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Issues, Parental related

Listen to Iron Maiden...with me.

There are some who say that the way to a person's innate character was through their parental guidance and upbringing. There are people in the world that have mother and father issues. That much is true. But with Dante, an observer of character, such as perhaps a professional psychiatrist would place him in the category of having mother issues. Well, he is absolutely in denial. That big sword behind his back that he carries, would also place him having penis issues as well. Ah hell no, he'll tell you, that's reserved for those men who own big trucks and big toys, because they're trying to compensate. Typical. No, no, he would have none of that.

He was most certainly not a tiny man, nor was he tiny down there, yes, ladies and gentlemen, not tiny down there. He could grab hold of his purple guitar, swing a few songs and shake his ass like Shakira, or grind his hips back and forth like the King, but he was never, ever small. His former and current lover Nevan, was still prowling around behind his guitar collection. If he felt like it, he could patch up a few songs and sing a nice tune but he had to make sure that Trish was out of the establishment first. She didn't want to witness the severe cheesiness of his performance. It was just too much to ask.

He refuses to believe that he had mommy issues. He refuses it so much that he walked out of the doctor's office one day, carrying that big Rebellion blade on his back. Dante did not want to go visit a psychiatrist at first. He thought these guys were all blubbering quacks. But, his friend Enzo insisted, and though the fat, creepy beer-bellied old friend was full of shit most of the time, Dante gave in after he had lost to a bet. What that bet was, no one really knows.

Scene one: When Dante had entered the psychiatrist's office, it was bathed in a soft light, but the doctor was sitting behind the desk, with the lights dimmed low and bookshelves on various teachings of fucked up cases sat idly behind. He snorted at the doc's shadow, and when the said doctor finally emerged from behind the desk, he was taken aback at the image he was not expecting. She was dazzling. Gorgeous for a quack, that was for sure.

And Presently: He snorts inelegantly, rubbing his nose with an index finger, looks for a comfortable sitting place. He throws his body up in the air and lands loudly on one of the doctor's leather wear. He sits back nonchalantly against the big leather brown chair, and because it's customary to his character, he places his cowboy boots atop the professional woman's desk. Just one Plunked noise. He sits his one booted feet atop his other.

"Ahem," the doctor says, coughing into the mouth with a fist, "Dante Sparda I presume?"

"Nope! Sparda's my father's name. Not my last name."

"Oh?" She came into the light more, leaning down, her features sharp, looking very much like Trish. She's got light brown mousy hair, but it's her features which stood out, with red- red ruby lips plump and slick and wet, looking like it's been dumped in olive oil and filled with collagen. Her baby blues are just like Trish's too. Sharp strong nose, and beautiful as fuck.

He felt a twitch of hardness between his thighs. Ah fuck. It's all Trish's fault. Why does he see his mother's resemblance everywhere? Damn that photo! Maybe that photo of Eva was wrong? It's dad's fault really. It's his fault! Did Vergil have this problem too? Or is it just me?

She folds her arms then, sent him one elegant brow, fiercely arching up near her hairline. Definitely not pleased, but took out her folder out, and he notices that she's wearing her nails plum like Nevan.

Ah Damn. Nevan and Trish. Damn. His groin's tight against his jeans, uncomfortable now. Why must he be a horny bastard all the time? It's a good thing he can fuck anything really. Demons, witches, humans, no matter the gender. It provided him with a lot of opportunities for good sex. He reaches down to his pants and pull at the jean material, twitching a little, moving his legs so.

When she notices she smacks the boots off her desk, "Please, mister Dante, I do not tolerate boots on my desk."

"Whatever you say, babe." He winks at her, and it was kind of an involuntary reaction. He meant no harm by it but she stiffened, and her eyes bore into his.

"Mister Dante with no specific last name, may I remind you that this is a professional office?"

"Yeah yeah," he waves his hand, "just tell me what's wrong with me, doc."

She heaves a sigh, "All right, now it says on your file that you have these mother issues?"

"WHAT?" He sat up straight, "Did that Enzo say that about me? I'll…." He wants to grit his teeth and run out of that office because this is pure bullshit. But, her eyes, those baby blues, and those sharp beautiful features. Like his mother.

"Maybe," he sighs, "maybe I do have mother issues."

"Now, let's talk about your childhood…" She asks quietly, "what was it like?"

He leans back on the leather, his hands are now clasped together, and he tries very hard to recall again those harsh memories of his mother.

"She was….i remember very beautiful…like you….like my partner Trish."

"What did she look like?"

"I have her photo on my desk. She's long and lean, but athletically strong. You know, strong thighs, lithe, gorgeous all around…kind of like you."

He looks at her and she raises a brow, and notices that she starts to fidget on her collar, "Ahem, well I suppose that's a compliment."

---

When Lady first saw Vergil, she was still pissed off at her daddy. Okay, she came to terms that she had some serious daddy issues. And you know, she realizes deep inside of her that these daddy issues weren't working well with Dante. He had mommy issues, and all he could do was think of his mother while he fucked her drunk. How did she know this? He had a photo of his mother right there by the bed stand. It was creepy at first, but then so was having his mother's photo in the shower room too. So much for borrowing his bathroom. When she took her first dump in Dante's toilet, she tried to focus on finishing the act, but her eyes opened slowly, to find herself face to face with Eva's photo on the wall opposite.

She froze. Literally. It was weird. She hurriedly pushed the offending feces off her body and wiped herself clean. Stood up, wiggled her panties back on and flushed the toilet. When she had confronted Dante that the photo of his mother was on the wall, he shrugged.

---

Lady's the type who wants things settled. Once and for all.

His reply?

"Babe, I had to make sure I never forget my mother's face. So I made copies, reprints of her face and placed it every room."

Trish leans against the desk filing her nails, and blowing a piece of bubble gum. She just harumpfed to herself loudly.

"But," Lady sputters, "You already have Trish." Then receives a glare from the blond demon.

Dante merely shrugs and walks into the kitchen mumbling something about needing food for his belly and thirsty for tomato juice. It had lots of good stuff in it. Lots of vitamins.

"Now hold on there, Lady," defends Trish, "I don't exactly look like her. I only bear a resemblance to Eva. I'm more…let's just say, much more unique. I'm not a clone, because I'm an individual. Mundus only made one of Eva's familiar. But I'm different. I can do this!" She set her file down on the table as elegantly as she could, and lifts her one arm up, her fingers curled delicately in the air.

In no time, she twirls fast, and a beautiful dark-skinned woman took her place. She wears this flouncy neat trimmed white wig, and her eyes are intensely white, so white she looks like a blind woman.

But hell, she's sex on a pair of legs. Her body looks like an hour glass and she did the splits just now, toes out, like no tomorrow, partially showing off her clit. Trish twirls one more time for good measure, showing off her black beautiful shapely ass, "You like?"

Lady blinks. "Wow. That's wow!" She's speechless. "Does Dante know?"

"Not yet, but soon. I'll reveal everything soon." Trish winks, "Just call me Gloria when I'm in this mode."

but he doesn't know who I really am...

---

When Lady first saw Vergil, she had been on her way to killing the worst possible human ever to live. Well, so she thought until she was hoping that daddy dearest was telling the truth about Vergil. Okay, so she was a gullible fool to ever believe that her daddy who just killed her mother would actually be demon possessed by Vergil.

When Lady first made contact with Vergil, he was not exactly hot or cold, but his voice was pure steel –telling her in so little words that she's such a little fool for believing, for hoping.

"You really believe that bullshit?" was what he would have said in translation. But he spoke like some guy from the Victorian high society, or those gentlemen who visited men's club and only wore dark pressed suits, expensive cheroots between his lips, and indulged in a bit of glossy hair saloon gel.

Damn her for being such a fool.

Well that was a decade ago and the poor sod chose hell. When she meets him again, it was through a portal, because she decided to see if her father was really down there. Really really down there.

When she crosses the bridge past the hell's hounds and the flying harpies, she saw him.

"Mary? You're either really foolish or just simply dim-witted." He gazed at her like that usual, laconic steely – you're too menial for my attention kind of look – but he looked at everyone like that anyway.

"Just wanted to know if my father was around."

"Then it must be the latter." He's still pompous as ever.

Instead of skewering her, which she presumes in her head he would, he simply shrugs, "Your father's going through the wringer…again."

"Wringer?"

He still wears his blue shiny jacket, with those elaborate mid-century snake designs on it. Not a scratch or tear. "Yes, he's first boiled alive, then skewered, and lastly goes through a rolling machine filled with hot spikes and spoon-fed through like a pancake."

Surprisingly, Lady smiles.

Vergil sees this.

"Sadism suits you."

"You think so?" Lady smiles wider.

He sees this again, eyes her warily, and takes a deep breath, "You are not welcomed here, so I suggest you return to that portal you made with your precious blood, and therefore, give my regards to my brother."

"I want to see." She walks up to him, stops him with a hand on his arm, crinkles his sleeve. She sees his face, like a stoned pale statue of cold-blue ice.

"Thou shalt not touch, Mary."

"My name is Lady."

"Yes, so I heard. But you're Mary to me."

"Why? Because Dante named me?"

"I find it interesting that you would take after my brother's name for yourself. No originality, Mary. All right. Lady then it is." He straightens, "If you so want to see your father, so gravely, I shall coddle your wishes."

Then she knew, Lady knew, that Vergil's the one. Even if she abhorred the thought. He's more than Dante in every way possible. It pains her to admit it, but everything her daddy was and had been, was through Vergil.

Later, much much later, after a series of sights that she was subjected to see, those sights of demons eating upon her daddy's flesh, and spitting out his cock, she was left breathing hard, and the sweat tickled along her exposed skin. She could barely breathe in this realm, but the slickness of her body and the spread of her legs were wrapped around Vergil's pale, almost shiny perspired but beautifully sculpted and clean body. He pinned and stabbed his rigid body like a methodical lover into her, and she cried out against his cheek, felt his sweat trickle along her lips and into her mouth. She screamed like she could never do with Dante. She screamed like a whore calling out her daddy.

Yes, she had daddy issues.

Her lips start to shake.

----

When Lady left Simona, she got together with another guy, who actually stole her virginity. She smoked cigarettes with him, drank the best Scottish whiskey and sipped on plum wine. It was all a phase really.

She was aggressive with him, tore his shirt off, and kissed him soundly. But it never occurred to Mary then that this first love of hers had been Simona's ex boyfriend.

Simona and the ex boyfriend met again, after strange circumstances, and the sharp look her old girlfriend sent her was cruel. She almost stood back from the harshness of it.

"I see that you've been acquainted with my ex boyfriend's dick."

"Simona, stop it." Her boyfriend warned, but no one could stop Simona when she was jealous. She took out that gun from the depths of her big tote bag, and shot him.

Mary cried out. She bent over him and cried, the tears fell quickly. God! She lost another man in her life. She was sure this one; this one was her replacement for her father's lack.

No, no, no….the litany of those words tore into her and she stood up, eyes blurring with rage and slapped Simona.

Mary called the cops, had her arrested, saw the face of her former lover with dark streaks of mascara running down the sun-brown cheeks.

It was the last time she saw Simona.

--

She never did find another lover for a long time who fulfilled her problems.

Not until Vergil.

The finality of that was startling. Crazy mad startling. It was hell in a basket. He did everything her daddy used to do, when she thought Arkham treated her mother and daughter with careful methodical care. It was all a farce. Vergil represented all that and much much more.

Even as she got on her hands and knees and told him to do it. He told her simply that he didn't like to take her like a dog. He was too above that.

"On one condition." He said to her in that pacifying manner, his cock rigid against her skin. His fingers grabbing hold of a handful of her spiky black hair.

"Vergil please," she panted then. She really couldn't stand the fact that her loins screamed for his already hard partially demonic penis, because the way he sexed her, was…was so different. So fatherly.

The thought made her want to puke her guts out.

"I shall call you Mary when I subject myself in this position." He had settled his elegant fingers softly along her naked ass.

"Fucker." She whimpered. "Okay fine."

With one swift move, like a Yamato sliding back into its sheath, he planted his cock deep. He even allowed himself to groan a little. Vergil never made love, no, nay, he wasn't like that. He did everything methodical and planned. Much like a scientist or a, philosphical inventor, with carefully calculated moves. Even down to his orgasm.

"Mary," he said in that seductive tone, in that sadistic way of his, leaned his body over hers, his mouth against her sweating dark tendrils.

"Oh my fucking god! Daddy!" was all she could say while bucking her ass against him.

And Vergil repeated the process. He grinned the entire time, and if someone could place a flashlight underneath his chin, he'd look quite freaky and eerie.

Fucking sadistic bastard.

----

Dante eventually started to make long sweet love to the doctor, and it paid off, so he thought. Because she made sure to make a series of tests on him so he would not have so many mommy issues.

"Your desire to have your mother be there for you, when she wasn't was a hole in the depths of your heart and your….cock." She said to him as she pushed her hips back.

"Yes, oh yes, babe, oh wow, you're so fucking gooood." Dante murmured against his doctor's lips, creating a chaotic tempo of hip smashing and cock burying up and down, sliding out and in.

"Listen, Dante," she cooed against his ear, holding him close, her fingers tracing his hair, "You shall forget this nonsense of your mother's face and try and focus on loving your partners without her presence on your every fibered soul. Do you hear what I'm saying?"

"Mmmm," he growled slowly, "I'm gonna come, babe."

Dante had a one track mind.

He wasn't a teenaged demon dirtbag anymore, but he was a dirtbag when it came to sex.

--

When Dante gets home, he is met with a mad-crazy demoness with long blond hair, black leather, with her throwing the motorcycle. He barely dodges away.

"What the fuck!? Trish!" He's livid and shocked.

"I could take anything, Dante." She says to him in that cool, sultry voice, her hands on her hips, "I could take you having sex with your secret succubus Nevan, take the fact that you can shove your cock in some young man's ass, in fact several men! And you like 'em young too. And I like watching as well." She licks her lips at the memory but remembers why she threw the bike at him.

She stares down at him with those baby blues.

"But making love to a woman who looks like your mother?" She bit her lip, and a pained expression replaces her anger. Shaking her head, she reaches up with a hand to massage her forehead, "What about me? Was I not enough?"

Dante sighs in that room—a long hollow sigh – and he stands up, his eyes warily searching for anymore motorcycles. He finally reaches to Trish, reaches with a shaking hand and touches the lone tear that falls in slow motion down her porcelain cheeks. If his mother were alive...god damn. She'd look like this.

"I love you like I did my mother, Trish."

Her lips shook.

"Dante," she whispers hoarsely, "That's the most beautiful thing you've ever said to me."

They kiss. Roughly.

---

Later, much much later, they were in the bedroom, breaking the springs on the mattress and creating holes in the wall.

He screamed out something incoherent and blubbering something parental during orgasm.

"OH MOMMY!"

The photo of Eva fell on the floor, the glass shattered. Trish jerked her face up to look at him. "What the fuck?"

Lo and behold.

This must be fate.

Shit. He had mother issues still.

--

the end.

and that concludes this very dark, satirical crack! ficlet.