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It turned out that demons were even weirder than Nero had anticipated, which in turn meant Nero was weirder than he’d anticipated. The first time he’d popped a boner over Dante he’d gone back to Fortuna, locked himself in his room, and stripped his cock until it ached. And then he’d thrown up, cried, and wondered how he was supposed to ever look Dante in the eyes again.
Vergil had been his saving grace, which Nero never thought he would say and was kind of mad he had to. He’d noticed Nero acting strange and cornered him while Dante was off on a job to antagonize the truth out of him. Nero had expected… Christ, he didn’t know, some appropriate amount of disgust at the revelation Nero was lusting for his uncle. Under no circumstances did he ever expect the triple whammy that a) Vergil and Dante were fucking, b) this was apparently normal for demons, and c) it was so normal, in fact, that Nero didn’t have a mother, he had Dante. Because Dante, as it turned out, was sort of? His father? Mother? Nero had zero idea what to call this fucking joke of a relationship. This fucking joke of a family. If he thought things were complicated before, that was nothing compared to finding out who he thought was his uncle was the one who gave birth to him.
At least Vergil didn’t seem to expect anything from him. Beyond wanting him to fuck Dante. If that counted for anything.
It somehow made both more and less sense with added context.
According to Vergil, there were certain kinds of demons who didn’t immediately try to cannibalize each other and actually formed familial bonds like humans. Unlike humans, said bonds usually involved fucking each other, because why wouldn’t they. They had a mated pair that made all the babies, but offspring were expected to 'satisfy’ their dams in the absence of their sire to the point it was an ingrained instinct. An instinct Nero was now deeply suffering from.
Naturally Nero had been rather resistant to the whole idea at first, but, well, things change. Sometimes those things involve hunts, unexpected rainstorms, thin t-shirts, and the sudden appearance of a pair of dark, pebbled nipples just begging for Nero to get his mouth on them. Hypnotizing, almost, so all consuming Nero could think of nothing else from that moment on, unable to resist shoving Dante down, tearing his shirt down the middle, and burying his face into pillowy flesh. Dante hadn’t seemed surprised - if anything he’d seemed like he was waiting for it. He’d pulled Nero back by the hair with one hand and cupped one fat, hairy tit with the other.
“Poor boy,” he cooed. “Need it so bad, hmm? Need your mama to take care of you?”
The word mama hit him like a punch to the gut. Nero’s gaze remained fixed to his chest as he whined eagerly, panting like a dog. Dante had a dusting of silver hair across his chest, catching the rain and directing the drops into rivulets that rolled down the swell of his tits and gathered at the tips of his big, round nipples and hung there for a second, just waiting for Nero to catch them on his tongue. Dante laughed at him as he strained against the grip on his hair, trying desperately to get his mouth around one.
“‘T’s alright, kid.” Dante shifted and brought Nero’s head to his chest, brushing over his lips with a nipple. “You can have me.”
The entire world ceased to exist the second Nero’s lips closed around him. Dante was so warm above him, around him, against him. He sighed contentedly, stroking Nero’s hair as he sucked and nipped and pulled at his nipple until it was raw and sore, then moved him to the other side to do the same. Nero didn’t even notice when he came untouched in his pants, too focused on his mouthful and making Dante feel good.
All in all, not a bad reason to change your mind. Dante and Vergil both seemed so pleased afterwards that Nero couldn’t even find it in him to feel guilty about it. All he could think about was how soft Dante had felt under his tongue, the way his puffy nipples hardened as Nero laved at them reverently, the feeling of Dante shaking apart above him as Nero brought him to completion with nothing but his mouth and fingers at his chest.
The hunger it awakened in him was insane. Nero never really set out in the morning thinking “tonight I’m going to pin Dante down and suck his tits until he cries”, but they often ended up that way, tangled together on the couch or in bed as Nero nursed to a backdrop of Dante and Vergil bickering, or even Dante and Vergil fucking. Dante was left those nights with a soaked cunt dripping come and bite marks across his chest, satisfied and purring and smug. Sometimes if Nero was particularly irritated with their antics or was just in the mood to tease, he’d pin Dante down with his hands over his head, straddle his chest, and fuck his cock into the valley between his tits just to watch as Dante went from threatening to bargaining to pleading for Nero to fuck him, get his mouth on him, let Dante suck him off, anything. If he was feeling particularly nice he’d give in and get Dante off too, but most of the time he liked to paint his chest white and laugh when Dante begged and cursed at him.
It wasn’t even sexual, usually. Well, of course it kind of was by nature, since they both almost always got off by the end, sometimes more than once, but it wasn’t an active sexuality like outright fucking was. It was just… kind of nice. Relaxing. Bonding, even. Someone had a hard day, there was always a tit to suck to feel better about it. Passing bout of horniness, Dante was always happy to be put on his knees so Nero could fuck against his chest until he was satisfied. When they were just hanging around the shop, it was easy enough to slip a hand or two under Dante’s shirt while he was working or cleaning or reading and grope him idly for a while.
Dante barely even wore clothes anymore when it was just the two — or three — of them around the shop. He wandered around sweaty and naked, flaunting his fat tits to their private little world, smirking at Nero when Vergil wasn’t giving him enough attention, perching distractingly on a desk or counter and spreading his legs, arching his back, beckoning him in to sink between his thighs and into his generous chest. Nero went willingly every time, if he didn't initiate it himself, impatiently waiting for his turn. He knew the pecking order, knew Vergil was Dante's mate and soul first and foremost, but he also knew both his parents were easy to manipulate when he whined. A well-aimed pair of puppy-dog eyes at the right time got him anything he wanted — and usually what he wanted was nothing more than to suckle at Dante’s tits until his brain went fuzzy.
Nero got used to falling asleep with a mouthful of plush skin and a hand in his hair while Dante made soft noises above him. He didn’t chase his peaks so much as stumbled his way into them, rolling his hips unconsciously against a thick thigh or warm, wet folds until he shuddered his way through an orgasm before loyally fingering his come into Dante’s waiting hole.
Dante liked to feel needed, and Nero liked to make Dante feel good, and if at least half of what pleasure he did get out of the situation came from Dante calling himself mama and stroking his cock while Nero curled up in his lap and sucked his tits like a babe, that was a need-to-know kinda thing.
But tonight something was different. Dante was humming quietly, carding his fingers through Nero’s hair with just a hint of claw as he cradled Nero against his chest. Nero’s entire world started and ended with the puffy nipple on his tongue and the cunt warming his spent cock after a vigorous wrestling match had ended with Nero on his back, being ridden within an inch of his life as he cupped a perfect tit in either hand and licked the sweat off of them. He was so consumed with his task he barely even noticed himself growing hard again, or the way Dante clenched around him and rocked slowly in time to Nero’s ministrations.
What he did notice was a strange undertone to Dante’s usually musky scent, barely perceptible even with Nero’s heightened demonic senses. It was sweet, almost, kind of warm, weirdly a little milky. Nero figured it wasn’t anything to ask about, probably just some new soap or something, but it was pleasant and calming and more than a little bit arousing. He put it to the back of his mind. Dante wasn’t acting any differently, so clearly he had nothing to worry about. He did seem a little bit more sensitive though, reacting to every brush of Nero’s fingers and tongue and every pinch and pull at his nipples with a jolt like he’d been shocked.
Nero indulged in it gladly. He swirled his tongue around the nipple in his mouth and sucked on it languidly, kneading the other attentively at the same time. Every few moments he’d lay his tongue flat and lick over it before lightly pinching it between his teeth and lips and pulling back just enough to burn, holding it there before letting go with a wet pop. And then he’d take it into his mouth again, sucking sloppily like he was trying to nurse from him before going back to rolling his tongue around the hard bud. With his hand he alternated between broad gropes and kneads, covering the pillowy flesh with his calloused palms and feeling it spill out the gaps between his fingers, and direct attention to his nipple with his pointer and middle finger. His hands were rough from years of hard work and the coarse pads scratched over the delicate skin of Dante’s nipple as he rolled the tip between his fingers and plucked at it relentlessly.
He switched sides every so often, admiring the way goosebumps rose on Dante’s skin as he shivered at the sudden touch of cold air against his spit soaked skin. Just to be a dick he periodically pulled back to blow on him gently. Dante’s arms were locked around his shoulders, holding Nero against him with an iron grip even as his fingers brushed so gently through his hair. It felt like there was a bubble of peace around them, some invisible separation from the rest of the world. Nero hummed contentedly, lost in familiarity.
The first burst of sweetness on his tongue startled him. He pulled back, licking his lips, and stared in confusion as a bead of white gathered on a dark nipple and fell, quickly followed by more. Dante looked down at himself with equal shock.
“Fuck,” he swore, letting Nero go to grab for his discarded shirt and wipe his stomach off as rivulets of white began to pour down it and off his hips to pool on Nero’s stomach.
“Are you okay?” Nero asked, unable to help but shift his grip and rub his thumbs firm and slow over his leaking tits. He brought one to his mouth to lick curiously, and his cock twitched in Dante’s cunt at the taste. “What the fuck is happening?”
Dante’s face turned red. He buried his face in Nero’s hair and mumbled something unintelligible.
“What?” Nero asked. Dante repeated himself no clearer. Nero pinched a nipple in revenge. “I can’t fucking hear you, asshole.”
“I said I’m lactating.”
Nero's head reeled. He swallowed thickly. “Like - like milk?”
Dante glared at him, though the effect was somewhat ruined by the fact that he looked like a strawberry. “No, like fucking beer, kid, yes like milk. Now let me go so I can go clean u- ah!”
He made to stand, rising halfway off Nero’s cock. Nero got a death grip on his hips and yanked him back down roughly, punching a desperate moan out of him as he was fully seated again.
Nero’s fingers dug into his hips as his brain raced, unable to form a coherent thought beyond Dante-milk-Dante-taste?-good, make him feel good-milk-Dante. His jaw worked and he swallowed thickly. “So if you’re… and we’re… are you, like…?”
Dante rolled his eyes and then sighed heavily. “No, I’m not. I would know if I was, trust me. I think I just… I never got to do this with you, the first time around.” His voice went sad. “My body shut it down pretty quickly after I gave you up. Now that you’re back, maybe…”
Nero went lightheaded. He smoothed his hands up Dante’s sides, thumbs in the streams of milk to smear it back up over his soft stomach and ribs. “So… what you’re saying is… this is all because of me?”
“You don’t have to make it sound so accusatory," Dante huffed. “It’s not a big deal. I can go clean up and we can do something else, you don’t - “
“Let me rephrase that,” Nero said, feeling like he was having an out of body experience. The hunger and lust he’d thought he’d had before was nothing compared to what he was feeling right now. “This is all for me?"
Dante leaned back, propping himself up with hands on Nero’s thighs. His gaze traveled from the hands on his chest, massaging milk into his skin, to Nero’s face. Whatever he saw there had his eyebrows slackening, his mouth falling open a little. “Yeah, baby," he whispered. “It’s all for you.”
The words snapped whatever chains were still holding Nero’s mind in place. He lunged forwards, bowling Dante backwards so that he was now on top of him. His cock slipped out of Dante’s cunt, but Dante got a hand down between them and guided him back in with a sigh. Nero noticed none of this. All he cared about was the taste of milk on his tongue.
He keened loudly, latching onto Dante’s tit like a starving man. Milk exploded across his taste buds and he gulped it down eagerly, wiggling and kneading and groaning. He felt drunk on just a taste, addicted to the feeling, the flavor, Dante’s crooning above him and the slow rock of their bodies. His head narrowed down to a mantra of mama-love-milk-need.
“Is that good, baby?” Dante gasped, scratching his nails down Nero’s back, sending an unconscious shiver through him. He couldn’t stop moving, straining to get impossibly closer, to bridge the non-existent gap between them. He thought he might die if Dante pulled him away now. He didn’t even realize the noises he was making, purring and whining and keening as he held Dante down and drank.
Milk pooled in his mouth, too much for him to swallow at once. It dripped down his chin and smeared across their skin where they were joined. His face was probably a mess, the stickiness spreading over his nose and cheeks as it dried. He felt it running over his fingers as he kneaded the tit not in his mouth, and was struck with the realization it was going to waste. He tried to switch sides, but then that left the other tit leaking fruitlessly too, and if he pulled back to lick up the streams off Dante’s ribs and stomach then both of them went unattended. He felt lost and desperate and starving, unable to stand the thought of a single drop going anywhere but his stomach. There were probably teeth involved, but if anything that seemed to please Dante more.
The cunt around him clenched down tightly, Dante shuddering and gasping through an orgasm. Nero barely noticed. He’d probably feel bad about that later, but right now he didn’t care about anything else but quite literally milking Dante dry.
“Good boy,” Dante was saying, the words barely registering in Nero’s head. “So good for me, so good for your mama. How’s it taste, hmm? Fucking - mmph - so good for me, such a good boy. That’s it, take what you need. It’s all for you, baby. Any time you like.”
Nero whimpered, the sound and taste and fluttering of Dante’s walls around his cock pulling his own orgasm from him. He pressed in closer subconsciously, pumping his seed deep. Any time he liked? All the time. Always. Dante would be lucky to even get a second to himself now that Nero knew he could have this.
Hazy thoughts ricocheted in his brain as he drank. They had those pump things, right? Maybe Dante would be willing to do that, so Nero could still have a drink when they weren’t together. And when they were together… Nero’s head spun at the thought. How many nights could they spend like this, connected in every way. The thought of fucking Dante’s tits suddenly became a thousand times more appealing with this new addition. He could practically feel the wet glide of their skin, the mix of pre and milk, not knowing if the white drying swirls in Dante’s chest hair was milk or come.
The flow of milk in his mouth slowed and stopped. He made a heartbroken little cry, sucking harder, rougher, trying to bring back the sweet ambrosia.
Dante hissed. “Hey, hey.” He pulled Nero back by the hair, laughing softly when Nero growled and bared his teeth like a petulant pup. “No more in that one, you got it all.” His hand cupped his other tit again and brought it to Nero’s lips in a facsimile of the first time they’d ever done this, smearing the beading milk across them. “Give this one some attention, yeah?”
Nero latched on immediately and Dante gave a pleased moan. “Yeah, baby, that’s it. Take your fill.”
Nero drank to the very last drop, licking every bit of skin he could reach and gathering the milk on his face to suck off his fingers. His belly was full and warm, his head clouded with satisfaction and tranquility. Dante cupped his chin and lifted his chin to meet his eyes, smiling gently. “Come on, kid. Let’s get cleaned up. Bedtime for you, I think.”
“I’m a grown fucking man," Nero grumbled sleepily, but obediently pulled out and helped Dante to his feet. Come trickled down Dante’s thighs, and he immediately reached down to finger it back into himself. Nero slumped against him as they made their way upstairs and into Dante’s cramped shower, where he managed to gather enough energy to bat Dante’s hands away from the soap to pick it up himself and begin cleaning them both off. “Love you, mama.”
Chapped lips brushed over his forehead. “Love you too, kid.”
They fell into bed, still naked and damp. Nero nuzzled in closer, instinctively wrapping his lips around a tantalizing nipple, barely able to keep his eyes open. A hand brushed through his hair — not Dante’s.
“Hey, Verge,” Dante whispered happily, arching into the touch as Vergil’s fingers skimmed from Nero’s hair to his and back. “Welcome home.”
“Is he alright?” Vergil asked.
“Fine. Had a good evening, wore himself out," Dante replied, pleased as punch.
“Oh?”
“We made a discovery.” Smugness rolled off him in waves. “I’m lactating.”
The fingers stopped. “You’re…?”
“Not pregnant. Least, not yet. It’s just him. Just him.” Nero was pulled closer and a kiss was laid on the crown of his head. The bed shifted as Vergil lay on the other side of Dante and coaxed him into an open-mouthed kiss.
“Good,” Vergil said softly. “He… needs you.”
“You’re his father,” Dante said. “He needs us both.” And Nero fumbled blindly for Vergil’s hand and squeezed it, and Vergil clutched at him in return.
Nero fell asleep like that, nursing idly at Dante’s breast as he and Vergil kissed lazily, feeling completely and utterly whole.