Answers Chapter Five Devil May Cry Dante x Vergil 18 +++
ANSWERS
Dante x Vergil
By Annatar
VIOLENCE! Hints of implied heavy S&M, pain / death fetish implied. Yaoi / Slash / Incest
Chapter Five
Dante looked out over the landscape of their new home, drinking from a fresh glass of good whisky on the rocks, and so what if it was only 6:30 AM?
Vergil was sleeping late, and the sore ass might have something to do with it. Dante had worn him out, and it was only after ardent pleas of enough, enough! that he had finally relented, and let sleep come to himself as well. What was it about Vergil that was so damned narcotic, so thickly addictive down to the last fibers of that soft white hair—the scent of burnt honey that seemed to come from him, the aroma of his sex that was somehow sweet and bitter at the same time, in a very literal sense.
There weren’t enough orgasms in the universe to satisfy Dante Sparda when he was inside his belligerent brother.
But there was work to do here, and Mary saying she was willing to finance things only made Dante more uneasy, more mindful that they really were living here as her guests now, and that Devil May Cry hung in the balance back home—the fact of the lien on it was something else that Dante hated, hated with all his heart. He was, in reality—and oh how he and reality loathed one another!—about to lose the place, and he knew it.
Vergil didn’t care, his only comment was “No big loss”, and Dante had almost cold cocked him for that.
“Well? You look lost in thought, and it doesn’t suit you. Never seen you look this….confused. At least not lately. What’s the matter?”
An awakened Vergil, tousled, the soft hair messy and charming in its sleep induced chaos. “Hey babe. Good morning.”
Mary came out of the small house across the way and waved, and Dante waved back, even as Vergil ignored her completely. Okay, he was an asshole, what was new there?
And just how had they gotten to this pass? To this extraordinary turn of events, so completely astonishing, to all who knew the story----Vergil---losing, Vergil---hurt. Vergil desperately hurt, and Dante hearing his shaking voice, still brave, telling him what was what and how things were going to be. Dante---
RACING.
His legs shuddering in horror of the dawning realization –Vergil was staggering towards the cliff backwards, fuck, fuck no NO!
The Yamato at his throat, moments from beheading him, possibly—but they both knew it was only a threat. Dante’s eyes had locked with his brother’s, begging, plainly, openly begging, pleading for him to not do this, even as the faltering steps advanced backwards, and the Fall began---Dante ---had plunged his whole body forward to make the catch, already seeing he was too late, his outstretched hand, too little and too late, grasping at the empty air, almost catching—wounded by Vergil one last time.
His farewell, and the look on his face as he fell, their eyes still locked.
He could have Triggered and possibly saved him. And possibly not. He hadn’t thought of that then, it hadn’t even occurred to him ---and---he hadn’t wanted to go DOWN there, as chickenshit as it seemed now. Vergil chose to leave him and fall, to leave him-----
This was still the one thing that brought tears, even now, even after the rescue, even after he had finally, long years later, descended to find the one that his heart bled for the presence of. It hurt so goddamned much to think of it, of Vergil’s choice, and his OWN too, his own despairing and impotent failure to act at the time. The failure to fucking do something other than leave in tears, without hope.
How many years it had been until the pull was too deep, till he was drinking himself into oblivion every single day—Mary and all the women in his life pleading for him to stop---his self destructive rampages, the hallucinations of Vergil being tortured.
If he just hadn’t stood there like a fucking idiot….
And then Nelo Angelo, the Black Angel, Vergil’s face as the being finally gave up the ghost.
Yeah. Dante had cried then too. He just forgot that.
Then it was easier to know what to do. Then, the way was clear, and he had plunged into Hell on the bike again—and hadn’t that been what he had done before, in the other half assed sojourns? When he had taken the Infernal ride again and again, come up empty handed.
That last time was different though: he wasn’t going home without Vergil.
He’d found him alright, found him desperately crafting a new and mortal form, intent on more fucking wickedness. The guy never gave up, never fucking got it. But Dante had surprised him, Vergil’s words cutting deep and leaving hideous scars, ‘Thought you had forgotten I existed…’ How long had it been?? Fuck, Dante hadn’t meant to fail him, oh god he hadn’t wanted this to happen to Vergil, all that had happened, and----
Hang on.
He had raced to Vergil to save him, frantic to accomplish it ---and his own brother had chosen the ABYSS over him.
Yeah.
Back to the present, and the memory pissed Dante off.
“Why didn’t you wave, bro? What the fuck? Mellow out, don’t be such a dick to people who care about you. You make it awful tough to be there for you, you know that?”
“Oh really? How long was I in Hell before you remembered me, Dante?”
“You DECIDED to fall, Verge. I know this because—for fuck’s sake, and I didn’t even GET this till right now!-- you like to tell me I could have Triggered and saved you, you motherfucker, just got it, why the fuck didn’t YOU Trigger? You wanted to fall, wanted to leave me. Period!”
Vergil smiled very slowly, and then gave his measured, cruel answer.
“And the look on your face as I fell away from you was worth every scream under the claws of Mundus.”
Dante was on him in seconds, and Mary ran for them to try to break it up, wondering for the hundredth time why she was even involved with these two lunatics at all.