literature

Wrapped in Glory: An Interlude

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There it was again. That arrogant, belittling laugh of his. It rang in Nero’s ears as he positioned Yamato to strike, darting forward; ready to plunge the sword deep into the assassins’ gut, only to find himself falling face-first onto a bloody, sticky carpet. His senses, heightened by the demon that stalked him upon the use of Yamato, informed Nero that his nemesis had reclaimed his sword.

His reaction time was perhaps slowed by the surprise of his enemy’s simple yet effective counter. At least, that was the excuse Nero produced when he found Rebellion sink into the ground beside his head, trapped by the harsh metal. His cursed arm rose to strike with Yamato, only to have a boot crush the thought instantly, Nero’s ability to move incredibly limited. His breath came in harsh, quick pants, a fierce stare focused on the one who had reduced him to this vulnerable state, resenting his inferior swordsmanship.

Dante (was that not the name mentioned by Agnus, but a few hours ago?) stood above him, triumphant, looking down at the fallen warrior at his feet, his breath only slightly quickened by the battle.

“You cooled off yet, kid?” Came his husky, patronising voice.

Nero whimpered, turning his head to shield his shamed face from Dante’s view. Dante’s smug use of the word ‘kid’ was a harsh reminder of his defeat, of how he was once again considered inferior, unworthy of recognition or appreciation.

“What’s the matter? Why the glare?” Dante pressed, forcing Rebellion deeper into the ground beside Nero’s head, emphasising his control of the situation.

Though already knowing the answer, he had asked the question. His eyes burned into those of Nero, watching as the handsome face contorted in frustration. Droplets of blood that had fallen onto his face during the fight cracked, flaking from the skin as he struggled to find a non-complimentary answer.

It was another fight that he could not win.

Bitterly, he answered, “You look as if you’ve just been playing me from the beginning.” His demon hand tightened around Yamato, wishing he had the stamina left within him to cast the weight of Dante’s boot aside. His breathing was barely back to its normal rate by this point, and the headstrong demon hunter scolded himself for being so weak, so defenceless. Nero had always prided himself in being a very capable warrior, despite not always being rewarded in the appropriate manner; yet this defeat had shaken his pride and beliefs, deflating the man’s ego.

“Well?” Nero snapped resentfully, his eyes focused still on his trapped arm, strands of hair falling across his face, shielding Dante from his fractious glare, “Aren’t you gonna do anything? Come on, you have me right where you want me. What’s stopping you from finishing me off?”

Nero’s acknowledgement of his current situation did nothing to deter Dante from remaining silent. He would do nothing until the shorter, weaker, younger man looked in his eyes.

Slowly, blue met blue as Nero tilted his head, his cheek meeting with the cool edge of Rebellion, eyes forcing themselves to make eye contact.

Unlike Nero, there were no splatters of blood on the Man in Red’s clothes, or even on his skin. His clothes were intact, though perhaps dirtied somewhat in the fight from being tossed about. Even his hair seemed to be in the same place as it was before they did battle. It was almost as if Nero’s actions had made no physical impact on him, as if standing perfectly still would have caused a similar amount of damage.

Dante was effortlessly powerful. He had swatted away Nero’s onslaught as if it were nothing. It was almost like a single raindrop trying to erode a cliff-face by itself - an irrational, unattainable goal. Yet like a child, Nero’s mind insisted that he would get the better of the older man; that he had the capabilities to redeem himself from their previous encounters.

In a mocking, almost arrogant way, Dante had evaded Nero’s vicious attacks, brushing off his most formidable, accurate combinations like he would a piece of dirt. And it was this knowledge that pressed Dante forward, his need to remind Nero of who was better swelling in his stomach.

Wedging Rebellion into the ground even more, Dante dropped to his knees, considering Nero with a half-curious, half-smug stare.

“You did okay, kid, but you got a lot to learn.” Dante stated, intently watching Nero’s eyes for any sign of a reaction. He kept also a watchful eye over his cursed arm, ready to subdue it should it move.

Nero hissed between his teeth, unable to admit defeat to this man yet again. He hated being patronised.

“But, there’s something about you that kinda interests me. A couple things, actually.” Dante continued coolly, amused by the boy’s pride. Though he had not wanted to, Dante had witnessed in Nero characteristics not unlike those of his brother. Whether these attributes had become more prominent since Nero obtained the sword that he once carried was uncertain.

“First off, you come all this way to find me and get revenge for the assassination of your saviour, but when you get a perfect, once in a lifetime opportunity, you hesitate.”

Nero’s eyes narrowed at this, displaying his confusion. Dante smirked, and took Ebony and Ivory from their respective holsters, before throwing them to the side, far out of his reach… But not out of Nero’s. His eyes never once left Nero’s, a grin fixed on full, dark lips, eyes anticipating a reaction that never came.

Unperturbed, Dante continued. “So here’s the deal. Here I am, unarmed, sitting next to a newbie demon hunter with my brother’s sword in his freaky demon arm, which could damage me easily. And you could have done this five minutes ago, when I let your arm go.”

Nero said nothing, and did not move. His eyes were fixed on Dante’s, realisation and concern curling in his stomach, unable to definitively claim what had caused him to not notice this.

“Or, if you wanted to, you could reach out with the said freaky demon arm and grab my two guns, Ebony and Ivory, and kill me with those. I can’t reach them, but you sure can. Or worse still, you could risk ripping your coat by wrenching out Rebellion and forcing it into my gut, like you did last time. Whichever takes your fancy. I think either would be quite interesting.” Dante said with a laugh, triumph swelling in his stomach at the thought of these observations being said without any form of violence offered as thanks.  

Nero felt himself tremble. Why hadn’t he noticed the feeling of release in his cursed arm when Dante’s foot had left it? Why had he not taken the opportunity to strike the Man in Red while he was distracted, instead of focused and alert? Could it be that he was so physically drained that he had not been able to see it?

Noting the shaking of the body beside him, Dante leaned in and firmly placed a hand on Nero’s chin, their eyes meeting once more. He could feel the warmth of Nero’s breath on his face; see the faint pink tinge that was sprinkled across faintly bruised cheeks.

“Question is, kid… Even now that I’ve pointed this out… You still don’t attack me. Why?”

Nero allowed his demeaning nickname to pass with no bitter thoughts. He swallowed, hard, uncomfortable with the sudden closeness. His eyes closed. It was something that, he too, was wondering. Should Dante ask, Nero would not respond – He swore that to himself. It was not solely based on his dislike for the Man in Red, as he himself could not decide why he remained still, unable to attack.

Moments later, Nero’s eyes shot open in alarm, the husky murmur of Dante’s voice close to his ear. Through his suddenly heavy breathing, Nero could barely hear the older man whisper; “And before you ask-” Nero’s breath hitched, the swipe of Dante’s tongue against his earlobe all-too familiar, too demanding to ignore. “-I don’t carry hidden weapons.”

There was the faintest whimper of protest when Dante’s mouth met with Nero’s in a lip sucking, fiery kiss. Dante’s eyes bored wickedly into Nero’s as he nipped and licked at the teen’s lips, demanding entry.

Nero was unsure of what to do. He could submit to the Man in Red and allow himself to forget about everything, anything, as his body was consumed by passion; or he could force Dante away, and continue to fight in a battle that he was certain to lose. As his eyes stared up, panicked, Nero felt himself shiver under the intensity of his gaze. His body trembled, the sensation of having the powerful man suck at his lips creating an insistent ache in his groin.

Without regret, Nero allowed his eyes to fall to a close, his cursed hand reaching to the back of Dante’s neck, deepening the kiss while opening his lips, stifling a moan as Dante’s tongue plundered his moist, sweet cavern. His tongue came to duel with the demon hunter’s, craving more of the unique flavour that was Dante’s own, groaning at the contact.

Dante couldn’t help but smirk as Nero’s will crumbled beneath his touch, his own hand coming to tangle in the younger man’s hair, whilst the other dipped inside Nero’s shirt, caressing the taut muscle found there. He moved himself so that he lay on top of Nero, removing his lips from Nero’s as he rocked their hips together.

Nero gasped and groaned at the grinding, arching his hips. Grinning deviously, Dante rubbed his growing erection into Nero’s, groaning as pleasure washed through him, grinding harder as he sought more of that delicious contact. His fingers moved further up Nero’s chest, rubbing light circles around hard nipples. His smirk only grew as Nero’s moans were punctuated by little whimpers, who was fully aroused from the fleeting but rough touches from the older demon hunter. Nero snaked his hands in Dante’s hair, tugging to bring him back down for another kiss.

“Impatient, aren’t we, kid?” Dante mocked smugly, but he lowered his lips to Nero’s all the same. He gladly swallowed Nero’s moans and gasps as he continued his grinding, all the while pinching and pulling on already abused nipples.

Nero welcomed this passionate onslaught with open arms, allowing one of his hands to cup Dante’s ass, kneading the tight flesh there. He brought his legs up to wrap around Dante’s hips, the action only intensifying their frantic thrusting.

Without breaking the kiss, Dante set about stripping Nero of his clothes, before tossing each item aside, leaving the shivering boy beneath him in his jeans for the moment. Dante broke the kiss to pull back from Nero’s touch and admire the young body beneath him. Pleased by the redness of his nipples and his rapid breathing, Dante lowered his body back onto Nero’s and began nipping and sucking on his neck. His fingers returned to pinch and pull at tender nipples, his teeth gently scraping at the boy’s pulse as a wanton moan pleaded with him to go further.

Though not what one could call innocent, this experience was like no other for Nero. Dante’s caresses were rougher than he had previously felt, yet at the same time Nero had never been so aroused so quickly by mere touches, only whispers of the pleasure to come. He shifted under Dante’s weight, rocking his hips up into Dante’s, aching to be free of his tight confines.

Nero’s eyes watched intently as Dante slowly kissed and licked his way down to his over-stimulated nipples. It was harder to maintain eye contact when Dante’s tongue slowly licked out to soothe the hardened nubs, a look that dared Nero to object, intensifying the experience.

“Ahhn…” Nero moaned, forgetting about his pride and openly moaning under Dante’s touch. He ignored the look of triumph on Dante’s features and moaned huskily, “Please…”

Dante shook his head, smirking, continuing to apply pressure with his tongue against hard nipples. He was thoroughly enjoying watching the younger man writhe and arch beneath his touch, having missed the feeling of being dominant with a partner in a long time. He delighted in the surprised gasp and sob of frustration when a hand came to lightly cup Nero’s erection through his pants, feeling the intense heat through the cloth. He hoped that Nero would submit himself soon, for his own erection was twitching through the confines of his own pants, yearning for attention.

“A-Ah… Please…” Nero ground out, bucking his hips wildly at the contact. He wasn’t even sure of what he was asking of the older man, only that he was given something, some form of release from this wonderful torture.

“Please what?” Dante asked with a chuckle, his lips hovering a few inches above Nero’s. His eyes locked onto the devil bringer’s own as his hand moved to Nero’s waistband, a finger dipping beneath the cloth, teasing the sensitive skin strip of skin. “Tell me what you want…” He crooned, relishing in the responsiveness of the younger man beneath him.

Both of those actions sent a shiver along Nero’s spine, and he turned his head in shame. He knew what Dante wanted. He wanted to see Nero, the ever stubborn and headstrong amateur submit himself to him completely, leaving his inhibitions behind, opening himself fully to the older man. He wanted to see Nero show his all to him, to see what no one else could ever see, and know that only he could access it. It would only take several small, hushed words to establish Dante’s dominance of the situation.

Before Nero could respond, those lips were on his again, Dante’s tongue plundering his mouth in another heart-pounding, lip crashing frenzy, and Nero could feel himself about to fall over the proverbial edge of no return. And when Dante’s lips threatened to leave his, Nero moaned, following him in a frantic rush, hands clawing in the man’s hair to prevent him from leaving again.

There was no going back. To have come so far only to deny himself this simple, all-too human and sinful act would be to refute in vain this hunger he harboured for the older man, this craving to be held close and made to feel things that no one else could possibly hope to give him.

“I…” He started, pulling back only long enough to say these words in a low, hurried whisper to avoid his embarrassment about the situation, “I want you to…” He leaned up again to have his lips claimed by the moist, smirking ones of Dante, whimpering at the foreign feeling of intensity that his being radiated.

“I want you to get me off,” Nero paused again, pulling Dante back down so that his lips were hovering mere inches above his own, pliant and skilful. “I want you to suck me.”
I haven't posted the pr0ns here, for fear of a repeat of last time. I hope to have better luck with livejournal for posting my works in its entireity, I apologise, however, for the way this will interrupt your reading. Its DA's fault, not my own.

Here is the link to the livejournal entry:

[link]

Feel free to comment me there, or do it here. It is up to you.

Fandom/Pairing: Devil May Cry 4/Nero x Dante.
Summary: The Man in Red and the newest demon hunter do battle, yet despite coming far, the rookie’s defeat is imminent. The chase of the mysterious Man in Red and countless battles with fiends and demons has tired his body, and his upset mind cannot vent its frustrations. Little does the amateur know that his body’s stresses shall be alleviated in much more interesting ways.
© 2008 - 2024 lagunaz-moombaz
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Rose813's avatar
please can you continue this i would love to read more