's hands bent her knees, so that her burning empty core that was now longing for him was easy for him to please.

A light touch of his fingers and Nevan drew her long, beautiful legs further apart. His fingers slid inside her, stretching – an unneeded act anyone hardly ever bothered with, for she was a demon. But then – she was ready to give up all the powers she had just to be pleased by those calloused, confident fingers. She even forgot there was another dessert waiting for her. There was only one person that made her so powerless.

He came to her when the need for sex became unbearable. He was hot as fire, yet cold as ice because the sex was like it was supposed to be – an empty way to release. He was as strong as Dante, and in the end it was the only name she cried out unconsciously. With him, buried deep inside her, with his hot seed covering her insides, she would cry: 'Vergil!'

'Vergil,' panted Nevan. Dante's fingers slipped and roughly pushed inside the demon, forcing her to cry out in pain.

'Did he fuck you?'

I am not using the leftovers, you slut.

'Y-yes!' Nevan cried, as a hand lay on her shoulder, sharp nails digging into flesh, drawing small beads of blood.

'Is that so?'

You better tell me everything, scum.

'He…' the nails slowly went down along her spine, leaving thick lines of wounds. 'He came to me, because there was no other decent fuck around… and he screwed me… several times. I wished for him to come every day, but he is so proud…' Nevan was overloaded with pleasure and pain, she was so sure Dante was the Demon Lord himself that she broke: 'He is too proud to surrender to his carnal desires… so he came very rarely. But with him, with him it was real! He came for sex and got what he wanted. He was never tender; he hated what he was doing, and he hated me, and this fire was burning me alive! I wished for it – Ah!' Dante's fingers slid into Nevan's wet hole and massaged her inner walls.

'Keep talking,' an intrigued whisper.

'I wished for this fire to burn me, but then he was gone… ever since I longed for sex with a demon, like… like him…' the moment Nevan finished mouthing the last word she knew that this was already more than she ever had.

The hands kept her pinned to the bed and the head was pushed past her entrance. Nevan gasped – and as soon as her lips parted Dante bent over the demon, burying himself inside to the hilt in one steady confident motion. The devil hunter's hot mouth breathed into her ear:

'You are such a bitch, after all,' not giving her time to adjust, he pulled back until only the tip was inside and slammed all the way back into the demon writhing beneath him in desire for his cock.

It was pure bliss. Dante's power was drowning her, the fire Nevan so longed for was there, as well as the pleasure and the pain. The smell of her blood and the red stains on the messed up blanket were perfect, it sharpened her senses. The demon fucking her was hot and – she felt it – bloodthirsty. His desire was driving her crazy, his hate for her, lowly fuck toy, was consuming.

Then Dante withdrew quickly, lay down on the bed, and pulled her by her hair to sit in his lap. Nevan smiled her sultry smile and positioned his hard length at her entrance again.

'Look at me carefully, handsome Devil,' she spoke as she was pushing down, her heat engulfing Dante and cutting away every human bit of his soul. With the free hand she was folding her breast beneath the red fabric. 'Look at me carefully and remember what you can do to a woman.' Nevan threw the bra away and, freed, seated herself fully on Dante's engorged cock.

'Move,' he ordered, grasping her wrists and holding them with such strength it would leave bruises.

Nevan complied. She went up and down swiftly and steadily. The hardness inside her was too much, the hands holding her in place… showing her her place.

"What is my place anyway? I do not fit to be used in war. I do not fit into the Demon World as there I am only used as a cumbag. I do not fit into the Human World, as there is nothing here to keep me satisfied. I end up killing – and then I am hunted. I guess it is my fate to be bitch. At least, I can be used by these powerful demons. Let's say, I will be a very expensive one," Nevan smiled a bitter smile, but her usual consolation logic failed, leaving the void inside her. Dante and his overwhelming power helped her forget for several minutes, but: "Well, this doesn't work anymore… hell…"

Nevan closed her eyes, clutched the hands that were holding her and rode Dante with abandon. She moved faster and faster, the sound of flesh slapping against flesh in the air; sweat dripping down, mixing with her juices and leaving drops on the devil hunter's strained stomach.

The demon was squeezing him, pushing him further and further into oblivion, when Dante noticed the despair on Nevan's face. Her features were not distorted by pure pleasure anymore, it was a well-masked desire to be killed.

"I snapped. I lost it. I pushed her and she liked it. It's not like her, not like Nevan. Why is she so desperate? Does she really want to die? Why, she of all demons."

The cry the demon let out when Dante accidentally hurt her, thrusting in too fast, told him the truth. She did seek redemption in death.

Suddenly the blood was not boiling in Dante's veins anymore, the power that was pulsating through him was gone as well as the desire to dominate, to control, to humiliate. In a second he let go of the demon, sat up and tenderly embraced her naked shuddering body, then fell down on the pillows, her head on his shoulder.

'Stop this self-destruction this very second, Nevan,' Dante threatened quietly. 'The fire you were seeking is the wrong one. I will show you the real one.'

Nevan was looking in front of her, shaken. How did this fucker know? But the hands holding her close to his chest – though those were not the hands of the Demon Lord anymore – they felt strong and safe. She was carefully put on the pillows, and as Nevan glanced up, there was Dante – the man with the friendly smile; the man strong enough to conquer the whole world and protect it. His eyes were sky-blue, welcoming and kind. A human.

'Relax and feel,' he said and slowly moved inside her, his hand caressing her breast, massaging it lovingly; while the other travelled lower, a teasing light touch, until it reached the little hub of nerves and rolled it tenderly.

It was all strange. A strange change Nevan never witnessed before. So far everything was going the way she planned. The sex itself was the same as with that demon… what was his name, the name of the demon brother of Dante? Nevan forgot.

"Who could have thought that I will be able to forget that name? But now, it seems, my world is only Dante. So, Dante, if you read me so well, show me the fire that I should look for. Give me my redemption."

The devil hunter's fingers caressed the bundle of nerves, neglected before that, and she arched up, hands lost in the bed sheets, legs holding Dante by the waist. As Nevan's body shook and jerked in pleasure, Dante pushed inside her and lowered himself to suck on a dark rosy nipple.

Nevan moaned: 'More…' the slow pace maddening her and arousing the demon to no extent. Dante quickened the pace and tweaked the slick bud above the lips that were now holding him firmly. 'More, dammit!' Nevan shouted, and Dante laughed, a happy wide grin on his face.

It was a rare occasion when he was having sex neither to please himself nor to find release. This time sex was for her – and for her only, and Dante was sincerely happy he could help.

Strangely, it made him hard, the thought of Nevan enjoying every bit of sex with him.

The sound of his laughter rang in the demon's ears. It sounded… happy? Everything around was warm and a hot wet tongue was lapping at her nipple. Nevan could feel Dante's smile on her skin. Her own body did not seem so lewd anymore. She was being cared for, and it engulfed her completely.

The need rose, slowly but constantly, not a sharp spark of short pleasure, but a huge wave coming from afar. Unstoppable, unbelievable. Dante's thrusts became erratic, he was gasping for air with every move, his lips and tongue brushing her ear naughtily. He could smell the light sweet scent of her tousled hair, the luring intoxicating smell of her skin slowly enveloping him. The devil hunter was holding Nevan by her waist, his arms on her back, and it seemed to her he was thus embracing and protecting her.

'Ah – almost… the-ah-re… ' Nevan panted and shouted: 'Dante!' overwhelmed, digging her nails into Dante's muscled back, as she was shaken by her orgasm. The demon's body spasmed, her inner walls constricted and sent Dante over the edge, opening for him the highest peaks of heaven. The hot ribbons of seed covered Nevan's insides and the devil hunter let his body fall down, the red locks on his shoulder.

'Seek love, Nevan,' Dante whispered into the demon's ear. 'You are not suited for the Demon World because you can be much better. Your kingdom is not war. Your kingdom is lust and passion. So bask in sin however you like, but do not burn yourself in vain. Do not make it pointless, have a goal. Seek love, it is always a goal worth all the pain, and in the end you will find your true place.'

Nevan searched nervously for some cloth to cover herself. "Leave it to this asshole to mess everything up."

'Chill babe,' Dante laughed, 'you have nothing to be ashamed of, rather, would you come to my place to dance for me? I've got some multy-zeroed bills in my pants.'

'First, take yourself out of me, sugar, or I might tear your equipment off you,' Nevan snickered when Dante hurried to slip out of her. 'Second, your numerous zeros do not have any figures before them, which leaves them just a bunch of lousy zeros.'

'Oi, that hurt,' the devil hunter fake-pouted.

'Last, you are in my bed none the less, so take off your jeans and shoes, you crazed animal.'

'Okay, okay, Mum,' Dante sat up, sent the shoes flying into the corner and the jeans onto the floor.

'You getting kinky already? I thought we just finished. You up to act two?'

'Nope, and no role-playing, please,' Dante smiled and fell on the bed, tired. 'This should be enough for now. I do not do unnecessary sex.'

'And here I thought you two were different.'

'Are we the same in bed?' asked Dante. Saddened by the reminder of his brother, he frowned.

'Actually…'

'I shouldn't have come here to have fun with you. He is there and he is in pain, I should have stayed with him.'

'Why is he in pain?' intrigued, Nevan turned to Dante, her head reclined upon her hand.

'Did I say that out loud?'

'You definitely did.'

'Forget it, I need to go home,' the devil hunter jumped from the bed and despite his whole body craving some rest, tried to put himself back into the light blue jeans.

'No shower before you go?' Nevan rose from the bed as well and approached him wrapped in the white bedsheet.

'Not now; will have one when I am there,' dropped Dante across his shoulder as he was putting on the second shoe.

'A goodbye kiss then?' she demanded.

Dante straightened up and leaned in to those red lips, lipstick all smeared off. As soon as flesh connected with flesh Dante knew that was a bad idea. Electricity burned his lips, sweet smell made his head spin and before he could do anything the world went blank.

The body fell to her knees and Nevan sat on the bed. Small lightnings cracked in the air around her.

'It's a good thing I met you today, devil boy. Or, maybe I should start calling you the Devil Lord?

Honestly, I don't feel like giving you to them. But you said so yourself: war is not my cup of tea. And unfortunately, everybody needs to survive in their own way. For example, I sell myself.'

She put her slender legs across his back.

'But today was definitely a rare day when I totally got fucked. In more ways than one. Won't you be my own Devil Lord, sugar?'

.......................................endo chap 04.......................................

Hell, I am the angst god. How did I end up making HER angsty?

O_O So, yeah, Dante got in trouble!

I know, you all V/D lovers like me are now screaming: Dante, dude, you screwed the wrong person! But, you know... he should always have someone to cheat on Verge with, right? Aint i the queen of angst ^__^

and btw... guess what? Dante is straight! Mwahahahaha As to vergil... wouldn't you want to know)

Coming next: Dante tortured, vergil awake and kicking ass for dante. All fluffy? Not in my story! Trish in blood, dante has a breakdown. Wait a sec, is he getting suicidal?? mwahaha look for updates

Like it? Hate it? Don't be silent anyway, tell me!

See ya soon,

Ethan