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Inevitable	By : itchytasty Category: +A through F > Devil May Cry Views: 2837 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Devil May Cry and make no money on this fiction.

Chapter List
- 2
- 3
Chapter III
            "What’s wrong sweetie?” The soft voice distracted Nero from his brooding as he looked up at Trish – she had taken a seat in Dante’s chair in the man’s absence. Nero, who had previously been staring morosely at the floorboards beneath his feet, watched her with a quizzical expression on his face – even though she was the one who had asked the question. He liked Trish, there was something very motherly about her – despite the fact he had first known her as the exotic Gloria there was something genuine beneath the surface of her china blue eyes. And now those eyes were fixed on him, slight signs of worry marring her brow. Trish was also the only one – minus Kyrie of course – who could get away with calling him ‘sweetie’.
            “I don’t know,” he said letting the words run out of him in a deflated sigh. He did know, he knew very well what was wrong. Dante was what was wrong. The man had managed to screw up his life yet again. He’d cheated on Kyrie one way or another, no matter how the elder man put it he’d still slept with someone else. Then to make matters worse it turned out Dante was only using him, wasn’t seeing Nero, just using his familiar looks to get off on some secret memory. He didn’t know why that knowledge hurt so much, he wasn’t exactly a saint himself, but he had thought that maybe Dante actually cared just that little bit.
            On top of all that though there was the even more worrying prospect of a dream he had had the night before which left his mind reeling. It was Dante again, beneath him, against hard stone face and hair bloody and matted from the pouring rain. What had confused him most about the dream was how young Dante had looked; his hair was longer, face softer, fresher. Dante had tried to hide his emotions amongst the rain, but Nero had seen angry tears sliding down the man’s – no boy’s – cheeks. And in his dream he’d loved it, loved the torment written out on Dante’s face. Now he was even more confused, worried, disturbed even, by what he’d seen – what his own head had created. Did he really want to hurt the man? Dante had been playing him, but Nero didn’t think he wanted to cause him any actual pain. The dream was so vivid he’d woken up aroused with no choice other than to slip out of bed and deal with the problem. It had both concerned and angered him that he got off on the coupled memories of the night before and his twisted dream.
            “Dante’s still asleep huh?” Trish asked bringing Nero away from his memories and back to the present.
            “Yeah,” Nero answered lamely with a slight nod of his head. He knew Trish knew and it was making talking all the more difficult. She must have known, her room was only a couple of doors down the hall and he remembered Dante screaming, the thought sent a very unwelcome jolt of electricity straight to his groin.
            “Do you love him?” She asked her voice so commonplace, like she was talking about the weather or something. Trish was watching his face to gauge his reaction and Nero felt his mind reel as he blanched.
            “Love him?” Nero laughed hoarsely. “Love Dante? You’ve got to be kidding right? Those two words don’t belong together in the same sentence!”
            “I see,” was all the blonde said in her creepy womanish way. ‘I see’ could mean so many things and Nero knew that the male brain didn’t have the capacity to decipher the female’s incredibly illusive way of thinking.
            “What?” He asked sharply brow furrowed. “Come on Trish you know as well as I do Dante’ll screw anything with a pulse.”
            “You’re giving him too much credit,” she replied. She paused, looked thoughtful, chin rested on her interlinked palms as she supported her elbows on the desk. Nero could tell she was bored, it had been a slow week and whilst she normally showed a general concern for the boy it had stepped into the realm of gossip. If Nero said anything Trish was eventually going to tell Lady and that would open up a can of worms when the time was right. “How do you think Dante feels then?”
            “I don’t give a fuck what Dante feels.” The reply came out maybe a little harsher than he’d intended. He averted his gaze to the floor, talk about not saying anything which could get him into trouble. He dared to glance back up at Trish to see that her eyes had widened, but her expression – excluding the signs of shock – had slipped into complete seriousness again.
            “That’s not like you,” she said softly as she got up, walked around the desk and sat next to him on the couch. “Did he do something to you?”
            “What didn’t he do to me?” Nero grumbled under his breath not actually intending for her to hear.
            “What?” She asked quizzically.
            “Nothing,” he shook his head. But it wasn’t nothing and he needed to know, to ask someone. He looked up at her hesitantly. “Trish,” he bit his lip, looked away. He felt embarrassed and he didn’t know why. “Who’s Vergil?”
            There was a moment of silence as Trish processed the information and came up with the only logical conclusion.
            “Oh he didn’t?” She asked in a conspiratorial whisper a hand going up to cover her mouth. “Oh this is too good!”
            “It’s not funny,” Nero snapped, annoyed. “Trish,” she was still smiling though she was trying not to. “Stop it, I don’t know what happened last night, but there’s something seriously wrong with him.”
            “Well you were there,” she replied finally keeping a straight face. “What you think I stick cameras in Dante’s room or something?”
            Nero, who had previously been staring at his hands, did a double take. “You’d better be joking.”
            “Of course I am,” Trish said feigning hurt. “Nero what kind of person do you think I am?” Her expression sobered again, finally, to that caring look which he knew was genuine. “Look if you’re worried about him then you should talk to him. And… you should ask him who Vergil is too if it’s causing a problem.”
            The phone rang then, as if on cue, Nero wasn’t sure if he was happy as Trish walked back across to the desk or not. It was a job that was for certain – that phone was specifically jobs only – and as it was a slow week he knew Trish would take it. If it was something she could handle that meant that he and Dante would be left alone. He did need to talk to the man, but he didn’t know if he could handle it now. Then again he wasn’t sure if he wanted to talk to Trish anymore either.
            “Devil May Cry,” Trish said in what Nero was certain was a practiced tone. He was sure Dante quite enjoyed having his own secretary – or as close as he was ever going to get. “Yeah okay, we’ll be there soon.”
            Nero rose at the mention of a ‘we’, but dropped back into the leather couch when Trish shook her head. “Sorry sweetie, you’ve got to sort things out with lover boy right?” She asked with a wink making her way to the door. Trish was quite used to dramas involving Dante’s bed partners and knew to steer well clear of them.
            Nero rolled his eyes. “I hate you sometimes.”
            Trish simply smiled and left, leaving Nero feeling completely alone. He rested his head back against the couch, wished he didn’t give a damn.

            When Dante woke he was stiff and the empty bed beside him had long ago gone cold. He dragged himself out of the bed feeling sick, worried that Nero wasn’t there and slightly disgusted by the state he was still in. A shower was quite obviously first priority. He let the scalding water burn his skin, try to sear away the memory of the night before, but it still remained lodged in his consciousness. The words which had stung him some fifteen years ago still hurt now, maybe even more so because now it was ruining his new life. His brother had always had that ability to wear him down; his twin’s voice burned into the back of his mind reminding him how worthless he really was.
            He shut off the water, dried off and pulled some pants on a towel still wrapped around his shoulders as he made his way downstairs. No use putting a shirt on until his hair was dry right?
            Dante entered the main room, wondering where Nero was, trying to figure how he was going to explain it all. Or cover it up as the case may be. In fact at this moment he much preferred that option. Pretend it didn’t exist, nothing happened, yeah that seemed to work. He didn’t want to tell Nero about Vergil and if Nero didn’t remember what had happened it didn’t matter anyway. He would just have to make sure that the kid didn’t make a habit of triggering during sex. In fact making sure he didn’t trigger full stop might be a good idea.
            Nero was sitting on the couch, head leaned back eyes closed. If he was still tired why didn’t he stay upstairs? Dante made his way across to the couch, sat down next to Nero, tried to forget what had happened the last time they were here…
            The boy’s eyes slithered open when the weight on the couch alerted him to Dante’s presence.
            “I missed you this morning,” Dante said huskily, leaning forwards in an attempt to steal a kiss from Nero’s lips a hand trying to slip around his shoulder.
            Nero pulled back, batted the man’s hand away. “I wouldn’t want to be a disappointment to you.” He replied sourly seeing the man’s expression change to one of confusion.
            “What?” Dante asked brow furrowed. He was genuinely confused, he was pretty sure Nero didn’t remember – or even register – what had happened the night before. Had he found out? Was that why he was angry?
            “You know perfectly well what I’m talking about,” Nero snapped glaring at him, electricity sparking in his pale blue eyes. “You’ve screwed all this up for me. You’ve ruined everything!”
            “Hey you can’t blame it on me this time, I was tied up,” Dante shot back keeping his cool. Nero didn’t know anything, the boy was just being pissy not cross or worried – well wouldn’t you be if you had someone living in your arm? So, quite simply put, he was having another strop because Dante made Nero cheat on Kyrie. Yeah… right…
            “I don’t mean that,” Nero ground out. He wanted to rip Dante’s head off, instead his voice lowered to a deadly calm. “You’ve just been playing with me the whole time, messing with my head and I thought maybe you actually cared, but you were just fucking using me weren’t you?”
Dante stared at the boy a second, raised an eyebrow. “Using you?”
            “Don’t you even try and deny it,” Nero hissed. “I get it now, it makes perfect sense-”
            The elder man grabbed Nero’s arm when he tried to rise, Nero didn’t quite know where he was going and it didn’t matter when the strong hand closed around his wrist. “What are you talking about?”
            Nero’s eyes narrowed to slits. “I heard you whispering his name.” He yanked his hand from Dante’s grip and moved out of range, heading for the stairs. He was leaving right now. He didn’t want to be here anymore, didn’t care about how Dante felt.
            Dante was up in a second, following behind the boy with sharp strides. Nero barely registered the movement as Dante grabbed him by the shoulders, span him round and pinned him against the desk.
            “Whose name?” Dante asked staring down at the boy from his superior height.
            Nero simply glared, he didn’t like being intimidated, he hated that Dante had so much power over him even now as he was pressed painfully into the desk. Dante had his wrists in a vice like grip, leaning forwards oh so slightly causing Nero to pull back further, leaning to get away from the firm body in front of him and trying desperately to quell the small pin-pricks of electricity raising the hairs on his skin. For how long had he wanted Dante to bend him over this desk and fuck him? It had been a fantasy as soon as he saw the thing, the way Dante sat like a king behind it. He envied Trish for her space in one corner, the way she could so casually perch there without a second thought.
            Dante grinned seeing the blush tinge the boy’s cheeks. Nero’s eyes burned with anger, but he could see that his breathing had picked up a little, full lips parted to draw in desperate gulps of air. The hunter wanted to lean in and take them in his own, thrust his tongue inside Nero’s fowl mouth, and then something bigger… His own body was stirring awake, and in this position Nero was going to notice fairly quickly, when he did things would go from bad to worse.
            “Whose name?” Dante repeated pressing forwards a little and ignoring the way the boy squirmed to get away from him. “Nero?”
            “Why don’t you take a fucking guess,” Nero growled, livid, hating how Dante could do this to him even when he wanted to rip the man’s head off.
            Dante’s trousers were quickly becoming far too tight. How could he not be aroused by the little firecracker beneath him? Nero was like a wild animal when he was backed into a corner, temper showing as he fought against the man above him, tried to pull free of the hold Dante had on his wrists. Maybe it was Nero’s demonic blood or maybe the boy had always been like this. He had a feeling it was natural, some untameable beauty which made Dante want to force him into submission.
            “I’m not psychic Nero,” Dante whispered, tilted his head further towards the boy’s. He barely registered what the kid was saying anymore, he knew Nero was angry, that there was something wrong, but he didn’t honestly know if he cared. What Nero had done to him the night before was just plain cruel, he intended to get some pay back. “Whose name?” He hissed into the boy’s mouth.
            Nero’s face twisted bitterly, eyes burning so bright Dante feared he would get hit by the sparks. “Vergil.”
            Dante’s expression changed immediately, shock throwing him off kilter, his hands loosened but maintained their hold on Nero’s wrists. He couldn’t honestly remember what he’d screamed during those moments when Nero had him powerless. It was all a bizarre surreal blur, the feelings were there. The familiar feelings of hatred and humiliation, but actual solid memory refused to materialize in his mind.
            “Don’t look so damn surprised, you were thinking about him the whole time weren’t you?” Nero spat arching forwards in an attempt to throw the man off; his crotch coming into contact with Dante’s swelling erection. A look of disgust crossed the boy’s features. “You’re sick, you’re fucking sick, you know that? Is that all you think about? You want to fuck me just so you can remember your old lover?” Nero writhed in the man’s grasp, pulling wildly against him, muscles straining. Dante let the boy wear himself out, let the torrent of abuse fall on him. He deserved it after all, he knew he did.
            “Let me go you asshole!” Nero yelled, near screaming at this point. His devil bringer flared, tried to pull away from Dante’s hold, but the elder man still had a considerable amount of strength and managed to restrain him. “What is it that reminds you of him huh? My eyes? Are they the same colour? Or my hair? That’d make sense, how many white haired guys are there?”
            “Nero,” Dante growled a warning. The boy was on thin ice, Nero didn’t give a damn, in fact the caution in Dante’s voice only egged him on.
            “Well what is it Dante?” Nero shrieked. “What makes him so damn special?” He paused, a gasp for breath before delivering the final blow. “I bet he left you right? Vergil, I bet he left you when he found out you were a freaking psycho!”
            He knew he’d pushed Dante over the edge, he half wanted to, that was until he was thrown backwards onto the desk, a slap stinging his cheek a moment later. Dante was on top of him then, ripped his shirt off, pinched his nipples painfully hard, making Nero cry out and throw his head back. Dante’s hand slipped down to cup the boy’s erection through his pants, rubbed the heel of his hand across the straining material, squeezed impossibly hard. The man’s movements were fast and erratic, breathing heavy, not like he’d been all those times before.
            “Dante!” Nero shouted, his voice quavering suddenly. He didn’t want this; he didn’t want this, not like this… He clawed at Dante’s bare chest, feeling angry tears well in his eyes. “Dante, stop it!”
            The boy was nearly too frightened to muster the strength, but he pulled back the devil bringer for a blow fighting down his own panic and the arousal making itself known between his legs. He caught Dante across the face; it barely phased the demon hunter. Nero knew his aim had been off; it was hard to concentrate with the hot body on top of him, that lecherous hand between his legs forcing them wider apart.
            Dante spat blood onto the floor delivered a blow of his own which snapped Nero’s head to the side with a crunch. The taste of copper filled Nero’s mouth as his cheek split open on his teeth. The elder man gave him another painful squeeze and Nero cried out as Dante fumbled with his belt. “You want this don’t you? I know you want it, you fucking love it.”
            “No, please,” Nero whispered feeling humiliation colour his cheeks as he grew hard under the man’s ministrations. He wanted to crawl away and hide, a tear slid down the shallow curve of his cheek. “Dante, please…”
            Then the feeling changed, the man was gone, Nero let out a shaky breath, opened his eyes even though he didn’t remember closing them. He lay sprawled across Dante’s desk, pizza boxes, a telephone, the smashed photograph of Eva lay scattered on the floor around him and the man sat on the couch across the room breathing ragged, head clutched in his hands.
            The place was now impossibly silent as the thrum in his blood died, the only sounds were his and Dante’s coupled breathing, the fan spinning slowly on the ceiling… and then… And then Nero slowly eased himself from the desk, ignoring the creaking protest of the wood, the glass crunching beneath his booted feet. He stood shakily, rested against the hard wood, and slowly refastened his belt, wondered if he should just leave now.
            “Dante?” He tried for a calm tone and failed miserably, voice cracking as the adrenalin pumping through his veins slowly died down. He swallowed hard, fighting down a lump of fear in his throat. “Are you alright?”
           He forced himself to move, make his way across the room to the man, stayed standing just out of arm’s reach, looking down at the white mop of hair covering his face. He wasn’t scared anymore, that moment had passed, but now he was having to deal with the very real idea that if he had wanted to Dante could have raped him just now. Nero would have been powerless to stop him if Dante had truly wanted to hurt him. And for a moment there he was pretty sure the man had.
            “Dante?” Nero asked again voice firmer this time. “Come on, look I’m fine really.”
            Dante shook his head voice low. “You’re not fine. How can you be Nero? I…” Dante clutched at his platinum locks unable to force the words from his throat. I’ve turned into him. The thought kept replaying itself in his mind like a mantra. He shook his head from side to side slowly, trying to force it all from his mind. Vergil… Vergil managed to fuck up his life even when he was stone cold dead.
            “How can you be alright?” Dante asked again, lost for words, unable to look at the kid.
            “I’m fine,” Nero repeated quietly. “I won’t lie… you scared the shit out of me just now, but… I’m okay. Takes a lot to throw us demon hunters doesn’t it?”
            “I guess,” Dante finally raised his eyes to Nero’s. He expected to see anger; he saw only concern, maybe apprehension… that just made him feel a whole lot worse. “I won’t be offended if you want to leave.”
            Nero looked down at him a second, considered just leaving now. It was tempting, just to get away from it all, go back to Kyrie and have everything be simple again. But could he do that? What would it be like now that he knew some things about himself? He loved the power radiating from the man across from him. Loved being forced into submission and loved dominating him at the same time. Kyrie wasn’t like that, she was altruistic and sweet. The kindest person he’d ever met, someone you could spend your life with… And Dante was wild and unpredictable, and suddenly he knew the answer.
            “I’m not leaving just yet,” Nero managed around his heavy breathing. “There’s something going on here and I think I’m entitled to an explanation.”
            Dante swallowed throat suddenly dry. He didn’t want to tell Nero anything. He wanted to do everything over again, whatever he had had with Nero was broken around them and he knew he couldn’t fix it. Unless maybe Nero understood… It wasn’t an excuse though; his own torment wasn’t an excuse for what he had done just now.
            “I… Nero… I can’t…” Dante said helplessly struggling for words. He couldn’t tell the boy everything that had happened to him. Everything that had been done to him; his pride was slowly shattering around him and he wanted to keep the last few frail pieces in tact.
            “Well you’d better Dante because you damn well owe me an explanation,” Nero said harshly eyes dark.
            Dante gritted his teeth. “Just leave it, kid.”
            He didn’t quite expect the slap across his cheek, but he should have seen it coming. Nero was livid; Dante could feel the anger rolling off the boy in waves. “You bastard, don’t even think about calling me a kid after what you just did to me!”
            Dante swallowed, looked away, keeping his own anger in check and fighting down the guilt which threatened to overwhelm him. Nero didn’t need to know, he didn’t get to demand things from Dante; if he wanted out he could leave. “Look, kid, there are things you just don’t understand and there are things you don’t need to know.”
            Nero bent down, grabbed Dante by the shoulders, all fear lost in reckless anger. “You’d better fucking tell me or I swear to god I’ll-”
            Dante smirked. “You’ll what Nero?”
            A muscle in Nero’s jaw jumped, his hands tightened on the man’s shoulders. He didn’t know what he wanted to say, he couldn’t think of a suitable threat.
            Dante brushed the boy’s hands aside. “I thought as much,” he said smoothly and Nero felt anger boil in his gut at that tone of self assurance. His devil bringer flared as he watched the man. Dante wasn’t even looking at him… the bastard didn’t even have the decency to look at him after what he’d just done.
            “Look kid I know-”
            “I told you not to call me that!”
            Dante was cut off by an angry shout and Nero’s devil bringer connecting solidly with his temple. The blow split the skin around his skull, sent him sprawling across the arm of the sofa. It took the hunter a while to register what had happened in his dazed state, black spots dancing in front of his eyes. If he had been with it enough he would have recognised that the punch was far too strong for just a smack with the clawed hand. Instead he had the nasty shock of that sudden realization hitting home far too late when he raised his head.
            The iridescent blue glow made his stomach churn, and bile slowly rose into the back of his throat. Nero stood with his devil trigger towering above him, as Dante tried desperately to righten himself using the arm of the sofa.
            Oh shit. “Nero?”
            He barely had the chance to dodge another blow, throwing himself backwards and tipping the couch onto its side to avoid a swipe from Yamato’s blade. He rolled to his feet, backed up a bit eyes scanning the room for a nearby weapon which would hold out against the kid’s trigger.
            Nero rounded the sofa with ease, sent a sonic blast at Dante which nearly knocked him from his feet. His head still wasn’t working as well as he would have liked and he had to grab the desk for support.
            “Come on kid snap out of it!”
            He stepped back, heard glass crunch beneath his bare foot, the pin-pricks of pain barely registering as glass imbedded itself in his skin. He looked back alarmed and saw his mother’s photograph beneath his heel; sanguine slowly ran across the picture in ribbons. It was enough to make Dante hesitate. If it had been anything else in the world he wouldn’t have given a damn, but it had to be her picture, one of few he had and it was going to be destroyed if he didn’t move it out of harm’s way.
            Then he was thrown backwards again, toppled over the corner of the desk and crashed to the floor a gash in his arm already working to repair itself. He heard something clatter to the ground next to him and swiped Ivory from the floor with some relief opening fire on his attacker. Nero seemed to be dead to the world, stalking the hunter around the room rather than using any of his own finesse or grace. He wind-milled Yamato in his hand to deflect the barrage of bullets, Dante thought he was going to be sick.
            He could almost remember the same feeling, a distant memory of scrabbling away from his brother, running falling as Vergil chased him with those cold eyes and the blank, serene look of a psychopath. Dante didn’t want the kid to get hurt, but he wasn’t exactly going to sit back and watch either, not after what had happened the night before. Nero was tough anyway, maybe if Dante could wear out his trigger he’d come back to his senses soon. Or Dante would just have to find something to snap him out of it.
            Dante was up again, about to run before a bullet tore through his shoulder. He should have waited a little longer before leaving the shelter of the desk. He stumbled backwards into his chair landing gracelessly against the green leather. The boy was on him then, between Dante’s spread legs refusing to let him close them.
            And any other time I’d think this was a good thing. Having Nero kneeling between his thighs wasn’t the worst thing in the world, though the spectres transparent eyes staring back into his own were a little off-putting. That problem was quickly solved when a moan slipped from his throat and his eyes slid closed. Nero’s hand had squeezed tentatively at the still prominent bulge between Dante’s thighs. Despite his own shame and then fear the raging hard on had only flagged to half mast and now Nero was coaxing it back to life.
            “Oh god,” Dante groaned tangling his hands in the boy’s hair; he knew he shouldn’t be enjoying this. Nero wasn’t himself; the kid had wanted to tear his head from his shoulders a moment ago. Dante couldn’t honestly complain, but his own guilt made something twist in his stomach even as heat pooled in his groin. He freed his hands from the boy’s hair, tried feebly to shove the kid away when there was the loud scratch of his zipper being undone then the button popped open.
            “Stop,” he hissed as the cool air of the room hit his freed erection and Nero slid his hands away from the zipper, massaged the tensed muscles at the junction of Dante’s thighs. “Come on kid, wake up.” Dante gave him one last desperate shove, which nearly toppled the boy… nearly. Then the spectres hands had his wrists in a crushing grip, pinning his arms back against the top of the chair.
            Nero flashed him a sultry smile, which was so unlike him that had the situation been a little less dire Dante would have laughed. “You can’t tell me you’re not enjoying this Dante.”
            “Fuck,” Dante ground out, teeth clenched. He was enjoying this, he couldn’t deny that, but he knew he shouldn’t be shame washed over him like cold water even as arousal boiled between his spread thighs. “Fuck, fuck fuuu-ck!”
            His voice hitched, strained, trailed off into a desperate moan as Nero slid his lips slowly over the head of his shaft and Dante slid further down the seat arching into the heat of the boy’s mouth. His eyes had shut again – he couldn’t remember closing them – and stars burst in the darkness behind his lids as Nero nursed his aching erection sending electricity tingling up his spine.
            “Nero,” Dante murmured trying to resist the urge to thrust into the boy’s mouth. “You have to stop this, Ah-God…”
            Nero took him further in, to the back of his throat, the strong muscle of his tongue writhed against Dante’s straining flesh as the boy’s free hand wandered lower to fondle the man’s aching balls. Pre-cum tainted the boy’s tongue as Dante writhed in his seat, throwing his head back and pressing his cheek into the heated leather.
            “S-shit,” Dante whispered trying to fight down the sensations. Nero would kill him. He didn’t want to take advantage of the kid, but under any other circumstance this would quite easily be Nero taking advantage of him. His muscles pulled taught beneath his flesh as he tried to tear his hands free. He could trigger, he’d stand a good chance of fighting it off if he did, but did he really want to? Nero’s hot mouth was making it difficult to find an answer to that question as the boy took him in further, his gag reflex under complete control even when Dante thrust in and hit the back of the boy’s throat.
            Nero’s hand left his swollen balls, then the grip slipped from the base of his shaft and Dante made a sound – which wasn’t quite pleading – at the sudden loss of attention. The boy peeled the sweaty leather from his thighs, Dante not even registering that he obliged, aided, the sudden intrusion as Nero sucked hard on his swelling cock. When the sticky leather was bunched around his ankles Nero returned his attention to Dante’s tender sacks making the hunter bite his lip and throw his head to the other side, hair sticking to his sweaty face. The boy’s free hand slipped lower and slid down the cleft of his ass. Warm fingers probed between his cheeks, teasing the sensitive flesh of his opening as he worked to dilate the tight hole.
            Dante’s body shuddered and he moaned deep in his throat when Nero buried a finger inside him, pushing in up to the third knuckle wasting no time adding a second. The world tilted dangerously as Nero stretched his tight hole, finger fucking him and sucking him off at the same time. It was nearly too much for the man as he slammed down on the invading digits trying to clear the fog from his mind and only succeeding in sinking further into the pleasurable delirium.
            His release was fast approaching when the stimulation left him, Nero’s lips slipping from his cock and his fingers leaving his opening with a teasing flick around the rim. He grunted in annoyance, the sudden pain of being left unfilled and needing so badly to come. His eyes flickered open, squinting slightly in the light which suddenly seemed far too bright. He was about to try and voice a question and then Nero was on top of him again. The spectres hands held Dante in place as Nero, bottom half now completely naked, climbed onto the chair, kneeled in his lap and slammed down onto his cock without any preparation.
            They both screamed, Dante in pleasurable rapture and Nero a hoarse pained cry which sent his head back as Dante’s length tore him open. Dante swallowed hard, feeling terrible and wonderful at the same time. His body arched up into the tight heat consuming him needing so desperately for the kid to move. He was in agony waiting for his release, teetering on the brink of orgasm.
            Through the haze in his mind Dante barely registered the boy’s changing expression, the flicker of red in his eyes like static on a TV screen. The hands at his wrists seemed to grow lax, but the strength returned as quickly as it had disappeared and Nero rose confidently in his lap until his ass only gripped Dante’s cock by the thick head. He waited like that for a second, eyes never leaving Dante’s face, then slid back down. Nero’s body was tense, making him impossibly tighter as he swallowed Dante’s cock. The hunter let out a string of moans as Nero made to move again quickly settling into a rhythm as he bounced in the man’s lap.
            “Oh fuck Nero,” Dante groaned thrusting hard, burying himself in the velvet heat. Nero ground down on his cock, small moans and cries of his own falling from his lips, his own erection now hard and dripping as he fisted himself in time to his movements.
            Dante could feel his release building, muscles twitching as he tried to fight down his orgasm even though he knew it was impossible. Nero finally sent him over the edge, body shaking as he came, riding Dante’s cock hard, muscles clamping down around the man’s shaft almost painfully tight. Dante’s head flew back against the chair lost in the sudden wave of release as he came inside the boy with a sharp cry.
            The boy leant; almost fell forwards into Dante’s sweaty chest as Dante’s hands were finally released, dropping limply to his sides. It took him a while to realize what that meant, then there was a low whine from the kid and he managed to open his eyes. Nero was breathing fast, panting desperately to stifle the pain.
            “Oh god,” Dante hissed as he saw blood on Nero’s spread thighs. “Kid I’m sorr-”
            Hands tightened around his throat; crushing his wind pipe. Dante choked, his own hands coming up to fight the boy’s away. “Don’t you fucking call me that, don’t you dare.”
            Dante knew that he hadn’t quite been the helpless victim here and he was too proud to play the role anyway. He pried Nero’s hands away, the boy still weak from a mixture of pain, his orgasm and his trigger.
            “Come on,” he whispered gently, wrapping his arms around Nero’s shoulders and easing him up slightly. Nero protested the movement as Dante’s soft cock slipped from his ass, burying his head in the crook of the elder man’s shoulder and biting down on the flesh to stifle a cry. Dante slid the boy back down into his lap, smoothed his hair soothingly. “Do you understand now?” he asked softly.
            Nero nodded into his chest, confused and frightened all at the same time. He remembered better this time, remembered pinning Dante to the chair, sucking him off, the man writhing beneath his touch… The pain when Dante entered him had almost broken his trigger, but it had resumed control.
            “It’s stronger,” he whispered, hating how pathetic his voice sounded. “The voices in my head…”
            The fear in the kid’s voice worried Dante, he didn’t like it one bit, and what made matters worse was that he was the one who had caused Nero’s torment.
            “It’s because of you,” Nero hissed, confirming Dante’s own fears as he pulled away again, wincing at the pain between his legs. He was pretty sure he was healing; he had become accustomed to it, but the throbbing pain was still there. “This is all happening because of you. You should have just left me alone.”
            Dante nodded, his own guilt written out on his face. “Well you know what to do then, Kyrie will be happy you’re home early.”
            “Oh no, I’m not leaving just like that,” Nero growled, the anger quickly dispersing the pain and fear in his voice. “I want answers now, and I’m not leaving until I get some decent ones.”
            Dante sighed; he could hardly avoid the questions now. “Alright, but maybe we should get cleaned up first?”
            Nero grumbled and nodded his consent allowing Dante to help him up, but refusing to let the man pick him up when he tried to. “I’m not some feeble woman you have to look after I can handle it,” Nero hissed slapping Dante’s hands away, despite the feeling he was about to topple over. “And I’m not falling for the sorry act either.”
            The hunter took a step back raising his hands in surrender, slightly angered by the rejection. “Fine, look after yourself, have fun with the stairs,” he quipped turning away nonchalantly and tucking himself back in before doing his trousers up.
            “I hate you,” Nero hissed trying to reach his trousers from his position resting against the desk. He bent down very slowly, the movement hurting far more than he would have liked, biting his lip as he retrieved his pants and tugged them back on.
            Dante watched him hobble up the stairs with feigned indifference.
            “I’m going to have a shower,” Nero called back down from the first floor. “You even think of trying anything-!”
            “Yeah yeah,” Dante acknowledged with a wave of his hand heading for the kitchen in search of a towel to clean up the mess.

A/N: OOps I forgot to update this :/ Then I got a lovely review today and it reminded me. Sorry I've had so much work to do AHA >_< Still working on the later chapters as that's where the changes will take place. Once again hope this ain't too squicky and thanks for the reviews!
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Inevitable