I. One week later.

All right. That had been way too much. They busted the limit. They went and did it now. The police were called, thanks to her nosey and interfering neighbors. Who probably were sticking their ears against her front door, or gazing with their binoculars at her windows. To get something juicy, maybe a little jerk-off session for them to gawk at.

Damn. She should have bought guard dogs. Well, it wasn't as if they didn't contribute to their meddlesome peeping. But when Vergil was on the verge of losing control, she was losing it too. And, ho shit! They screamed and howled, and shattered things. Like mirrors and anything breakable. It was, incredible, and left her almost paralyzed with a mind numbing passion. He, on the other hand finally broke out a sweat. His silver locks were wet with his own perspiration and plastered against his temple. For once, that half-devil's third and most notorious member was limp. Spent. Thank goddess for some miracles. Her thighs were aching, and something even painful and pleasurable was nagging between her legs. Ungh.

Lady decided that they needed a break. A long break. He didn't like it one bit, but he finally accepted the hiatus, with some departing words of course.

"If you so enjoy torturing us in this juvenile manner, so be it." He told her in that awful mordant way of his. Because she knew he would be suffering as much as she. Oh- but oh shit, she, and he, they—shit, they had to control themselves right? And, control, was to her, such a turn on.

"Oh but Vergil, I want to be able to walk into the next week," she had countered.

She looked at him in that pretended demure approach, wishing she had a lollipop to lick and suck on while she sent him one of her- come-hither looks. Puckered her lips and blew him an airy kiss. She hoped that her lack of lipstick didn't botch it; this wasn't something she normally did, but damn it all, she loved to tease that man.

Lifting a shoulder, with a seductive roll, that manner of demurely gazing at the half devil was laced with a, "why don't you come over here and show me what you're made of—.." Mae West would have been so proud.

He paused. Instead of being baited, he sent her a look of boredom, "would you like to use those lips for something much more useful?"

"Vergil!" She dropped her jaw, and yes, she was being pretentiously prudish. Despite how many times they have had incredible sex, she was blushing like a freaking virgin.

"Don't get your underwear twisted yet, Lady," he grabbed a mobile phone, "You need to call that government agent who left you a message about a very important job. Message is in there with a return number."

He left her, turning the corner and disappearing. She stuck out her tongue at him, and placed the phone against her ear.

When she had finished discussing the details of the next job she would be commissioned with, her fist pumped in the air, YES! YES! It could have, should have been orgasmic, because the money that would be raked in from this mission was truly the most she would ever receive—an absolute jackpot of all lotteries.

Then, because she knew deep down it wasn't really about the money. It was never really the money. Her dead father was wealthy and her beloved departed mother wasn't exactly poor either so they left her a lot. But it was, certainly the thrill—the killing of demons that sent her blood coursing like fireworks and sunshines, screw the money. But it paid the bills, and those bills were usually damaged property. Expensive too.

She immediately told Vergil the news and he raised a fine brow, downed a little fine drink of vodka. He didn't drink often—that wasn't his style, but he liked to drink something to burn his throat when he didn't exactly get his way. That was, rare, actually.

II. Another week later: The Adventure in the Antarctica.

And still no sex.

It was harrowing. This was probably the worst expedition he would ever participate in, but it was a quest that would be only for him and Lady. They were dropped down around sunset, according to the time, but at this far in the Antarctic, all they could see was ice, snow falling in small amounts, and nothing but a white blanketing everything for miles and miles.

Inside, her jacket and pants, Lady wore thick thermal underwear that covered from her neck to toe, a pair of thick woolly pants and boots that covered her feet all the way to mid-thigh; her coat was thick, with a brown soft fur that lined her sleeves and collar. She was buttoned up tight, and the hood attached to the jacket covered her head; a wool beanie cap also flattened her hair down and basically warmed her head as well. Her thick gloved hand gripped the shotgun she held and the pistols were hidden beneath her jacket. She turned to her partner, and sighed. Vergil wore an extra jacket, no more, no less. A little thicker than his satin blue jacket with those perfect elegant designs; he looked impeccably beautiful again, and nothing seemed to deter his looks—rain, shine, or snow storm. The whites of the ice that fell instantly on him seemed to melt when they made contact with his body.

She was glad for the thick clothing, though, despite her human frailty that seemed to be a hindrance in this terrible weather. What the hell was she doing here in this cold blasted barren wasteland? The sun—the sun, where the heck was the sun anyway?

The plane dropped them down in the middle of nowhere it seemed, with king penquins rollicking towards the eastern horizon, and the cold winds were mild but deadly.

The snowy expedition would have been ruthless for mere humans; however, with Vergil, having the blood of Sparda, he was able to speed things a little better for him and his companion. They have been in this cabin for the past five hours, just barely managing to escape the blizzard that was now going at a terrible rate outside.

Their windows were frosted, until they managed to find the provided generator and turned on the heat. It was, it seemed to Lady, to take forever, but she didn't waste time. She hurriedly undid her jacket front, pulled away to reveal her sweater underneath. Pulling out her gloves, she walked over to the heater, now turning red and glowing like a hearth of seductive embers. Her hands were, amazingly, not cold. However, she still rubbed them together as if to keep warm. She felt Vergil behind her, his body heat noticeably making the temperature rise. Even in the middle of this godforsaken nowhere, she wanted to turn around and wound her arms around him. She could curse herself for her weakness. Wasn't this supposed to be all business?

Business or not, she felt his gloved hands at her waist, his warm breath now touching the nape of her neck. Her turtleneck provided protection, but he was pulling it slowly up to reveal skin—prickly goose bumps rose despite herself; and cursed it to the cold, that damned biting cold.

She murmured something, but the incoherent words were lost, as she was being pulled against his warmth, and her arm reached up, her eyes were half closed. Now, her unfaithful hand inched towards his profile. Her frame arched slightly. Treacherous body. And he, a truly perfidious man, but oh- oh so deliciously accommodating when he wants to be; so kind of him, to give her the extra heat that she only did what a grateful demon hunter should do. She then wanted to do the right thing: turned around and thanked him.

"You're welcome." He said in a hushed tone, scarcely perceptible.

Packed only with provisions, the couple was going to be stranded in a small cabin for an entire week; it shouldn't be so bad, and Lady could hardly complain really. This job would send her straight to the Swiss bank. And, Vergil, he really didn't need the funding; yet, he told her that he'd give her his share.

At first, she refused such generosity, but he insisted, and when he insisted, there was hardly any room for argument. It was a small place, enough for one private bath area, a shower head beside it and another room across, which consisted of one twin bed. They would have provided a bunk bed but the top shelf has been filled with boxes and canisters of more provisions.

Vergil lounged against the counter where the metallic box which appeared to be a microwave sat next to him, and beside that, his found clean cup filled with steaming coffee. It was a good thing that there were a couple of bottled gallons of water that he used for the coffee. The grounds were also packaged and found along with some brown filters. With some small effort, microwaved the water until it boiled enough to make some use out of the now fresh smelling coffee.

He looked over at the supplied journal, which was more or less a listing of what contained within the cabin.

"One packaged of artificial eggs, two cans of baked beans, fifteen cans of green beans, thirteen cartons of powdered milk, and a bag of beef jerky." Vergil flipped the next page, his fingers tracing down to the next set of lists. "Not exactly my style of food, however..."

"Vergil," Lady sighed, "I'm tired, and cold. Unlike you, I have to stay warm." She rubbed her shoulders, and was leaning against the wall on the only bed provided for them. Lady then hurriedly pulled the rest of her clothing off, to get into something more comfortable. Her ugly thermal underwear that covered her body wasn't exactly something that would make a hot blooded half demon like Vergil raise his eyes with interest, but damn if he wasn't staring at her curves anyway. She smirked at him and got down to her underwear-the panties and the bra. Okay so she was wearing a sports bra, and her underwear was a little see-through wasn't it? She looked down—nope, they were just the colour of her skin, and she turned around, showing off her ass to his view.

Did he even realize that she was blushing furiously? She was quick when she changed into her tank top and a pair of what looked like sweat pants. Not exactly sexy but who was going for sexy when they were supposed to be celibate for awhile? When she turned around, she lay back down and watched him with a self-righteous look.

"One moment." Raising a finger, his relaxed composure looked damned smug; his legs crossed at the ankles as his back was supported by the wall of what appeared to be their kitchen counter. "Where do you expect me to sleep?" He placed the journal down on the counter behind him and turned to face her. "Beneath you? Or above you?"

It was imperceptive, she knew but she wagered he didn't care at this point. He folded his arms and watched her features. Yes, yes, notice, Vergil, the notable lift of brow, the pointed look that could probably carve him in two, right down to the middle: If he were a human, without demon powers, that is.

"Why not?" She smirked; Lady was goddamned tired of playing house with him, and decided she'd try being up front and open about everything—to the point that she would test her limits. She had no fear of the half-demon, none at all. Not since, he has actually helped her with many of the high-level demon hunts in the past. They have made a good team since he decided to help her. As a matter of fact, much better than slothful, carelessly nonchalant, binge drinking Dante. She hated to admit it, but Vergil did everything a notch better.

Better, as in, he was always on time, killed quickly and efficiently, left no survivors,—meaning in this case—demons, and a bad, nasty human once in awhile. She would have preferred the humans who committed such criminal acts—go directly to prison and get their sentence, but she knew better. It was agreed between them that the very bad humans, like her father, would get nothing less than what they deserve.

"These inbreeds normally get a release in a few years, committing the same acts over and over again." Vergil explained. Yes, it was true. There was nothing worse than to realize that a severely nasty human would not serve the allotted time they got, and was inevitably released for good behaviour. Once they got out, their true nature would seek innocents to victimize.

But if Vergil did everything impeccably better, Dante was, to her vexation, did everything, much much more spectacular. Like the United State's fourth of July and Independence day all rolled up in one.

"I'm not sleeping on the floor. As you can see, there's no where to sleep." Vergil said, his voice jarred her from her mulling.

"Whatever." She yawned, stretched lazily and plopped herself back down after giving him a suspicious look, "Do what you want, Vergil. I'm sleeping. My body aches something fierce."

Lady placed her hands behind her head, propped against the pillow and stared at the plank above her. She didn't realize that Vergil was already beside her. He moved so fast, too fast that she was nearly breathless. Why she couldn't know, except that the guy was breathtakingly beautiful to look at for any mortal girl. But her? She silently scoffed. She hoped she was above such masculine beauty. However, day in and day out, no matter how long she worked with him, he made her pulse quicken; a premeditated treachery in the making.

"You don't really expect to sleep beneath me?" Lady immediately countered, hoping it was clear, a very clear deadly objective lacing in the tone, her eyes boring straight at his cool blues.

"Don't tell me you're a prude? Not your style." He intoned with a little vicious suggestion.

"Oh come on!" She sat up, her legs bumped into his, "You can't be serious, Vergil!" Her eyes looked about to pop out of her head. And her mouth was moving; the words that were coming out jumbled so much that she began to sputter.

"Please. If I had wanted you panting beneath me right at this moment, you'd be begging more for my services."

"So now you're the half-demon gigolo. Services indeed." She shook her head while rolling her eyes heavenward and blinked, "Uh uh no way! You're full of it and if you think you're going to get in this little bed with me, I can introduce you to this."

The barrel of her gun nearly touched Vergil's forehead, but her weapon was pushed aside so easily and casually that it flew across the small cabin, hitting contents that made loud clanking noises..

"I wouldn't if I were you. Such menial weapons do nothing to bar whatever I want."

"Ohh really?!" She clenched her teeth, lips sealed. Leaning her head towards his, enough so that their foreheads almost touch, "What are you going to do about it if I refuse to allow you next to me?" So, her lips threatened to tremble and the gurgle of laughter seemed to want to burst through. But she had to be strong. Their noses touched and in an instant, he was atop her, because her body was flipped under his so fast that she had to catch her breath.

She really has a thing for physically powerful men. Scratch that. Strong, dangerous men.

"Lady, like I said, if you were smart, you wouldn't. The consequences of your action would prove, very beneficial for you." He sneered, but his eyes flickered over to her breasts where they were straining against the material, tight and accentuating a nice round pair.

"Prove it.." She sucked in a healthy gulp of air, her voice surprisingly huskier than usual.

It was, with some phenomenal effort that she had to clamp her teeth down, tense her legs, curl her fingers into fists, squirm the teeniest, tiniest amount until she had to bear it all.

Oh hell! On everything was holy and unholy, his sweet mouth was grazing her skin—teasing it so, flicked a little bit with his cruel hot tongue until he suckled a little. Around her neck area, where it was now exposed, down to her décolletage, and further, between, over and the rise of her bosom. The sweater was off long ago by now, and so was that stupid thermal underwear that was unattractive as all hell. And while she wore a bra, she couldn't exactly wear only a bra; she was down to only her very light tank top. Damn her for not wearing something dark. It was white and translucent basically so that her nipples were obviously looking like little pebbles, just waiting…waiting…

This was unbearable. He paused ever so slightly above her, beautiful blue eyes, damning blue eyes that looked equally cruel. Then he whispered low, "We shouldn't do this, isn't that right? I have better control than this, as we both know." He raised himself up, looked at her in that damning unruffled and tender expression that was so unlike him. Then he had the impudence to simply walk mutely away. She watched in a kind of horrendous calm as he reached for his coffee, which was no longer steaming, but still drank it and picked up the journal again.

"Let's see, it looks like there's more here than we thought. They even provided extra rolled beddings for us, I'll use that." He raised the not so steaming cup of coffee again to his lips and emptied it.

He even had the further audacity to smack his lips lightly, and winked at her.

Winked at her?! He reached up to flick something off those white lashes. Dust? Huh.

Lady couldn't believe it. Her body was still tense, waiting…waiting…and when finally she released her breath, her eyes shut tight to block out his image.

The damned tease! This so turned her on. Fiercely.

He is so going to get it good.

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