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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
- 27
- 28
- 29
Chapter 28: Bourbon and Slum Avenue
Nero had a strange dream.
He lounged on the steps outside of Devil May Cry with Kyrie sitting in a relaxed pose between his legs. The air blew a slight breeze, whipping through their hair as the sun beamed down. As he laid his hand on her shoulder she turned into him and smiled, nuzzling his touch then returning to stare in front of her. A certain calmness washed over him, sensing an elated sentiment blooming from within.
For so long this bond was safe, what proved a stable connection in his tumultuous life. He couldn't dare sever a link this strong just because his hormones remained indecisive concerning who it wanted. This secure relation withstood the strain placed upon it since his departure from his hometown. She offered stability, something he needed to counteract the constant problems plaguing his existence.
Dante... in contrast, was this wavering enigma. Period. It would be futile to keep up with him to analyze every element of his personality. One minute the hybrid displayed this confident, egotistic temperament with convincing morale. And the next he showcased this withdrawn hostility coupled with uncontrolled hunger for destruction.
An unknown force inside Nero stirred at this revelation, a need to confront this radical challenge blooming to the forefront. Whether it was to test his abilities or dominate against the half-breed he didn't know, yet Dante... filled a side of him that craved that strange opposition, where the teen had to be disputed.
Too bad they weren't in sparring mode right now, the reason Nero gave up opposing the events occurring in his slumber.
Sitting behind him was the red slayer himself, Nero resting between his legs in replica to the way Kyrie sat in his. When the teen tried to move, this painful spike shot through his chest, practically forcing him to stay pressed against him. Escaping proved unsuccessful, Nero glancing down to see the hybrid clutch his torso with his right, taloned forearm; the touch sending the sharp pulses of pain away. He didn't bother to look back, what would be the point?
It seemed fitting to have a dream where he felt trapped, giving an accurate representation to his thoughts.
Kyrie, the sweet and endearing childhood friend who comforted and supported him through rough times provided his human side with something to cling to.
Dante embodied this force that tapped into his virile energies, giving him a complex synergistic union invigorating his urges... except involving sex. He'd convince himself to go to other means if the day arrived where his libido overloaded rational reasoning.
But... what if that's all this was? What if his inner demon and the messages in his slumber told him he required a good romping? He recalled the pressing impulses lingering after a hard fight, and the way his body and mind grew restless preceding an energized dispute with demons or a heated brawl with the hybrid. It was the same feeling he had whenever he stopped the physical ministrations on Kyrie. The desire to satiate this maddening, pent-up energy needed expulsion, and perhaps these hinted communications pushed towards that.
Obviously these memos of repressed virility came out in the form of... being horny.
“But with Dante,” he whispered to himself, face scrunching in confusion. He supposed he couldn't release his eagerness with the brunette in full, and touching himself to relieve the anxiousness left after easy game or a peek a Kyrie's figure did so much. Even if he indulged himself in a meaningless charade with a random woman, it would feel like a betrayal to the songstress.
Nonetheless, (on a severe side note) he and the hybrid weren't “normal” and they weren't “ordinary” in their routine practices, perhaps the elder... Oh seriously!
Okay, so Dante can take a punch or two and he had experience in the sack (he surmised), but this was crazy. There is no way he fathomed to tell the guy to... “rub one out” for him. Ugh, that isn't a possible question. What would it be like if a man asked another man to fuck him to get his hormones in check?
What if he ran into more disappointing hunts and aggravating altercations, and then using the suppressed antagonism on his childhood friend? Not that he'd willingly let such an occurrence happen, but what if.
This is his dream. Anything goes. Perhaps a test drive should sample the waters.
“I wonder if I have bleach to wash myself after this.”
With timid fingers, he reached his devil bringer upwards, resting it on his shoulder. Not long after, he felt the surprisingly cold touch of the veteran's demonic forearm clutching his own. He forced himself to relax against his chest, craning his neck to one side to look up at the man behind him.
Sharp, obsidian-hued teeth graced a malevolent smile, a crimson trail oozing out the corner of the smiling mouth. His left eye glowed a bright yellow, Nero unable to fix his gaze on anything except the psychotic expression the half-demon sported.
Oh shit.
Instincts kicked in, telling him to move Kyrie from this crazed hunter when Dante bent forward and nipped him. His immobile devil bringer had been ensnared into the red and black forearm ,as his other arm stayed locked in her hold. A hard fist gripped his hair, keeping him in place, his lips undergoing a bruising treatment. Opening a cerulean orb he noticed Kyrie sitting in the same spot, still clutching his hand as if he wasn't violated right behind her. Then he remembered, this is a dream.
Little by little he relaxed his form, allowing the half-triggered slayer to maul his mouth. So far this test lacked something. He planned to work his way up to spontaneous advances and proceed from there. However, maybe he needed this rough handling to filter the anxiousness out of him. Nothing else can explain his frisky 'condition.'
For the moment, he forgot why he was livid with the veteran.
“How... gross.”
Kissing a guy was different from smooching a girl. Granted, he can't compare the two because his lip-lock with the songstress was sweet and gentle, and the half-demon damn near ripped his peckers off. Added to the rugged treatment accompanied the blood trickling down his chin, though he couldn't verify the temperature.
This uh.... interaction needed something. No spark or tingling sensation tickled his senses, just a neutral munching on the lips. That angsty attitude roved absent, leaving him trapped without a sense of purpose; he wasn't capable of giving this thing a thorough test drive.
In the next moment however, the mood changed.
Dante shifted to his neck, cradling his pulse between sharp teeth with Nero jerking in surprise, twitching his shoulder with the abrupt gesture. He felt that ministration. With the brunette still leaning on him and his upper body contorted and cradled, he was stuck and good.
Those tiny pincers bit through him, banishing the use of his arms to fight. Goose-pimply shivers wracked his form after the hybrid suckled on his throat, the youngster letting out small gasps with heat sprouting from the depths of his stomach.
“This is... better,” he expressed through murmured words, mouth falling ajar when the same warmth increased in vigor. His lower belly was a cesspool of molten flame, lightly squirming over the build up of heat craving heavier friction or a shivering release. The 'urges' he thought of earlier came to the forefront, having it sensually withdrawn out of him.
In his slumber, this method of discharging this pent-up energy worked fine, the sampling proving a proficient technique of expelling a pestering neediness. Nero told himself that sex would be an easy way to dispel his stress, but perhaps he needed a rigorous activity to occupy his time. Dream Dante may be consuming his body at the moment, but he held doubt the real Dante'll be so willing.
Dwelling on that note further, could a chance arrive where the both of them might... come together as something more than friends if a rare opportunity showcased itself? Like in some weird incident where the outcome is so extreme they have no choice but to?
“Nope,” Nero almost moaned, catching himself instead to let out a soft sigh. Once he'd be right again, there wouldn't be a need to go down this route.
Sobering up a little, he wondered what role the songstress played in this, never mind how bizarre it was that he was kissing the red slayer―er... he meant to say the man locked lips with him. The teen moved to push the half-demon away but the body holding him crushed him tighter, Nero squirming to release himself from the tightening clutch. Those cutting razors regained capture of his pulse, this time biting harder in response to the increased movements.
“Hold still,” Dante's distorted voice echoed, chilling him to the bone; this harmless experiment morphing into a nightmare. He lightly pressed his knees together to affirm if the brunette still sat there, surprised to see that his legs closed all the way.
“What the hell? Where did she go to I didn't sense her―fuck!” Defenses on high alert he pulled away leading with his feet, utilizing every bit of his strength to break free. As of now Dante seemed to have wanted to rip his head off, Nero using his human hand to punch, pull, and scratch the hybrid into oblivion.
The sky darkened, purple-black clouds thickening over the yellow rays once shining down on them. A harsh jerk to his chest stilled his actions, Nero taking a sudden breath as Dante released his devil bringer. With eyes narrowed he jumped up and stumbled to his side, feeling like a piece of his neck was missing.
A hardened glare stared at the half-demon, opting to start a fight with him instead of this sex shit. Oh what a stupid move, annoyance overshadowing his exasperation to even think that a dose of flirting could be harmless while sleeping. Aw, fuck it then. He'll take all his rage out on that asshole, and if that anxiousness resided afterwards, he'll just bust a nut until he was normal again. There! Problem solved.
About to command the surreal imagination of his sleep to drop an anvil on Dante, he halted when he gazed upon the man sitting on the steps, a crazed smile stretching his profile. It brought back the memory of their issues together in that police bathroom and the crazy personality the elder displayed. The same persona crossed over into his dreams apparently, repeating the scenario at the end of his last dream.
“I got you.”
A red and black forearm held a bloody heart, blue and purple veins gushing the lifeblood out in force. Nero didn't have time to look down and react, face set in abject horror as the half-devil crushed the muscle into pulpous chunks.
“Dammit!” Dante growled, bending over a chair cradling his forehead with his left hand. His feet tapped on the floor, willing the sudden throbbing to cease. Nero found it a grand time to ricochet out of his sleep while the chief administered medicine to his once-torn chest, making them collide heads.
Nero lied awake in bed, both hands nuzzling his pulsing skull, toned legs lightly kicked the mattress. He had a mind to pounce on the elder and punch him blind, but something hard bobbled between his thighs. A warmth spread through his cheeks over his embarrassment threatening to kill him. Instead he opted to lie still, keeping his knees propped so his stiffened dick wouldn’t be so obvious.
“I hate you, Dante.”
“Yeah, well you're no ray of sunshine either.”
“... How'd I get here?”
“The ATV.” Dante replied, rubbing his eyes in a tired motion. “Getting you here was not fun.”
Slowly the images from the previous night poured into the youth's mind. The last thing he remembered were the over-eager puppies making him their chew toy. And that blame fell on Dante in part to his lack of communication and disengaged attitude.
After that nightmare-like shit, perhaps he needed to leave out of his company. It seemed plausible since Dante didn't express concern towards his safety, excluding now, especially following this mission. Withal, wasn’t Nero the one who said his partnership with the red slayer wouldn't commence on the job anymore? Besides, he didn't think he could stand to face the man after what took place in his dreams.
Dante had changed into a semi-tight gray shirt and faded blue jeans, cleaned up and fresh-looking from his gruff appearance. In his hands he smashed together something green and gold above the teen's chest, the liquid dripping onto his almost-closed injury. It spread heat over the opening, tingling prickles rising before the sensation dissolved. Maybe the bastard assumed responsibility, using this method as a cheap apology?
“Why didn't you leave me at the station? It's better than dragging me here, don't you think?” Anger simmered at his core, irritated at Dante's unnecessarily rude behavior. He knew he would be leaving today.
Dante remained silent, lips pressing into a thin line.
“Am I going to get an answer this time, or should I shut up?”
“I... wasn't feeling too great yetser-”
“Understatement of the fucking year.”
“It's difficult fighting those things, right?”
“Avoiding the question, are you?”
“No, but you need to understand how fucked up this situation got-”
“So that explains away your shitty mood?”
“It does actually, yeah. You know that raging devil within me you always want to spar with? I let him out...”
Dante's teeth bit the inside of his cheek prior to his mouth tightening, jaw muscles flexing upon explaining his actions. “Those converts were hiding in the police force. Your friend, who gave you a nose job, was one of the six assholes running the place. I... had to put an end to them by using something more... reckless. After I called you, more of those Enkindles and whatnot wanted to party. So I gave him a dance card.”
Dante watched the teenager's skin heal on his chest, the thin, pink scar diminishing to only a small line. His smooth, alabaster flesh held no signs of teeth marks from those Spiritual Guardians, tight muscles appearing strong and healthy to his sight.
“When I tried to lock him back up, he didn't want to listen, wanting to tear and rip and shred some more. I literally fought that idiot to submit and send him to his prison. But he left a surprise you had to deal with.”
Nero guessed the 'surprise' was the half-demon's cold hospitality towards him.
“If you arrived five minutes earlier, you would have been seen as the enemy. I'm not sure if I could've stopped myself.”
The teen studied the veteran's face, noticing a dark expression creeping over his countenance. Nero supposed he didn't understand the full extent of Dante's devil trigger.
When the youth used his, it was to overcome a powerful foe that pestered him to no end. Dante, based upon his explanation, repressed his inner devil and the rage he harbored and when he let it out, he had a hard time containing it again. He briefly wondered whose released demonic state had the more blood-thirsty tendencies. The insight was nice to know, but he believed he should go home and check on things; it might be better anyhow.
“So that's your excuse.”
“No, I just need you to realize where I'm coming from.”
The youngster's eyes roamed around his room, noticing a first-aid kit sitting on the dresser. Cotton balls blotted with red and brown streaks along with various medical ointments rested on the side of his bed. He remembered the wolves and their ferocity, wondering why they nearly ate him.
“Why did those dogs do this?”
“You told me nothing went into your arm, at least on your part. But it did. See that jar on the stand?”
Nero didn't bother to look, lying motionless under the cover. He wondered why his erection didn't subside yet.
“Well, I placed the heart on your devil bringer and the gem started glowing. Soon after, the heart shriveled up.” Dante reached for a tiny green gemstone on the dresser, holding it up to the youth's sight. It was square-shaped and smooth on all sides, glimmering in the blue-gray rays of the early morning sun. “Something probably seeped or dissolved into your right hand from the jewel under the desk, and the Guardians felt as if you shouldn't have it.”
“Oh yeah? Hmph, tell those rabid mutts to get neutered.”
The elder snorted a chuckle, thinking now was the time to reveal the culprits responsible for this charade. After he towed an unconscious Nero through the door Trish gave him disapproving looks, Dante telling her to scold him later and bring him a vital gem and a golden orb. Magical beings of an elemental nature were a bitch to heal from. They were on par with blessed items and required more than a lone healing stone to restore him.
After heavy scolding from the blond they exchanged information, Dante reporting from the mission start to its ending, excluding the kissing and name calling. He didn't hold back on explaining the events preceding Lady's theft and the office's destruction however.
In a mixture of mocking and sympathizing with him, she abruptly told him of a small detour she planned on taking, ordering him to tell Nero about Fortuna and to keep him put here. Dante didn't know how he would do that, but he made no promises.
He braced himself in expectance of the thrashing hormones to come his way.
“If they'd been out sooner, they probably would've bitten the balls off the scientist that started this bullshit.”
“Scientist?”
“From Fortuna.”
Yup, he's catching the first ferry back home.
“Don't do anything irrational yet kid, chances are the followers of that old fart are dead or they fled the island.”
“How long did you know about this?” Nero yelled in light anger, balling his fists into the sheets.
“I saw something on my second trip to Whetstone, but Trish confirmed it.”
“And when did she know about it?!”
“Uh... a little before she got here?” he shrugged, knowing the blond kept secrets.
“And she mentioned nothing!” he strained himself to speak through his thick throat.
“She wanted to round us up and share what we gathered. But since you were hurt and who gives a fuck about Lady, she left me to tell you.”
Is Kyrie in danger? Why didn't Trish tell him? No one navigated the island better than him. How long did this scientist develop the nature of these hearts and where was he? Was there anything else left behind as far as paperwork and books on how to make this stuff?
Months after the fall of the Savior, Nero traveled the castles and lairs of the small town, collecting objects he assumed were fundamental and storing them in a safe location. Did his stash undergo discovery? Did he miss another hidden place where more valuables hid? A hundred thoughts raced through his psyche, thinking the worst could and would happen to Kyrie if he didn't leave soon.
“Where's the scientist?” Nero asked, trying to keep the panic from rising too much in his voice.
“Dead. He wanted to be like the Titty Queen, so she changed him into a monster. Quite fitting, wouldn’t you think?”
“Did he meet her out there or out here?” He sat up out the bed, keeping the cover over his stiffener, but it lessened some.
“Out here,” Dante collected the medical supplies, readying to start his morning as he planned yesterday. Nero's becoming concern about Kaitlin was admirable, but if he assumed where Trish took her 'detour', he had little to woe about. “Kid don't worry, she's in no danger-”
“You don't know that!” he shouted, forehead crinkling because he hadn't a clue of any wrongdoing still going on in the town.
“Well, if you feel you need to go, then do it. Just let no one suspect anything to draw the spies out, if there are any.”
“Fine,” the teen muttered, his throat loosening from its constricted hold.
Dante wiped his hands with a spare towel, grabbing the objects and heading out. He withheld this strange notion that the kid wouldn't leave yet.
Any rational person would have enough sense to call first to gauge the importance of coming to a loved one's aid. And if he crossed any more of those infected hearts, Nero had the stopping power in his devil bringer to destroy the tainted essence within the gem.
He wasn't leaving.
Upon reaching the doorway the hybrid turned sideways, intent to put the brat's head back into focus before giving a wry smile, recalling the reason Nero didn't move around too much. “Before you walk out that door though, you should rid of your morning wood before doing anything. I don't think you should go scaring anybody outside with it.”
“Nero, how are you?” A soft, feminine voice beamed through the phone, lifting half of the stress settling on his shoulders just to hear her speak.
“I'm fine, Kyrie. How have you been?” He bothered the hem of his gray tank top sitting on Dante's table, tapping his foot in black sweatpants and matching socks.
“A little tired, but okay. We've really rebuilt the main plaza. Everyone's been so helpful.”
“I bet. And the church? Any repairs to that done?”
“Mm, no. People don't hang around there much.”
Why would they? After Dante's infamous entrance, the citizens avoided that place like the plague.
Calling her felt bittersweet. He was happy to know she was fine, but he was still a little sore about his departure thanks to those chickenshit dumbfuck citizens who pushed their fears onto him. Whatever, he can reminisce on that later. Right now he needed to see if any strange shit went on in the town.
“Oh okay. Hey, have you noticed anything weird going on? Like, any weird people or events taking place?”
She giggled. “Um, well... there is this one woman who came here. She said she knows you.”
He stopped the tapping. “Who? Has she tried talking to you? Where is she?”
“She's right here.”
What the hell.
“Why, hello Nero.”
“Trish?”
What the hell is going on? She's in Fortuna right now? In her disguise or as herself?
“I apologize for keeping this from you, but this little assignment required a woman's touch. Couldn't have you coming here and the town wasn't ready to praise your presence just yet.”
“But... why? Why didn't you mention something? I'm not Dante.”
“I know, but if I did you would have insisted to come out here anyway. You probably wouldn't listen to us. See, we were supposed to gather for a group conference and plan what to do next. Since nobody was available and Dante busied himself playing nurse, I took it upon myself to pay a visit out here. The town's busy and no one seems interested in anything other than rebuilding, or what I picked up from it.”
“How'd you meet up with Kyrie?”
“Oh, I saw her carrying vegetables to the kitchen and I snatched her away for a little 'girl talk.'”
Ain’t that a bitch? What gave these morons the audacity to tell him where and when he could leave? He knew Kyrie longer than all of them combined. And what made her think he was going to stay here? What if he was homesick? What if he wanted to catch up on old times with his friend?
“Nero, I know it must feel like a betrayal to you-”
“So I just watch from the sidelines while everyone else plays my position?”
“Your hometown may be harboring a naughty, scampy fellow. If you came here snooping around, there's a chance for them to escape or injure someone since the town knows you, or at the least heard of you. They don't seem to remember seeing me as my alter ego, so I'm in the clear until I use it again.”
Well... shit.
“No one's holding you against your will or playing your part. If you want to come out here, that's your choice. All I'm asking is that you trust in me to handle my business.”
The phone went silent as Nero mulled over her words. A hesitant voice breathed through the receiver. “N-Nero? Are you still there?”
“Yeah, I am.”
“Are you all right? What's going on?”
Her timid yet heightened tone told of her worry. The last thing he wanted to do was stress her out.
He admitted that Trish was a strong fighter, and she knew how important Kyrie is to him. Unlike another certain breed of a demon, she cared less to play games or fool around. Trish wouldn't put the songstress in harm's way and if trouble stirred, the blond would protect her, or at least he held a belief she would do so. He wished they'd tell him stuff, he hated being out of the loop.
“Oh nothing. This old geezer had his dentures stolen.”
“Nero!” she giggled, reeling in her humored tiffs.
“What?”
“That's so mean! No seriously, what's wrong?”
“Nothing much. You remember Dante, right?”
“Yes.”
“He... dropped something of his out there and someone's going around flashing it. That's all. He's acting like a baby because he misses it.” A lie, but he needed to calm her doubt. If he didn't give her an excuse, she'd speculate and assume until she became upset. “That's why Dante's friend is visiting because she knows where to look. She'll cause no trouble.”
“Oh, I see.” She sounded satisfied enough with his answer. “Will she need help in her search?”
“Nah, she's good. And don't you go offering your help either.”
“Are you sure?”
“As sure as Dante is a living fossil.”
“Nero! Be nice!” He could tell there was a smile in her voice. “Okay then, are you coming out here?”
“I... plan to, sometime soon,” he sensed a weight lift off of him now that he called her, leaving him to combat other issues. “Well, I won't hold you. It's almost time to prep for lunch, right?”
“Yes. The harvest is doing great this year, thanks to you helping to rebuild the farmhouse a while back, and the fish are swimming in plentiful.”
“Yeah that's... that's good. I hope the fisherman are catching something other than trout and bass.”
She must have picked up on his subtle mood change. “Nero, if at any time you feel like coming home, don't wait, just come all right?” She paused, as if waiting to hear his answer. “Now you're sure you're fine?”
“Yup. I'm just glad to hear your voice and that you're doing okay.”
“Well, I am. If you want to call me, don't hesitate. I'm here for you.”
“Yeah, thanks Kyrie. I'll see you soon.”
“Okay, bye.”
He hung up the phone, rubbing his head over the mixed emotions coming into play. He told himself that going home would cheer him up, but after he talked to the songstress and she seemed fine... he wasn't ready yet, supposedly.
The memories of his self-induced exile roved fresh in his mind every week when he phoned her, torn between showing up on their doorsteps with a big 'fuck you' smile and forgetting about it all. On the other hand, Dante's place provided an eccentric comfort he wasn't privy to in Fortuna, and maybe he didn't want to leave the kooky atmosphere just right now.
But he wouldn't admit that out loud you know, pride and whatnot.
“I hate... cookie squids!”
Dante didn't think his plan would turn out this bad.
With heavy teasing to the sulking punk after the phone call Dante, in his own manner of professionalism, challenged the teen to a drinking game after he ordered and ate pizza. In the effort to distract the youth from his brooding, he remembered the youngster wasn't over the legal drinking age. It didn't really matter because his blood prevented the rapid onset of inebriation, but he had to be the half-responsible adult in this.
Nero responded with “Bring it on you colossal relic,” and Dante said “Careful what you wish for pre-pubes,” which started this diversion of debauchery. He assumed the kid rode slim on his patience from the demonic commotion and wanted to relax his mind temporarily; the reason he agreed to it without hesitation. He wondered if Nero should get a massage or something afterwards, because he was a bit high-strung.
But by the looks of things, it seemed as though Nero wanted Dante to do the massaging.
The hybrid downed a bottle of Jack Daniels and felt... serene. Granted, he could chug a lot more but this lone bottle drove him towards a carefree afternoon. Or it would've been if Nero didn't embody the word's meaning.
The drinking game started off with light activities, such as taking a swig of they ever experienced a bed wetting and if they killed a demon with a single blow, to suffering a case of the worst blue balls. The distraction meant to be taken lightly as a way to relax and settle down before Ramona's antics brewed into another giant shit storm. But Nero took it as a challenge.
At the teen's first try at swallowing whiskey he couldn't stomach the strong taste, spilling the drink down his gray tank top and sweatpants. However, as with any habit in its beginning stages the seeds of addiction had been planted, urging him to nourish his palette with another sip. Swallow after swallow lulled his uptight demeanor, perhaps a little too good.
Naturally, Dante backed off to let the youngster sober up, but the kid protested. The elder even attempted to snatch his glass away, but his fingers almost ended up bitten off to his knuckles. To make the brat stop Dante asked personal questions: if he thought about fucking; how many times has he jacked off; did he ever have a dream about a guy fucking him. The invasive inquiries should've flustered the brat so he'd quit, but the fledgling chugged on.
The half-demon got a little carried away with the sensitive material and allowed the semi-interrogation to continue, but after Nero's third bottle of Jack, he stashed the rest of his alcohol to let the punk clear his mind.
They sat on the couch to watch TV, Dante waiting on the news to see if his antics caught the world's attention. A commercial came on about chocolate cookies and a cartoon squid trying to steal them from a whale... thus the saying of Nero's nonsensical sentence. Things took a strange turn afterwards.
Another advertisement announced a romantic comedy, each of the characters falling into slip-ups while kisses were thrown in the middle; with Nero scooting towards Dante to air out his complaints. Via resting his head in his lap.
Oh boy.
“I that yov kiss peoples yous love?” Nero looked up at him, speech slurred with glazed over orbs staring at him. The brat wasn't drunk, but he definitely reclined some.
The hybrid crossed his arms with widened eyes, Nero using him as a headrest and getting bolder with his touches.
“I suppose so.”
“Then you why kiss mes, no?”
How friggin' adorable.
“Because you're an annoying little shit, and you get on my nerves.”
The youth... didn't like that answer, presumably, after taking time to process his words, face contorting into one of confusion.
“Liar. Chu' only kiss some booty you likes.” He paused, gathering his scrambled thoughts. “Heey... yous do loves mes.”
“Hmph, don't flatter yourself punk, you're drunk.”
“I'm serrious, you do lilac me.” Nero felt the need to start touching Dante anywhere in his face, nearly poking his eye out by mistake.
The red hunter grabbed his devil bringer. “Don't force me to pour water on you to make you act right. Come on now, settle down.”
Cerulean irises fixated on him, unblinking with a heavy leer pointing at him. He couldn't read the expression in them, thinking Nero got the message to cool it, only it had the opposite effect.
The news came on, the reporter telling the events of a high speed chase that ended when the driver crashed into a sewer channel... or Dante presumed they said it while Nero found it necessary to straddle him, taking his focus off the TV.
This didn't look good.
“What are you doing?”
“Liar.”
Nero bent forward, grabbing the cradle of Dante's jawbones pressing harder to kiss him. The smell of pizza and whiskey permeated through the elder's nostrils, keeping still because Nero didn't realize what he was doing. The liquor drove him to act with free reign, guiding his nerves to something he might regret when he sobered. If he hadn't had so much to drink and he mounted him... well he guessed he'll never know now.
Ah, what the hell brought his on?
Doing relationships wasn't his style. The risks made it impossible to have one. Hell had a deep-rooted grudge against his bloodline, and he gained notoriety in response to his demon-slaying antics too. As soon as anyone heard anything remotely close to him having a physical relationship with someone, there remained the gamble of Dante losing them. If Nero wanted a quick fix then hey, it stood the chance to relieve their stresses quickly. Not to mention the complicated emotions bound to erupt. Anything else... shit he should have stopped him at a swig.
Or maybe give him half of a beer.
He didn't budge, keeping his folded arms in place, thinking of what to do next. If he reciprocated the kiss, then he'd be just as guilty, encouraging something he wasn't so sure he wanted to happen. If he turned him down, he didn't want the punk to hate him and leave, never to see him again. There wasn't time to entertain this heavy of a distraction and no matter if they used alcohol or not, Dante didn't take advantage of his partners. He assumed Nero's filtering system wasn't as strong as his, making the kid a bit of a lightweight.
Fumbling hands pushed his head back with Nero pressing to kiss deeper, but Dante refused to return the advances. The younger hunter planted caressing little nips on his upper lip, not in a seductive way but to sloppily experiment with his ministrations. A wet tongue licked him from his chin to the bridge of his nose, the elder thinking on an intervention... if his hands could gather strength in them to move.
“Kid, what are you doing?”
“I... don't know.”
An anxious male pulled back a little, wondering why the other participant stayed motionless. His mind roved in a mild daze, acting on his lax impulses. He didn't fully grasp the reasoning behind his actions, but there wasn't any inner voices telling him to stop his advances. Alarm bells remained silent in his head. It was as if common sense retired for the rest of the day. He didn't feel guilty about anything at the moment, just needed to get his brain away from this madhouse and the crazy patients living in it.
While sitting in the lap of the lead psychiatrist.
As if his common sense returned from its vacation it crashed home, filling his psyche with a million thoughts about how stupid he looked. Slowly he let his hands drop from the veterans face, fingers balling into fists to keep them from shaking in morbid embarrassment. His throat constricted with the weight of his touches replaying in his mind, eyes staring down at Dante's gray shirt to avoid eye contact.
“Nero.”
Baby blue irises touched pale icebergs momentarily, but their curious light seemed to penetrate him and see deep inside. But there was something else―a flash of danger and a heady, muddled awareness he had never had before. Startled at the way Dante's glance sent his pulse racing he turned away, wondering how he would act after he removed himself off of the hybrid.
With his head swimming in confusion he intended on the movement but strong hands grabbed his wrists, preventing him from leaving and forcing him to be still.
“Let me go.”
“You've been acting very strange lately.”
“I said let gos,” he muttered, speech remaining slurred, squirming under the elder's scrutiny.
“One thing I've learned about people buzzed on liquor is that what they say is true. Whatever bullshit they're harboring comes out, revealing all their dirty secrets on how they truly feel. So tell me, why do I like you?”
Nero tried wrenching himself free, pulling away with as much strength he could muster but Dante held fast onto him. His devil bringer flashed a bright blue, cheeks flushed pink upon realizing the brunt of his awkward actions. Even worse, Dante seemed intent on holding him until he spilled his heart out.
It's official, he's never touching alcohol again.
“Let me go,” he tried to snarl, but somehow he humored the half-demon, with what the smirk plastered on his face gave any leeway.
“Avoiding my question, punk?”
“Fuck you, like you care!”
Dante sensed aggression stemming from the youth, directed towards the anger at himself rather than the response to his question. He observed the kid wavering from his usual personality on some days, but he counted it as hormonal mood changes. Obviously this roved a bit deeper.
“Keeping secrets from me won't help your situation.”
Nero's protest grew in strength, using his legs to push off the hybrid's lap but Dante refused to heed his demand. The chieftain didn't dodge his head fast enough when the punk lurched forward to use his teeth, drawing blood on his cheek from the harsh bite he delivered.
Irritated with his secretive and childish ways his forehead connected to Nero's, the teen recoiling from the impact before settling down in the crook of his neck in defeat.
The strife left him, Dante releasing his hold after the teen slumped against him. One human and scaly hand covered a pained expression after recuperating from the exertion to escape from the elder and his throbbing head. He expected to be pushed to the floor or for Dante to get up but he did neither, letting him nurse his tiredness... and slightly wounded pride. Geez, he could be a physical son of a bitch.
“I don't like being cornered...” Nero mumbled into his shoulder.
“And...” the hybrid coaxed with gentle persuasion.
“In my dreams, I can't fight back―against you... or your demon. You... corner me and I have no way of escaping. It doesn’t matter if I swing at you, you always gain the victory.”
Dante knew how Nero wanted their spars to push each other to the max, yet the teen swallowed his disappointment preceding every clash. Time after time the youngster goaded the hybrid to unleash his devil trigger, but he avoided the request. Sure the brat irked the shit out of him in battle, but it was nowhere near enough to release his demonic side. The youth tried carving him into pieces with Yamato, but Dante wouldn't cut him up with his claws.
“Is that what all this is about? Since you can't fight me how you want right now you do so in your sleep?”
“No... you show up and turn it into a nightmare,” more mumbling poured out, lightly rubbing his head to soothe the ache.
“And why does it change into a nightmare? Do I try to kill you or does something else happen?”
Without another word Nero slid off of him, balance unsteady as his bangs drew over his eyes. He avoided eye contact moving towards his room, intent on getting away from Dante before he told him what really went on in his dreams.
“You're hiding something...”
Nero jumped, his back slamming into the wall beside the stairs. Dante's scented breath blew into his face, holding both of Nero's wrists in each of his hands. Anger swelled within him, pushing against the restraints with force but the alcohol in his system wobbled his focus. He had a mind to knee the elder's groin, except the warm body almost flushed against his halted his movements.
Didn't he tell that red ass he doesn't like to be cornered?
“Why do I get the sense that that's not the only thing I try to do?”
Nero quieted, forcing his mind to tune into the present and not the sudden flow of blood due south in his pants. If he wasn't so sluggish, he'd be able to fend off his interrogator and fight through his abashed sentiments. Instead, his views waged war with each other, refraining from spilling everything hampering his thoughts to openly expressing what he felt.
He made the mistake of looking into iceberg hues, igniting this foreign sensation settling in his toes, rising through his legs to spread to his crotch. Dante's expression remained impassive, burning into him with unrelenting ferocity. Cerulean eyes wavered down to his lips, breath becoming heavy as hazy images of those same labiums roamed over his body... much akin to his first wet dream living under this roof.
“What aren't you telling me, because it's starting to make you act a little crazy. Should I squeeze it out of you...”
Dante sniffed twice, stopping mid-sentence to inhale the hypnotic pheromones coiling around his nose. A while ago he held his suspicions close to him about Nero's odd behavior. Now that the physical evidence presented itself through his nostrils, he had a better understanding of how to treat this situation.
“You're helpless in your dreams because I dominate you, don't I?” Dante stared at pale eyelids covering eyes saturated in shame. It wasn't the first time someone told him they dreamt about him, however why does it turn into a nightmare?
Did he try to eat him in the cannibalistic sense? Does he... rip off the devil bringer while he's balls deep inside him? Ha, that would be a sight to see. Still, if Nero was feeling a little anxious, then Dante can get rid of that for him. Going after a guy wasn't his standard cup of tea, but what the hell. He'll make an exception for the punk.
“Now my dear Nero, tell me what I do to you."
A/N: Dante, why do have to be so rough? Leave the rough-housing for a later time, lol.
Remember how I said I would do a Dark Dante story, I posted it. So far people like my interpretation of the character, so if you want to have a look at it, feel free. :D
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Dreams Will Be Made Of These