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What Dante hated the most, even after everything, was that he was pleased to see Vergil. He couldn’t deny it, despite the shame and raw self-loathing that surrounded his feelings. He couldn’t say he knew his twin well, and the long years of separation had only driven home the differences between them. But he knew him enough to miss his absence. He knew him enough to feel a thin needle of happiness when Vergil appeared, even if it was fleeting. Even if it couldn’t survive the reality of Vergil, the anger and disappointment of it.
When Vergil clawed his way back into Dante’s life, it was only to cause disruption and chaos. Everything he’d built, Vergil destroyed. His friendships, his reputation, everything he had, Vergil swept it aside like it was nothing.
And Dante had let him, last time, too stunned by the reappearance of the twin he’d lost in childhood to defend himself.
He wasn’t managing much better this time, even though he’d had a year to get used to the idea of Vergil again.
Vergil walked into the office like he owned it, and Dante could only stand there, leaning against his desk. He folded his arms across his bare chest and glared at Vergil, then decided he looked defensive. He hesitated for a moment, then slanted one hip to sit up on his desk. He propped himself back on his palms, hoping to convey a sense of unconcern. His hair, still damp from his shower, dripped down his spine. He could hear his heartbeat thudding in his ears.
Vergil’s contemptuous gaze swept over the office, over everything Dante had, before locking onto him. It was strange to see his own face mirrored back at him, a colder version of his own features. Vergil seemed unchanged since their last meeting. His dark clothing was tidy, impeccably tailored, and covered over with a long, blue coat. He carried the Yamato in his hand easily, as though it was a part of him.
Dante kept the lights off to save money, but despite the shadows in the office he could still see Vergil perfectly well. The afternoon’s strange red sky sent a soft glow through the windows, and the warm light a sharp contrast to Vergil’s presence. His icy stare reminded Dante that some people thought the depths of Hell were frozen solid.
“What are you doing here?” he blurted, immediately feeling like he’d conceded the first round. He forced himself to relax, unable to risk taking his eyes off Vergil. Instead, he kicked his boots idly against the side of his desk, trying to show that he didn’t care that Vergil was here. That it didn’t bother him. At all.
“Is this your home now?” Vergil asked, lip curling. He ignored Dante’s question.
“Sure is,” Dante said. “And the door’s just there, behind you. I don’t care if it hits you on your way out.”
Vergil scoffed at that, walking further into the office. He nudged a magazine with the tip of his boot, read the title, and sighed in disgust.
“You want to live like they do,” he said, more a statement than a question. “You know that’s impossible.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Dante lied. “Get out.”
Vergil kept walking closer, and Dante’s fingers itched for a weapon. He kept himself still, but it took effort. He wondered if Vergil could hear his pulse quicken and hated that the answer was probably yes.
“You haven’t even heard what I have to say,” Vergil said, reasonably.
“You never have anything interesting to talk about. I doubt you’ve come up with anything new in the last year. Power. Legacy. You’re a broken record. Do you know what that is?” Dante gestured to the jukebox standing in the corner.
Vergil raised an eyebrow. “You surround yourself with human trifles.”
“Still better than any of your hobbies. If you have hobbies. No, don’t tell me. I don’t want to know.”
“That’s too bad, Dante.” There was a hint of mockery in Vergil’s words. “I came all this way, just for you.”
Dante floundered at that for a moment, hating how those words made him feel. The idea that Vergil thought he was worth something warmed him, even if he knew he’d be stupid to believe it. He rallied after a moment, shaking his head.
“I can’t imagine why you would.” He straightened up and gestured towards the door. “Get out.”
Vergil stopped for a moment, the faintest hint of a smile on his lips. “I’ll leave when I’ve gotten what I came for.”
“You’ll leave with nothing. Get lost, Vergil.” Dante knew as he said it that Vergil wasn’t listening. He stayed still, breathing quietly, tensing for the fight he knew was heading towards him.
Vergil ignored him and came closer. He stepped up to the desk, crowding into Dante’s space. He nudged Dante’s knees apart and stood there, waiting for a reaction.
Dante’s skin crawled, but he refused to give any ground. He barely suppressed a shiver and hated that Vergil saw the effort. Vergil hadn’t laid a hand on him last time, not in any way that mattered. He’d shoved a sword through Dante, and killed his friends, and kicked him while he was down, but he hadn’t touched Dante, skin to skin. Dante didn’t know why he was thinking about that possibility now, why he was worried about it. If worried was the right word for what he was feeling.
Vergil locked eyes with him, staring him down. Dante detested games like these but played along anyway. Vergil was too close to him, his presence overwhelming, his pale eyes darkening as he looked at Dante. He smelled like the wintertime, like cold and snow, and Dante’s flesh reacted to it as though Vergil was radiating a chill. His skin pebbled with goosebumps, and his nipples tightened painfully.
“You aren’t very welcoming,” Vergil said. He leaned the Yamato against the desk, then reached out and dragged a fingertip over Dante’s clavicle. It felt like a spark at first, like a static shock passing between them.
Dante forced himself to hold still, but the sensation lingered as the physical touch ended. The echo of their connection began to burn, as though Vergil had raked his nails over Dante’s collarbone. He winced as the pain built, and shoved Vergil away from him.
“Yeah, that’s because you aren’t welcome.”
“Still angry about last time, then?”
“Oh no, I’m happy to go another round with you,” Dante said, as though Vergil hadn’t thoroughly and viciously trounced him the last time they’d met. The year apart hadn’t softened it: the realization that his twin was alive, followed by bewilderment, followed by pain. And then he’d spent a quarter of an hour on the ground, staring up at Vergil, a sword through his belly.
He wasn’t sure what had been more hurtful: that Vergil had been alive all this time and avoiding him, or that Vergil’s interest in him was purely proprietary. It’d wounded him, either way, and that was before he’d refused to go along with Vergil’s plans, before Vergil had cut him down like it was nothing. He’d thought that might have been the end of it, that he’d disappointed Vergil enough that he wouldn’t bother with him anymore. But here was Vergil, back again, as though he just couldn’t bring himself to leave Dante alone.
Vergil cocked his head to the side. “I doubt that,” he said. He took a step back, ceding Dante a bit of space. “Where’s your amulet?”
“I knew it,” Dante muttered. “Nowhere you’ll ever find it.” A wave of dizziness washed over him, and he braced himself against the desk again, feeling off balance. “What did you do to me?”
“You’ll find out, soon enough,” Vergil said. “As much as I’d love to beat you into submission, I have other things to do today. So.” He gestured at Dante, and Dante felt his limbs go heavy.
He fought it as much as he could, but it was clear that Vergil had poisoned him with something both fast acting and extremely effective. His vision blurred, the room tilted, and when Vergil used one hand to push him onto the desk, Dante went down on his back and stayed there. A thin line of fire pulsed on his clavicle, spreading invisibly outward and down until his chest ached and his cock ached and he could feel his arousal, hot and slick between his legs.
Vergil leaned over him to examine his work, and Dante tried and failed to headbutt him.
“None of that, now,” Vergil said. He pressed his palm to Dante’s forehead as though checking for fever.
“Get away from me,” Dante growled, slurring his words slightly. “What did you do to me?”
“I’m helping you,” Vergil said, as though he was doing Dante a huge favour, as though Dante should be grateful for his attention. He trailed his fingers across Dante’s chest, pausing to twist a nipple. Dante jolted at the touch as though he’d been shocked. His back arched, and he smacked the back of his head hard against the top of the desk.
“Careful,” Vergil chided. “You’ll hurt yourself.” His hand drifted to Dante’s other nipple and pinched it viciously.
“Ow, what the hell,” Dante snapped, startled at just how sensitive his skin was to touch, and at how quickly pain bled into pleasure. He forced himself to focus and tried to sit up. He couldn’t. His limbs felt like they were filled with lead. He could clench his hands into fists, barely, but he couldn’t lift them off the desk. He thought about kicking Vergil away but couldn’t get his knee up. His body wouldn’t cooperate. He was stuck on his back on the desk, panting and aroused, with his sadistic asshole of a twin watching him with the kind of interest a hawk would offer a rabbit.
Vergil slid his hands down Dante’s chest and over his stomach, and Dante tensed, waiting for violence that didn’t arrive.
“You’re worried that I’ll hurt you?” he asked.
“That’d be like you, don’t you think?” Dante snarled. “You dosed me with something, and now you’re getting handsy. Fuck off, Vergil.”
Vergil shrugged. The gesture looked strange on him, something casual and human-like. He dragged his thumb down Dante’s zipper, pressing on his hard cock. Dante bucked up into the touch, surprised both at his reaction and that he could move just enough to humiliate himself. He glared at Vergil, who raised one eyebrow and touched him again.
“I said, hands off.”
Vergil deftly opened Dante’s trousers, lifting him easily to slide them down and off his hips. He bent to tug off Dante’s boots before stripping him completely. Dante tried and failed to kick him again. Vergil moved him around how he wanted, and Dante felt like a ragdoll, frustrated and helpless. Freed from his trousers, his cock stiffened further, jutting upright. It brushed against his belly when Vergil lifted his hips to reposition him. Vergil pushed his knees apart and looked at his cunt.
“Fucking pervert,” Dante snarled.
“I was wondering if you were like me,” Vergil said, thoughtfully. He peeled off his gloves, then removed his coat and folded it carefully. He pulled Dante further down the desk, so that he was draped uncomfortably over the edge.
“We’re twins, aren’t we?”
Vergil’s mouth twitched in response, almost a smile. Without any preamble, he pushed two fingers into Dante’s warm, wet cunt.
Dante jolted at the touch, startled and furious. Vergil’s hands were cold, and his fingers stretched him open with a sharp pinching sensation.
“Don’t,” he snapped. His traitorous body squeezed Vergil’s fingers as he said it, undermining his protest.
Vergil gave him a bored look, as though there was absolutely nothing wrong with what he was doing to Dante. “You’re wet enough for it. Tight though. Have you been fucked before?”
“That’s none of your business,” Dante said.
“So, no?” Vergil suggested.
Dante clenched his jaw and refused to explain. He’d learned quickly that he was different from others in more ways than one. After a few humiliating encounters, he made sure to have sex in positions that kept his partners from noticing anything unusual about his parts. He fucked with his cock, and sometimes let others have his ass, and didn’t let anyone near his cunt. If his partners expressed disappointment that he only wanted to fuck in the dark, he didn’t care. He’d never had more than his own finger up his cunt, and that was the way he’d intended to keep it. It wasn’t like Vergil had asked first, though.
Vergil pushed his fingers in deeper, as far as he could get them, his knuckles brushing against Dante’s entrance. He withdrew them, then added a third finger and shoved them all back inside. Dante grunted with pain and surprise, his cock leaking onto his stomach.
“Fuck off, Vergil,” he said again.
“You got wetter when I hurt you,” Vergil said, thoughtfully. He glanced at Dante’s swollen cock, then looked meaningfully at Dante.
“I fucking hate you,” Dante snarled.
Vergil seemed to find that amusing. He curled his fingers inside of Dante, repeating the gesture when Dante’s body clenched down around him. He pulled his fingers all the way out then jammed them back inside roughly.
Dante yelped, trying ineffectively to kick him away. His body felt feverish, craving the contact. He hated that his body liked it, that it responded to Vergil’s touch with a desperate kind of enthusiasm. He looked up at Vergil, feeling his fingertips slide deeper, rubbing over some very sensitive areas. It seemed like he had Vergil’s complete and focused attention, as though he’d finally done something interesting enough to deserve it. Dante buried that thought in the back of his brain and tried again to fight his way upright. His cunt squeezed hard around Vergil’s fingers, enough that Vergil looked him in the eyes and smiled. Dante wanted to kill him.
Vergil fucked him with his fingers until he was shivering and gasping in pain. Dante couldn’t move much, just enough to writhe ineffectively on the desk. It didn’t seem like Vergil was trying to hurt him deliberately, but he didn’t care that Dante was sore. He pumped his fingers into Dante’s tight little cunt over and over and ignored the fact that Dante didn’t want it.
Dante couldn’t get away from him. He tried to move as much as he could, tensing his body, arching away from Vergil’s touch. He was wet, and sore, and Vergil was implacable. Dante felt his orgasm building and tried with all his willpower to prevent it from happening. He came hard, despite himself, clenching down on Vergil’s fingers as a wave of pleasure rolled over him.
“Fuck you, fuck you,” he panted, hating that he was getting off to this.
Vergil kept going, shoving his fingers in as deep as he could get them. He braced his other hand against Dante’s hip and held him down with his weight. He fucked Dante through it, watching him shudder in pleasure under him.
“I hate you,” Dante gasped. He tried again to free himself, but it was all he could do to catch his breath. He couldn’t lift his hands. He sprawled limply on his back and gulped for air.
Vergil pulled his fingers free and wiped them on Dante’s thigh.
“And yet you still managed to come with just my fingers inside you,” he said. His hands slid over Dante’s bare thighs, casually possessive. He moved Dante how he wanted, pulling him closer, keeping his legs forced apart.
“Get off me,” Dante said, panting.
“The strong control the weak,” Vergil said. “And you’re too weak to fight against me. You can’t even get up off the desk. If you didn’t want to be fucked like this, you’d do something about it.”
Dante heaved against his leaden limbs with all the strength he could find. He tried to thrash, to kick Vergil away, to lift his fists to defend himself. He couldn’t, though. It was like his body was exhausted beyond all function. He barely managed to turn his head. He watched Vergil unbutton his trousers and pull out his cock, stroking it until it swelled in his hand, a perfect match to Dante’s own.
“Get away from me,” Dante said.
Vergil caught him behind his knees, lifting his legs and folding him nearly in half.
“Make me,” he said.
“I’ll kill you for this.”
“Without power, your threats are empty.” Vergil pressed the head of his cock to Dante’s slick cunt. He waited a moment, watching Dante, as though he expected Dante to finally gather enough strength to struggle effectively.
Dante tried. And failed. And tried again.
“Don’t,” he said, finally, feeling the tip press inside.
“If you wanted to stop me, you would,” said Vergil, and shoved into him with one swift thrust.
Dante yelped in pain as his sore cunt was stretched open further. He clenched inadvertently around Vergil’s hard cock, a deep ache going all through him as his body tried to accommodate the intrusion. It felt a bit like getting stabbed, the shock of penetration, the sensation of something pushing inside.
Vergil pressed deeper, then held still. His breathing roughened, and he rested his weight on Dante for a moment. Dante tried to summon something scathing to say, but he couldn’t form the words. Instead, he panted with Vergil, chest to chest, thinking that maybe his twin was just as overwhelmed as he was.
Vergil seemed to gather himself. He took more of his own weight, pulling Dante with him until he had Dante closer to the edge of the desk. He looked down at Dante consideringly, then lifted his legs to fold him in two again.
“You fucker,” Dante slurred at him, but Vergil had regained his composure and ignored him.
Vergil began again, pulling out just a little before pushing back in. He kept a steady pace, kept Dante mostly filled, his hands bruising Dante’s hips. Dante heard a sound and realized he was moaning, short little gasps as pain flowed into pleasure and back again. Vergil fucked him hard but unhurriedly, and Dante’s body responded as though it’d been made solely for this purpose. If he’d been able to move, he would’ve wrapped his legs around Vergil and chased his own pleasure, but instead he could only take it.
The force of Vergil’s thrusts jolted him along the desk, which creaked under their combined weight. Dante made the mistake of looking up at Vergil, and saw his own face mirrored back at him. Vergil’s hair had fallen over his eyes, making them look truly identical. His lips were parted slightly, his breathing a bit faster but still mostly under control. Vergil stared down at him, and Dante felt pinned in place by his gaze as much as anything else.
Vergil seemed more interested this time. He watched Dante’s every flinch attentively, shifting their positions slightly when Dante seemed to cramp. He leaned down over Dante, closer and closer until his lips brushed over Dante’s own.
“Don’t,” Dante gasped, as though Vergil had ever listened to him, as though Vergil would start now.
He kissed Dante hard, and Dante’s body responded of its own volition. He kissed Vergil back, startled, his response automatic and beyond his control. Vergil kissed him again, proving the first time hadn’t been an accident, and Dante couldn’t help himself. He kissed back, knowing he should defend himself and bite but instead offering up his mouth. Vergil thrust his tongue inside, and Dante found himself sucking on it, moaning for it. His cunt clenched around Vergil, his body shuddering. Vergil fucked him with his cock, and fucked his mouth with his tongue, and Dante’s entire awareness narrowed to the places where Vergil was inside him, hurting him, pleasing him. He came so hard he saw stars.
Vergil shook him awake a few moments later. He’d pulled out, and Dante could feel his come dripping out of him. His own cock had spilled across his belly, making a mess but not softening even a little. Vergil watched him, his expression slightly puzzled, or maybe he was just startled at the strength of Dante’s second orgasm. Dante didn’t care. He wished Vergil would fuck off and told him so.
“Leave me alone,” he mumbled, still half delirious with the aftershocks of pleasure.
Vergil frowned at him. “I have something else for you,” he said.
“Well, I’m not interested. Get away from me.”
“Who knows, maybe you’ll like it? After the way you just c-”
“Fuck off, Vergil,” Dante said, managing to keep some of what he was feeling out of his voice. He still sounded awfully raw, though. Dazed, and well fucked, but definitely not hysterical. Definitely not shaking apart at what his twin had done to him, and how he’d responded to it.
“Not yet,” Vergil said. He absently massaged a cramp out of Dante’s thigh, his thumb sliding along the muscle.
Dante tried again to get up, his limbs heavy with post-coital languidness in addition to whatever poison or spell Vergil had dosed him with.
“I will hunt you down for this,” he threatened, hating that his voice was rough with arousal.
“I’m counting on it,” Vergil said, and transformed.
It was like standing beside a whirlwind of sharpened ice. Dante flinched hard but couldn’t get away. Vergil stood over him, head crowned with horns that arched towards the ceiling. Blue scales covered where both skin and clothing had been, moments before. He seethed with power, the aura of it radiating outward around him, seeming to absorb what little light remained in the office. The pressure of Vergil’s presence was nearly unbearable. It made Dante want to rip his skin off.
“What the fuck?” Dante gasped. “What have you done?”
Vergil didn’t answer, instead running a clawed hand possessively over Dante’s flank. Between his legs, scales softened to reveal a dripping slit. Vergil growled softly, the sound reverberating through Dante’s chest, rattling the windows in their panes. A huge cock slid outwards from between the scales, thick and heavy with long ridges. Dante fought with all his strength and managed to move an inch further away. Vergil made a rumbling sound, and Dante realized he was being laughed at.
“Fuck you,” he swore, and then flinched again when Vergil stepped closer.
Dante braced himself, but it was pointless. He had no more chance of getting away now than he’d had earlier. Vergil pressed the monstrous cock up against him, rubbing it over Dante’s thighs and belly before positioning it between his spread legs.
“Vergil,” Dante began, unsure of what he could say that would prevent this from happening. He could feel the tip of it, huge and hard with rough edges, pressing against his cunt. He gasped when Vergil started to push inside him, feeling like he was being split in two.
It hurt, but his body seemed primed for it. Vergil moved carefully, as though he cared about Dante’s comfort. Not enough to not hurt him, but enough to keep from damaging him irreparably. Dante could feel every inch of it slowly forcing its way inside, opening him up, filling him completely. Agony sang along his nerve-endings. The sensation was bright and sharp in a way he couldn’t ignore. He chased after the pain until he came out the other side of it, into a strange delirium.
It seemed impossible, but his body accepted the intrusion. It was as if his body knew it was Vergil, and that Vergil belonged inside of him, and that they belonged together. He panted frantically, feeling Vergil push deeper. He couldn’t move, couldn’t do anything but take it, sprawled open on his own desk, fucked by something monstrous that he knew was his twin. He felt like his brain was twisting apart in his head.
Each thrust arched his back, shoving him along the desk. It hurt, but his body wanted it. It felt better than anything, like he was made for it, like he was exactly where he should be. Dante tried to gather his thoughts enough to hate it, but sensation kept sweeping them out of reach. He could hear himself moaning, sounding desperate, sounding like he’d die if he didn’t keep getting fucked exactly like this.
Dante lost track of time. Vergil’s taloned fingertips dug into his hips, pulling him repeatedly onto the monstrous cock, forcing it deeper inside him. His cunt clenched around it so that he could feel every spine, every bruising ridge. His orgasm caught him off guard, a sudden shock of intense pleasure that rippled through him. He came with a groan, spilling onto his stomach. His body arched with it, coming so hard it felt like a convulsion, worried that he’d tear himself in two. He felt strange, as though he might claw his way out of his own body, as though there was something inside of him that was almost awake. Dante tried to follow the thought, but he couldn’t focus, pinned beneath the monstrous form of Vergil.
Vergil picked up the pace, and Dante thought it might kill him. He moaned, desperate and overwhelmed, his body trembling. He was scared to look down at himself, scared he’d see the bulge of Vergil’s cock inside him. He tried to keep his gaze on the ceiling instead, the tips of Vergil’s horns just in his vision. Vergil fucked him pitilessly, and Dante shuddered under him like it was the only thing he could possibly do.
He barely noticed as Vergil reached for his own pleasure, the thrusts so rough already that a few harder strokes didn’t register. Vergil growled, hips stuttering, filling him with scalding hot fluid. He pulled out abruptly and a lot of it followed, spilling out of Dante and onto the floor. Vergil settled back into his human form and spent a moment watching his come drip out of Dante. He reached for Dante’s jaw and forced him to meet his gaze.
“I can’t hold it for long, but you get the idea,” he said. “You took that better than I expected.” He let go, and Dante’s head thudded against the desk. Vergil was slightly out of breath, a faint hint of pink across his cheekbones, looking more human than Dante had ever seen him. He studied Dante carefully. “I thought that would have done it,” he said.
“What are you talking about?” Dante whispered. He was still out of breath, his body limp and exhausted. He couldn’t think about what had been done to him, the devil pushing inside of him, the pleasure of being forced open. He shoved the memory of it as far away as he could.
Vergil thumbed his nipple, and Dante flinched.
“I was hoping you would help yourself,” he said, as though that made any sense at all. He watched Dante thoughtfully for a moment, then walked around the desk.
Dante heard a drawer open, then another, and the rustle of papers.
“Stay out of my stuff.”
“You’ll thank me, later,” Vergil said. He walked back around to Dante, grabbed his arm, and rolled him over.
“I doubt that,” said Dante, feeling warm come smear over his belly where he was pressed against the desk. He ached all over. “What are you doing?”
Vergil didn’t answer, just settled between Dante’s thighs. He gripped his hips and tugged him closer, so that Dante was bent over the desk. Dante’s legs couldn’t support him, but Vergil kept him from falling.
“Don’t touch me. Vergil, I don’t want it. Vergil, I’m-” Dante forced himself to stop before he finished the statement. He didn’t need to tell Vergil he was sore. Vergil knew it. Vergil had caused it. He didn’t need to beg. He hadn’t yet. “Get away from me.”
“One last round, Dante,” Vergil said. “Just because.”
Dante felt the cool, soothing touch of lube before he felt Vergil’s fingertip in him. He didn’t know why Vergil would bother and fought down the desperate spike of gratitude he felt anyway. Vergil didn’t prep him much. He spread lube on Dante’s hole and opened him up with a finger. Dante felt Vergil’s weight on him, and then the hard press of his cock against his ass.
He moaned when Vergil thrust into him, the stretch eased by the lubricant and the fact that Dante knew what to expect. He forced himself to relax and almost managed it. Vergil reached under him and made sure his cock wasn’t trapped against the desk and Dante hated that he felt grateful for that too. Vergil kept his thrusts slow and steady, paused to add a little more lube, and then seemed to do his best to please him. It was maybe the most merciful thing he’d ever done for Dante.
Dante took it because he had to, startled when Vergil nudged against his prostate. He gasped, and then moaned when Vergil found it again, thrusting harder this time. He hit Dante’s prostate repeatedly, until Dante was dizzy with pleasure. Dante would have pushed back against him if he’d had the strength. Instead, he let himself drift in sensation. He came with a grunt, wincing as his oversensitive cock spilled against the side of the desk and onto the floor. He felt Vergil follow him almost immediately with a few sharper thrusts.
“I hate you,” he muttered, and wondered if he meant it, even now. Vergil’s weight across his back was the only thing preventing him from rolling off the desk.
Vergil stayed on top of him for a moment, until they matched each other, breath for breath. Dante flinched when Vergil pulled out.
“I know,” said Vergil. He ran his hands over Dante as though checking for injuries. His touch was gentle, and Dante despised that too.
Vergil hauled him upright and caught him as he fell, bundling him into his arms and lifting him easily. He carried Dante to the sofa and laid him down on it.
“It will wear off soon enough.”
Dante couldn’t find any words, so he didn’t say anything. He glared up at Vergil, shivering.
Vergil straightened his clothing, looking completely unruffled, as though he hadn’t just spent his afternoon fucking Dante by force. He didn’t look sorry about it at all. He glanced around the office, then disappeared into the bathroom. Dante heard running water and wanted to kill him.
Vergil reappeared a few minutes later. He held a cloth in his hand and spread Dante’s legs with the other. Dante couldn’t stop him. He recoiled at the touch as though he’d been stung. Vergil gave no sign that he noticed or cared. He wiped Dante clean with a brusque efficiency.
“You’ll heal,” he said. He found Dante’s red coat and covered him with it.
“Fuck you,” Dante said. “Get out.” It came out too softly, almost inaudible. He ached all over, but especially between his legs, a horrible aching hollow, deep inside. The pain intensified as his body began to figure out what was wrong and repair it. The bruises on his hips itched as they faded.
Vergil watched him, lingering when Dante thought he’d depart.
“I won’t leave you unprotected,” Vergil said, as though he wasn’t responsible for Dante’s current state. He sat on the sofa beside Dante in an elegant sprawl, one leg tucked beneath him. His gaze was attentive and predatory, the kind of possessiveness that looked more like obsession with each passing moment. “I thought you’d put up more of a fight,” he said idly, as though he’d expected more from Dante, as though he’d expected better.
“I told you to leave,” Dante said, the words tasting bitter in his mouth. He managed to lift his head enough to look at Vergil, hating his twin and hating himself.
“Don’t cry, Dante,” Vergil said, reaching out to wipe a tear from Dante’s cheek. He didn’t make the scathing comment about humans and weakness that Dante would’ve expected from him. Instead, he studied Dante’s face, his expression thoughtful.
“I’m not,” Dante gritted out. “I’m going to kill you,” he said, and meant it.
Vergil didn’t seem impressed. He waited in silence for a few more minutes, then stood. He picked up his coat and the Yamato and brushed his hair back off his forehead. “I’ll see you later tonight,” he said. “We’ll try again.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Dante growled at him, but Vergil was gone.
A moment later, he could move again, relief flooding through him. He dragged himself upright, legs shaking, and staggered to the office’s front door.
The street outside was quiet and still. There was no sign of Vergil. Dante limped back to the sofa and put his head in his hands.
Later that night, when the desolation of the tower matched the emptiness in his heart, he figured out what Vergil had meant.