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Dreams Will Be Made Of These	By : Britt_601 Category: +A through F > Devil May Cry Views: 3810 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own Devil May Cry or its characters. Blah, blah, blah-no money is made off of this either.

Chapter List
- 11
- 12
- 13
Chapter 12: Troubling Actions

A large, black boot kept the idiot in place, holding his foot on the nape of the blond's neck, ensuring the constraint he had over him. "First question. Who is the girl called Ramona Barnes?"

"Who the fuck did this to my ride!" The neophyte bellowed, ignoring the half-breed's request, growing over the concern of his injured luxury vehicle.

"Yeah, she was quite a looker, but that's not what I asked you."

"Fuck you!"

"Wrong answer."

Dante pulled the driver's door wide open before flicking his wrist to close it, effectively smashing the blond's head to prove his point. The creepy green-toned convert snorted in pain, moving slightly to test the hold the halfling held over him.

He wasn't moving all right.

"Now I'll ask you again, who is Ramona Barnes?"

"If you want her, go find her you fucking―"

"Uggh." Dante opened the car door and closed it just as quickly, keeping his left hand on the doorway this time to apply pressure to the male's skull. It got Dante the physical response he looked for, but not the verbal one.

The mastermind behind the "bib" quote shuffled forward, dragging his feet closer to view the gruesome yet deserving piece of action.

"Okay...all right god dammit!" The hybrid released his crushing hold to let the blond speak.

"She's the Queen's... right hand, her second in command. Nobody does anything without... her say so. Originally, she was some rich broad from a wealthy family. She murdered them all to work alongside the Queen." He sputtered, wheezing from the released pressure around his neck.

For the moment, Dante pretended that he told the truth. Although, the convert knew of him and his heritage, it might give him some leeway as to what went on.

And if it just so happened this Ramona chick killed her kinfolk, on what grounds did she have the means to do so? Millions of people desperately wished to have a family to call their own, and here this dame forsook hers to join one of a lesser power?

"Hmph, so she can lie in a ditch too," he said with a bitter edge to his voice. "Okay then, tell me about this so-called Desmond."

Hesitation took route, obvious to not say anything."He's this prick who only cares about shit going his way. As long as you submit to his demands and take his opinions as facts, he don't give a damn about anything else. He made... his place a haven for demons of all kinds, and for those worthless humans to better themselves by joining the right side," he added in his own jibe with a sneer.

The neophyte readied to laugh at his ridicule for pitiful mortals had it not been for the cough abruptly stopping him, red phlegm spurting out after he inhaled to regain some of his thoughts.

"Why is he such a prick if he's protecting demons?"

"I don't know-"

Dante tapped his fingers along the top of the door to warn him of his short patience.

"That fucktard wanted to gain one over on the Queen, pretended to be her King but she turned him down. He needed all the demons to join him and rule this worthless city until he expanded his territory; keeping her ignorant about his plans. That asshole knew to access more power he had to side with her.”

The male paused, spitting out red gunk. “She finds out and rejects him fully. He can't take it since no one refuses him, starts killing off her converts. She went down there, showed him her true colors, and had him with his balls glued to his ass. Now all he does is bad mouth her and everyone around her, but that's all he can do. He still keeps to his word and has demons running in and out of there, away from the eyes of you wretched, fanatic hunters..."

He blinked once, twice after his weighted words sunk in. The neophyte bumped his head on the edge of the car, realizing he practically killed everybody in the club with his confession.

Well then, it appears the whole devil hunting gang can cash in on this. He also thought, as more of a note to himself, that this Desmond was a pussy, seeing how he let that she-bitch put him in his place.

Mr. Desmond moved to the top of Dante's hit list, with Ramona being a close second... and maybe this low-life bastard if he made one more snarky remark. If the gang couldn't merge to vanquish this menace, he'd put a bug in Lady or Trish's ear about it; that is if Trish wasn't already down there undercover.

"How long has he been in business?"

"I don't fucking know-"

Dante sighed in heated breath before swinging the door back again, this time with the convert putting his hands up to stop his decapitation. By surprise, recognizing his unrestrained, fleshy extensions, he flailed his appendages with increasing vigor, using the door to lift away from the hybrid's hold.

Thinking of which, why did it pose a problem to move around when nothing but a measly foot held him down? His newly acquired powers should have increased tenfold since his ascension, letting his strength overpower anything he considered decadent, including this waste of a mongrel.

But why is he having trouble moving? Surely the mutt's human lineage should have half of a demon's full power, right? It made no sense for him to be stronger than a whole devil if he had mortal blood running through his veins.

"You can knock my block off all you want to, but you ain't gettin' any more answers outta me until you tell me who damaged my ride!" He called his bluff, charging his fists with a red-orange glow. The male could not take any more blows to his neck, already feeling warm liquid forming around his throat like a choker.

The veteran flexed his jaw, his patience running thin from having to deal with another stubborn punk. He got plenty of sass from the little brat enough as it is.

Dante pulled the man by his hair, dragging him upwards. The blond gazed into a smirking young brat's expression donning a dragon-type right appendage; locks the same color of the red bastard.

He blinked to make sure he wasn't seeing double, because the person constraining him had a bulky, physical stature than this scrawny weakling did, plus the bigger guy had stubble. Regardless, he couldn't wait to wipe off that smile from the pretty boy's face, preferably by scraping it on the ground but his magically charged fists sufficed enough.

"Who are you? Some copycat of this reject from the 80's?"

"Hey now. No need for name calling." The half-breed shook his captive's head. Why do people assume he had a bad bleach job? It's genetics. Genetics! He continued, "Wasn't it you who wanted to know who wrecked your babe?"

"This pipsqueak can't hold a pacifier, so who the fuck wrecked my car!"

Nero focused on snapping at the rude convert when he saw the halfling scoot back a few feet, shaking his head once to recover from the punch delivered to that masculine jaw by a red-orange fist.

The blond man dashed to the other side of the garage to view his opponent more clearly, or to catch the extra player involved. No way that kid could throw him like that, more or less lift him up; there had to be another person included.

Slitted dark blues did a quick scan of his environment, wondering if he had enough time to make it through the front door to alert the Queen of these intruders. Surely she would have heard the sounds of a scuffle and came to investigate. Though what if the worst happened and they violated her while no one was around?

The lecher looked about once more before his eyes landed on his pistol by the door, running to grasp it as a big, blue... hand encircled his frame, snatching him towards the garage entrance.

He crashed against it with a quelling thud, his hand never letting go of the gun's grip. He blinked and shook his head, groggily getting up on his hands and knees to see the third player.

Crimson liquid gathered in his mouth, spitting to the side. A displeased grunt followed a hard kick to his mid-section, the blond curling up in agony.

Dante watched in slight awe when his counterpart's limb picked up and threw the convert more than half way across the room, then kicking the shit outta him as his favorite brown boots had a noticeable, gooey red blotch on them. After the deed, Nero gave him a sneer, minimally conveying his disgust.

"See there, if you were in the car that wouldn't of happened."

"It might as well have. Thanks to your genius "plan", we're here when this should have been avoided." The earlier events returned to pick away at his self-control. Instead of his conscious, or rather his ego, letting the past remain as such he needed to talk with Dante.

Now.

"You sure you want to play the blame game right now?"

"There's no game to play because the blame is all on you."

"What did I do this time?" The veteran rubbed his temples, dreading to hear the brat bitch about all the things that could have gone a different way. What happened is done, but something nagged at him to at least explain the reason he used Nero as a devil arm a couple of times; not Nero's devil arm but Nero himself.

"This whole day has been fucked up ever since we left this morning. The phone call, the drive here, your fuck-ass of a prank, your ingenious plan, your ex-girlfriend, your stupid jokes, you stabbing me-"

As if logic returned into his cognitive process about why he became upset in the first place, he roughly shoved the veteran, his anger chipping away his restraint.

"Am I a fucking projectile to you? What in that little mind of yours told you to do that!" The youngster's eyes glared in veiled hurt, the humiliation of the deed flooding into focus.

The brief idea flashed across his attention of his possible death because of the man's carelessness. His sword-wound by Agnus was no where near as powerful as the blade Dante possessed, prohibiting its removal with his dwindling strength.

Never in a million years did he think Dante would do that to him. The notion he did so stabbed piercing arrows in his heart, almost akin to a betrayal.

"Well, would you rather be heavily injured or dead?" Dante crossed his muscular branches, staring hard into Nero. What he did to the little squirt probably could have harbored avoidance, but that she-fiend prepared to deliver the final blow to him. What good would either of them be then?

"Believe me, I chose the lesser of two evils no matter how angry you are now. You'll get over it." A couple options floated in his mind regarding Nero's escape.

He had in mind a direct approach; attacking her headlong to see if she would forget about Nero and drop him but a fool she wasn't. His second choice involved distracting her long enough to push Nero away from her grasp, which he did with the meaningless kiss but that blue thing appeared under him, and he still stayed within the she-fiend's reach. If not for her pincer, then surely her stinger would end him.

"Get over it?"

Ah shit, here we go.

"Slapping me while we're fighting or graze me with a stray bullet instead of a demon, maybe. But fucking stab me through the chest because you screwed around-"

"-Will make you to get over it... eventually."

Dante moved to finish off that neophyte. He reached out to pull the quivering sack to his feet when a neon blue hand grabbed his shoulder with force, turning him to confront a red-faced, emotional... shaking, ready-to-fight, or cry, Nero.

"It doesn't matter if I got over it the first time or ten years later. Why. Did. You. Do. It. To. Begin. With?" Nero gnawed and bared his teeth, pronouncing every word with his jaw clenched.

Dante raised an eyebrow at the hasty mood change from his younger counterpart, looking directly into his blue orbs to see them moisten with rage. He recognized their irritated demeanors, especially Nero's, so he decided to give the twerp an honest answer to curb his wrath, partially.

He looked to the side before focusing his icy vision straight into cerulean blues, taking immediate notice of his slight flinch. "Okay then, I knew you stood no chance against her in your weakened state, seeing as you were at the mercy of her pincer and you did not trigger. Had I not done something to get you away from her, you would be dead. Period. Was it the right thing to do, maybe or maybe not, but it was the only option I thought of at the time."

Reason registered on his face but he failed to relax Nero's annoyed eyebrows. He almost guaranteed Nero would prefer to be stabbed by him than that she-hag; the kid held on to his naivety to admit it.

Gratitude became something the punk wasn't too fond of giving and he lived a lonely life mostly presented how he grew up, however the fledgling acted like he did it with foul intention. He did not want to stab the youth in the chest, but no other ways popped up to get him to safety.

"You tell me what choices I had, or better yet, what could you have done to scramble from her?" He took his pointer finger and rudely poked the teen at his puncture wound. The younger hunter receded in partial defense, not expecting the elder to turn the tables on him, but should have expected him to do so at some point.

Truth be told, she held a solid grip on him, and moving too much made the spikes in her pincer protrude further into his neck. The vexed magic in that shard disabled him from triggering, even the shock wave should have been enough to scramble out of her reach. His slow reflexes ordained to give her the advantage with his distraction.

Damn, the teen thought begrudgingly, he owed another big thanks to the hybrid for saving his life. Minus his decision to admit it, pride and whatnot.

"I really don't care that you're arguing with your bitch excrement of Sparda, but I must go now and report to the Queen-"

"She's dead," came the double answer from the duo, neither one taking their eyes off each other in their heated staring contest.

In his peripheral vision, Nero saw the look of pure horror etched onto the convert's countenance, nearly laughing at the crazy expression on his visage if it wasn't for the situation at hand.

The blond man moved to sit in a semi-upright position on his side, mouth opening and closing to sputter in disbelief. Before he gathered his words, a well-placed black boot kicked him square in the face, knocking the convert on the floor as Dante never broke contact with Nero, seemingly narrowing his eyelids deeper than his younger counterpart.

Heed to his submission.

Nero averted his eyes at the startling revelation of his inner nightmare, trying to think of a quick rebuttal in place of his growing embarrassment.

"All right then, tell me why you smashed the door into me-"

"You didn't answer my question.”

Trepidation lingered on the youngster's expression, knowing damn well he shouldn't approach him in such a way. And he grew tired of the plight. "I made the door kiss your face because you're an ungrateful troublemaker, especially after today. Even more so when you knocked her into the portal."

"How was I to know she conjured a portal?"

"You weren't."

"So why are you blaming me for it―"

"You cowards!" A strained tone yelled from the opposite side of the room, a weak body falling onto the floor in a vain attempt to keep upright.

The hunters engrossed themselves with each other to pay attention to the seemingly broken lackey moving away.

"You destroy everything you touch, with no regards as to how people may feel!" His voice cracked upon the last word leaving his lips, the slayers glancing at him with confused yet bemused faces.

"We have worked for months on this project, and it all came apart from some stupid wankers to laugh at over a beer!" The blond man leaned heavily against one of the trucks, fists glowing that familiar glow, narrowed eyes burning in rage.

"I don't drink," Nero said off-handedly.

"Oh, but you'll start soon enough." Dante started. "My bad habits are easy to pick up.”

The teenager rolled his eyes, trailing back to the elder's lessened scowl, anger dissipating towards neutrality. Again, the dope can turn an entire situation around with a few words, and everything reverted to normal. Only he didn't want things to go back to the routine; he wanted answers he needed to question Dante about, then shit could proceed as they should.

He wished to know why the bum had such a major stick up his ass, and why he used Nero as an outlet for his frustrations. Nero internally harrumphed, he wasn't going to let this go yet, not until he received a thorough response.

But he had to get rid of that noisy distraction first.

"Just you bastards wait! The Queen's death won't go unavenged. Each of her followers will gun for you at full force, you asshole of a traitor!" The injured male wheezed, saliva foaming at the mouth, his body trembling with rage.

The audacity of this ...crossbreed to come in and destroy what Eusimalkia worked so hard for sought no forgiveness from him. It may have been two against one, but the convert gathered confidence that his drive to avenge his queen would not be ignored.

It went completely unnoticed when a blue specter crushed his hand gripping his gun, lifting him up into the air to slam him into the garage entrance.

Nero had stalked near the cars to advance on the raging lackey, careful to creep along in silence to not alert him of his presence. When he peeked around a car, he saw the man had charged his pistol with the same vexed energy he punched the hybrid with.

He withheld doubt that the energized bullets would affect the hunter, but Nero still had to practice caution before he ran head first into a fight; the physical one, thus his need to undergo stealth to reach his target.

Dante walked over to the “borrowed” pickup, unholstering Rebellion as he opened the door and laid her carefully in the backseat, then moving to take off his trench to lay it on the back of his seat. His next objective included tying the Ducati down to the rear of the truck. Getting the bike on there proved no trouble at all, but what can he use to tie it down with?

"Hey buddy, you got rope lying around here?" The chief moved towards the bike, giving a quick glance to both partial-demons, searching for the said item.

The teen failed in not staring at the physique of the man. Softened baby blue hues betrayed the command of his brain, locking onto his body and ignoring everything else.

Rarely did the youth see Dante out of his work garb due to their different schedules. He stayed gone the majority of the day, while the elder glowed in being a night owl, sometimes staying out until the early sunrise. Only then would he catch him in a dressy shirt and some jeans... attached with the heavy scent of some liquor and an enticing yet repulsive reek of... sweet sweat. It wasn't the correct term, but Nero couldn't describe the smell correctly.

"Yo, buddy! I'm pretty sure I asked you a question."

"F-fuck off, bitch!"

Oh shit.

Nero couldn't see the muscles in Dante's back stiffen but he didn't need to; he garnered familiarity from experience, unfortunately. He guaranteed this 'distraction' wouldn't be distracting anyone anymore.

Something kept telling him to let go of the whole situation, that it would benefit the both of them in the long-run, however defeat wasn't a concept he held no fondness towards, no matter who the opponent.

Defeat also comes by when one does not know when to retreat and when to fight. Perhaps this once, he can maneuver his way around Dante's temper by turning it into his favor.

He repelled his foot, the front most part of his bloody boot contacting with the convert's back, earning him a sharp yelp. The gun flew from the blond's hand to spiral under the truck, his primary weapon a defenseless tactic to use against them.

The blue hunter looked up into Dante's sour face, taking care to note of the returning negative energy that enveloped him the last time the teen let his mouth express his true feelings; eyes narrowed perilously at the partial-demon: him.

Nero subtly blinked, nearly drawing blood from biting his tongue to not tell Dante of his innocence. He knew the veteran recalled the morning events, letting those memories fuel his fire prior to burning the convert with, or rather Nero from the look on his visage.

"What's the pu―" The blond coughed, unable to get all his scathing words out. He hunched over to start the ill-fated smoker's cough; red phlegm sputtering onto the cement floor below him, attempting to retain control over his breathing.

He started again, "What's the matter, you pussy? Can't take on factual information, or are you mad because you can't top that comeback?" He sneered in triumph over his ability to verbally stump the crossbreed.

The youth stood near him, snorting in amusement. This guy hadn't a clue what he had unleashed.

"May I?" In a mock bow to the chief, Nero internally thanked himself for not sounding like a pansy in telling the captain that he wasn't the one to call him a bitch ...not this time anyway.

"I'd be insulted if you didn't."

Nero grabbed the shirt of the neophyte and roughly yanked him upwards, intending on giving him a good wallop to the face when his vision abruptly grazed over in red.

Taking a quick moment to register what happened, he let go of the non-alive convert, watching his body fall to the floor, wiping the blood decorating his cheeks. He looked in time to see the chieftain twirl Ivory before setting her in her slot; Dante resuming his search around the garage for rope.

"The sooner we get out of here, the better."

"Oh now you say that?!" The youth rubbed the blood off his face in fury, the sleeve of his jacket morphing into a burgundy color as the deep blue denim absorbed it.

His vision followed his arm's movement until they landed on the convert, a smoky hole pierced his skull, lifeless eyes stared straight ahead, contorted into an anguished cry.

"I'd move away from that if I were you. Those things have a reputation of playing possum."

"Playing 'possum?'"

"Pretending they're dead when they really ain't.” Dante threw over his shoulder, checking the drawer of a red toolbox for the highly searched item.

Nero shuffled back, taking one more glance at the bloody man before moving towards the vehicle to hop in it.

"Playing possum?” Nero asked in a low voice, glancing over at Dante once more to decide whether he should help out or not, but his limbs protested the notion. To his better judgment, he let his body take over his mind, deciding to wait it out in the truck, placing Red Queen in the back.

Dante sighed, about ready to give up entirely, opting to stuff the bike in the rear seat with care when he searched in the last drawer to see the sought after item.

"Man, you guys really planned this shit through and through, huh? Good thing we arrived when we did or else... Nero duck!"

Instead of his brain processing the urgent command, the youth turned around to see why the elder bulged his eyes. In his peripheral vision, he gazed upon a graying-skinned humanoid. For a moment, the teen thought he hallucinated but the blond hair let Nero realize that that convert finished 'playing possum.'

A desperate attempt made too slow to block the attack with his right hand enabled the teenager to take the full force of a red-orange fist to the middle of his forehead, knocking him several feet across the floor until he lost himself in a sea of darkness.

Early morning rays shone through a window when he awoke in a strange bed. Its yellow-brown sheets let him guess the covers had not been slept in or washed in a minute as his jacket laid over his sleeping form.

He closed his eyes breathing in deeply; the aged aroma of the room sifting through his nostrils. Snorting out the unpleasant odor, he rolled over onto his stomach to better understand where he was.

The clock on the night-stand flashed three numbers on and off consecutively but he could not make them out, no matter how much he blinked to get a clearer image.

A long and low exhale eased through his lips, laying down to stare at the ceiling, realizing it was littered with red splotches (he hoped that was paint littering the ceiling) clashing with the worn colors of the enclosed space. The bedroom had a metallic scent to it, though it wasn't as strong as he expected it to be.

The blow to the head from the neophyte must have made Dante stop at some sleazy motel until he came to; to see if he needed any emergency medical attention, perhaps. Overhead fluorescent lights filtered through his sight before he blacked out, hearing the sounds of fading whizzing bullets and disgruntled growls.

Reflecting on the day, an elated sensation flowed through him, grateful to be away from that unusual creature infested hell-hole that fucked his mood up. Dante's jokes and dual personalities, the titty queen of scorned women and her biting brood, the fun house with all its oddities and puzzles, those bomb-demons and those life-sucking octopi, those horned fish and those face eaters, that convert and his over-exaggerated 'possum' play... all of it endured too heavy for him to handle in one day, and a hot shower steadied a quick-fix solution.

Only this room missed some very important parts to it, like doors.

Nero bolted into a sitting position. His eyes contracted in confusion, windows absent in the place along with other furnishings.

How could he have been in here without coming through an entrance, or a window in any extreme case. An unsure voice called out to Dante, but understood how foolish it sounded be since he felt alone.

Falling under a panicky influence wasn't an option obviously, yet when one wakes up in the middle of nowhere in a room with no stained glasses, doors, and a main partner missing in action, what is the initial response one would do based on instinct?

Panic.

The youngster threw aside his jacket, stopping his movement to look at the red welts and bloodied bite marks littered over his torso, trailing to his lower half. Shortened breaths quickened, his mind taking root of his stark nudeness under his multiple layers of clothes that should have been on him―to which he couldn't see those in sight neither.

"What the... wasn't I just dressed?" he muttered aloud. Of course he would have noticed his bare body touching the rough denim material, but his situation turned bizarre.

Nero ran his left hand down his stomach to determine if they ached, and what creature he should blame. Maybe he developed an allergic reaction to those scorpions that crawled all over him, except he had his clothes on so that's not it. The embedded sword remained a plausible reason, yet how did it explain the imprints over his belly?

He expected the spots to sting upon brushing his forefinger over them, immediately sensing a numbing feeling at the touch. It's as if the wounds were painted on him; bite marks and welts should burn dammit.

His attention returned to the item-less room, scanning once again to assure himself that he had his sanity. Or started to go insane because his mind neglected the logic of how he got in here. The only thing supplying the bed with company is the dusty dresser and the alarm clock that wouldn't tell the time, or did his eyesight remain shitty?

Curiosity got the better of him when he saw the two closed drawers off to the side, a lock placed on both of them with a weird symbol engraved on it as a keyhole. Not much of a problem to rip the thing off if it didn't open on its own. He hoped it held information or clues as to where and why he was here.

Nero chuckled in self-pity, discerning that he did go insane; looking for help to be or not to be in a damn box. On the other hand, he figured he had nothing to lose, or gain in this situation, and he reached to unlatch the upper most drawer.

His devil bringer grasped the handle when a low growl rumbled behind him, sending shivers down his back, his breath hitching in alarm. Now the boogeyman popped up out of nowhere to make his friendly introduction?

Nothing matched up since his awakening, and the situation wouldn't be so bad if he had his weapons propped against the bed. No boogeyman would appear to harm him in this no man's land, or room, and if it just so happened that Dante played this shit on him...

He curled his appendage inward to deliver his elbow to his rear, bringing his arm in to gather momentum, swiftly swinging backwards to connect his right forearm to whatever lied to his posterior.

Magnolia-white locks whirled about his head, rotating to see his hand ensnared in a black taloned fist with a tough, dark red hide going up its radius, lightening up to a bright scarlet for the bicep.

A nearly audible sigh of relief washed over Nero after he looked at the hilt of Rebellion peeking over the hunter's shoulder. Aside from that, why is he in his devil form? And why did his scaly limb not sense him when he practically stood next to him? The sensations in his extension should have spiked with a white-hot inferno illuminating the entire room.

Are they in a trap set by a demon and Dante fought them off? Did he go away and try to find an escape route and came to warn him? Did Dante have to teleport to get in and out of here? What in the hell happened?

"Nero," a deep inhuman voice rumbled, halting his questions.

The teen looked down to see the captain’s devil reach a clawed hand up to his bare chest, laying it over his heart; the organ quickening in response.

Wait―bare? The partial-hybrid did a double take for what should be a bloody and bitten-up torso. Not only did the bite marks completely disappear, the welts vanished as if they were never there.

His initial reaction deduced this healing factor coming into play, and everything should be fine. Though what bothered him excluded the missing feelings usually accompanying spots such as those, and what gave him those 'injuries'.

Alert pools of Cerulean stared upon the now red-splotch free ceiling. The roof returned to a pristine off-white; no trace of any stain or spot seen on it as if it remained nice and clean and boring the whole time.

It might as well be a weird nightmare. Yeah, it's just one eerie, off-beat, ill-timed, mentally fucked up dream. No more, no less. When he awoke, he'll probably be in the truck Dante borrowed... or still at that house unconscious on the floor. He wouldn't care, as long as he left this other-worldly shit.

Now.

Without warning, Dante flipped a nude Nero onto his stomach, eliciting a surprised scream, remembering he wore nothing under his blue coat. The abrupt movement relocated the jacket to lay under Nero and not over his posterior. He struggled, demanding his leg muscles to and scoot away, but found himself unable to budge.

Dante sat on top of Nero's lower half yet didn't touch him anywhere else. He sustained his anchorage to the bed by the human-demon using him as a seat? The veteran was quite heavy, so it would make sense that his triggered form be heavier too. Even with the hybrid sitting on his frame should still allow mobility on his upper body.

"What the hell? Dante get off of me," Nero spoke in a rushed manner to hide his mounting panic from being naked, immovable, having the crimson slayer restrain him, in his devil state... and naked.

"Hold still," the un-human voice reverberated.

Nero squirmed, or maybe he thought he squirmed more when the hybrid lowered his scaly, steel-like chest on Nero's back to the nape of his neck, sniffing it once before making this internal humming sound. His eyes widened, bucking his hips to dislodge the man off of him, but the half-demon held onto him fast.

"Dante get the fuck off of me," he snarled in violence, growling in anger at the inability to move, and for his failed devil bringer to work. Why is the veteran on him like this and what did he plan on doing to him?

Nero flailed his right arm behind him to shove him off that way, but a taloned grip captured it and painfully wrenched his wrist, immobilizing him further (if possible). No point in trying to use his normal one to dismount him because his captured hand would have suffered the same consequences.

"What the fuck is wrong with you? Why are you doing this, man!?" Perhaps an effort to reason with him might distract him from whatever his intentions, but a strong inhale to his neck provided the elder's response. The chief nuzzled the right side of the teen's throat, to which Nero stiffened all the muscles he could muster... and panicked.

"You fucking creep, get off of me!" Nero waved his human appendage around to smack some sense into the half-devil before something happened, to him or Dante he wasn't sure of yet. Since the bulk of the half-breed's weight rested on his tailpiece, movement for him ceased completely.

A slick, slimy feeling swept across Nero's shoulder blades, inducing him to thrash with renewed vigor to jump away from Dante's devil. Bucking up into the hybrid's defined pelvic probably wasn't a smart idea to begin with, but Nero didn't have many options to escape.

He silently prayed, to whatever holy nature out there, that the thing swiveling along his posterior wasn't Dante's tongue. Let it be a snake, a snail, that disappearing blood off of the ceiling... anything other than what he thought it to be.

The youth turned his head to identify the slithery sensation, catching sight of the half-breed descending upon his face with a long, black appendage peeking out from ragged, sharp teeth. With an unblinking, widened eye at the realization he'd been reduced to a human lollipop, Nero unwillingly allowed a gasp of repulsion when he saw said muscle lick him in obvious enjoyment.

Dante held onto Nero's right palm, snaking his other hand to rest in his white locks, ensuring a firm hold and dived to suckle at Nero's neck.

A soft, surprised cry escaped the teen's lips at the sudden touch, various contractions spasming all over his lithe form. The black muscle pressed deep, circular motions in the middle of the back of Nero's neck, pausing every few moments to maneuver his tongue deeper into that particular crevice.

He bit his bottom lip to silence his sounds. Submerged inside his core, a dark sensation soothed an unknown desire, despite the gross act, but he would forget that all of this shit happened once he woke up.

He knew he dreamt due to his demonic forearm responding to none of his inputs. The energy required to bring forth his limb's extension abandoned his acknowledgment within his arm; no tingles, no twitches, no pulsing, no vibrations, nothing. And his devil bringer would vibrate off the charts in response to the triggered half-breed in such a proximity.

"What the fuck are you... AAH!" Nero smothered his face into the pillow, biting on it after multiple, razor sharp teeth pierced into the spot he gnawed on. Liquid traveled down either side of his throat, forming a pool in the cushion he chomped on. The flow however, held no heat or coldness to it, just a neutral stream going across his gullet.

Except the bite inhered something fierce. He felt it. Sharpened incisors grazed into his skin, piercing through his flesh, actual fangs... sinking into his physique.

He attempted to focus his mind on getting out of the situation at hand... regardless of whether Dante attached his chompers to his spine in striving to escape. What he presumed he would take comfort in knowing Dante was here turned into a nightmare rather promptly. He assumed a force took trouble to the elder; like he'd been fighting someone that proved to be a little aggravating and it somehow had control over him.

Then he entertained the idea of submitting as the elder's sex toy... in his own dream. Funny, finally up under the veteran as his inner demon chanted for however long, he presented himself as MIA.

He recalled something when trying to avoid a nightmare. His appendages twitched, setting his body in motion to respond to his brain. Concentrating, his mind focused on the goal, commanding his form to spring into action.

After much cerebral scolding and preventing himself to succumb to Dante's fervent physical ministrations, Nero sensed the transition into limbo; half of his body tugging to reside in his current position while the other pulled him into reality.

As an effect of his obscurity the teen started to convulse, feeling his limbs twitch in fervor, his eyes fluttering open and closed as ragged breaths escaped his throat... but it wasn't due to his delirious disposition.

The elder had crept to the right side of his neck, using the hand in his hair to claw down to Nero's torso; enticing a violent shudder from his quaking form. Whether or not it meant to be taken as a distraction to stay, Nero had had about enough of all of it. He mentally steeled himself to wake up harder, determined to forget this demented shit or Dante's desire to eat him.

The gravitational pull grew stronger now, pulling him towards the real world and its craziness he would take other than this foolery. Then again, that's all it really was; his fatigue-stressed mind ran rampant from the occurring events of today. He supposed he could give his psyche a break over the day's outcome; he would take a few days off to let his brain recuperate.

"Nero," a groggy, human-sounding voice called out, underlying with an urgent pitch coming nearer the more he stilled to listen to it. The convulsing twitches glowered in greater strength, signaling the end of this slightly traumatic experience.

"Nero stay still... Dammit, would you stop! Hey, wait a minute!" The normal sound veered closer now, practically screaming in his ear to quit whatever he did... yet he did nothing because the veteran trapped him under heavy, bulky weight.

The last tremble of his left appendage sent his body swerving into a hard surface, like he bumped against a wall. Still continuing to flutter his eyelids in his closing moments, his head moved stiffly to the right, not to see if Dante attempted to eat him but because of his violent twitching.

Something heavy landed on his shoulder, his form rocking from side to side because he now heard the distinctive voice of Dante shouting at him to wake up.

With a final hand twitch, Nero briefly floated through a field of darkness into the world he rightfully belonged to.

His eyes snapped open to the yelling of the elder's "OH SHIT!", the honking of a loud horn, bright lights of an oncoming big rig, the breaks of Dante's 'rented' truck, and the slamming of harsh brakes skidding into the vehicular monstrosity's direction.

A/N: Don't you hate it when you want to wake up from a dream or nightmare, and you can't because your body doesn't really know how to react to it, so you just try and move your limbs to get going but you can't and you feel like you're going into a seizure? I hate that feeling!

Anywho, now that they are out of that place with an assload of goodies to take home...and Nero's mental psyche stuck in a unique place, they can go back to their friendly bantering and trying to demoralize the other in a way that only they can understand. But will the bantering drive Nero away or will he own up to it: DUN-DUN-DUNN!

Then again, maybe I should just stop torturing Nero...Til' Next Time!
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Dreams Will Be Made Of These