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MONSTER	By : Radius Category: +A through F > Devil May Cry Views: 10984 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Devil May Cry game series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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A/N: Weee! A new chapter! And I hope you guys are enjoying the story so far. As usual, be sure to check the ratings and contents of this story before reading any further. There’s more action to be had in this chapter so, be forewarned. Also, there is drug usage in this story. Other than that, rock on, readers. ^_~

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<< | Male Bonding | >>

Paranormal Five… It was the name that would make major news and be a hit with every internet savvy person in the planet. They’d learn it, say it, and love it. It’d send shivers of excitement, envy, and awe. They’d use words like, thrill seekers, the unafraid, totally legit, serious, and badass to describe the group behind the name. The mere mention of it would be so huge it’d prompt people to write stories about them and their awesomely dangerous adventures. There’d be interviews. Oh yes, there’d be plenty of interviews. He already had his sob story fixed up.

Born in Nebraska, he was a boy who grew up in a trailer and endured a lot of hardship. His father was an alcoholic who didn’t work while his mother was a stripper. No one encouraged him to go to school but he made it on his own two feet. Working in a library to support the family, he encountered his first paranormal experience. Alone and at the basement of the building, he heard a shriek. He investigated it. And then, he saw a ghostly figure, heavily distorted. It moaned to him, lifted books everywhere. Fear drove him to quit his job and the next day, his replacement came. And died. Learning of the unexpected death, he felt responsible for it and took a vow to never be afraid again. He’d rid the world of all supernatural forces to prevent such a tragedy from ever happening again. In time, he discovered others with the same passion he had. Each of these people was extraordinary in their own way. They consisted of a gifted psychic, a level-headed skeptic, an adventurous action seeker, and an expert technician. Together, they made Paranormal Five.

                It was a good name, a damn good name.

                “Spook… Yo, Spook! It’s on, dude. Where’s the beer? Get your ass down here, dude!”

Huh…?

“Duuude! Beer! Now!”

In a bright-lit hallway, Spook blinked, cut off from his daydream. It took a moment for him to recognize the male’s voice that yelled. Then he glanced at himself in an oval mirror with a look of dejection. His green Mohawk was slightly slanted left.

Here was the boy who grew up in Nebraska with a tough history and was on a mission for vengeance. In truth, though, his cousin was the one who lived in a trailer. He only stayed there for a day after his father and mother couldn’t trust him to stay alone while they had dinner by themselves. His father was a doctor who drank just one bottle of beer during special occasions while his mother was a ballet dancer. Both of them were constantly on him for skipping classes and gave up when he dropped out. They forced him to work at the library to get him to learn responsibility. In addition, the ‘ghostly figure’ he supposedly saw was actually a cardboard cut-out. It only appeared ghostly because he was high at the time. While the books didn’t fly the paper did. Yet, it was due to a faulty air duct nearby. Spook didn’t get the chance to quit his job either because his boss immediately fired him when he found him smoking a Mary Jane. The guy who replaced him did die. But he died of a car accident.

Despite all of these little details, Spook stood by his story. He believed his replacement was cursed by the ‘ghost’ in the basement and that was why he died in the car accident. Never mind the fact the guy was driving the wrong way on a one-way street, with high levels of alcohol in his system.

“Spook! The Price is Right is on!” another voice announced. Female.

Spook adjusted his Mohawk before heading down a flight of stairs at the end of the hallway he occupied. One hand held a case of beer.

Paranormal Five sat lazily around a semi-circular couch at the basement of Spook’s house, all focused on a flat screen TV across them. The house was anything but mediocre. It was an extravagant two floor Victorian home with acres of fresh green grass and an outhouse, all purchased with good and strong money. The house had over thirty rooms, which included an indoor swimming pool, a game room, and three restrooms. Overall, Spook lived a good and secured life. That didn’t make him any happier, though.

With his parents on a boat cruise, he decided to have a group meeting. One that consisted of watching the Price is Right game show, getting high off Agent Scully’s stash, and contemplating ways of getting their supernatural investigative team some much needed recognition.

“Relax, everyone, your leader is here,” Spook said with a smile.

They all ignored him and watched a contestant guess the price of an appliance.

All members of Paranormal Five were nicknamed according to their personalities and contributions. Spook was given his name because everyone in his team accused him of spooking away their subjects with his loud and obnoxious voice. Spook. Yep, that was him.

“Dude, I sooo hate it that Bob Parker ain’t around anymore,” said Agent Scully and shook his head. He took a hit of his joint. “Dudes, it’s just wrong. It ain’t the same.”

Agent Scully had bright blue streaks in his overall black hair, sporting a long and drawn face. His head was slightly bigger than his long and very scrawny body. He was named after the skeptical character in the long-cancelled sci-fi series, The X-Files. Agent Scully hated the name. Not only did he hate the show, but he hated being named after a woman. While Agent Scully did live up to his name, he was pretty much skeptical of everything. The existence of ghosts and UFO’s. The power of the voter. The legitimacy in sports. Online shopping. Low fat food. The moon landing. JFK’s assassination. And many, many, many more things that went beyond the paranormal scope.

“It’s been years already since they replaced him. Get over it.” This came from Chewbacca. He snatched away Spook’s case of beer and popped open a can. “He was an old fart anyway and was lookin’ to have a croak anytime soon. Adam Sandler did good in kicking his ass in that movie. Hrrr… What was it called? Anyway, good riddance, ya old greasy bastard. Here’s to your Viagra-using days.”

Chewbacca brought his beer up to a toast and drank. Some of it soaked on his bright orange goatee. He was tall and very hairy guy, often aggressive. Sometimes he growled when things didn’t go well and he talked so low and fast, half of his words were lost. Chewbacca was the expert technician of the team. Unfortunately, he needed to read the instructions and still had trouble using the standardized point-and-shoot camera.

“Actually, I think it was Adam Sandler who got his ass kicked by Bob Parker,” informed Damsel. “It was in Happy Gilmore where they play golf.” She grabbed a can of beer. Popping it open, it sprayed all over her. “Help! My shirt! Someone get me a napkin! Help me!”

‘Action-thrill-seeker’ Damsel, short for Damsel-in-Distress, was the only girl in the group. Despite being the most level-headed of the bunch, she had a habit of getting stuck in sticky situations. Whether it was running out of toilet paper in the restroom stall or forgetting to put the batteries in the camera when an apparition appeared. Many thought she was a thriller seeker because she was always in the middle of the action. In reality, though, she was always at the wrong place at the wrong time.

“You sure it was Happy Gilmore and not the one where Adam plays a devil?” asked Chewbacca, ignoring Damsel’s distress calls for a napkin.

“Little Nicky?” Radar piped up, “Yes. You’re right. Bob Parker was in that movie and beat up Adam Sandler. I know it for a fact since I saw it last night.”

Finally, there was Radar, the black and modest one. The psychic. He claimed he had a good sense of everything, especially where a sighting was going to happen. Of the thirty predictions he made so far, however, only one was right. Never mind he was wrong twenty-nine times, or the time that he was right turned out to be a fluke, it only took one time to convince the team he had talent.

Spook watched his group bicker over spilt beer, Bob Parker, and an Adam Sandler movie. None of the four lived with their parents or shared in Spook’s luxurious life. They all worked and lived by themselves, including Damsel who still had to care for her high-tempered mother. Damsel fixed cars, Agent Scully cooked at a Mexican restaurant, Chewbacca lifted furniture and welded in his other job, and Radar had the duties of a janitor at a middle school. Aside from the supernatural, neither them were inspired enough to attend college. Both Damsel and Chewbacca were high school dropouts while Radar quit after a semester in a junior college.

Despite the obvious need to keep working to make ends meet, the four called in sick whenever Spook wanted a group meeting. After today, Agent Scully would need to find another job and Chewbacca was going to get a mouthful from his boss. But none of them really cared. No one present wanted their life to be determined by money and their limits. Spook didn’t want to be defined as a rich lucky bastard with parents who’d long given up on him. The rest of the four didn’t want the American dream shaping them to become what it thought they should be. The only true thing that mattered to them was success in obtaining the unobtainable. Mainly, the paranormal.

Unfortunately, Spook felt they lacked the necessary ambition to do it. He slouched at the end of the couch with his arms crossed. They’d been together for two years and so far, had turned up with crap. There were close calls, of course. But something always screwed it up. Scully’s van wouldn’t start. Radar’s prediction was wrong. Damsel got her underwear caught in her pant’s zipper. Chewbacca forgot how to work the camera. Spook was getting tired of the other investigators in town not taking them seriously. There was one in particular investigator that really got to him.

Paranormal Five nicknamed him Han Solo.

Han Solo a.k.a. his greatest rival a.k.a. Dante. Paranormal Five all knew Dante was a private investigator who specialized in the paranormal. And they all knew he was good. Countless of times they’d come to him, asking and begging him to join and lead their little posse. After awhile, they gave up and saw Han Solo as a complete jerk and their sworn enemy. Paranormal Five was determined to beat Han Solo, striving to be the best supernatural investigators in town.

Spook heard plenty of stories about this reclusive man with weird eyes. Paranormal investigators actually wanted to investigate the investigator. It was the joke of the century. And it pissed Spook off. Sure, Paranormal Five was a young, upstart group while Han Solo was a veteran in the field of paranormal. Sure the guy had good street credit and great connections, earning the respects of even the cruelest and vile thugs in town. But damn it, if he had to hear another story about how incredible and mysterious he was, he was going to tear off his Mohawk.

“Guys, this is a group meeting,” Spook said, “We’ve got to figure out how to one-up Han Solo.”

“Uh-oh… It’s Han Solo again,” Damsel said and dabbed on her shirt with a towel she found, “Spook’s in one of his moods again.”

“Six hundred, damn it!” Chewbacca screamed at the TV. “It’s six-hundred-dollars for that stool, not three hundred, ya stupid bastard! We have that in stock at our store! Stupid shit! It’s six-hundred! Hrrrr… Jeez-us…!”

Agent Scully took a deep inhale of his skunk and made a silly smile. His voice was slow when he told Spook, “Dude… no one can one-up Han Solo. The man’s like… out there. Dude’s probably taking better shit than we are since he’s so damn good.”

“Yeah, he’s the best,” added Radar and stopped Chewbacca from flinging his beer can at the expensive flat screen TV.

“Ugh!” Spook was red faced. “I’m tired of that crap already. Han Solo’s good, Han Solo’s great, Han Solo’s incredible, Han Solo’s the best… Well Han Solo can kiss my ass!”

“Sheeit, better take it back. He just might, dude. Literally.” Agent Scully snickered, sending spit out of his mouth. “Did you dudes see him last night? With that other guy? Jesus… Han Solo is something. Making him go down on him like that. I didn’t know he swung that way.”

Damsel blushed. “I gotta admit. That was pretty hot. I saw the guitar guy sitting by himself and thought he was really gorgeous. And I’ve always thought Han Solo was super sexy. But then, to see those two go at each other? Damn.”

“Don’t wet yourself on my couch, Damsel,” muttered Spook.

He clenched his fist, knowing last night’s event fueled more talks concerning his rival. Already, the people in the streets were spreading the news like wild fire. Talented and notorious. Ugh!

“Hrrr… that was gross,” Chewbacca declared, overhearing the conversation. He made a face. “It’s wrong, damn it. It ain’t right. It’s Adam and Eve. Not Adam and Steve.”

“Not this again…” Damsel rolled her eyes.

“Aw, man, check it out guys,” Radar said and pointed at the screen, “That girl guessed the right amount, right down to the dollar. I guarantee you she’ll be seeing it to the end. I can feel it.”

“Men can’t procreate with men,” argued Chewbacca, “It wasn’t planned that way. It’s as simple as that. It’s against the laws of nature, damn it.”

“Yeah, and so is overpopulation. Crap, Chewbacca, you’ve always gotta put your foot into somebody else’s business.” Damsel took a sip from her beer. She choked and Agent Scully had to pat her back. After awhile, she added with a cough, “I swear. There are worse things in the planet than a group of people who pay their taxes, abide by the law, and hump another way. For crying out loud, homosexuality occurs in the animal kingdom too. Remember the sea lions?”

                “Hah! You guessed wrong, Radar!” shouted Agent Scully, “Your girl just got kicked off, dude.”

                “Damn…”

                “Hrrr… freaky sea lions… ugh…”

                Spook continued listening to the mass of off-topic subjects. He couldn’t stand this. He knew things were going nowhere and Paranormal Five would still be in the same situation they always had been from day one: a second too late from the action. At last, Spook stood.

                “Everyone, shut up!”

                Surprised by his tone, the four turned their attention to the leader of Paranormal Five. Spook was usually stoned by now, laughing his ass off at all the people who guessed the wrong price and talking too loud to be a distraction. But, surprisingly, he hadn’t lit up. He was very sober and very frustrated.

                “Is this how it’s always going to be?” Spook asked, looking at everyone. “We get together, watch the Price is Right, talk about stupid shit, and by the end of the day, get nothing done?”

                “Dude, you all right?” Agent Scully asked after a while, blinking. “You look like… you’re about to break a vein or something.”

                “Yes! I am! I’m tired of this shit! I called you guys so we can figure out how we can earn street credit. I don’t know if you guys have figured it out yet, but we’re the laughing talk of this town.”

                “And?” Damsel shrugged, unbothered. “We’ve never cared what others have thought of us before. They can screw themselves if all they have time to do is make fun of others.”

                “Well, you may be cool with it, but I’m not. I want us to be taken seriously. Han Solo’s got the edge over us because everyone takes him seriously. We need people to respect us.”

                “So, what do you want us to do about it?” asked Radar, “What can we do? There’s nothing out there. The Cleansing’s done. We’ve visited all the popular spots and got nothing. What next?”

                “Supernatural events don’t occur at a designated time,” argued Spook, “Crap, it’s not like a ghost is gonna clock in and say, boo. It’s not like Big Foot is gonna give every investigator in town his number to set up a meeting.” Spook went around a coffee table and blocked the TV screen. “Popular spots aren’t enough. We’ve gotta go to town and ask around. We’ve gotta keep tabs on the police for any irregular reports. That’s how we’ll get things done.”

                His team members looked at each other, considering their leader’s words.

                “Just go around town?” asked Chewbacca.

                “Yeah.” He nodded. “We just go around and ask if anyone’s experienced anything irregular. Whatever sounds the coolest, we go for it.”

                “We can do a survey,” offered Damsel when everyone was silent, “Ask people questions in regards to supernatural events. We can go door-to-door and hand them out. It’ll also be great because it gives us the perfect opportunity to spread our name.”

                “Perfect! Brilliant, Damsel.”

“Yeah,” agreed Chewbacca, “We can also post it online. Do it by phone. The works.”

                “One of us can hang out by the police headquarters,” suggested Radar later, “That’s where the crucial information will come from.”

                “And one of us can keep a tab on some of Dante’s informants.” Agent Scully grinned. “That Enzo guy hangs around Love Planet a lot. Pay him a good price and he’ll be singing a tune.”

                “Good idea! Now we’re talking.” Spook nodded in satisfaction. “All right. We’ve got a plan. Let’s snap to it. If I know Han Solo, he’s already on the next case.”

***

                Dante couldn’t stop chuckling. His shimmer-wet face was rich with a rose red color. No matter how he tried to make sense of it, he couldn’t. As hard as he tried, he failed at it miserably. How Seth thought he could achieve the impossible was beyond him. Besides, this was totally the opposite of what he stood for. He was a heavy rocker who wore the boots and sported the leather. He banged his head to the sounds of screeching guitars and the gun-like fire of drums. He wore a limited color palette that rarely went beyond red or black. He was a born and bred metal head. And now, he was singing Madonna’s ‘Like a Virgin’ in an acoustic yellow guitar, unable to sing the words because his frantic laughing wouldn’t let him.

                They were at Seth’s apartment, somewhere deep in a neighborhood where the sounds of police sirens and babies were the norm. Dante didn’t believe Seth when he said he was an eighties freak until he arrived at his place. He had a wide collection of Carebears lining the windowsills, many pierced with earrings. There was a bright pink neon sign holstered on the wall right above the bed, with the words ‘Cowabunga.’ It cast a pink color throughout the entire room, leaking color through the window and on the hallway outside. On both its sides were movie posters of ‘Flashdance’ and ‘Ghostbusters.’ The rest of the apartment walls were literally littered with a thousand pictures. Men dressed as women. Women dressed as men. Landscapes. Exotic food. Colorful characters. Explicit scenes of violence or sex. News articles.

Hidden deep among them was a black-and-white picture of Seth himself. He was like a mischievous character popping up at random to say, hi. It was only half a photograph, though, the rest torn off right at the middle. The remaining fragment showed Seth wearing an early design of Mickey Mouse on his shirt. Grinning brightly, he held his arm around someone’s shoulder.

A long mirror was directly across the bed, filled with colorful happy-faced stickers on its rim. On the night stand was an ash tray and a figure of a naked woman with a penis. She looked rather disturbing than seductive. Her large eyes glowed a harsh yellow color while her body turned into a horrible red hue any time the light inside her flickered on. Meanwhile, a cool breeze washed into the room from an opened window, revealing a cloudy night sky and a half sleepy moon.

                Seth was a neat and tidy guy despite his artistic, and sometimes odd, nature. The old furniture provided by the landlord was free of dust, likewise for the floor. Disposable objects were categorized in their designated place, including the recyclable ones. Even the butts of his cigarettes piled properly on the ivory ashtray. Regardless of the roaches that infested the entire apartment building and frequently scuttled their way here, Dante realized Seth tried to make the most with what he had. With only a bedroom, a small hallway that lead to a bathroom, and a tiny kitchen, Seth’s apartment did have its perks. For one, the bedroom window provided an excellent view of the city and the roof top was just a level away, granting easy access to outside air.

Sitting cross-legged on Seth’s bed, with blankets that were a tangled mess, both men faced and played to each other. They were completely naked, save for a ruby pendant Dante wore and their guitars. Their skin was still shiny with perspiration. Since yesterday they’d been fucking, taking only a few breaks between here and there. Talking. Eating. Taking a piss. Playing. Even now, their erections were still slick and ready, but neither man wanted to give up on their sixth attempt at a successful song duet.

                “Like a virgin,” sang Dante, “Hey! Touched for the very… ah, fuck. I can’t do this.”

                He guffawed uncontrollably again, leaning forward when his body threatened to fall off the bed. Seth tried to steady the cigarette between his lips. He put a hand on Dante’s shoulder to keep him from tipping over.

                “Aw, what’s the matter? Too much for you?” A sly smile crossed his face. After a moment, his expression came from amusement to thoughtful. He took a smoke and, holding the cigarette between two fingers now, added, “You don’t have to sound or act like her, you know. You’re only saying her words. The rest is up to you. You can own the song. It doesn’t have to own you.”

                “Then enlighten me, oh-great-one. Show me the ways of the eighties’ force.”

                Seth rolled his eyes at Dante’s use of sarcasm but crushed the cigarette’s flamed tip on his wrist. He placed it neatly on the ashtray next to him and sat straight. As Seth prepared himself, Dante gazed at him, still smiling like a buffoon. He had to admit, he liked this. Usually one-night stands got him off and he went on his merry way, moving on to the next one. But Seth was a good lover, the best he had so far. And Dante enjoyed this, this laughing and relaxation he provided for him. He only hoped Seth knew this was just strictly sex. As beautiful and great as Seth was, by tomorrow morning he was gone.

Taking a deep breath, Seth plucked at the purple guitar on his lap and his voice was as tender and soft as the night’s breezy whispers. Seth sang the words to a favorite song with a tone that caused Dante’s grin to gradually vanish. Beat by beat, Seth invoked the passion behind the words that were once sung by the former Material Girl. He slowed the rhythm down to a soothing crawl, though, lowering the scale as well. Each string that was plucked spoke volumes into the room. Any time Seth sang a low note he made a husky sound that sent electricity down Dante’s spine. His audience of one listened, totally hypnotized by the man playing and singing.

Seth was right. He could own the song and interpret it in his own way, keeping only the words and spirit of the words alive. Seth was proof of that. Seth, the name of an Egyptian God, given flesh in the form of a beautiful man with an angel’s face. As each word slipped through Seth’s lips, they vibrated into Dante’s body and he swore he’d have an orgasm again just from hearing him sing. Watching those full lips move as they emphasized sounds and accents, Dante wanted to get rid of his guitar and devour him. But he closed his eyes and leaned against the wall where the neon sign hung proudly above. Dante took deep breathes, letting them pacify his hunger. With each exhale he took, he allowed the varnished wood of the yellow guitar on his lap to caress his needy erection.

                The song finally came to an end and Dante kept his eyes closed, absorbing the last notes dying in the room. Only the radio in the room played, the volume turned very low.

                “Well?” invited the brunette man. “Did you like it?”

Dante felt the bed move. He opened his eyes and saw Seth sitting beside him, leaning against the wall with one leg bent and the guitar on his lap. Like him, Seth was a hairless thing, with smooth skin on the arms and legs. His dark eyes reflected anticipation for an answer but also sexual hunger. The pink shower of color from the neon sign above gave Seth’s pale whiteness a cheerful color. Dante thought he was the sexiest creature he ever laid eyes on.

“Your singing just violated me in the obscenest way possible,” he answered at last.

Seth smiled.

“Though, I do have to say…”

“What?” he immediately asked.

While he was enthralled by Seth’s singing, Dante’s skeptical nature returned. He couldn’t help it. He hated being wrong and enjoyed getting Seth tied up in tiny knots.

“I’m not entirely sure a person, any person mind you, can own just any song. Some songs aren’t meant to be interpreted. Some have… a specific context.”

“That’s not really true. If you’re talented enough to figure it out, you can make anything work.”

“You seem so sure,” replied Dante, unconvinced.

“I am. I do this for a living, been doing it for many, many years. You’d be surprised that the impossible really can be possible.”

“Well, what about movie theme songs?”

“Movie theme songs?”

“Yeah.” Dante scoffed. “I mean. I can’t see myself jacking off to ‘Snow White and the Seven Dwarves’. That’s got a specific context there. Nothing sexy you can do with that.”

“I beg to differ.”

“Oh really?” He scoffed.

“You’re a very pessimistic fellow, Dante. Still…” Seth smiled. “…you’re not above saving. I’ll make you into a believer yet.”

Dante raised his eyebrows. Before he could utter a word, Seth got up from the bed and set his guitar down on the ground. He went to his dresser, venturing into his bottom drawer. Dante craned his neck up a bit to see what he was looking for. Aside from enjoying the bare back view of Seth, he saw the flamboyant man rummaging through a stack of CDs. A couple of minutes passed before he finally took out one. Seth turned, pausing to give Dante a smug look. In response, Dante gave him a wicked smile, loving the soft and black texture of his crotch’s hair. Before he could make a rude comment, however, Seth strolled to his stereo and popped the CD in. A song emitted into the bright pink room.

“…How much is that doggie in the window? Arf! Arf! The one with the waggley tail…”

“The hell…?” Dante asked after a blink, addressing a song he hadn’t heard since he was knee-high. “That’s like… kindergarten type of crap.”

Seth turned the volume up with another haughty face.

“…How much is that doggie in the window? Arf! Arf! I do hope that doggie’s for sale…”

“Gah, stop. It burns, it burns,” Dante exaggerated. “It’s the Children of the Damned. Help. They’ve come to swallow our souls. Make them stop, daddy.”

Seth went back to the bed. “I keep these types of songs for inspiration too.”

“You’re shitting me…”

Dante shook his head and covered his face, as if embarrassed. Seth lied on his side, propping himself up with an elbow to observe Dante’s mortified reaction. He licked his lips and his gaze was steady.

“Let’s make out,” he suggested delicately. His erection was strong.

“…I must take a trip to California. And leave my poor sweetheart alone.”

“What? To this?” Dante looked between Seth and the stereo. He saw the brunette not wavering. “Are you serious? No way. To this crap? No way, no fucking way. This?”

“Give it a chance,” persuaded Seth and slid the yellow guitar away from Dante’s lap.

“…If he has a dog, he won't be lonesome. And the doggie will have a good home…”

The backside was sticky with his lover’s white goop. Seth gave Dante an amused look for a moment, impressed by the large amount that spilt during his Madonna song. Then, with an innocent face, he cleaned it off with his tongue. He saw Dante’s mushroom head twitch. Making eye contact while children sang of owning a dog, Seth made sure Dante saw the strings of his residue be pulled up by his tongue’s tip. His face remained calm as he tentatively glided his bottom lip over the sticky residue. His eyes were halfway opened and his breath was a steady beat. By the time Dante rubbed the top of his length, touching it in circles with his thumb, the back of the guitar was clean. Seth wiped his lips with a sweep of his tongue, savoring the bitter flavor.

“…How much is that doggie in the window? Arf! Arf! The one with the waggley tail…”

“Well, Dante?” Seth asked in a smooth voice and lazily stroked his own penis with a finger, “Don’t you want to know how much this doggie in the window is?”

Dante felt his body flush with heat. At this point, he could fuck with ‘Jingle Bells’ in the stereo. A smile threatened to slide halfway up Seth’s lips, who read the changed expression on his face. With the yellow guitar still in his hand, Seth set it on the ground right next to his purple one. When he tossed his body back, Dante was already on him.

“Easy, now,” Seth said in a hushed tone. Underneath Dante, he slightly spread his legs. Their cocks touched. “We haven’t discussed payment arrangements yet.”

“I’ve got your installment right here.” Nudging his entire body up and down once, Dante rubbed his erection against Seth’s.

“…How much is that doggie in the window? Arf! Arf! I do hope that doggie’s for sale…”

Seth grinned at the vulgar reply and the movement he made. He followed suit and shifted against Dante, rocking up and down. Both men crushed each other and went at a slow pace, making sure not to apply too much pressure this early on. The worn out bed squeaked with each movement they made but helped build their momentum. It wouldn’t be long until the springs popped out and the bed became a tortuous device to lie on but neither man cared. On the floor, against a wall, they’d find a way to satisfy their hunger. Dante raised half of himself up, elevated by both his arms. He grunted when he slid his body up and down, grazing the hard flesh beneath. Meanwhile, the pendant around his neck dangled above. It swung back and forth, barely touching Seth’s chest. The brunette looked at it, transfixed and enchanted enough to grab it with a hand.

It was a gorgeous thing. The ruby was almost the size of a fist and had a smooth surface. There seemed to be an awkward glow from within it. Enclosing the exotic gem was an odd silvery metal that took on no shape in particular. It was as organically formed as a rock taken straight from the springs.

“This is beautiful,” complimented Seth between his breathing, “Where did you get this from?”

“…I read in the paper there are robbers. Roof! Roof! With flashlights that shine in the dark…”

“Somewhere.” Dante exhaled and rocked against him tighter.

“You haven’t taken it off… ah… it must be very important to you.”

“Yeah, it is,” he said breathlessly, “Now shut up and help me fuck.”

Dante’s aggressive push was enough to snap Seth out of his curiosity phase. He hissed and they grinded together, roughly sliding their cocks back and forth. They weren’t entirely wet and the friction they created burned their erections. Neither man complained, though. It felt good and prompt them to move faster, moaning. Putting a hand underneath their shafts to keep them from dangling, Dante and Seth waited until their heads squeezed off drops of their warm milk. Seth had closed his eyes and sucked on his lower lip when it finally happened. The face flushing, a small sound escaped his throat. His partner kissed him, forcing him to let go of the bottom lip so he could suck on it for him. Hungrily, their mouths moved, their tongues touching. Levitating and pressing. There were many wet kisses exchanged, both long and short ones, whatever they could afford. Soon, they produced enough drops to fully lubricate their lengths. Their movements were more slippery and the two men sighed to each other.

“…My love needs a doggie to protect him. And scare them away with one bark…”

The song continued playing while the light from the statue flashed on and off. The white light flickered brightly over Seth’s face as he widened his legs and raised them above his head. Bending them at the knees, he held his position by putting his hands on his calves. Seth waited, seeing Dante bend forward and lick at the rim of his anus. When Dante felt Seth’s body slithering underneath him and heard moans of pleasure, he slid the tongue back and forth faster before sinking it in. He wanted the rim loose, big enough to accommodate his size. The slimy snake had trouble penetrating deeper, however, even as it twisted. When his tongue wasn’t doing enough to produce the effect he wanted, Dante resorted to another thing.

“…I don’t want a bunny or a kitty. I don't want a parrot that talks…”

Between his legs, Seth watched Dante masturbating to produce more milk. One hand held the base while the other strained the tender meat. His thumb ran across the sensitive areas, through the veins that flowed thickly with blood. Dante executed slow but painfully hard strokes, the tight skin pushing upward and gathering at the head before stretching outward again. He groaned each time, his sweaty chest heaving up and down. With half closed eyes, Dante wrapped his cock even tighter with a fist. The swollen organ became a purple color and the veins budged. It was until the forth pull that his tip finally jerked violently. At first, it spat out a big drop of cum, landing on Seth’s stomach. Then it sent out longer and heavier spurts. Dante took a deep breath and pressed against Seth’s anus, immediately soaking it. He pushed the full volume of his mushroom into the rim, expanding the hole little by little. However, he controlled himself and stopped, only wanting to expand the hole. Drawing out, he shoved a bit of himself back in. From the pain, Seth dug his nails into his legs’ skin and whimpered. His body trembled and an energetic swirl formed just at the base of his member. Sucking hard on his lower lip, the brunette urged his partner to fully enter him but Dante refused. Each controlled thrust brought him closer to his objective and he felt satisfaction in the deprived look Seth gave him. From pain to pleasure, Seth exhibited a range of erotic expressions that prompt him to sigh. Meanwhile, the anus continued growing to his size.

“…I don't want a bowl of little fishies. He can't take a goldfish for a walk…”

As minutes passed, Seth was wider and more relaxed. The brunette gazed at Dante, adoring his lustrous body and purposeful rhythm. Dante was a Polycleitus’ statue brought to life, created with perfect proportions and well-defined muscles. His skin was the color of mocha, vanilla tainted with just a dab of bronze liquid. Seth saw Dante’s lovely Adam’s apple when he looked up at the ceiling and struggled for restraint. The apple danced up and down with each breath and sound he made. Seth wanted to suck on it. He wanted to taste every part of this man. This man… this creature… He was a God made human, made real. He was the intangible made to be touched. And he belonged to him.

Dante suddenly gasped out loud. He ejaculated a huge shot into Seth’s anus, right when he pulled his head out. Overburdened by tension throughout his body, from his inner thighs to his abdominal area, Dante couldn’t wait anymore. His next thrust sent his entire length inside.

“Ah…!” Seth yelled and shut his eyes. “Oh god…!”

“…How much is that doggie in the window? Arf! Arf! The one with the waggley tail…”

Gritting his teeth, Dante pumped fast, revealing only a blur of his shaft as it came in and came out. In and out. In and out. He used Seth’s hips, holding onto them to support his weight and make his momentum more obvious. His heavy thrusting forced the erection between Seth’s legs to wobble back and forth furiously. A loose object, it squirted everywhere for attention. On the wall, on the bed, on Dante, and on its owner. Dante laughed out loud. Taken by the heavy sprays, he drove into the hole harder. Seth bit on his bottom lip again and pushed his body down to meet him halfway, even when it escalated the pain. He grumbled nonsensical words and put his hands to his own erection to control and soothe it.

“…How much is that doggie in the window? Arf! Arf!”

Nursery rhymes cheerfully sang while the two men fornicated. Their bodies slapped together on a bed surrounded by a pink haze and a flashing light. Next door neighbors heard the walls knocking from the bed posts and wondered why there was nursery song playing in the background. Likewise, the people walking outside the building inquired about the bright pink room with a blinking light. The outside world didn’t exist for Dante or Seth, though, even when someone banged on the door to keep it down and the dogs outside in the streets howled. They were caught up in their own little dimensions.

Still plunging deep inside, Dante gazed at Seth. His companion was staring beyond him, his mouth slightly parted and eyes barely opened. That same wonderful sound that came from his throat emerged again and again with each forceful push he made. Dante thought he looked absolutely gorgeous; a soaked, erotic image of flesh that smelled of sour semen and salty sweat.

Buddha, it’d been such a long time since he had an encounter like this before. He thought he’d never get properly laid in the human world. Not many could withstand his length nor match his endurance. He also refused to engage in the act during missions or in between jobs. It was viewed as a distraction and unnecessary consumer of energy. During those times, he learned to control sexual impulses through rigorous training that involved lots of push-ups. But make no mistake sex was always on his mind. It was only natural for him. The hormones of both human and demon embedded in his DNA made him exceptionally needy. Dante divulged in his heat whenever he had the chance to and took as many partners necessary to give him temporary satisfaction. It was the reason why he could never stay true to anyone. Tonight, though, he needed only Seth. The attractive brunette was as raw and eager as he was. Now he was going to make this chaste man feel his every inch, straight down to his sac.

“…I do hope that doggie’s for sale…”

Impaling him over and over again, Dante became curious. Seth kept looking behind him and, judging by his reaction, had found a lustful sight. Then he remembered there was a mirror, the one stabbed with many colorful happy-faced stickers. He chuckled a little. His dirty, angelic man… he had as much vivid imagination as he had. From then on, Dante made every move deliberate and crystal clear for Seth, slowing down his rhythm and emphasizing the rolling of his hips.

“That’s it… that’s it, baby…” Seth whispered to the reflection of his partner, transfixed by the movement of Dante’s buttocks as they pushed in and out of him. “Ah…”

The eighties was an era he’d never understand and, at first, he was boggled by Seth’s choice of décor. It was too unusual for him. But after taking it all in, including the mirror Seth was looking at now, Dante understood the subtle messages that yelled of sex, energy, and freedom. He also understood that even the most unusual of songs could be made into something much bigger.

“…I do hope that doggie’s for sale.”

                Roughly two hours of switching positions and looking at each on the mirror, it took awhile for Dante to catch his breath, his body still trembling from the recent orgasm. He guffawed a little, grateful he found a partner with enough stamina to leave him breathless. A whole day plus the hours from the night before. That certainly was incredible. Seth was officially among his top five partners of all time.

The CD had changed and a collage of eighties music played. They lied facing each other, close enough so that their erections touched. They grew quiet and slowly took in the other’s features. While Seth explored the shape of Dante’s face with his eyes and kissed him on the nose, his counterpart ran a hand over his waist. Feeling every contour that created it, he noted how smooth and warm it was. It felt human even when Seth’s scent wasn’t. The minor detail provoked unanswered questions for the devil hunter. With the exception of stamina, Seth didn’t display any other unique features. Dante really wanted to release this mysterious creature back into the wild, fully confident he was harmless to human society. Dante kissed Seth gently on the lips and nibbled on his neck.

                “What prompt you to come here?” he murmured between his biting.

                “I already said. I wanted a job as a musician.”

                “But why here?”

                “It was a random choice.”

                “You chose this place at random?”

                “Mmm-hmm.” Seth’s huddled closer. Enjoying Dante’s warmth, he said later, “I grabbed a map, blind folded myself, and put a finger at the spot I’d live at.”

                “Serious?”

                “Yes.”

                Dante stopped biting. “Yeah, right, I don’t believe you. What would’ve happened if your finger landed in the middle of nowhere? Like the ocean.”

                “It was a chance I was willing to take.”

                Dante backed off a little and studied his eyes. Seth was completely sincere. Seth really would live in the ocean if that’s where destiny told him to go. He’d buy a boat and live out the rest of his days in a sea of blue. The more Dante gazed at those black pearls, the more they portrayed a man who embraced the unknown. How very strange. Dante rarely met a genuine person these days, let alone, one who lived a truly whimsical life. A little lost for words, the investigator moved further back from his subject and kept his voice even.

                “Where did you live before coming here?”

                Seth hesitated, noticing the distance. He gently smiled and gazed up at his ceiling fan. In a subtle tone he replied, “Somewhere else.”

                “Uh, can you, I don’t know, be a little more specific perhaps?”

                “I can. But I won’t.”

                “Evasive asshole,” Dante muttered.

The ceiling fan continued spinning and the two men lied on the bed in silence, a good few inches separating them. Seth hummed the song currently playing in his CD player. He closed his eyes and slightly moved his head side-to-side to the beat of ‘One Night in Bangkok.’ His eyes closed, Seth didn’t notice Dante staring at him.

To the investigator lying next to him, Seth was something of an enigma. He was withdrawn enough to keep crucial details to himself but also open enough to be honest. And while Seth was adventurous and bold, he was also timid and nervous. He was sturdy and durable, fragile and chewable. Without the colorful clothes and blush, Seth appeared a bit more masculine. He had the lean body of a swimmer, toned and firm. The moonlight emitting from the window nearby outlined his face. The full lips Dante enjoyed kissing glistened under its soft light. Dante found himself wanting to be Seth’s next door neighbor. He’d see him everyday and ask for a teaspoon of sugar whenever he ran out.
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