Adult-FanFiction.org : Games

Dad	By : Ash_Gray_Kitsune Category: +A through F > Devil May Cry Views: 1882 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Devil May Cry and I do not make any profit from it.

Chapter List
- 7
- 8
- 9
Dad
Nero tried not to gag as his face was shoved once more into into the dirty mattress, his arms tangled in his long-sleeved shirt and held behind him as another spike of pain seared up his spine again, those thick, slick fingers pushing into his body cavity once more, 'prepping' him for what was to come. He felt the bile begin to rise, and bit his lip, the coppery scent of blood chasing away the filth he was breathing in as his body was being violated for the fourth time tonight. It was late, he knew that much, but actual times were as foggy as his resistance...
Fuck...if the first goddamn asshole hadn't clocked me in the head...I would have gotten away when they left the door open between the second and the third. But he knew how futile that had really been; he could barely think, let alone walk. He was torn up inside and out, his ass, back, and legs covered in welts from a leather belt and cut into by the last one's pocket knife. This one fancied himself a slumming gentleman; he'd brought lube and a condom, and was stretching Nero, thinking that he was giving the boy the best fuck he'd had all night.
As if, cocksucker. Goddamn, you reek...Wait a moment. He took a quick, deep sniff, and felt his senses flare, and his eyes narrow in distinct devilment. Oh, there was no way...but it was a demon prepping him, in a human body suit. In fact, now that he wracked his beaten-up brain a little more, all of his rapists had shared the same twisted, foul, dead scent that had wreathed the room. If they really were all demons, then his options had just changed. He gulped, suddenly, when the monster's cock shoved inside, and for a little while, white pain clouded his vision. F-fuck...he's bigger than the last one...
The only comfort was that it was short; not ten minutes later, the demon was zipping himself up and Nero had curled into a little ball of misery and pain, shaking a little. His pants....were somewhere, and his arm ached horribly, and his ass...he closed his eyes and clenched his teeth as pain seared through his body. Daddy...Daddy, where are you? He called, with all his heart, tears dampening the moldy, dirty beneath him. He couldn't do this, he couldn't survive this....if they brought another one in, he'd die choking on his own vomit...
But the minutes passed, and after roughly a half hour, he raised his head, staring at the open doorway. Something...something was wrong, but he couldn't hear anything but his own breathing; the walls were far too insulated. Slowly, agonizingly, he tried to twist his arms back; one was dislocated, leaving him breathless and seeing white again while he maneuvered the shirt back down. At last, he could tuck that arm close and he rolled upright...nearly falling over as more pain made him shake.
Gradually, carefully, he stood, thin legs shaking like leaves in the wind, and there, in the corner, were his jeans and his ripped up, bloody underwear. Feeling his gorge rise again, he tucked those in his pocket, and pulled his jeans on with his left hand, trying to keep the fabric as far away from the cuts on his back and butt as much as he could. His shoes hadn't been in the room when he'd woken up, so he assumed they were probably lost in transit. Besides, his feet were tough; it was just the rest of him that had taken a beating.
Slowly, painfully, he walked to the door, and peeking out, he wasn't surprised to see the remnants of an old hotel, room after room after room with closed doors and a shadowy, barely lit hallway. There was a staircase at one end that led down, and that was where Nero limped to, taking his time to stop and listen, keeping to the shadows as much as he could. Too often, he'd get dizzy and lean into the wall, shaking with reaction and a fever that was slowly burning it's way across his face and neck, blue eyes glazing over.
I gotta get outta here...Gotta get to Dad....gotta survive. C'mon, Nero; you're stronger than this. You can make it. His thoughts became a sort of prayer wheel, grinding slowly through the fatigue enough to break away the despair, the terror...the pain, and they helped him descend the stair, where a lone, open window blew in chilly, biting winter air, and showed him that he was up five stories still, in the old part of the city. The part his father refused to move them to, saying only that it was too dangerous for even him. He stared for longer than he should have, and startled when there was a sudden crash below, and the sounds of several demons arguing. The noise began to move towards his perch, and fear gave his feet wings, sending him flying back down the hallway to the second stair, the one that led up.
DAD!

Dante's head snapped up again as he pulled himself fully up to the roof of one of the older buildings, his gray-blue eyes growing angry as the pulse of fear and adrenaline matched that of his son's, much stronger now than it had been before. Wherever Nero was, he was heavily shielded, but they were getting close; from across the street, Trish nodded, her lips narrow and her gun reloaded. Good; she felt it too. He turned back to his own side of the bond, and followed it once more, lip biting as he tried to pinpoint that fluxing thread...and lost it again. He throttled down the rage, breathing heavily; he couldn't afford to let the anger wash away Nero's own emotions, not when he was tracking the boy.
There....it was faint, and terribly, terribly weak, but it was there. The only consolation he had was that at least Nero hadn't been completely alone the whole time...Dante had felt everything he had, and it no longer mattered if the beings responsible were human or demon. Dante was going to destroy them, down to the very ground, and there would be no stopping his wrath. The only reason that he hadn't utterly lost his shit when the first bastard had laid a hand on his son was because if he did, he risked killing his boy too. And that much, he couldn't do. He'd sooner die.
He took flight, normally this time, by leaping off the building and falling towards the next, his coat flaring up. Trish landed before he did, and she stepped back as his feet touched the ground.
"He's close." He muttered, glancing around again before getting his bearings. "Feels like a big place..."
"Then he is close; we're drawing near the old hotels, the transient ones. One has to be the child-brothel the boy mentioned; there's just no room for a place that vile anywhere else." She replied, eyes black with her own cool anger. "I suggest, heart-brother, that we set our sights on that one, there; it seems to be the best repaired, if such a thing exists here." The petname was one she rarely used, and a ghost of a smile answered it. But she was right; the old transient building to their right was fenced, and what windows were broken were patched with plywood. It was the likeliest one, and if he focused a little more, he thought that the thin tendril of pain stemming from Nero was emanating from it.
It was hard to tell, but he chose to believe it, for Nero's sake. So, he flipped out both guns, and with a cool indifference to anyone else, leapt from the rooftop, landing square in the center of the road in front of the building. As if on a signal, a crew of marionettes leapt up, their strings dangling, and a vicious grin curved around his face, gray eyes flashing as he brought the guns up.
"This is my kinda party."

Nero ran, heedless of the broken glass and rocks that littered the dingy carpet, scared utterly witless by the monsters that chased him now up each flight. He'd gone up three more floors, now, and they were getting closer, though they'd slowed down. To laugh at him. He felt a sick revulsion start in the pit of his stomach, and risked a glance back as he plowed through the trash littering the next stair. They were fucking waiting for him to fall down; all four of his abusers, and another, taller demon with cold, cold eyes. He would have frozen there, if there hadn't been a flare of brilliant blue light filling the stairwell, and his right arm seared with a new pain, one that sent him sprinting back up to the rooftop.
Wracked with pain, stumbling on the metal grating, Nero fell through the door, and nearly fainted at the fresh, crisp cold air swirling around him. He slid and crashed onto the ice-slicked asphalt roof, his back and bottom screaming anew as the cuts were pulled open, and he rolled over, vomiting up what little was left in his stomach. Behind him, the demons swaggered onto the roof, laughing, joking about what they were going to do with him. He could only catch a word or two, but it was enough, more than enough, to make him get up once more, edging slowly back to the very lip of the roof. If he had to make a choice...he'd choose going over the side rather than let them destroy him like that again.
The lean one seemed to understand what he was doing...and before he could blink, he was up in the air and turning blue, long fingers latched around his throat.
"Well now...our little pet seems to think suicide is a fair option." Even his voice was cold, and Nero felt a spike of fear overwhelm everything...except a tiny thread of triumph. He couldn't hear much over the roaring in his ears and the wind, but up there, somewhere in the darkness, a pair of wings beat once...then faded away. "So, kitten, have you claws still?" His other hand pulled Nero's sleeve up, and a soft blue glow lit the area, falling from a crack in his skin...no...from the blue interior of his arm, covered mostly now with hard brown scales.
"Jakyr, he's growing faster than you thought!"
"You promised that he'd remain a child longer!"
"Hush, you imbeciles. He's still a babe yet; you can sate your desires without fear. He cannot use the arm, nor does he know how to. Now...who wants him?"
"I do." Nero stretched to turn, but he couldn't see who owned that deep, angry voice...and he didn't know if he wanted to. Jakyr growled, softly, and tossed Nero into a pile of trash...and Nero opened his eyes long enough to see the ice-cold demon be turned to a fine red mist. His four compatriots followed suit, and what stood in their place made each of them seem far less dangerous. He was tall, insanely tall, with enormous black and red wings, and eyes the color of hellfire...and the flames that covered his body promptly disappeared, leaving a worn, frantic Dante in their place. Nero barely had time to understand the change before his father was embracing him, wrapping him in that familiar red coat.
"Buddy, buddy, I'm here, it's me, it's your dad..." Came the harsh whisper, and Nero melted as both warmth and the demon-hunter's arms cradled him tight. Finally, his eyes heavy, he allowed himself to sleep...and distantly, heard the soft sounds of wingbeats once more.

Alright, this monster of a chapter is done, Nero's rescued, if not entirely whole, and Dante got to kill demons who deserved it. And Loreley, I love you for reviewing! This one's for you, to make up for the cliffie!
- 7
- 8
- 9
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Dad