Arkham had paused at a bookshelf, watching the boy in silence as he poured himself over the book, searching for something. The air he held unabashed by the grimoires of horror and the occult. All real, all forgotten or neglected in favor of a belief of simple hood. Yet this boy...
He read the tomes with not a curiosity, but a finality.
The boy knew what he was searching for, he just could not find the breadcrumbs to begin his quest.
It was this intrigue that spurred the older man to approach, to bear witness to the cold, calculative, precise fire in the boy. This boy was strong, he was of Sparda's lineage...
Perfect in his mix of beauty and reserved ferocity.
"Leave me, I won't tell you a third time." Not even looking toward Arkham, only wasting his breath out of courtesy, such command to his tone.
"Many steer away from the occult, in an effort to keep their simple lives pure," Arkham looked to the blade, grabbing it softly in his hand, he dug his flesh into its edge, "Yet other's welcome it. Yearn for it. Ready and willing to be seduced by evil."
That got the boy's attention, earned the boy's silvery gaze. Arkham returned the icy glare, excitement coursing through him.
The boy returned his blade to its sheath, "What are you getting at?" Curious and yearning.
Yes, he wanted this boy.
"To them their name is 'Truth', more than those forms they take, it is said that the name of a demon is closer to its true substance," Arkham's words echo in the cold, dark catacombs as they stood in front of the runic nail driven into the foot of the angelic depiction.
Vergil had insisted it was simply another demon, with the same cold conviction as always. So sure of his own words, yet not to the point where he would not learn.
Hanging on to Arkham's words as he recited to him the ancient scriptures he memorized front to back.
"To strike out a name...?" Vergil looked on in puzzlement, not quite in disbelief.
The boy was eager for knowledge.
Arkham moved closer, "Sparda was said to be capable of that. A mighty demon of unequaled power. To him, his demon subjects were like infants, lacking the same strength and intellect as he."
Perhaps," his hand traced along the small of the boy's back, watching him stiffen, the flickering candlelight caught in the reflection of the glare shot back to Arkham, "their failings, their fragility. Their imperfection is why he betrayed them."
Unwavering under the boy's scrutiny, Arkham trailed his hand along his hip. Only for Vergil to grasp him firmly by the forearm. Observing the shiver that involuntarily passed over him as Arkham's fingers swept over the boy's rear, breath catching between the boy's lips as he gripped the tender flesh. The glare never leaving, never wavering, yet he did not shun Arkham.
Receptive. Possibly even starving for touch.
Arkham turned his gaze upward as Vergil stared, noting the eyes of the statue had shifted, "Those eyes are always watching their visitors. Simply watching, for thousands of years. What they might be thinking is beyond our imagination."
Vergil's gaze shot upward, shoving the arm away as he put distance between the two, fixing his jacket. His glare fixated now on the figure.
There was a moment after he locked eyes with the creature that Arkham noted a look he'd never thought to see on the boy's face. Something close to fear. Yet the focus of his gaze was past the figure, fixated past the ceiling of the catacombs.
Could he be experiencing a vision? He supposed it could be possible.
That look of fear Vergil held, it was laced with a determined, cold nature. Like he was more than capable of killing its source with the ferocity of a calculative, precise animal. A jaguar caught in a corner, waiting to strike.
And strike he did, one clean cut, and the demon's visage fell to the floor of the catacomb. Crushing the stage. Vergil returned the Yamato to its sheath, the sclera of his eyes turned black, his silver eyes burning with a brilliant blue hue. Feral and demonic in its ire.
Even the boy's fear was fierce and powerful.
Vergil was been none the wiser to what Arkham had witnessed. A cherished, delectable privilege that only he would keep...
Arkham's gaze shifted to the shine of the blade as it's sharp edge pressed to the side of his neck. It was his fault, he had settled his hand along the back of the boy's own neck.
Yet instead of pulling away he continued along his path of intent, enduring the drop of blood that spilled just as he'd done on their first meeting.
Caressing, massaging along the nape of the boy's neck. Feeling the muscle tense beneath his fingers as he ground them into the flesh. His gaze meeting the boy's silver.
This time, however, Vergil's gaze did not stay on Arkham. Shifting instead to his actions.
His touch trailing to the crest of his jawline, thumb grazing across its contour until it reached his lips. The boy's breath felt against his skin as the thumb lingered on the bottom, pressing into the tender flesh. Peeling the lip away from his teeth.
It was only when he tried to slip the thumb into the mouth did Vergil jerk away. Stepping away from Arkham in haste, leaving the man standing in the sunlit hall.
Watching him depart, a smile creeping along his lips. Admiring the bit of the boy's saliva that managed to collect on his thumb from his experiment.
He brought his thumb to his own lips, licking it while the moisture was still warm.
"Do you not like them?" Arkham watched the boy scrutinize the corpses of the deformed animals and demonic pests of his collection that he had hanging, stuffed in jars, dehydrated and pinned around his laboratory.
"It is necessary for humans to experiment to understand the worldly, and otherworldly." The explanation didn't seem to comfort Vergil, though it wasn't so much disgust as it was puzzlement. Arkham stepped around his laboratory table toward Vergil.
The movement immediately held his focus, and Vergil watched him with intensity as he closed the distance between them. Showing his hand before snaking it under Vergil's jacket, brushing along his hips before Vergil moved away. Silver gaze still fixated on Arkham.
"Is that you are doing?" The boy asked as he moved around the lab table, using it to put distance between them. "Experimenting?"
"Those that seek knowledge must come by it by any--"
"You know what I refer to." Vergil's tone firm, final, reserved, commanding.
Yes, Arkham knew exactly what he was saying.
His tread slow and precise, he rounded the table at the same pace Vergil did, mirroring his movements. Together they circled, like a prowling dance.
"When I first laid eyes on you, I saw your lust for power."
"Did you?" Vergil's brow arched.
"You knew what you were looking for, the destination, yet it was the path that you were ignorant of. I admired that conviction, that understanding."
"Is that right?" The boy kept his pace even, steady as their circled one another, "I don't need distractions. My focus must remain my mission."
"I will be deterred by no one."
"Our thoughts in this align." Arkham's arms spread in a congenial gesture.
It was then that Vergil paused in the prowl, his gaze narrowed at Arkham.
"Then what is it you are after?"
Instead of playing dumb and prompting him for specifics, Arkham slowed as he neared Vergil, a knowing grin on his face. As he reached for Vergil he saw the boy stiffen, yet remain still as his fingers brush along his jawline. His thumb grazed along the boy's perfect lips, Vergil leaned his head away.
Yet he was not deterred, catching the boy's face once more, he languished in the feel of his youthful skin.
"What I am after," closing the distance between them, Arkham circled around behind Vergil. As the boy's neck craned to keep his gaze on him, his hand remained. Fingers slipping beneath the line of his collar to graze the collar bone. Arkham's face so close to the side of the boy's head the soft strands of his hair brushed along his face, his gaze also transfixed on the other.
"Is to help. To bear witness," slipping his hand underneath the coat, pressing his body against the boy's back, his grip on his hip tightening when the boy flinched, squelching the temptation to move away.
"Your lust for evil come to fruition," gripping his hip, his hand slid to the front, tracing the pant line, slipping to the front of the boy's trousers. His hand was grasped at the wrist.
"To see your desires come to pass," ignoring the grip on his wrist, he palmed the boy's groin, heard his breath hitching.
"And this?" Vergil asked as Arkham worked his groin through the pants, tense and poised. Like he was ready to break the old man, should his response not be to his liking.
A chuckle, his thumb grazing along the line of the boy's jaw, Arkham turned his face into the boy's hair, "A physical expression of my reverence."
Vergil accepted his words, slowly letting go of his arm, turning his gaze away. His breath unsteady as Arkham continued his ministrations, digging into the boy's trouser, using the cloth to his advantage as he rubbed the boy's cock.
As he felt the member begin to harden, he plunged his hand into the confines. Surprised when he realized the boy did not wear undergarments, voicing the glee in a soft hum to the side of Vergil's head.
"Shut up," The boy snapped.
He did as he was told, listening instead to the soft changes in breathing that Vergil thought he could hide from him as he stroked him. Unbuckling his pants to free his erection from its confines, Arkham renewed his strokes with vigor. Earning a soft groan from the boy, his arm grabbed tightly once again.
Still, he pressed on. Cradling the boy's face as his other hand stroked up and down the shaft, his thumb grazing along his lips, slipping the thumb past his teeth, digging the tip into his tongue.
Giving only a few moments for the boy to question the touch before his thumb retreated, only to be replaced by his index and second finger. Pressing down on his tongue, stroking to the back of his throat and then to the front of his mouth. Earning a confused sound from the boy, a jerk of his head, and a grasp on this wrist as well.
Yet as he continued, the boy began to drool. His hips swayed softly into Arkham's hand.
Though no sooner had a true moan escaped Vergil than the boy flinches and shoved his arms from him. Stepping away hastily, fixing his pants, practically rushing out of the room.
Arkham grinned as he watched him leave again, lifting his hand to his face to smell the precum that he had managed to collect. Licking it from his palm.
In the evening light, just before the dusk, Arkham finds Vergil in the room that he had chosen. Vergil was in the middle of slipping off his jacket, vest unzipped, the boy's icy gaze fixed onto him as he entered.
"What do you want, Arkham?" Dismissive, bored.
Arkham grinned as he approached him, holding up a heavy tome as the boy draped the coat over the back of the nearby chaise. A puzzled look as he received the tome, opening it as Arkham moved past him to the window. Vergil shrugged off the vest as he moved to sit on the chaise.
"What is this, a joke?" Vergil asked after turning one of the pages, flipping through them quickly, "I cannot read it."
Before Vergil could turn around to him, he stepped close to the boy, his hand's settled on his shoulders. Vergil stiffened as Arkham leaned close to him, speaking softly, "The tome is written in an ancient cipher."
Arkham remarked on how well the boy was acclimating to the constant contact. No longer flinching or grabbing at him. No longer did he show half-cocked displays of declination.
Undoing the cravat of the boy's shirt, he took silent pleasure in the shiver of the boy's body as his fingers grazed along his collar bone as he unbuttoned the first button, then the second. Smoothing over the open collar, Arkham's hands slipped down his back, fingertips dragging along the shirt, tugging at the cloth. "Unlike any language on this earth."
"Then how am I supposed to read it?" The ire of the boy's gaze leveled on him as his hands swept down to the boy's hips. Locking down on his grip when he felt Vergil attempt to move.
Arkham leaned closer in, his breath against the boy's ear, bracing a knee into the edge of the chaise, "Entertain me, would you? Your gaze will shift to an unearthly one, does it not? Perhaps there is a connection."
"And...? What you are doing has--"
"--Worry not of me, Vergil." He cooed into the boy's ear.
The shift of breath when he grazed his teeth into the crest of his ear; It only fed his appetite for the boy.
Vergil gave a disgruntled huff, turning his head away as his gaze returned to the tome. Arkham could feel the wave of demonic energies waft off of the boy's body, signifying that he was using his given power.
Opening to a page in the middle of the tome, he read, "... And so spurred they, less of flesh and tender of soul, the ire of the great King..."
The hum of intrigue was rewarded by Arkham, plunging his hand into his trousers to grope his cock firmly. A gasp escaping the boy, a hand resting on his wrist as he worked him.
Though it was awkward with Vergil sitting, so he turned the boy, pressing him down onto his back, earning a growl from the cambion.
"Arkham," Vergil warned, lip curling as his back hit the chaise, moving instead to prop himself up with an arm.
Unbuckling his pants, Arkham freed the boy's cock, languishing in long, firm strokes. Setting a steady pace, watching the boy's tension slowly uncoil within him.
Perhaps tonight he could get what he wanted.
Peeling his trousers down to his ankles, Arkham took Vergil's cock into his mouth. A soft, surprised gasp from the boy rewarded him. The boy's hand settling on the top of his bald head, hips swaying up into his mouth every so often.
Yes, that's it.
Arkham lifted his gaze, to find he was being watched. The usual cold expression was fighting to stay on the boy's face, twitching in its struggle to keep the facade. The boy's eyes still in that otherworldly shift, the brilliant blue glowed in the darkening room.
A smacking sound rang out as Arkham opened his mouth, taking the youth's cock deeper into his mouth. Earning that stifled moan and rewarded with that quick buck of the boy's hips. Then another, nails digging into the back of his head.
That's it, boy. Come undone.
Almost there, Arkham could feel the tension ease out of the boy, watching him relax against the chaise. Falling easily into the rhythm Arkham was setting. Good.
A few moments passed before Arkham reached his hand to the boy's face, seeking his mouth. Vergil turned his head away at first, but another try proved true. Arkham carefully coated his fingers in the boy's saliva as he explored his mouth. Once sufficient his hand retreated, and he slipped his fingers between the boy's ass cheeks.
That seemed to be the extent of what Vergil could handle, as Arkham was shoved back. The boy sat there, panting as he tried to get a hold of himself.
Arkham leaned down, running his hand through the boy's hair as he pressed his face into the side of Vergil's head, biting at his skin. "I'll leave you to your reading," He breathed into his ear before stepping away. Straightening his own clothes as he exited the room.
Again, he watched the boy pour over tomes. It seemed so long ago now that he'd found the boy in the grand library. Now he found the boy in the study of the abandoned estate, leaned over tomes set upon the table. The echo of the scene in which they met.
"I presume your trip was a successful one?" Arkham spoke up finally, approaching the boy in that slow, languished step he always took care in.
Vergil did not look at him, leaned over the desk his eyes fixated on the slew of books lay scattered across its surface. It looked as though he was memorizing the ritual. Though his eyes were not scanning the pages, he was simply glaring at them.
It was clear he wasn't reading at all.
"Perhaps you should find rest for the night," Arkham tried again, watching those tense shoulders as the boy turned the page of one of the books. As Vergil continued to ignore him, his gaze went to the table. It was hardwood, mahogany perhaps. More than able to support the weight.
With finality Arkham stepped closer, pressing into the side of the boy's body. His hand resting on the trousers of the boy, cupping him.
That got his attention, and in a brilliant flourish, the blade of the Yamato rested against Arkham's jugular.
"What have I told you about--"
Not letting the boy finish that thought, he leaned in as he furiously palmed the boy's cock, enduring the blade's edge to sniff the side of his head. Pressing his face into the silver hair.
Vergil immediately tried to shrink away, but a firm hand around to his opposite hip stilled that notion. Trapping the boy against him as he worked his cock, rocking into the boy's hip.
It was noteworthy that after a few moments the blade was placed shakily on the table.
"You... are distracting," The boy's desperate panting the only sound in the room, shallow and quiet as he could make it.
"You were already distracted." Arkham bit against the side of Vergil's head then, grazing his teeth along the skin, unbuckling his pants to pull the length of the boy's cock free from confinement. Not having to bother with undergarments, as always the boy wore none.
Working out the tension in the cambion boy as he stroked down his length, smiling when there was already some precum at the tip. A hand rested on Arkham's arm, gripping it firmly as his breathing hitched up an octave.
"Yes," He breathed into Vergil's ear. Come undone. Break that eternal facade, that air of control, "that's it, boy."
Vergil responded in a strained huff, his voice breaking at the end of it so exquisitely.
Arkham kept up the work until the boy's cock was hard and his knees weak. Only then did he turn the boy so that his back was against the table, shedding the boy's pants as he hoisted him atop of it, batting away the half-hearted shoves of protest.
If Vergil truly wanted to stop, he could so easily shove him right across the room.
He leaned down to take the boy's length into his mouth, earning another sharp hitch his breath.
Working up and down the shaft, sucking firmly so that a smacking sound would ring out whenever he broke the seal of his lips around the yearning flesh.
Earning each and every moan that Vergil tried so hard to keep stifled, even going so far as to cover his own mouth so that his debauchery did not escape him.
Arkham pulled the pants down to Vergil's ankles, hoisting his feet up onto the table to spread his legs wider. Slipping one of his boots off, freeing the leg of the confines of clothing.
Pulling the leg over his shoulder, he lifted Vergil's hips, shifting his gaze to appreciate the fruits of his labor. To find the boy gripping the side of the table, his head thrown back, eyes squinted in concentration and the hand over his mouth failing at subduing his whorish cries.
He reached with one hand to plunge it into Vergil's mouth, underneath the hand that stifled it. His fingers explored, collecting the boy's drool. Pressing his fingers down on his tongue, stroking to the back of his throat and then to the front of his mouth.
All the while keeping up his efforts, careful to give the boy just enough to keep him going without bursting at the seams.
Relishing every moment the boy spent coming undone, a fine wine to drink in, to enjoy with utmost care. It didn't take long for Vergil to begin to suck on his invading fingers, taking well to the training.
Allowing the boy to spend those exploratory moments sucking his fingers, curling his tongue along and in between the digits, encouraging him by stroking along his tongue, a feather's touch to the roof of his mouth.
When Vergil bucked into his head, then did Arkham return his attention to the boy's lower body. Pulling the saliva soaked fingers from his mouth, Arkham brought them to his entrance, rimming his fingers along the edge until they were puckered before plunging them in.
Vergil had stiffened against the invasion, his leg curling over Arkham's shoulder as he let out a strained, eager groan.
Just a little further.
The boy's breathing hitched again, Arkham was undeterred by the grip that settled once again on his arm. Curling his fingers experimentally earned a furious buck of the boy's hips, a yipping gasp escaping him.
Arkham worked his fingers into the boy's ass as he sucked him off, earning more and more the further he worked him through it. Another buck of the boy's hips, the volume of his moans increasing, it guaranteed Arkham of the state the boy was in; utter mindnumbing bliss.
As he worked both the boy's ass and cock in tandem, the more Vergil squirmed, gasping and moaning like a bitch in heat. So undignified.
Curling his fingers once again, working them in and out of the boy, spreading his fingers. As his fingers grazed one particular spot within him, Vergil moaned loud and eager.
Arkham fixated his fingers to that spot, causing the boy's back to arch and his squirming to increase. The boy's yearning belied by how tightly his leg was curled over Arkham's back. How his body became a vessel of pleasure and need.
Practically begging to be taken.
Arkham did not let up, abusing that spot until Vergil came in his mouth. Pulling back finally, he unbuckled his own trousers to free his hard cock, spilling Vergil's cum into his hand. Coating it along his shaft, any excess he used to coat the annals of the boy's ass.
Yanking his hips closer, his gaze settled on the boy as he drove his cock into him.
Vergil let out a cry, tensing again. Arkham sensed that the boy was reaching his limit, though instead of retreating entirely he thrust into the boy again.
"Ah!" And again.
"Arhk-ah!" Again, cutting off his cries.
"Arkham!" The boy's whines were clandestine, even as they were laced with growls, "A-ah! You--AH! Enough!"
Spurred by his own eagerness and excitement, he continued driving into him, ignorant of the protests, even as the boy grasped him by the neck.
It wasn't until he was thrown to the floor that he stopped, peering up at the boy's otherworldly gaze, the Yamato inches from his neck.
"When I tell you to stop, I will not repeat myself."
After a moment of the both of them staring at each other, with nothing but Vergil's panting breath between them, Arkham slowly rose to his feet, fixing his clothes.
"Very well," as he reached out toward Vergil, the boy stiffened. Taking the moment to caress the boy's lips before pulling away, exiting the room.
Watching the boy's fight, the ferocity, the intense thrill, and concentration on the boy's face, it was all so tantalizing. He knew Vergil had caught sight of him once or twice from the distance where he stood. His presence ignored.
Not that it mattered. The boy was his to play with, to pleasure, and his alone, he could not shake the elation.
The younger brother was stabbed, his blood coating the rain-slick tower. Left there by the older one, only to rise again in defiance. That was when Arkham intervened, reminding Vergil of his goal.
Having left the brother on the top of the tower, they began their descent. He could not help but notice the erection the boy sported.
Arkham waited for the right moment, that moment came when their progress was stalled momentarily by the tower shaking.
"What was that?" Vergil murmured, pausing in his steps.
"If I had to guess, it was the Leviathan's demise at the hands of your brother," Arkham responded, his gaze scrutinizing the puzzlement and mild concern from the boy.
Seizing the chance, he approached Vergil from behind, grabbing him by the hips to grind his hard-on against the boy's ass. Groping the bulge in the boys pants as he did so, Vergil let out a small gasp, quickly cut out by a moan of which he failed to stifle.
"Arkham," his whispers just as eager and yearning as his moans, though he had tried to give his tone some measure of annoyance, Arkham could not be deceived.
Arkham continued to rock into him as he stroked him, choosing not to respond, instead, he would mock a biting motion to the side of his head. There they stayed in silence, till the only noise echoing off the walls was the boy's barely contained pleasure as Arkham's hands roamed over his body. Moving the clothing out of the way as he needed access to the boy's skin.
"Arkham," his voice heady, needy, almost pleading.
"I watched that fight of yours. Your grace, your fury," He murmured into the boy's ear, "Toying with your brother as you were, it stirred your loins."
Vergil growled at him, though he did not deny it. Arkham chuckled, slipping Vergil's pants down his hips, his fingers rimmed his entrance, pulling a deep moan from the boy. Careful not to disturb the rhythm of their constant rocking.
"Or perhaps it was because I was watching you," He teased, grazing his teeth along the boy's ear.
"You think...hah... That highly of yourself?" Vergil managed between his soft cries of pleasure.
"Which is it? That you fantasize about your brother," Stifling the hiss of anger from Vergil as his fingers explored inside of the boy, "Or that your desire for my touch grows by the passing days?"
Arkham's hand shifted from the boy's crotch to still the hand that reached to unsheath the sword, pining the arm as he held the boy against him, increasing the intensity of his assault in the boy's rear. Earning every iota of the boy's cries, supporting him when his knees grew weak and he began to lean into Arkham's embrace.
The faint flush on the boy's face as Arkham's lips dragged down the side of his face, told him all that he needed to know, all that Vergil would never share aloud.
The boy was his.
When he finally let out a barely stifled whimper, Arkham abruptly shoved the boy into the nearest wall. Giving Vergil little time to recover as he drove into him; dry, even though he was prepared the boy still yelped and struggled. Keeping the boy's arms pinned, lifting one of his legs up, the boy's balance completely dependant on his hold on this body.
It took a bit of time before Vergil's yelps to turn to moans, distressed as they were. The boy did try once to buck him off, Arkham punished him by driving in faster, rougher. Using a bit of the strength he hid from the boy to keep Vergil subdued in his arms.
"AH! Arkh-AH!" Vergil struggled to speak, Arkham did his best to keep in that way.
"ST- ah! -AH!" His cries were divine, dripping with need.
"St-Sto-" Arkham interrupted him again.
"Don't say it." Biting at the boy's ear as he spoke, "Once we are through that door we may never again have a chance for this moment."
Vergil turned his head, glaring at him over his shoulder, watching him from his peripheral vision. There was a second that Arkham thought Vergil would deny him again, but instead, he turned his head into the stone.
"Good boy," Arkham teased as he grinned into the boy's hair, releasing his arms, he redoubled his efforts as he grasped Vergil's hips.
The boy was his to pleasure.
Oh, the possibilities.
Parting from the boy, he released him to turn him around, groping the boy's cock, stroking the precum from him. Relentless as the boy melted in his arms, clinging to him. Just as he knew the boy was about to release he stopped.
"Kneel, boy," He commanded his whore, reinforcing the command with pressure on his shoulder. Once Vergil was on his knees he cupped his chin, working his fingers into the boy's mouth. Allowing the boy to eroticize the action until he felt the boy moan into his fingers.
Grasping Vergil by the hair, he gave him no time to figure out what he was up to, thrusting his cock into the confines of his mouth. The boy gave a surprised cry and struggled at first as he drove his cock deep, pulling back to so again. Until it clicked what the finger sucking had been for, it had been training the boy for this moment.
Vergil growled into his cock, slamming a fist into his hip and even nearly biting him to show his ire for the trickery. Arkham had hissed, but as the boy hadn't injured him he kept up the rhythm.
"Mmm... Very good, Vergil." He panted, softly stroking his hand through the boy's hair, to reward him.
Arkham could only take so much of watching this dangerous, fierce creature take his cock so well and ready before he nearly lost it. Forcing Vergil down to the floor, he hiked the boy's pants down till they were practically off. Lifting a leg to plunge his cock back into the boy, where it was sheathed oh so perfectly.
He changed their position several times until he was satisfied.
Vergil struggled some, but Arkham just pinned his arms over his head. Pounding into him relentlessly. The hall filled with the sound of their skin slapping together and the boy's whorish cries.
The boy was his to fuck raw.
His whore to dominate.
After his release spilled into the boy, coating him thoroughly, the two stayed where they were. Panting with each breath. Once he'd composed himself, Arkham pulled out of the boy, fixing his own clothing first. He shifted his gaze to view the conflicted expression on the boy's face.
"That expression, what troubles you?" Collecting some of his cum onto his fingers; he leaned in to bite at the side of Vergil's head, "Do the throes of lust make you feel like a whore?" Arkham slipped his cum coated digits into Vergil's mouth before he could respond with more than a tired growl.
Vergil yanked a hand free, grabbing Arkham harshly by the neck to choke him, "I. Am. No. Whore."
"The only one you must convince of that," Arkham managed, swallowing as he waited patiently to be released, "is yourself."
A brief moment passed, and the eldest son of Sparda relented. Arkham pulled away from the boy, turning away to let the boy recover on his own so that they may continue to the ritual chamber. A dirty grin permeating the scholar's features.
So, the boy felt like a whore, did he?