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Nero’s been living with Dante for two months now, a temporary arrangement while he helps Dante and Vergil out with a rather long and complicated job over in his neck of the woods, and he’s already starting to lose his mind. He’d figured Dante’s overall laziness and lack of giving-a-shit would have been what drove him nuts, but he was wrong. Oh, was he wrong.
There are a few things Nero’s learned about Dante during this little communal living experiment.
One: he sleeps wherever the fuck he feels like, whenever the fuck he feels like, and it’s nigh impossible to pin him down to a schedule.
And,
Two: he walks around his house after a shower stark ass naked, drip drying like a fucking dog , because he’s apparently never heard of a bath towel before.
This is a problem for a couple of reasons. First, because of the aforementioned lack of a schedule, Nero can’t seem to figure out when the fuck Dante’s going to take a shower, which means he can’t make sure he’s nowhere near any of the places where showering might happen, because fuck. It’s just whenever. It could be three in the goddamn morning and Dante will be merrily showering away and walking his happy naked ass down the hallway right past Nero’s room. It could be two in the afternoon. It’s just whenever .
And second, because the previously mentioned “stroll past Nero’s room at three in the morning” happened right as Nero was stepping out to get a glass of water (because the fates hate him), so now Nero’s seen Dante naked, and he cannot. Stop. Thinking. About it.
Nero has seen plenty of naked dudes before, because he worked and lived in a communal setting, in the Order, and sharing a shower was just the shit you had to do in that sort of situation. It’s whatever. He’s comfortable enough with his sexuality--which he’s decided is just “what the fuck ever, I don’t care”--that seeing a naked dude isn’t going to bother him.
Dante, however, seems to be in a class entirely of his own. Nero’d be lying if he said he didn’t think Dante was attractive even before seeing him naked, because, goddammit, look at him. Who doesn’t think that? Demonic heritage has done great things for him, apparently, because the dude’s pushing forty-five and looks like a fucking runway model. Or a god. A modern Adonis or whatever.
(Shit, he’s doing it again. Deep breaths.)
It would be one thing if he’d just seen his naked ass. Maybe just his back or something. But Nero can never be that lucky in life, so instead he has another problem to make all of the other problems worse: when Nero had opened his bedroom door and caught a glimpse of Dante, Nero’d been half awake and staring at the floor, so of course his eyes had landed fucking squarely on Dante’s dick.
His massive, ridiculous, absurdly enormous dick, in all it’s fucking glory.
Nero had somehow managed to scrape enough brain power back into his thick skull to apologize and shut the bedroom door before Dante could see the blush that Nero could feel crawling up his neck and ears and face. Dante had apologized from the other side of the door with a quiet chuckle and Nero had stood there, forehead pressed to the shitty thin wood of the door because it was cold and his face was definitely, definitely way too hot, willing his sudden and intense erection to stop, god, please, he cannot get a hard-on for his uncle .
Since then, Nero’s found that he cannot stop thinking about Dante’s ridiculous, massive cock, which is. A problem all on its own. Because he thinks about it now basically every time he sees Dante, which is every single fucking minute of every single day (when Nero’s not sleeping, in which case, yeah, he dreams about his massive cock instead, because of-fucking-course he does). He thinks about it when he’s doing dishes, because Dante is worthless at that and so Nero’s decided to take it upon himself to instill some order to the place. He thinks about it while he’s out fighting demons, because apparently being in a life or death situation does nothing to temper his libido.
Fuck, he thinks about it when he’s in bed at night. Thinks about how it’d feel in his hand, or his mouth, or--
Basically, he thinks about Dante’s huge fucking dick all the time now, and it’s becoming even more of a problem because Nero’s pretty sure Dante knows. How he knows is a mystery, because Nero’s also pretty sure he’s done a fantastic job hiding the fact that even looking at Dante makes him almost immediately get at least semi-hard, but he’s almost certain that Dante knows. Dante gives him these looks now, those little crooked stupid half-smiles of his, and Nero feels like Dante’s reading his thoughts.
God, he sure fucking hopes Dante isn’t reading his thoughts, because then he’d know exactly how much Nero thinks about sucking his dick, and that would be enough for him to die from shame.
So Nero has a problem, and he’s thinking about this problem while he sits at Dante’s desk and pretends to read through all of the research materials that Vergil’s sent them over the past week to help with the job. His father’s been traveling abroad for this one in an effort to pinpoint a location and dig up details, because a potential hell gate opening again isn’t something to take lightly, and god, Nero actually wishes he was home, because maybe Dante would keep his goddamn pants on if he was.
He’s been sitting at the desk holding the book for the last thirty-five minutes and he has read approximately one page. Which he doesn’t remember at all, because it’s half written in Latin, and his Latin is rusty since he stopped reading the bullshit the Order used to make him read. That, and it’s really fucking hard to think about translating Latin when he’s sitting in Dante’s chair that smells of Dante and feels like Dante and his brain keeps helpfully supplying him with the image of Dante’s giant goddamn dick and muscled thighs, still a little damp from the shower.
It’s a really good thing Dante’s not home right now, either (off investigating another potential minor hellgate three hours south of the shop while Nero’s stuck on translation duty), because Nero’s pretty sure he’d do a shit job at hiding how keyed up he is if Dante was actually still in the building. As it stands, he has the place to himself, and he’s not going to be able to read a single goddamn word of these books if he doesn’t find some way to let off some steam.
With a groan he pushes back from the desk, getting to his feet and stretching his arms above his head to release the tension that’s pooled in his shoulders and lower back. The movement makes it abundantly clear that his jeans have gotten too tight and he sighs, trailing a hand down his chest to his waistband. He needs to do something about this or he’s going to lose his goddamn mind.
It’s not going to be the first time he’s jerked off to the image of Dante’s dick and all of the things Nero wants to do to it (and have it do to him, if he’s being honest), but he’s still more than a little embarrassed as he palms himself through the front of his jeans. Mostly because, well. He lives with Dante. It feels shitty that he’s jerking it to the image of his naked roommate, makes him feel kind of like a skeeve. And two, because said roommate also happens to be his fucking uncle , which is a thing Nero’s still not adjusted to, even though he’s had over a year to get used to it.
It probably makes him fucked in the head that he doesn’t care enough about either of those things to not still get himself off right now, because he doesn’t have much of a choice. He’s getting zero work done until he can convince his stupid libido to chill out long enough that he can process words again.
Nero intends to take this to his bedroom, because he at least has some measure of decency, but then he walks away from the desk and the smell of Dante gets a little less strong, and he pauses. There was something incredibly arousing about sitting in the spot Dante spends most of his time, the scent of him so worn into the old upholstery and wood that it was all Nero could smell, and. Maybe.
He sits back down without letting himself think too hard about it--or about the way he sort of just instinctually wiggles a little, like he’s rubbing himself, his own scent, on Dante’s chair, because what the fuck. (Demonic instincts are a thing he’s still learning to navigate. It’s been going terribly.)
Instead of worrying about that, he revels in the metal and smoke and gun oil smell that he’s come to know as Dante’s as he unceremoniously unbuttons his jeans and shoves his hand down the front of them. The moment his fingers wrap around his cock, he hisses--he’s so keyed up that the single touch alone is enough to make him jerk into his own hand on reflex, and he kind of hates that Dante has this effect on him.
Lifting his hips enough that he can wiggle his pants and boxers down, he pulls his dick free, then leans back in the chair, letting out a shaky sigh. He holds himself between thumb and forefinger, sparing a moment to… compare, because whatever, why not. He’s nowhere near as big as Dante. What the fuck does a person even need a dick that big for?
He can come up with a few ideas, actually, and the thought makes a shudder creep down his spine, his fingers tightening around the base of his cock. God, Dante’s so much bigger--what would his dick feel like in Nero’s hands? In his mouth? He wants to suck him so goddamn bad. He’s never sucked cock before, but Dante’s--he’d do it for him, shit, he’d do it in a heartbeat. Nero drags his fist up his length and it’s too dry and a little too rough, but that doesn’t even matter when he’s already so close just from thinking about Dante’s dick, hot and heavy on his tongue, how he’d have to definitely stretch his lips around it to take the whole thing in--
Nero’s so wrapped up in the idea of getting Dante’s cock in his mouth that he doesn’t hear the chime over the door above the roaring in his ears. Doesn’t even hear the footsteps across the room as someone approaches. He only notices that Dante’s entered the shop when he opens his mouth and says:
“You want some help with that?”
Nero just about jumps out of his skin at Dante’s voice, sudden and abrupt and way too goddamn smug for what he’s just walked in on. Nero bangs his elbow on the desk, nearly tips the chair over in his haste to hide himself from view, and oh, fucking shit , he should have known Dante would actually make efficient use of his time for once in his life, and he’s so close he can’t even hide how out of breath he is and how flushed his cheeks are.
This is a disaster .
“Uh,” Nero says in response, because his brain is about thirty seconds behind, and no other words will form right now. He’s literally been caught with his dick in his hands and why the fuck is Dante looking at him like that .
There’s an unmistakable look of interest that’s settled onto Dante’s face--eyes sharp, bright (glowing, inhuman bright, and that sends a shiver down Nero’s spine for a totally different reason), lips pulled back in a wide grin. Nero’s still struggling to his feet, trying to shove his dick back in the front of his jeans, when Dante walks around the side of the desk and stops about two inches in front of him. Way too close to be casual.
He looks down at Nero’s hand, his still open trousers, the obvious bulge in his pants, and he laughs a little.
“Cause I’m more than willing,” Dante says, casual as can be, like he’s just offered to help Nero clean the house or something totally normal, and oh fuck , Nero absolutely does want help, but.
“I--shit--sorry, I didn’t think--”
Dante’s hand coming to cup the side of his face makes him jump, but it also helps to reign in his wild thoughts a little. His hand is so warm, soft, supple leather on his palm and rough callouses on his fingertips, and having Dante’s hands on even his face is already too much, he’s going to cream his pants at this rate.
Despite that, he still whines a little when Dante lets him go and instead takes Nero’s old spot in the chair. He grabs Nero’s hand and tugs, pulls him until he takes the hint and straddles his lap, sitting facing him.
Oh god , Nero thinks, what the fuck am I doing right now .
“If you don’t want this,” Dante says, reaching back up to trail his fingers over Nero’s jaw, down his neck, “just say so. But I have a feelin’ you do.” His mouth takes the form of that same shit-eating grin he always takes when he’s being impossible to deal with, lips pulled up at one corner. “You’ve wanted it for a while.”
“The fuck--”
Dante shrugs and cuts him off with a finger on his lips. “You reek of unresolved sexual tension, kid. It’s been kinda fun riling you up.”
He was doing it… on purpose?
Oh, fuck him .
“You bastard,” Nero hisses and Dante just laughs, leans in a little to mouth at the corner of Nero’s jaw, and the shudder that shoots down Nero’s spine is so intense that he clings to Dante’s shoulders to steady himself.
Dante’s breath is incredibly warm against his neck when he says, “Do you want this or not?”
Goddammit, yeah, he definitely wants this-- “Yes, fuck, you absolute asshole.”
It takes a little bit of awkward maneuvering to get himself free of his jeans again, but Dante has his hand wrapped around Nero’s cock a split second later, stroking him in long, slow pulls, and oh god, his hands are big, too, warm and calloused in ways that Nero’s aren’t, and. Shit. It’s almost too much--he has to bite the inside of his cheek as hard as he can to stop himself from blowing his load immediately.
“What were you thinking about while you were jerking yourself off in my chair, huh?” Dante asks against his neck, nipping at a patch of skin on Nero’s throat until it starts to hurt, will definitely leave a (temporary) bruise.
Nero freezes up, not sure what to say. He’s never really… done dirty talk, before, and no words will really come to him. That doesn’t seem to stop Dante, though, because he moves down Nero’s neck a little more and starts sucking on the curve where his shoulder meets his neck before continuing:
“Were you thinking about me?”
“Yes, shit , I was thinking about you,” Nero hisses, and Dante squeezes him right at the base of his dick with a happy purr that hits a chord somewhere deep in Nero’s soul and makes him respond with a moan of his own. “You--was thinking about your stupid fucking cock.”
Another long drag of Dante’s hand makes him shudder, and then Dante stops to rub his thumb over the slit, spreading slippery precum around to ease the slide of his hand, and Nero clings to his shoulders even more, digs his nails in tight to his leather coat. It feels fucking fantastic. So much better than when he does it himself that it should be a crime.
“Anything specific?” Dante asks, lips gliding over Nero’s collarbone now where it pokes out of the top of his t-shirt, his free hand sliding around to sit on the small of Nero’s back.
“About--about sucking you off,” Nero says around a moan, and Dante’s pace quickens, squeezing him in just the right spots, twisting his wrist just a little and-- “Dante, I’m--I’m gonna--” Nero buries his face in Dante’s shoulder and tries to remember to breath as the pleasure that’s been building in his gut and shivering up his spine finally starts to reach its tipping point.
“I’ve got you,” Dante says, and his hand that had been resting on the small of Nero’s back slides up to the back of his neck, clutching at his nape, and it’s like the missing piece to a puzzle Nero didn’t even realize existed. It does something to that thrashing voice that’s been kicking around in his head since he woke up to his demon side, and his orgasm is all the more intense for it, rippling through him like an earthquake. He pants and moans and bucks into Dante’s hand as he rides it out, inhibitions completely forgotten in the face of the absolutely mind numbingly amazing handjob he’s just received.
When it’s finally passed, Dante is still holding him loosely, face pressed to the side of Nero’s head, his own breathing just a tad more rapid than Nero’s heard it before. Nero pushes himself away from Dante, despite the fact that his limbs feel like they’ve been jellified and his entire body is still shivering, and groans at the mess he’s made between the two of them, his cum splattered across both their shirts.
“Shit, I’m sorry,” Nero says, and Dante just laughs, raises his hand to his mouth, and licks Nero’s cum off his fingers.
Nero feels like he is going to die. It’s the most unfairly sexy thing he’s ever seen in his life (and he is resigned to the knowledge that it will now live alongside Dante’s huge dick in his brain for wet dream fuel).
“No big deal,” Dante says, resting his clean hand on Nero’s hip, fingertips massaging him gently. The position’s gotten uncomfortable now that Nero’s not so wrapped up in getting his rocks off that he’s willing to ignore anything and everything other than Dante’s hands on him, so he carefully, on incredibly unsteady legs, starts to push himself off Dante’s lap.
Which makes the bulge in Dante’s pants incredibly obvious, and a thrill shoots down Nero’s spine, makes his neck and scalp feel tingly, knowing that Dante’s gotten worked up because of Nero . Without even thinking about it he drops to his knees in front of Dante’s chair, pressing his hands down on Dante’s thighs, eyes laser-focused on the frankly huge bulge before him.
He wants to suck his dick so goddamn bad.
“You don’t have to do that, kid,” Dante says, sounding weirdly serious about it. Nero rolls his eyes.
“The entire reason I’m in this mess is because of your ridiculously huge cock and how much I can’t stop thinking about it . Unless you actually physically stop me, I’m getting my mouth on it right the fuck now,” Nero says, and okay, maybe the earth-shattering orgasm he just had is fucking with his brain a little, but whatever. It’s true.
Dante actually laughs, loud and boisterous and probably the most genuine Nero’s ever heard from him before. It makes Nero’s stomach tangle up into knots to know he caused that, too, almost more than it does to know that he’s caused Dante’s arousal.
“Well, who am I to turn down an offer like that,” Dante says, unbuckling his belt with one hand and reaching out to gently touch the side of Nero’s face with the other. Nero leans forward to help, because he feels like he needs to do something with his hands--he pulls the zipper of Dante’s pants down, then sets up a somewhat erratic rhythm of stroking Dante’s thighs while he pulls himself free of his leather pants, and--
“God, you’re absurd,” Nero says, and Dante laughs again, stroking himself once like he’s showing off or something. “ Why. ”
“Blessed by good genes, I guess,” Dante says, and it’s the stupidest goddamn thing he could’ve said, and Nero rolls his eyes even as he reaches out and carefully puts his hands on him alongside Dante’s own.
Feeling Dante’s dick in his hand is better than he could’ve ever imagined--warm and solid and silky and not enough, and he needs to put his mouth on him right now, he wants it more than he’s ever wanted anything in his entire life.
Nero dips his head down and Dante holds his cock at the base to help guide it between Nero’s lips, his other hand carding through Nero’s hair to direct him and gently set the pace. It’s awkward--he has no idea what to do with his hands, what he should be doing to make Dante feel really good, but he loves it anyway, the salty taste on the back of his tongue, the overpowering scent of Dante’s arousal, the way he does, in fact, have to stretch his lips a little past the point of comfort to take it all in.
What he lacks in experience he tries to make up for with enthusiasm. He drags his tongue along the underside of it, shivers a little at the warm, musky smell and taste, before sucking him back into his mouth. He focuses on the head, because he’s honestly not sure he can take him much deeper—Dante jerks forward once, lost in the moment, and Nero’s gag reflex immediately kicks in, leaving him coughing around Dante’s dick for a few painful seconds. It’s the least sexy thing imaginable, and Nero feels embarrassed and inexperienced and like he’s messing it all up, but Dante doesn’t seem to mind at all, if the enthusiastic moans and muttered words of encouragement are any indication.
“You’re doin’ so good,” Dante says, voice that same low purr that makes Nero’s toes curl and his pulse immediately quicken. Nero makes a point of opening his eyes, looking up at Dante through his lashes while he licks slowly along the base of his cock, and Dante groans, his hand slipping from where it’d been resting in Nero's hair to cup his cheek. “God, look at you. You’re loving this, aren't you?”
Nero can’t respond, seeing as his mouth is preoccupied, so instead he sucks a little harder and takes Dante in a little deeper, the head of his dick brushing against the back of Nero’s throat, and oh, the noise Dante makes in response makes Nero feel so good. Powerful. In control.
“Do that again,” Dante says, and so Nero does, pulling his head back before taking Dante in as far as he can without choking. The older man groans, hand returning to Nero’s hair to hold the back of his head. He thrusts a little, then, shallow, careful movements, and Nero focuses on making his jaw slack and flattening his tongue against the bottom of Dante’s cock and not letting his gag reflex get the better of him again while he carefully repeats the movement in time with Dante’s careful thrusts. “Shit, yeah, that feels good.” He hisses out a breath, nails dragging along Nero’s scalp, his hand wrapped around the base of his cock so Nero’s lips press against his fist with each movement, and it’s so hot Nero thinks he’s going to end up with another erection at this rate. “Gonna come.”
Dante’s warning comes with a gentle tug on Nero’s hair, moving to pull him off, but if he’s doing this, he’s going to fucking do it. Nero bobs his head again and moans when the first flood of cum fills the back of his mouth, and he chokes a little before he gets it under control and is able to swallow down the rest of it, salty and thick and honestly, fucking fantastic. When Dante leans back in his chair and taps the side of Nero’s head, he pulls off, wiping the little bit of drool and cum that’s leaked out of the corner of his mouth on the back of his hand and looking up at Dante through half-closed eyes.
“Not bad for your first time,” Dante says, and Nero can feel the blush that creeps onto his cheeks almost immediately, turning his face uncomfortably hot. Dante laughs. “I’ve had worse, trust me.” He leans forward again, cups the side of Nero’s face, thumb trailing over his cheek. “You ever want a proper lesson, let me know.”
Aaaaand that’s where this ends, Nero decides, and he pulls back from Dante’s grip and climbs to his feet with a half-hearted grumble about perverted old men, but. He’d take him up on that offer in a heartbeat, and he knows it, and he knows Dante knows it, because Dante’s leering at him with that dumb grin of his again and. Goddammit.
“I need to go shower now,” Nero says, because he’s gross, and his shirt is getting stiff from the dried cum, and he’s feeling way more self conscious about this whole ordeal than he wants to. Dante just laughs again and pats his thigh when he moves a little closer.
“Just sayin’. The offer’s out there,” Dante says, and Nero groans as he walks away from him to head upstairs to the aforementioned shower.
He’s definitely going to be thinking about Dante’s dick on overtime now, so this whole thing was probably a huge mistake, but. It's hard to not feel at least a little pleased with himself, with the taste of Dante still thick on his tongue, and the smell of him rubbed into his clothes and hands, warm and pleasant. There's a lot to unpack here, because of obvious reasons, really, but. Well. He's content, really content, and Dante seemed sincere, so Nero figures he can just. Work this out later. Wing it for a while and it'll work itself out, maybe.
That doesn't sound too terrible, in the grand scheme of things, so maybe living with Dante isn't a complete nightmare after all.