Nero stole a glance to the glowing LED of the alarm clock on the small cabinet next to the bed. It was exactly three in the morning, and not a moment too soon had he heard the 'PSSSSHHHH' Dante was talking about; he was still up since the previous night, unable to put Claustrophobia down since its first page. Nero was used to losing sleep over the crushing urge to finish what he started, so it came as no surprise to him that he was able to hear Vergil in the pool.

After his initial jump things went unexpectedly silent and Nero became more and more curious with every passing second. His concentration wavered slightly, not able to take in the words he was reading owing to the situation a couple of feet from him. He was dying in bed, his mouth dry from thinking of what kind of costume Vergil owned right down to what may be the most impressive bulge in the history of existence. In typical Nero fashion, he closed the book with his finger on his page and whacked himself on the head, chastising over the impure thoughts of a man whose ideals he held higher than life itself.

Reading through line after line, nothing made its way through his skull as the unseen distraction toyed with him more than he predicted; lumbering in his new, soft, oversized purple pyjamas and black version of Vergil's fluffy slippers – courtesy of Dante's handiness in the sleepwear department – he set the book down for its own safety on the table, waking his mind to be vigilant for the two sharp angles he had to manoeuvre through just to make it to the open plan portion of the apartment. The moon shone through the huge windows and reflected its eerie light against the greyscale living room, providing Nero with sufficient light to trek across to the opposite end without needing a light switch – not that he knew where those were either.

He laid his ear against the door and heard very faint swishes of water, assuming it was Vergil just casually walking around the pool or taking tiny dips at a time; the way his pale skin glinted under artificial lights as excess water flowed down his broad shoulders ignoring the quicker detour and opting for the long route over his tight, muscled chest and arms, leaving neutral drool in its wake; the manner in which his body flexed to an unheard tempo, gliding through the water at his own stride like the axiomatic god he was, the substance passionately submitting to every one of his commands. True, it was all in his head, but that laid no grounds for its impossibility.

Nero could hear Vergil's restless breath as he broke free from the warm pool, shaking his head and ridding his silver strands of the burdening liquid. For a long time, he listened to him breathing; the sweet sound of exertion mixed with the air that graced his lungs was intrigue in its finest form as he gazed to the handle of the door, doubting a single touch to the lukewarm piece of steel would offer the balls he needed to open it. As a few seconds would prove, he no longer needed it. "You can come in if you want." He thought there was a glitch to his hearing; he impulsively let go of the door as if the contact made Vergil aware of his presence. "I can see your feet by the door Nero."

"How do you know it's me?" Nero could have easily entered without guilt; instead he dug the hole deeper as he strained his brain to see the image unfold.

"Dante would have stormed through after a millisecond behind the door."

Oh well, so much for snooping; he opened the door slowly, venturing into the room he had only heard of – he dove headfirst into layer upon layer of unknown territory in the past couple of hours more than he had ever achieved in his twenty three years of life. He poked his head through, getting a good view of the expensive black tiles that lined the wall from floor to ceiling; speaking of the ceiling, it housed several thousand fibre optic lights stretching across it with a few bits and bobs sticking out for a real night-time star effect; a tiny piece of the pool was visible, the bottom clouded by the murky, boiling water Vergil had set for himself. Stepping inside the room, the wall to his left and right came equipped with towel and robe hangers for your choice of a quick refreshing dip or a long soak that left you looking like a raisin.

At long last his eyes budged to the spread of hair at the centre of the pool ready to break the surface of the water for some much needed air: Vergil pounced, securing his feet on the slippery base of the pool and shaking his head wildly in the warm air. Using both his hands he frisked it backward, giving him his traditional slicked-back look and wiped his face clean of the moist residue. The pool came to his waist where he stood – the upward motion of his arms involuntarily set his biceps on display, allowing Nero to watch tiny droplets of water regret their life choices as they slid from his arms to a variety of places on his chest and abs. Wherever Nero looked was firm skin and an abundance of results from tireless sessions at the gym, sculpting him into a piece of art that made Aphrodite quit her day job. He turned to Nero as his eyes dawdled on the V protruding from the water level and a tiny cluster of silver hairs that lead further downward. Oh dear; Vergil hit him with a winning sneer as he wrung out the shiny mess on his head, fluffing it out and giving a new definition to 'sex on legs'. He walked toward him in his wet state, holding the side of the pool close to his black slippers. "I've actually just come to check whether or not you have some cold water with you."

"I don't." The air was rife with heat; too much at once and he could get really sick. At least, that's what Nero told himself. "Would it make you feel better if I had some?"

"If it would make you feel better at me feeling better that you had some, then yes."

Vergil glided to the general area where the steps would be, offering Nero the best view of his back. His hair seemed so much longer under wet circumstances and covered most of his neck, while the broadness of his shoulders made Nero take two steps back to take it all in; the ridges along the smooth skin moved with each motion, illustrating the heavenly mechanics of his body and everything that came with it. He climbed up the first few mini steps. "That's actually a good idea-"

The higher he climbed, the more Nero wondered how low he wore his swimming costume. "I'll get it, it's okay." Gods forbid he needed an ice cold shower after this. In all honesty, he'd hate to be the reason his hero got something as stupid as the flu. "Ice and lemon?"

He was up to his antics again, clearly knowing what he was doing to the poor boy. "Please."

Nero effortlessly slipped through the door to the kitchen. Vergil scratched at his naked, damp chest, leaving his hand to linger on his stomach a little while longer. He looked bashfully through his long, lustrous eyelashes as the door sealed, pinching at the supple, unforgiving area below his belly button and tracing the trail of little hairs until both his hands were wedged between his legs.

Nero located a humungous glass jug and filled it to the brim with ice cold water from the fridge, throwing into it an entire tray of its frozen ancestors and slicing the lemon into rings to float at the top. He grabbed a tall glass from the cabinet in the corner and walked briskly to his infernal demise, a piece of his soul perishing with each step as giddiness overflowed within the grey matter between his ears. This was very unlike him in every aspect, but the overturned leaf nagging at the forefront of his mind looked good from where he stood, still undecided on the new lease on life instilled by the daring twin, but wherein lied the harm in stretching his wings a little? Why it had to be Vergil, a man so open and brilliant, so delectably insane and far from his expectations to be the one to let loose on, disregarding his isolated upbringing and letting himself be, living in the moment and not predisposed with the burden of assessing eyes from the shadows, he'd never know. Was this pure freedom or was it the better, more well-known illusion? Whichever he chose for it to be, he liked it. A lot.

He entered the room, spotting two glowing, incinerating blue eyes directly in front of him; Vergil immersed half his face into the warm water like a crocodile stalking his next meal, keeping a keen eye on the fresh meat that had just wandered into his domain. He stood and wiped his face, leaning over the ledge of the pool and resting his head on his arms. "Where do you want it?"

"Just here is fine." He tapped the flat surface in front of him. "Why don't you sit for a bit? Or are you in a hurry to get back to sleep?"

Vergil's gaze followed him as he sank to the floor and crossed his legs, making the black fluff comfortable under his weight. "I haven't slept yet; I'm almost finished with your book." He poured Vergil a full glass as a preventative measure, being careful not to spill anything, which was pointless.

Passing it down one level, the author took it kindly and finished the entire glass not realising how thirsty the damp air had made him. He passed the glass back and Nero poured another; one look at the satisfaction on his face spoke volumes as soon as the beverage made its steely way through his body and cooled him from the inside out. Vergil's breathing stilled at the chilly pinpricks created, his silken pecks rising and falling to regulate his body temperature. "Where are you now?"

Again, he was trying not to spill. "Halfway through chapter thirty six. I would have been further, but I read chapter fifteen three times – I couldn't get over it."

This was something he could never get tired of; hearing someone taking a liking to his mindless rambling only turning into a cohesive whole after months of meetings and editing done mainly by his brother. His books shrunk healthily to an acceptable size with Dante in the picture; he never enjoyed writing for the purpose of allowing the world to hear his thoughts, falling into a trope of writing only what the general public wanted to hear, concentrating on the good and discounting the tangible. That wasn't what Vergil was about, and that was why Nero wasn't just someone else. Even Dante could see it. "Oh, only four more to go. Impressive." Nero was sitting close enough for Vergil to remove his slippers from his feet and roll his loose pyjamas over his knees. "But you're losing sleep."

Vergil pulled him closer to the edge and dipped his feet into the warm water; it was comfortable and enthralling, plucking the strings of his eminent tiredness that he had fought for the sake of pre-published literature. When he began his journey, being awake for countless hours was a feat he had mastered long before college, but falling into the habits of a proper master's student sleep snuck up on him through the day and sometimes during the course of his lectures, unable to keep his eyes open to make up for the few hours he had lost. "It's indirectly your fault."

"I'm done growing; I know you still have a few inches to go, so-"

"Oh you're hilarious." Nero tried kicking him with flecks of water, but the urge to avenge his small stature compared to the twins subsided with Vergil kneading the muscles at the back of his legs; it relaxed and frustrated him at the same time, making him lean on his arms as his skilled touch pressed at the equally impressive skin on his calves, simultaneously allowing for slumber to slip into the top level of his subconscious. "You and your brother are huge, that's more having to do with genetics than me being tiny in comparis-" he stopped to let a yawn through, Vergil taking no mercy. "What was I saying?"

"Yes, point made. Our shoulders are a problem." He moved to his ankles, keeping the joints submerged and applying the right amount of pressure to not cause him any pain. Progressing to his feet, Vergil watched him carefully as each point he prodded reacted to a specific body part on Nero's build. Currently, he focused his attention on his back, using his thumb to encircle around the bundle of nerves.

Nero's arms grew heavy under the added weight of tiredness and evidently surrendered, lying flat on the cool onyx tiles and cracking his back on the way down. "It's not just… your… shoulders…" Vergil was wreaking havoc on the poor boy, controlling his every move from nerve central – as far as Nero knew, it was a simple foot massage as payment for keeping him company for a few minutes, but the thorough bastard and his larks were an unstoppable force only made stronger at the power of two. The strong, commanding sensations tingled through his entire body and quelled at the base of his neck; messing with his head would be too easy from his position. He pushed downward on his insteps exploding the impending bubble of tension in his ankles that resulted in him jolting straight up in a mix of dazed discomfort and reprieve.

Nero was more awake than when he first entered the room. "What were we talking about?"

Vergil repositioned between Nero's legs with his back against the pool wall. "Chapter fifteen." The smooth motion of lifting his legs over his shoulders was almost imperceptible. "You blanked out during your explanation of the-" The dry man behind him raked his fingers in his damp locks, feeling his way through the tufts of soft hair as he spoke; over and over his fingertips gently grazed his scalp, tenderly admonishing the control Vergil thought he had over the situation, "-of the way you related to-" Nero added his other hand to the mix, beginning at the sides of his head and clawing his way to the back, fiddling with the baby hairs on his sleek, powerful neck and smoothing out the creases left by his tricks in the water. Vergil kept his composure well enough for his head to hit the ledge and telepathically urge Nero not to stop. "You said you really liked chapter fifteen."

Whatever they wished to call it – a table flip, a three sixty, you name it – Nero had bested Vergil at his own game. "Speaking of which I have to get back to reading." It couldn't even described as being left high and dry; Nero poured a final glass before heading to his room – extra ice and lemon for the sour individual roaming in the water.

"Before you do," a one eighty flip and two deep middle fingers to Nero's feet later, he dipped his head behind him and shook it out over the student, "take one for the road."

"What did you-" It hit him between the eyes, hard and taxing: Vergil nonchalantly swam to the other side of the pool as Nero collapsed in pleasured agony, writhing and moaning on the tiled floor. Unwillingly his body contorted into a foetal position, attempting to hinder the distress signal Vergil had initiated. Facing the opposite wall it finally stopped, leaving him panting and dizzy as every pint of blood focused on actively accumulating in one lengthy, delicately scrumptious spot. The hands that covered the new ache moved slowly, confirming Vergil's handicapable proficiency. "God, Vergil, did you just give me a boner?"

"An unbearably painful one." Vergil made use of the spare time he had, cupping bouts of water and throwing it on himself to warm his chilling skin; all would have been achieved in one dip under the water, but this was more fun, seeing as Nero finally mustered the energy to turn his face in his direction. "Enjoy your reading."

His skin was on fire in the best way possible; replicating the marvel as if he were in a fitting state of affairs, the bulking organ swelled without his consent beneath him – without so much as a warning the irritation altered to instinctive carnality, and being the reward-after-play soul that Nero was, his hands sneaked into the elastic of the loose cottons, feeling his way through overcoming the torturous obstacle. "I can't move." The skin on his penis was stretched beyond its limit, the tiniest of his touches proving too sensitive. "Fuck, since when is this meant to hurt?"

"It's not." And didn't he wish he could see the look on Vergil's face as he said that. The tone was all he needed to mould the face from which the comment came: that signature half-smirk and a raised eyebrow complimented by a not-so-gentle bite to the corner of his mouth, a misplaced piece of fringe draping over one eye, and his gorgeous chest and arms on full display, nonchalantly crossed along his stomach to make the look appear more natural.

Nero listened carefully: Vergil voice bounced off the water. He was a clearing distance away, and Nero prayed he wouldn't randomly pop up behind him while he stole a few seconds for himself. Bending at the wrist, he gaped toward his hand… bursting into a fit of laughter.

A few inches my ass.

Dante stood at the foot of Vergil's bed watching him sleep; the silky covers rose and fell with every breath, alternately covering and exposing Vergil's bare chest. For as long as they'd been living together Vergil never took a liking to pyjamas or any comfortable clothing for the purpose of sleep, owing to it defeating the fact of being content whilst your body regenerated its lost energy. That, and that it made going to the bathroom so much easier. Both their respective bathrooms were quite a distance from their sleeping quarters, so Dante was used to seeing his brother in his birthday suit walk up and down his balcony whenever the concept of being comfortable was disturbed by one too many cups of coffee too late at night. He had also made the mistake of assuming the trend may have discontinued for the weekend because of the extra presence; turns out not so much.

"How long are you planning on standing there, Dante?"

Vergil faced the wall to his left, opening his sparkling blue marbles and turning to face a mirror image of himself, wearing too many pieces of clothing for this early in the morning. Dante was in a white tank and black boxer shorts; at least he wore no underwear. "Long enough to figure out if you're naked or just not wearing a shirt."

"If I'm not wearing a shirt what makes you think I'm wearing pants?" The man in the bed turned to his brother, leaning on his arm and creating the same shape with his leg below.

Dante was searching for any show of material under the covers; maybe his duvet would play along and hug the right spots to display tracksuit pants of low-cut briefs. The silhouette created by Vergil's leg gave nothing away and the room had no proper lighting for a shadow to form. "Good point." Tilting his head for the sake of naïve fascination, he ventured through four different angles for his brother's amusement before the elder guiltlessly lifted the covers for Dante to have a good look. Yep – how could he think Vergil opted for pants when the battle for the shirt was lost? "Nope, and here I almost gave you the benefit of the doubt." It wasn't a cold morning, so he got his brother's better angle. "On a side note, you're deliberately huge today."

Vergil dropped the sheets and stretched his lean, velvety frame, flattening his palms on his headboard and pushing down, multiple areas popping their way into the new day as his face distorted to a fresh stage of sublime. "And to think I didn't do anything to it the entire night."

"It's those swims; they make you too relaxed."

"Perhaps you should give them a try, little brother."

The indirect insult had the walls cringing in awkwardness; Vergil was not one for a recurring joke, but making fun of Dante's package was something he could get used to – that piece of information was on a need to know basis, and an opportunity for him needing to know the exact details between his legs had never presented itself. "Those three extra minutes paid off for you, Verge. When you entered the world I pumped all the nutrients I could and guess where I sent it?"

He stood at the open door as Vergil got out of bed. "I'll believe it when I see it, Dante." He walked to his closet of the other end of the room and retrieved their suits for their scheduled meeting; feeling Dante's eyes on him he grabbed a nearby hand towel and wrapped it around him, hanging low on his hips. "Better?"

"Barely – and don't get a big head for this – but your tip is still sticking out the bottom."

He shifted his concentration to the suits, unzipping the covers and checking the ties to find his one. He chose the silky skinny tie while Dante chose the normal cotton one – without light and much feeling in his fingers he couldn't tell. "Good. I was only aiming to cover my ass."

If Dante ever went blind from rolling his eyes too much, the doctors attending to him would just need to spend an afternoon with his brother. Case closed. He left the bedroom with his sanity intact, speeding down the stairs for a much needed pot of filter coffee he'd lazily have to make.

How he could let that thing swing around would always be a mystery.

Upon returning with two mugs filled to the brim with liquid black magic, Vergil was fully dressed in his suit and struggling with his tie. He laid both cups on the dressing table and trekked to his brother, spinning him on the spot and pulling the silky material from Vergil's hands. "You were never good with these." Dante flipped his collar and redid the tie, his hands moving in fluid motions across Vergil's neck until a perfect tie was made; tying the collar button and neatly folding the collar over the tie, he brushed off the creases in his shirt. "And just putting it out there, I want to take a bite out of you."

Dante always made a fuss when it came to Vergil's appearance; even though his identity remained a secret, there was no excuse to not look your best at all times. In their line of work faces hardly mattered, but they got you into places wouldn't usually get into wearing a shabby shirt and formal jeans. He prioritised suits as a must for the meetings, exhibiting a level of sophisticated elegance and seriousness when it came to their work spaces. With both of them needing very little to be displayed as irresistible, Dante's extra over-the-top additions only made their mouths water even more – men and women alike. "You flatter me, brother." It always tickled when he did that. "I've never been so comfortably uncomfortable in my life."

Dante finished smoothing him out, passing his custom platinum cufflinks over as the final touch to his outfit. "It's only for a few hours. When we get home in the afternoon, I'll keep Nero busy in his room and you're free to roam in nothing but the cosiest pair of slippers you own." He was equally unashamed of his body, stripping close to his attire spread on Vergil's bed and earning a few inappropriate, teasing whistles from the other end of the room. They couldn't look too alike, so Dante hung his blazer over his shoulder as he left the room looking impeccably perfect.

He was ready to leave Vergil's room when he looked at him through his wall mirror. "Wait, when you say keep Nero busy-"

"I'll be downstairs Verge. Hurry up so we can leave." Dante seized his cup and fluffed his hair to 'sex-me-now', a mode he seldom used for the benefit for others. "Don't forget your glasses this time."

Reaching the bottom of the stairs, he spotted Nero in the kitchen trying to make a pot with closed eyes and failing. He clutched at a cashmere pillow supporting his head from falling off his shoulders out of sheer fatigue, hearing a few noises to his right and not registering the aura of one of the twins. He couldn't figure out why the machine wasn't working until Dante pulled out the biggest mug they owned and filled it with a lifeline for Nero. The younger man watched him pour and placed it on the counter in front of him; Dante waited for him to take a sip, but instead he placed the pillow down and engulfed him in a hug around his waist. "I love you."

He left his hands suspended for a while, not comprehending the sudden shift in Nero's demeanour toward him. "You know its Dante, right?"

Nero surprisingly relaxed into his frame. "You just gave me coffee – I love you." The words came out muffled as he spoke into Dante's chest, too exhausted to lift his head and look him in the eye. He let go and attacked the coffee, becoming a new person when the mug ebbed to the halfway line. "Whatever magic you pulled inside that pot, my body is forever in your debt."

Dante was in the process of pouring a second helping, praying Vergil would hurry up and see this side of him. Not conscious enough to realise mistakes but cute enough to worm his way into getting anything. Damn, he was adorable. "Why are you awake?"

Nero held out his cup in both hands, giving Dante sweet eyes as thanks for another portion – he complied, not able to resist him in this state and refusing to give the devil some coffee was a damned scribble away from his to-do list. "I came to wish you guys luck for today. You'll still smash them to pieces, but I'd feel horrible if I didn't-"

"But why are you so tired?"

Nero watched the black liquid fill his cup. "Oh," he began, taking a nourishing, blistering sip. "I was reading and then went to sit with Vergil for a bit. Then he did something that woke me up a week ago-"

Dante nearly spat out his coffee. "You were with Vergil? By the pool?" He coughed at a few dregs switching pipes last minute as he held in a much needed fit of giggles, doubling over to hide his face from Nero.

The correct procedure in this instance would be for him to muster all his strength and hit Dante on the back, bringing up the offending drips to the better pipe. What Nero did was far from helpful, tapping his spine with a gentle touch in not wanting to mess up his suit. "Yes. Why? Is that a problem?"

"No, but…" Nero knew that smile. What was he missing? "… did you see anything unusual?"

A tile out of place? The Jacuzzi jets out of order? An uneven surface of some sort? "Unusual?" He took a big gulp from his cup, thinking it would jog his memory on something he may have missed.

The twin looked innocently over his coffee, seeing the reaction playing in his head. "Yeah, like his penis?"

It was Nero's turn to almost spill his entire drink; Dante's turn to hit him on his back the proper way – it left him winded. "NO! DID HE TELL YOU THAT?"

The bigger man hit the counter multiple times to quiet his lungs at how badly he wanted to run around the apartment reiterating the ridiculousness of the situation. Not only did Nero not know, he wasn't even curious enough to look regardless of that fact. Dante's laugh was too contagious, and a mere human of Nero's calibre proved too useless to resist; they shared a laugh too good to go unnoticed. "Not at all. But when he swims in the morning he's always naked. He hates clothes like you wouldn't believe." He wiped the tears from his eyes from something he didn't know he needed. "A week ago?"

Nero cleared his throat embarrassingly, a dust of pink slowly overcoming his cheeks. "Vergil touched my feet and gave me a boner." The memory came back into his mind, as well as its result in the front of his pyjamas; he grappled for the pillow to cover his mid-section while expertly balancing his mug in his other hand. "One that still happens to pop in from time to time."

"Oh yeah, he does that. I've tried to learn it but his fingers are unexpectedly strong, and you can only hit that nerve pressing that deep into your foot." Dante flagrantly pulled the sleep apparatus from him, leaving him exposed to the warm morning air; he wasn't curious at all, knowing the baggage couldn't be classified as carry-on and needed to be checked in for a nominal fee, but the evidence in front of him made him pull an ugly face of approval, down-turning the corners of his mouth and nodding with raised eyebrows. He was impressed; he may be able to pull off the impossible. "And how many thresholds has that bad boy crossed?"

"None, and he's okay with that." The purple cottons accentuated him accordingly, furnishing what he had on offer the right way and not taking away from the viewing experience. "His owner takes such good care of him he doesn't need it."

Dante was being nosy, but was there going to be another opportunity to exploit Nero at his most vulnerable? He wasn't all there in the morning, but he managed to provide truthful answers to all his questions so far. "Really? None?" He stepped closer, the seam of his trousers ghosting Nero's apparent dilemma. "But you're so yummy, I wanna lick you."

Nero's eyes gleamed something menacing and fantastic, not as allusive as Dante expected. He turned on his heel and walked to the door with Dante in tow, pulling him along the invisible string around his neck. "Women tend to stay away from bookworms because they know they'll always be second. Or so I've been told." Bad idea to have walked across the room with an almost-empty cup; he could no longer hide the deep shade of red he could feel on his neck snaking to his face.

"And men?"

Their eyes met in a sensual leer. "That's an avenue I've never ventured. Never asked and never been asked, and I don't have an answer to that."

Dante plucked at the strings of his unyielding web, drawing his prey in with the serenity of his movements, hypnotising them into a condition of uttermost submission and twirling them around his finger; he preferred to keep Nero at bay with special privilege under his brother, but that wasn't enough to hinder him in his relentless quest to drag it out for as long as he needed until the boy gave in to his innermost demons, and he'd be there to watch it burst free like a shaded cloud of ecstasy stemming from desires he kept sheltered for most of his life. They were closer now, his hot breath on the line of Nero's jaw as tempting as it was dangerous. "Find one before tonight. It'll do you the world of good-"

"Stop antagonising him, Dante."

Their heads turned at the voice saturated in virility and with an equivalent guise: Armani had never looked this good; jet black and tight, apart from his white shirt, hanging low on his hips to entice all who were curious, and the skinny tie finishing it all off as the most removable piece of clothing on him; a different silver Rolex gracing his left arm, putting shame on Nero's college tuition; shiny, Italian Valentino customs that made cobblers shake in their boots; his silver hair tucked neatly in one general direction apart from a few strands used to highlight his cheekbones, pale complexion, and razor-edged jaw; and last but not least, the stylish half-framed glasses Nero had seen once before sitting on the bridge of his nose forcing nothing but deep stares into his crystal-clear blue eyes. It was a sin; a personal, personified ring of hell that materialised before his very eyes into nothing more and nothing short of pure perfection. The aura around him was penetrating, extreme, fragrant on the tongue with undertones of musk and sex mingling into a pleasing aroma that tingled in his lungs with every breath, burning away at his fragile clutch on the reality in front of him. Nero's mouth gaped open as he took Vergil in all his glory. "How do I look? Is it too much?"

"To take off, yes." The smaller man wouldn't dare waste time on looking at anything else.

"I don't think so." His brother still gawked; he officially doubted that they were twins. "It's just the right amount of too much."

Good idea to have walked across the room with an almost-empty cup.

Vergil did a final check in the mirror next to the bathroom, and that's when Nero saw it, completely boggled he had not seen it before; he spotted two matching silver rings on their ring fingers. It was something obvious the two of them would have given their outward status, but they were bachelors – two implausibly gorgeous, horny, healthy, could-only-be-better-if-they-were-dipped-in-chocolate men who could have anyone they wanted crawling at their feet and clawing at one another for something as trivial as a glance in their direction. Why do the one thing to prevent all of that? "What are the wedding rings for?"

Dante fidgeted with his at the mention, removing it and handing it over to Nero. Yep – plain white gold, as he suspected. "These are dependent on his mood: if he feels the need to get freaky we take them off. If he wants the wolves at bay they stay on."

Nero gave the ring back and he slid it into place. "You'd be amazed at the power this piece of metal holds over them. You'd be shocked at what lengths people would go to just to catch a glimpse of a part of you no one has seen before." Vergil was strangely insightful this early in the day.

"Speaking of which," Dante's timing couldn't have been more right, "Nero had absolutely no clue you were naked in the pool last night."

The mutual twinsanity look made its well-awaited comeback: the younger was a bit more expressive in his disbelief, yet the elder was reasonably confused. "You didn't?" Nero really didn't. "Then why were you there in the first place?"

Was there a way to say it plainly? "THE WATER, VERGIL! I! GOT! YOU! WATER!"

And at once what he thought was mischievous reserve turned to pure concern for his well-being. "I thought that was just an excuse."

Never mind the excuse – did Vergil think that was what Nero wanted to see? Did he believe himself in saying it was an excuse? Did he not care if Nero had stolen a glimpse at his manhood bouncing happily in the warm water? "So… you wouldn't have minded?"

Vergil dropped his shoulders and sauntered to him, an exquisite strong hand resting on his shoulder. "Nero, did you really think I'd give you a book without knowing you'd want to finish it and your reading happening to coincide with my wet, naked escapades?" The warm hand moved to his neck, annoying as it was welcomed. "I'm an intellect, what else was I meant to do?" The twins synchronised a provocative, patronisingly rewarding smile; all there was to it was Nero just missing one tiny aspect. That's what he'd tell himself come bedtime. "Anyway, we're about to leave, so please make yourself at home; there's food and drink in the fridge, dry snacks in the cupboards, wet snacks depending on where the need to be; there's fruit, ice cream, everything at your disposal. Make yourself something if you prefer, just promise us you'll look after yourself while you're gone."

The twins gave him a grave look – they were dead serious. "Guys, I'll be fine-"

"My number is on the fridge should anything happen. Dante will be doing most of the talking while I play Piano Tiles so I'm more reachable than he is."

Vergil must be a treat at parties. "I have to keep his brain occupied. He doesn't realise what happens when he opens his mouth."

He could understand from an outsider's point of view, but Vergil? Synonymous with incoherent babble? Who would have thought the possibility? The hand on Nero's shoulder floated to Vergil's small waist as he glared at the truth of Dante's convenient outburst. "I take offense to that."

"I mean offense to that." He looked at the glimmering watch on his wrist. Cartier – Nero should have guessed. "And on that note, we bid you farewell."

The twins left a lingering taste in the air as they walked through the door, full of purpose and determination for the meeting to be a success; Nero wished he owned two small glass vials to capture the alluring residue, sneaking in whiffs of it whenever he was in a mischievous or glum mood. He heard the elevator cry out its DING for service, and as it made its way to the hidden floor Vergil stepped back inside his apartment hanging on the threshold of the door. A quick decision later he was in the apartment, holding the door ajar with his foot and three long, milky fingers hovering over his face. "Don't forget to eat. Don't forget to relax. Don't drown; neither of us knows CPR."

"I DO!" A voice came from behind him.

"FINGERING ISNT CPR!"

"AS LONG AS I FEEL A PULSE, IT DOESN'T MATTER WHERE I FEEL IT, RIGHT?"

Vergil looked off to the uppermost corner of the lounge and heaved a sigh at his brother, yearning that the next couple of hours weren't going to pan out the way he thought they would. A spring in his conscience pushed him forward where he closed his door with the same foot that held it open, holding Nero's hands over the cup he was on his way to fill. The longing stare in Vergil's eyes caught him off guard, as if this goodbye would be their last. "Stay safe – I will do the two hour drive by myself if anything happens, okay?"

He was going to miss him; it hadn't been a day, and Vergil could see himself slinking into mint-condition boredom knowing that Nero was hundreds of miles away and not just in another room of his cosy stead. The boy shuddered under his gaze, feeling every bit of scorching intent in the deepest pit of his belly. "Go, your second biggest fan is waiting."

An elegant, complex expression swamped his flawless features, roguishly screening the implied meaning to Nero's cleverly constructed command. "Think of me while you're gone?" Vergil opened his front door for the last time.

"A HEARTBEAT BETWEEN THE LEGS IS BETTER THAN ANYONE BEING DEAD!"

"THAT'S NOT THEIR HEARTBEAT, DANTE!"

The rest of their conversation was a cloud of muffled voices as they jumped into their ride down to the underground parking area. Nero was alone in the massive apartment; he felt smaller still, owing to the colossal beings not present to put the sizes of everything into perspective. The expanse of the room was intimidating, threatening almost, but the twins had given him free reign over their castle, conscious of the sole aspect he'd dare to touch. "Don't doubt it – I will."

Carrying out the action of refilling his mug for the last time, he stood in the kitchen and built a mental to-do list of everything he wanted to do before the boys came home: raid some more of Vergil's collection until the words were coming out of his ears. As tantalising as that sounded, his outrageous lower region called to him, screaming for its concentrated needs to be satisfied under the rod of muscle that began swelling and making him unearthly uncomfortable. As stubborn as his body was being, he couldn't help but welcome the fire once again; an unparalleled impulse in feeding a hunger only one could fulfil, beating upon every inch of his being as he slowly descended into a rewarding madness. Nero looked past his empty coffee mug at the visceral workings of his brain, a gentle bite to his lip as he crossed the room and locked the bathroom door with more than the required force.

I can't believe I'm doing this.

Nero struggled to keep a dignified expression on his face as he stepped into the white, unblemished bathtub, lying on the cool ceramic to quell the burn of his body; he regulated his breathing at the icy floor, sluggishly removing his purple bottoms and setting it on the border of the bath; he lifted the hem of his shirt and crushed it between his teeth, exposing warm air on his toned chest as one hand clutched at the hair on his head, the other feeling its way over his torso inching toward its timid destination. He closed his eyes, imagining the supple balmy texture of his hand belonging to another, delving into a realm of unknowing decadence as his hand gripped at the base of his erection, a miniscule whimper stifled by the cotton cloth.

They had both left the apartment, but you were so blinded by budding lust that you reopened it at full force, practically forcing the twin into his homestead and locking the door behind him. Soon enough you'd hear the other calling for him, but what you were about to do – unplanned and virtuous – would make him drown out every sound and focus on your breathing and heartbeat as you immersed yourself in all he had to offer to you on a silver platter. And what an impressive fucking platter it was: you dragged him into the lounge and made quick work with his slacks and underwear, being careful in not creasing the expensive fabric. He'd bend down for a kiss but you weren't having any of that – your mind told you to be as fast as you could, only interrupting their schedule by minutes they could make up on the road. You shoved him into the lonely armchair and spread his legs, visibly watching the blood from the rest of his body drain to accommodate the scene unravelling in front of him, his tongue licking his lips calmly and impassive by your surge of courage.

Nero clawed at his skin, willing his penis to harden more at the sight of his closed eyes; his eyebrows furrowed in concentration at the gentle, upward motions of his palm, seeking to massage it into submission for a quicker outcome. He climbed to the middle, his ministrations becoming as erratic as his unsteady breathing, the work of his lungs aiming to normalise his physical state and hinder the size of his oncoming release. Futile.

He slumped in his chair and his legs spread wider under you as you mounted the beast, your legs and arms supporting you on both armrests. The man pieced together your picture, coaxing some life into the organ on his lap as he lined it up with you directly; you met halfway, with you pushing down on him and him thrusting upward, meeting in a glorious display of desperation and heat, twitching at the heavenly invasion as you met pound for pound inside you, his force hard enough to bounce you off his hips and carrying all the effort while, in your dazed state, you clenched your inner muscles to feel him and all his hardened goodness peaking and puffing inside of you as his thrusts pumped him stiff.

The harder he moved, the more moans seeped helplessly from his body. The mess of precum was unevenly slobbered over his length, each strand racing to pool at his inflexible base; he breathed harder, syphoned harder, arching his back more ferociously at his heightened state of arousal. Nero felt the tiny beads of sweat covering his forehead, his body not being able to contain the fourth degree blister on his lungs. He was finally at his last, baring his teeth as he gripped his hair tightly, teasing his tip with his fingers making it more responsive to his hand, enclosing it and leaping over the final stretch before he completely lost his mind.

The twin had somehow flipped you on your axis and made you face him and his gorgeous face, having nowhere to turn as he crashed your lips together; it was sweet and kind, turning famished and impious to your previous inhibitions – his tongue danced to your rhythm, tasting the beginning of his demise as it unfolded within you, forcing your faces together in an act of war. He wrapped your legs around him and thrust soothingly and pedantically, giving both ends the attention they craved. He bit and sucked at your neck, causing a line of red bruises from collarbone to shoulder to rise under your skin for his twin to see. Those deadly blue eyes watched you covered in sweat, the ring of muscles and itch in your erection ready to spurt forth the damage he had done to you – as his last triumph, he held your wrists as he pushed you off his lap to bend at the base of your spine and pull at your arms, creating a magnificent arch as he pushed in deeper than ever before-

The sweet, sweet release called Nero's name loud and clear, echoing off the right wall and bouncing onto every pore of his frame. A vulgar snarl came from the back of his throat, supressed deep down in his chest had finally come up for air, and what a sound it was: rooted in the pit of his stomach it grew with every advance, every touch, hanging on every one of his words. It fed on the nutrients of your soul, diving into undiscovered, perilous waters that only served to quench as he grew needier with every passing minute.

Nero opened his eyes and marvelled at the material in his mouth, soaked, stretched beyond its limit and hot from his shaky respiration. One last groan from his mouth at the final spurts falling from his tip, he used the edges of the bath to hurl himself up with his dry hand, sitting up straight in the space and admiring his work; his penis was rife with blood, still coming down from his aroused stand-off. He stood, and happy with the lost weight between his legs, he began grabbing pieces of tissue to clean up his mess – along the tiled walls and floor, the rims of the bath, and later the escaping droplets between his legs and on his stomach and his sweaty forehead – and implored that he had not missed a spot. A concluding once over and it was restored to its former luxury.

He rested his head on the tiled wall next to the door and laughed to himself; the coolness of the surface did wonders on his sweltering skin, bringing over a pacifying sensation to subdue his overactive mind. In thought, he came undone; in action, he was reduced to a barely recognisable creature giving in to sin in its wholesome form. What could be worse?