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When Vergil opened a portal like any other time he had in the last few years, he hadn’t expected to traverse time as well as space. He knew that his portal-opening skills were regrettably untrained, though at least he wasn’t ripping black holes through the delicate threads that were his reality. He had gotten lost in different cities, different countries, but there was no other way of improving this skill other than practice.
As he often did, he blamed Dante. It was likely the excitement of finding out his brother was still alive that muddled his judgement as well as his perception. When Vergil drew a cross into the air and took another faithful step into his portal, he came out the other end into the right place, Dante’s shop. Unassuming, though more lived in than Vergil might have expected. Dante’s business must have been doing swimmingly for him to afford all of these useless luxuries. A neon sign indoors was completely unwarranted. Surely any customer knew what they were getting into when they entered Devil May Cry (what a gauche name he picked for his business)—they surely didn’t need another reminder of their terrible choices when they made it inside.
The shop seemed empty at first, though the lights were turned on, which might have proved that someone was indoors if Dante didn’t happen to be the kind of boy who would leave his electricity running. But portals were no quiet business, a loud and abrasive rippling of demon miasma to the senses, and the back door was yanked open before Vergil could even take two steps.
Two men rushed in. Neither of them were Dante, well into their middle-age, but they sported the same silvery-white hair and blue eyes and pale skin and…
“Vergil?” Dante said, his face fraught with an awe that Vergil found himself nostalgic for.
“Dante?” Vergil replied, hushed, voice betraying disbelief.
“Vergil,” The man beside Dante spoke, and only then did Vergil recognize him as himself. Even decades later, he carried himself with the same air, though Vergil could sense his ironed calm compared to his own bristling, puberty-addled anger.
Dante turned to his brother. Then he slapped his shoulder. “You didn’t tell me you teleported to the future!”
This older version of himself pinched the bridge of his nose. “I didn’t know,” he said, then he winced, the veins in his forehead throbbing violently. Vergil was briefly appalled that he let himself go like this, showing weakness in front of Dante. “The longer he remains, the more I remember.”
“So you’re catching up in real time, huh?” Dante said. Now he made moves to get closer, but the portal behind Vergil had already closed up and he had nowhere to retreat. Sneaky, underhanded, just what he’d expect of his little brother. The shock of time-travelling rendered Vergil still anyway, freeze conquering his fight or flight. He wanted to say something, to fight away their invasive examination of his flesh, to prove that he was something other than a lab rat. But he was also rendered speechless.
Dante poked him. Vergil’s nose twitched like an angry dog.
“Hey, don’t look so annoyed. This is a golden opportunity. How old are you? Seventeen? Eighteen? Have you started working on your little tower-building project yet?”
Vergil felt rage ignite in his blood, and it broke him out of his stupor. Enough for him to open his mouth, but before he could speak, his older self interjected.
“Dante, stop. Time is a fragile thing. As much as I would rather relieve myself of my unforgivable past, do not take it upon yourself to meddle.” Vergil said. Even though he had told Dante not to interfere, there was a weight to his words and an elusive past that encroached on Vergil’s curiosity. Annoyed, he thought of his older counterpart as a bit of a hypocrite.
“Return home,” that man said, and waved him away dismissively. He took Dante by the arm, and Vergil caught how he rubbed his thumb around the loose skin on Dante’s elbow.
Only now did Vergil have time to process his eventual but incoming reality. In a few decades he would be with Dante again, a far cry from when he had realized Dante was alive just a week ago. This was the first time he had seen Dante face-to-face since they were children, and not even the report and photographs of Dante as Tony Redgrave did any justice for the real thing.
Dante was a sight to behold, but Vergil had not expected himself to be reacquainted with his brother again. Certainly not enough to warrant them being in the same space without coming to blows, as the messy and uncleaned but not decimated interior indicated an air of complacent, if not begrudging cohabitation.
Under this visage of complacency was a realization that he had failed in his goals to open the gate to the demon world, if his future self wallowed in this disgusting domesticity, if Dante was still up and kicking and enjoying his miserable, lazy existence. They might have decided not to relinquish information to him, but no one said he could not pry on his own.
“No,” Vergil croaked.
Other-Vergil stopped in his tracks.
“No?”
“No. I need to find out what has weakened me so that I’ve given up on my ambitions and gotten indolent,” Vergil sneered. He didn't fail to catch the flare of his older self’s nostrils, the pinch in his brow. Yes, that was what he’d been missing, that rage. His coals were not all burnt out, it seemed.
But in a shocking moment, Vergil deferred to Dante for his opinion, casting him a curt but meaningful glance before Dante shrugged. Then he pulled him in for a whisper that Vergil knew he knew he was meant to hear.
“He’s cute,” Dante whispered, and Vergil’s face flushed hot. Was that his entire argument? “Just send him back yourself if he gets to be too much.”
It was, in fact, his entire argument.
When they split, Vergil’s older counterpart looked decisive. “Suit yourself,” he said. He pulled on Dante’s ear. “But behave,” he told Dante, and something in Vergil broke when his younger brother looked up at that mimicry of himself with a devotion that Vergil hadn’t seen since he was a child.
“Yes!” Dante cheered. He bounded back for Vergil, who leaned back a wary step in the face of the excitable large dog that was his brother a few decades aged. “Long trip, wasn’t it? We got some pizza in the fridge—” Vergil’s mind short-circuited at the thought that he had grown accustomed to eating pizza of all things, and Dante’s voice lowered and secretive, “-or do you wanna play some pool? Vergil over there doesn’t like to, ‘cause I keep beating him–ow!” He yelped, as Vergil’s older self smacked him on the head with Yamato’s scabbard.
“Leave him be.”
“I’m trying to be a good host here!”
Vergil tapped the side of his head. “Don't forget, I’m remembering this in real time. I know best. And I know that I didn’t want you assaulting me with a billiards stick.”
“Fine,” Dante moaned, “brother knows best.” But he shot Vergil a sharp, fanged smirk. “Make yourself at home, Verg. Because this will be—”
His brother smacked him again.
“Okay, okay, I get it!”
They kept more of a watchful eye than Vergil thought. The first time he made his way for the door, he was faced with a mirror of himself before he could even blink.
“No can do, buddy,” Dante said, clapping a hand on Vergil’s shoulder. He too was vigilant and quick enough to corner Vergil from behind. As if he and his brother worked in seamless tandem.
They were complacent, but Vergil could sense that they were much stronger, unparalleled but with each other. Future-Vergil he was relieved hadn’t lost his sharp edge, but Dante seemed to be as equally matched, to either Vergil’s dismay or excitement. He was bristling to fight them regardless, but opening the gates to the demon world was his priority, and he couldn’t risk anything that would set him back.
Older-Vergil did not give him the time of day except to trap him inside. Dante, on the other hand, was extremely chatty, even if Vergil replied in one or two-syllable answers. Perhaps his Vergil didn’t give him enough attention and stimulation, and Dante was taking out his hyperactive energy on a teenager who might be more equally matched to his spirited energy. To his credit, that gave Vergil the perfect opportunity to weasel information out of Dante. He was more weak-willed of the two, after all, and Vergil thought that trait to be immutable in his brother.
Night fell, and Vergil’s older counterpart retired upstairs to read, doors obstructing them the only way he’d be undisturbed from Dante at least for a while. Too much faith given to his little brother to restrain their surprise guest, Vergil thought. A severe miscalculation. Even if Dante was physically stronger, his mental fortitude was wobbly and he was, frankly, very dim.
He approached Dante at his desk. Dante was reading too, leering at a porn mag in his lap. Vergil almost snorted. He certainly read at his level of competence.
“Dante,” Vergil said.
“Hm?” Dante looked up at Vergil, then when he saw Vergil looking down, his gaze followed, then at Vergil again. Vergil could see the slow-turning gears churn and squeal in Dante’s thick skull. Vergil might have expected Dante to hide the magazine in the presence of a teenager, but he had hoped for too much.
“Wanna check it out?” Dante teased, flapping the magazine in his face. Vergil caught glimpses of skin between those pages. “I don’t mind sharing, and it’d probably do you more good. You’re about that age. Flipping skirts, chasing tails–”
“I’m fine. I want to…” he bit his cheek, “chat.”
“Ooh, getting me when I’m all alone and defenseless," Dante said, winking, and Vergil scowled as his face turned pink. To his benefit, Dante took his blush as a sign of forwardness, so he wouldn’t have to wheedle information out of his brother too much. “Aw, don’t be shy. Didn’t mean to tease you, kiddo.”
Vergil wanted nothing more than to get this over with.
“You dress more reasonably than I expected. A far cry from your fashion choices when you were my age.”
Dante’s expression brightened, but he didn’t jump to respond as quickly as Vergil had hoped. He was still juggling the right words to say.
“Had to grow out of it one day,” Dante eventually said. “‘Sides, I don’t think Vergil would let me out of the shop if I looked like how I did when I was a teenager.”
“You do look better when you treat your body as sacred.”
Dante’s eyes gleamed. “So you’ve always wanted to tell me what to do with my body, haven’t you?”
Vergil snorted. “I just want you to represent what a son of Sparda should look like.”
“Ha! I forgot how much of a one-track mind you had. I’ll have you know Vergil doesn’t want me wearing that strappy thing for an entirely different reason.”
So he had lost his way, even though he didn’t need Dante to tell him for him to know. He was getting warmer.
“We seem to be doing well considering our tumultuous past.”
Dante’s eyes softened. “Ah, yeah.” He looked away wistfully, and he appeared more profound and wizened than Vergil expected, though he supposed that came with age. “We had our ups and downs. Took us a long time for us to get where we are now…”
Vergil waited for him to expound.
“Excited for our future?” Dante asked, tilting his head in a fashion he might consider cute.
“Hmph.” Knowing that Dante would be dissatisfied with that, Vergil said “I wonder what path I’ll need to take to get here with you.”
“No spoilers! You’ll get there when you get there. But it’s a great and grand tale. Full of despair, yearning, romance, all of those good bits in a story.”
“Sounds melodramatic,” Vergil said.
“Mm, yeah… hey, trying to get some dirt out of me? You’re the one who told me I shouldn’t say a peep,” Dante said, smirking.
“That man isn’t me,” Vergil said defensively. “He’s a possibility of what I might become.”
“Suuure.” Dante said, raising his eyebrows. It was clear he was just indulging Vergil’s obstinance like a child’s fairytales. “But I’m not trying to mess up any time-space-continuum here, so I’m with Vergil on this one.”
Vergil felt his blood simmering. Dante probably felt it too, and he got up, preparing to make a stand.
Vergil was already tall, but Dante had a few inches more on him. He had always known Dante to be the same height as him, and even then, Vergil had always jut his proud chin so high that he could lord over his brother. Jutting his chin out did nothing now but force him to stare upwards at that guile brat, whose smiles only seemed to be spurred on by Vergil’s glare.
“Hey, don’t be like that. Look, I’ll play nice. I’ll give you a hint of what’s to come,” Dante said.
“What?”
He kissed Vergil.
Vergil’s eyes went wide, staring into Dante’s closed eyelids where he could see the faint blue veins through his tanned skin. It was chaste, at first, but it was performative for Vergil’s benefit, as once he sighed into Dante’s mouth, Dante’s tongue snuck past their lips and knocked on Vergil’s teeth. It was his first kiss. So really, he couldn’t be at fault for giving in to that initial shock, and Dante’s sly tongue was allowed in like a wolf in sheep’s clothing. It wetted Vergil’s dry mouth, licking over his teeth and gums in a way that made Vergil’s bones shiver, and then prodded at his own limp tongue to get him to play with Dante.
Clumsily, Vergil tried to match Dante’s tonguing, even though in the playground of their mouths Dante outmatched him in speed and in skill. It fought him out of breath, and Vergil had to pull away, rather unhappily, to gasp.
“What,” he said.
Dante’s eyes glimmered. “What, you didn’t want to?”
Vergil went in for another chance at Dante’s mouth, knowing he would still lose.
All but his lips were frozen again, this time because he didn’t know what to do with the rest of his body, and Dante took advantage to run his hands down Vergil’s body. Never one to mince words or actions, in seconds he went for Vergil’s groin, and Vergil almost buckled under the pressure that mounted him.
“Little guy’s hard already…” Dante giggled into Vergil’s mouth, and Vergil bit his brother’s tongue.
The next time they parted, it was on Dante’s terms, and it was to lead Vergil to his bedroom. He put a finger up to his lips, as if he was smuggling Vergil past their parents, and Vergil felt more like a teenager than ever than the adult he tried to be.
Vergil had barely a moment to take in Dante’s room. He lived with some luxury, it seemed, the bed massive enough to fit two people. Dante was always greedy, and Vergil supposed age didn’t alleviate that one bit. He needed two pillows, too, but the bed was made. Vergil frowned. He didn’t expect Dante to become capable of picking up after himself.
Dante pulled him into a tight embrace that Vergil found himself reciprocating, something he’d been waiting to do for a long time. There was no part of the front of Dante’s body that felt like it wasn’t welded to that firm, plush flesh. What a lived-in body. Vergil felt like insulting the parts where Dante let himself go, from the pouch of his stomach to the fat in his breasts and ass, if he wasn’t afraid Dante would leave him high and dry if he did.
“Easy, tiger,” Dante said. Vergil bit into his woefully clothed chest. Dante keened.
Vergil began to pull at his brother’s coat, but the design and the material of it was disagreeable, and too suffocating. Even his jeans were leather, but all Vergil could think about was how much musk was stuffed in there, with nothing to wick it away.
“Let me do it,” Dante laughed, and Vergil wanted to punch him.
“I’m perfectly capable,” he muttered. He fumbled again the next time he pulled at Dante’s clothes.
Dante might have laughed again, though Vergil couldn’t hear it through the ringing between his ears. He backed away, dancing out from Vergil’s grasp, and shrugged off his jacket just like that. His shirt came next, and he peeled it from the hem until it turned inside-out above his head, which was Vergil’s least favorite way to remove an article of clothing, except he couldn’t find it in himself to argue when all he saw was meat, lean and fat, delicious from any cut. His shoulders were broad, but as Vergil’s gaze slipped further, it latched on the pudge that spilled out of Dante’s belted trousers, and all he could think about was how he wanted to man-handle the places where Dante let himself go.
Dante unbuckled his belt and his forearms flexed, his confident masculinity bleeding into his casual actions. Vergil shuddered. Dante peeled down his pants and boxers in one go, and Vergil almost swallowed his own tongue when Dante proudly bare himself naked like a picture of heroism, though the only weapon he wielded was his pinkened cunt that wore the same stubble he had on his chin.
“Like what you see?”
Vergil was too afraid to answer, let alone open his mouth, for he knew he’d sound like a neanderthal. He’d hate for Dante to know that his body lobotomized Vergil so. Maddeningly attractive in the most odd of places, where it shouldn’t make sense. He had never looked upon an older man with the intent to devour.
Thankfully, Dante didn’t require an answer to be satisfied. It seemed like Vergil’s expression gave away enough. He pushed Vergil onto the ironed-out bed and barely gave him any reprieve to turn around as he climbed onto Vergil’s lap, unaware or simply uncaring that he was much larger and heavier like a lion that saw itself as a house cat. But when Dante sat his wet, bare cunt along Vergil’s erection, Vergil suddenly lost all will to complain.
“Are you a virgin?” Dante suddenly asked.
“What?” Vergil hissed. “Does it matter?” His heart dropped. Would Dante really take a moral stand here, if Vergil was still a virgin?
“I just wanna know, Verg,” Dante said, smiling, stroking up and down Vergil’s bicep like a pet. Vergil knew he knew how much he hated that nickname.
“Yes,” Vergil gritted. “I’m a virgin.”
He was ashamed to meet Dante’s eyes, but his life was staked on it. He looked up at his brother, and saw victory.
“Perfect.”
Dante shoved a hand between them, and his fiddling was more intentional than he made it seem, easily unleashing Vergil’s cock out of his buttoned pants and angling it just right for him to sit on it.
Vergil’s jaw dropped, aching, his cock swathed in something incomparable and superior to how he knew to masturbate his own penis. Dante’s pussy coddled him in that demonic heat, feeling much hotter than a human could.
“How’s that, baby? Your first time with pussy?”
Dante looked far too smug for Vergil’s tastes. As if he could be as unbothered by the cock in his cunt. They were both entangled in mutually assured destruction, and only Vergil could see that. He mustered enough control to grab Dante and toss him over onto the bed. Dante went with a playful squeal that turned into a deep, coarse groan when Vergil inserted himself as deep as he could, gravity pinning his cockhead to Dante’s ribbed cervix.
“How’s that?” Vergil retorted through his dry throat. Dante’s eyes rolled into his skull, and the place that Vergil saw (or felt) react the most was in his churning womb that suckled him harshly the longer Vergil remained inside.
“A-Amazing,” Dante rasped, so easily giving in.
Dante’s cunt was an easy affair, and Vergil slipped into it like it was natural. Sopping wet and greedy, it tried to drain all the semen from Vergil’s balls when he stuck it in too far. Vergil had to ration his cock in Dante, fuck him limitedly, these short, sharp thrusts where friction turned to burning.
“I told you to behave,” a deeper voice than Vergil’s rang through the room. Vergil froze, but Dante’s heels dug into the small of his back and he rolled his hips on Vergil’s groin, riding him as he laid down.
“Couldn’t help myself,” Dante whined. He looked up at Vergil like he was a doll Dante had just won from the arcade. “You were just so cute.”
As if Vergil wasn’t in the room, wasn’t part of the conversation, wasn’t currently balls-deep in Dante’s cunt. He snarled, and drew his cock out of that feverish dream to plunge it in again and plant his flag in his brother.
“Uh!” Dante cried.
Vergil fucked harder. He had no idea if his older counterpart was going to pull him off, and he intended on maximizing what little time he might have left. Then, when it was obvious that he would make no moves to stop Vergil, Vergil fucked harder for the sake of fucking.
As much as Dante’s cunt poisoned his common sense, it was impossible to ignore their audience which stared them down with a vague, cloudy judgement that threatened to make Vergil flaccid. He had looked down on his older self with such disdain, but now the tables were turned and the subject of his ire had a full view of Vergil’s still-unaccustomed nudity and his amateur, unqualified thrusts.
More than that, this man probably knew how to fuck his brother better. Fuck him right. The evidence shifted in Vergil’s head, far too delayed. They lived together. The bed was made, because he made the bed, every day, likely after each night of ruining each other right where Vergil was currently trying to ruin Dante. The other pillow Dante had carefully pushed aside, because it was Vergil’s.
The thought of another man having this (even if that man was himself) annoyed Vergil, but he couldn’t help but be excited at the prospect of sharing each feverish night with Dante.
“Hah-that’s real good, baby,” Dante gasped. His heavy breathing only pushed his chest out in a hypnotic rhythm, and Vergil had to wonder if it was intentional. This Dante was so assured of himself, every action had to be catered to his gaze. His broad, full chest, that bloated from big talk and turned into teats, his sharp, stubbled jaw which brandished itself at Vergil, his wicked tongue, that licked over his lips and teeth and beckoned for kisses. And that was before it even spoke its terribly seductive persuasion.
“Gh—Dante,” Vergil moaned, breaking his oath of stoic silence. “You feel…”
“Don’t worry,” Dante whispered like he wanted to share a secret with him. “I like how it feels like it’s your first time.”
Warmth swaddled Vergil’s head full of cotton, and for a moment he forgot how to breathe. His ego was swollen on Dante’s praise like a cyst, and it burrowed deep into his brain that Vergil was sure he would never forget that moment in time.
“Feels good, Vergil, uungh, want you,” Dante chanted. “Always wanted you.”
Had he? Even when they were children?
“I-I’m here,” Vergil gasped, and he thrust forward to prove it, to prove it again and again. Dante acknowledged it each time with a grunt or a moan, and Vergil’s forehead fell to his brother’s, staring at him in unabashed awe.
Dante’s gaze is distant, shot, staring off into nowhere. Vergil feels a spark of pride. He conquered this Dante.
He bit into Dante’s neck, up to his jaw, working and earning those sounds that he had learnt how to work for just in the past hour. This wretched, horrible, indecent Dante had expedited all of his newfound sexual finesse, a crash course in fucking, and if Vergil had to admit to a flaw he’d admit that he was an overachiever since childhood.
He glanced at Dante, daring to hope for his glossy tears, but Dante’s gaze was still far away. He was grinning, now, like he knew another secret.
Vergil didn’t need to follow his gaze to know who he was looking at, but he still did.
His older self stared down at them with an intimidating and unreadable expression. Unreadable to Vergil, maybe, but Dante seemed to understand his brother more than Vergil did himself. He only smiled wider, all toothy and panting, eyes curved with the gentle imprint of crow’s feet digging into his skin. He bit his lip at him, winked, all part of an unbearable performance that that Vergil was able to bear. Vergil, on the other hand, was at the tip of his breaking point.
Perched on the stool of the window, his older self leaned back and rubbed his groin over his trousers. He’d been erect this whole time, but only deigned to touch himself when Dante cast his gaze over like it was permission. He watched them both, and Vergil couldn’t tell if he was admiring his brother, judging his performance, or both, or more.
Vergil gritted his teeth. He grabbed Dante’s face and twisted it to face him before he smushed his lips against his. He got only half his lips on Dante before he hurriedly rectified his mistake, but Dante didn’t care. His mouth opened up with ease. Right now, he wanted the boy–the man before him and in him, and Vergil intended to catch his attention again by any means.
Vergil was so engrossed in his brother that he hadn’t noticed his older self come closer. Fingers grabbed his nape and pulled him off Dante. Unlike the scruff of a kitten, Vergil refused to go limp, but Older-Vergil was equally as insistent on restraining him, and the advantage of age and experience forced Vergil submissive. His neck moved by his future self’s terms, wrung back to meet his fiery glare.
“You’re doing it wrong,” his older self said. “Dante deserves more than your own foolish tail-chasing.”
He chose me, Vergil seethed, but he had no doubts this man would be strong enough to pull him right out of that feverish heat just by his neck. He indignantly bit his tongue.
“Nooo,” Dante whined, his muscular thighs pinching Vergil’s slender waist. “I like it.”
“He’ll like it more if you touch him. Respect his body. Violate it after. There’s no need to be so frugal,” that Vergil said. He made no effort to guide his hand, for the intentionality of Older-Vergil’s gaze was enough, drawn to the part where Vergil was still ensnared in Dante, was enough.
Vergil, with a nervous, virginal hand, pressed his thumb against Dante’s clit.
Dante’s reaction was instantaneous. That throbbing, pulsing thing, which was almost as meaty as Vergil’s own thumb, was the easiest way into Dante’s heart, it seemed. He clutched his pillow, biceps flexing a brace around his head, stretching his pecs out. Vergil caught a glimpse of sheen under his armpits, sweaty, unkempt hair unlike his stubbly cunt. Dazedly, he wondered if Dante shaved his groin for his brother’s enjoyment. If Vergil shaved him instead.
He couldn’t help himself when he fell back on Dante and his hand landed on the stable foundation of his chest. It was firmer than Vergil expected, less fatty tissue in those misleading breasts, and his small nipples looked delicate when everything else of his wasn’t. He plucked them, mean streak replaced by an innocent teenage inquisitiveness.
He bullied that thumb into Dante’s clit, and all manner of movements worked some kind of reaction out of Dante, none mild and none going quiet into the night. It was appalling, to watch this dishevelled old man go into a shivering fit when Vergil fondled around. Dante started clawing at his forearm, first to grapple for some control, then with the intent to hump Vergil’s thumb and cock to his own beat. The effects served Vergil well, Dante’s cunt as reactive as the rest of him, choking the life out of Vergil’s cock.
“Be mean,” Vergil hissed into the teenager’s ear, and he hastily obeyed, grabbing clumsily around Dante’s clit before he jerked it up.
Dante howled.
“Vergil!”
Vergil hoped that it was his name he was crying out for. He pinched it, not too hard, and he stroked it like he might stroke himself with his thumb and forefinger. There were tears in Dante’s eyes. Though he was well into his 40s, Vergil could still see the child he used to beat and subjugate in his red eyes.
The grip on his neck tightened, and Vergil almost thrashed until his older counterpart tugged him away just a few inches and leaned between them. At first Vergil thought he might be observing them too obsessively, something he would do, but Vergil’s mouth twitched before he let a warm wad of saliva drool out onto the seam that held his brother and Vergil together. Both of them gasped.
The next time Vergil thrusted, his spit seeped between fingers and clit and cock and pussy until everything was a well-oiled machine. Older-Vergil took his hand away from his neck, and for a moment Vergil thought himself free from his leash until it returned firmly at the small of his back. It briefly interrupted his pace, as his hips stuttered, but his older self refused to let it slow. Every time Vergil drew his hips back, his older counterpart would shove his waist back, forced into his rhythm, doing the fucking for someone else.
“Perhaps your newfound skills could be used on your own brother,” that Vergil said, and Vergil could recognize his own amusement in his voice.
“Yeah–yeah, fuck your little brother good,” Dante cried. “Show your brother a good time, Vergil, go back and show me a good time, oh, fuck–! Good boy!”
Any boy would have ejaculated then and there. Before Vergil could cum, his older self gripped the base of his cock.
“Satisfy him first.”
“You…” Vergil hissed. There were plenty of insults he could conjure up for Dante, but none came to mind for himself. He bore through the pain of his unreleased orgasm. “I will.”
Older-Vergil huffed like he didn’t believe him. Instead, he abandoned his tutelage, and bent down above Dante. Dante looked too fucked-out to even sense him.
“Are you still at a loss as to why I have become lazy? Hedonistic?” he asked, and Vergil realized he was finally speaking to him. From Older-Vergil’s periphery he sneered at Vergil briefly before staring at Dante again.
“I should be more sympathetic to you. You had been estranged from Dante for ten years, haven’t you? But now you’ve seen and felt him. Imagine parting from this for more than one second.” Vergil’s hand trailed under Dante’s stomach, pressing on his womb like he had instructed their guest to press on his clit, rubbing circles over the implication of what was under the fat and meat. It pressed down on Vergil’s cock too, inside, and he almost whimpered.
“Pride and ego are a child’s playthings. Soon you will come to realize that there is nothing better than to devote your efforts to your little brother’s body, who loves and indulges you so.”
His older counterpart’s fingers crawled to Dante’s clit, and they swiped with a sudden, voracious speed. Dante arched like a bow, his long, unkempt hair falling perfectly into a damp halo around his head. This time, Vergil could tell Dante was cumming, and he fucked Dante through it, refusing to surrender his own part in this twisted thing between the three of them.
Dante’s cunt was a brutal thing, and it squeezed out Vergil’s orgasm with no persuasion, no coaxing, but a punch to the gut that had Vergil keel over and almost fall onto himself. His older counterpart stroked Dante’s clit and labia through his orgasm, and though he never touched him, Vergil felt betrayed that his own orgasm was wrung out by himself rather than his little brother.
Older-Vergil wiped Dante’s forehead clean of his fringe, and then pulled his hair back to take him into a rough kiss. Dante wrapped his arms around his brother, forearms flexing to swaddle him close to his face.
“Luh you, I love you, Vergil…” he moaned, and his brother kept up with his mindful, attentive kisses, silencing Dante with his breath-stealing lips. All the while Vergil felt like his soul was drained from his body, as he panted and watched these two middle-aged men lock lips like they were teenagers all over again. They certainly had made up for lost time. Dante’s appetite was insatiable, and only under Future-Vergil’s prying tongue did he seem placated with that squirming pacifier in his mouth, gasps slowing down into calm, rolling breaths.
Even with the wet feeling around his groin that proved he was allowed to participate, Vergil felt too much like an intruder into something private, like finding his parents in their marital bed after lights out. He shuddered when Dante keened some high, unashamed thing, and carded his fingers through his brother’s hair like he had just did with Vergil.
Soon he was too soft to remain inside anymore, and even as he slipped out and watched his semen dribble out of Dante’s beaten pussy, Dante and his brother kissed like no one was watching. Vergil might as well be forgotten, but he refused to go out quietly, putting his fingers back into his little brother’s mature cunt. ‘Be mean’ was his own advice, wasn’t it? And he applied it then, not letting up until Dante was shivering all over again, chanting for a Vergil.
When Vergil returned to Red Grave, he felt as though he’s lived another life already. On Arkham’s suggestion, he went on an excursion to Fortuna to learn more about his father and what could have been if he hadn't tossed it all away. It gave him the convenient excuse to forget what had happened behind him, in an attempt to rediscover his principles and set him straight again. Fortuna was enlightening, and the first woman he bedded was similarly enlightening, but the memory of his future shattered something in him that couldn’t be repaired by his work or a holiday or a fling.
Vergil does everything to reinstate his normal. His plans carry out as normal. His behavior is normal, as far as he knows, at least, since Arkham, his only audience, says nothing about it.
Vergil knows the Temen-ni-gru will be enough to capture Dante’s attention. He knows the moment Dante enters the base of the tower. When Dante ascends. Vergil has his eyes everywhere inside.
When Dante surfaces at the top, Vergil is almost too giddy.
What future awaits them both, he already knows.
“You showed up.”
THANKS SO MUCH TO NVDPIPI FOR DRAWING THIS!!! WAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!
