If there's one thing Nero never expected to come with unleashing his inner demonic heritage, it was the absolutely unparalleled feeling that he was going to explode every once in a while. It was the kind of explosion that he could never describe - it often left him unable to work, unable to focus, unable to even think. He both hated and loved the way it made him feel.
This week was no different. It started slow. Nero knew it set in the moment he'd decided not to help you in Devil May Cry. You'd been desperately trying to pull a box of files from Dante's tall shelves and found that you couldn't. Instead of doing the right thing - taking the extra five minutes to look for a step stool - you'd turned and asked him for help. "Nero, you're tall. Can you help me quick? If you're not busy."
Nero had looked over with disinterest - but it was always something different. He'd ignored your request because he was busy working on his Red Queen with Nico, and looked up to see you struggling to grasp it again. You'd muttered something mean under your breath. The last time he'd felt this feeling, you had been affixing a new gauntlet to his reformed arm for a better, more comfortable fit while Nico made adjustments on the fly. You'd done nothing more than brush your fingertips against the bare skin of his newly reformed arm. He'd spent the remainder of the day hiding away in his room.
It didn't help that Nero knew he was head over heels for you; it was just that he couldn't ever seem to do anything right. And instead of embracing how he felt, he tried to resist it as much as he tried to resist spilling his feelings. Call it stubborn nature, call it the byproduct of being part of Sparda's bloodline. He'd taken to purposefully brushing you off first - to reject you before you rejected him.
He watched as you reached onto your tip toes - your fingertips barely brushed against the file box on the top shelf. You began to grunt, gripping the edge of the third shelf down in an attempt to push yourself higher. The weight shift allowed you to reach as far on your toes as you possibly could... but it still hadn't been enough. Nero hated how his eyes shifted from your desperate fingertips to the hem of your dress; it rode up just enough to reveal more than you probably wanted. He never once wondered what kind of underwear you wore, but in his current state, it was everything he needed.
Nico had shoved Nero and in turn, knocked him into the coffee table. "Hey, pay attention when I'm talkin' to you! This is important work!" She never once noticed the way he stared at the back of your thighs. The warmth began to settle in his lower stomach as his thoughts drifted; he ignored Nico too as he brushed her fingers away from his chest. "You're useless." Nico's insults were as empty as Nero's lungs as she got up and stormed off.
Nero watched as your dress caught on a sharp edge of the shelf; you'd given up on getting the file box and moved away from it. It showed much more than you'd wanted. You'd turned at the worst moment, watching the way Nero's jaw went slack - his fingertips brushed against his own knee. "Goddamn," Nero couldn't stop the word from leaving his lips. He knew he'd fucked up the second it left, but hubris was Nero's middle name. He watched as your face turned from surprise, to ire, to plain disgust. You'd again muttered something mean under your breath as you fixed yourself and stormed off to find Dante instead. Nero never noticed the blush on your cheeks, nor the blush on his own.
If he hadn't thought he fucked up before, Nero surely knew that he had now. No girl enjoyed being oogled so blatantly, even if it had originated from the one man she had a crush on.
Knock, knock, knock.
You do your best to ignore the knuckles tapping on your door; as if to show that you don't want to talk, you turn your stereo up so that you can't hear them anymore. You're blasting something as passive-aggressive as you feel and it is not lost on Nero.
You don't hear the way his forehead, red and hot, falls against your door. It's cold against his skin and it's all he wants. "Come on," he mumbles, jiggling the doorknob, "please talk to me." He knows his words aren't loud enough to be heard but he doesn't care. He deserves the cold shoulder you're so aggressively giving him. He knows that you need time, but Nero feels like he can't wait anymore.
He doesn't know why he feels that way, but it surely has something to do with the fever he feels setting in all over his body. Not once does he think to ask Dante or his own father what it means - no one said that the Sparda bloodline had to have any common sense at all. Like a kicked puppy, Nero bangs his open palm against the door loud enough to startle you. You can hear his hand slide down the wood as he rolls against it. "Can you please talk to me?!" His voice raises with each syllable until it's loud enough to be heard over your music. "Like, you know, adults?!"
You roll your eyes. You continue to ignore for only a moment longer; he doesn't exactly give you time to take your sweet time as punishment as he raps on your door again. Out of frustration you slam your phone down on your bed and storm over. Nero nearly falls into you and your room as you swing the door open. "What makes you think you deserve to talk to me right now?" You stand there in a crop top and shorts, bare legged because you were just trying to relax. "What makes you think you deserve to be forgiven, either?"
Nero rights himself and takes a few steps back - if there's one thing he isn't, it's disrespectful. His comment on your ass had been a momentary lapse of judgement. "Look, I just wanted to say that I'm sorry, alright?" You say nothing, and offer no emotion other than impatience, so he continues. "It wasn't right to stare, and I looked like an idiot, and I'm sorry for not helping you either. I just... something's going on with me right now and... and I really would appreciate some slack."
"Some sl--on what planet?!" You're absolutely perplexed. You know, deep down, you're only doing this to punish yourself. For all intents and purposes, Nero is untouchable. You work for his family, he's practically your boss, and he's just gotten out of a relationship. That's more than enough to try and stay away. Your words seem to sting as he winces and takes another step back. "What kind of stupid excuse even is that, Nero?" You know your level of anger is no longer justified. Nero's apology was and always would be sincere. You're pretty sure he doesn't know how to lie.
"It's not an excuse, I swear..." Nero stuffs his hands into his pockets. He's been looking anywhere but at you this entire time. His eyes glance towards you as you study him, and then back to the top of the door frame. You watch the way he fidgets in place, unable to stay still. Maybe there is some truth to his words - he's never this way. Nero's usually confident and careless. You've never once seen him nervous.
You inhale deeply as you stare at him. Your breath, though warm, feels cool against his body. It's as sweet as he thinks you are, and he wants nothing more than to live in it tonight. He begins to drift towards you. You don't notice. "Look. what you did was kind of rude and that's why I'm angry. You could have taken two seconds to help me. The whole staring at my ass thing is forgivable too, I guess." You deflate slowly, shifting so that your hands rest across your midsection. "I know I have a great ass. Dante won't stop telling me."
"Just ignore him. He's a prick." Nero mumbles.
"I guess that makes you a prick too, doesn't it?" He nods. It's almost pathetic, had he not looked so cute when he did it. "You're forgiven. But you owe me, big time."
Nero nods again, staring down at the floor - and in turn, your legs. You don't stop him from doing so. "What do I have to do in return?"
"Help me with anything I need for the next three weeks." You cock your head to the side, fully intending for him to try and negotiate the length of his 'punishment.'
"Okay. Three weeks." Nero's never been this submissive before. You wonder what's wrong with him. Does he truly feel as bad as he looks?
You shift from one foot to the other and roll your eyes. "Jesus, you're pathetic." You reach out to him and wrap your fingers around his wrist - you almost pull away from how hot he is. When you tug on his wrist, he follows without a word. "You're lucky you've got a face like a puppy." You tease him softly in his ear as you pull him into a light hug. Every inch of his body you can feel is as hot as his wrist. Nero wasn't lying; something was up with him.
Your mind shifts to demonic illnesses and you wonder if such a thing is even possible. You'd have to ask Dante, as you step backwards and pull Nero into your room. He seems... okay with that, as you linger just a little too long on his chest. "What are you doing?" He asks.
"You're burning up. You can borrow my bed for a little while." You offer as you pull him towards it. He follows; you turn and push him onto it because he won't do it himself, and he falls back against the sheets. He shifts so that he's able to lay against it and kicks his boots off.
You shove a pillow under his head so that he isn't pressed up against the wall and linger just a little too long. You watch just as his eyes flash bright gold.
"Nero?" You know of his demonic nature and that isn't what surprises you. What surprises you is the way he pulls you against him. It's as though he's fighting a heavy internal battle as you come crashing down against his own body. You feel bad, feeling yourself knee him in sensitive places. Nero doesn't even notice as hot fingers trail up your sides.
You'd be lying if you said you didn't want it to happen. "I'm sorry." He inhales deeply and tries his best to let go of you. His hands just won't allow it.
Shifting, you manage to straddle his lower thighs and fix yourself, staring down at a Nero you've never seen before. Though he's still as nervous as he had been standing outside your bedroom door, there's a fire in his eyes that stares at you intensely. His eyes haven't turned back to their natural, pale blue. He's looking anywhere but at you. "Tell me what's up with you, Nero."
Nero stays quiet.
"I--I can't explain it. I don't know what it is. Something's wrong with me."
You manage to tear yourself away from his fingertips - for a moment, he's afraid he's fucked up yet again. You only close and lock your bedroom door. This is clearly something sensitive, if the growing bulge you're just now noticing in his pants is anything to go by. "Hit me with it."
Nero sits up on his elbows. "I don't know. I just. I don't know what triggers it, I don't know what it is. I just know that I hate it and I hate the way I feel and I hate the way it makes me act." He gives up on trying to look at you as you cross the room again and slip into the bed beside him. He leans back against it and rubs his face with his hands. "I just know I have to keep myself isolated. I've ruined so many pillows."
"Pillows?" You snort.
"Yeah. Pillows." Though his last words were a slip of his tongue, he knows it's better to just admit it than to try and hide the fact that whatever this is that's effecting him seems to be of a sexual nature.
You catch on quickly. "Is that why you couldn't stop staring at me yesterday?"
"I guess so... I know you don't mean to do it, but the past few times..." Nero pauses, wondering if he should just come out and say it. You seem to prefer honesty above all else, so he finds no reason to lie. "The past few times it's been you. You're the only common symptom."
"Way to be dramatic about it. Just say you get horny because of me, I mean, honestly." You roll your eyes; Nero is beginning to wonder if he's gone crazy with how casual you're acting.
"It's more than just that," He replies; his hands never leave his face. "It's like this... unquenchable thirst, or, or something more poetic than that. It doesn't help that I can't have the one thing my body seems to want."
"I take it that means me." Nero nods. You pull his hands from his face so he'll look at you. "You know, you could have just said something... or are you really that stupid?" Nero squints at you. "I like you too, idiot. I won't admit to getting horny whenever you're around, but I like you. I don't think I could have ever made that clearer."
"I mean, if you would have just helped me, you would have realized that." You roll your eyes as you sit up and pull your hair into a ponytail. "I was trying to get you to press up against me. I guess I'm not as good at flirting as I realize."
"No, no," Nero respond, "I'm just stupid."
You laugh quietly and he laughs too; the revelation that he's not a total fuck up and that you like him distracts him from his own arousal as he stares up at the ceiling. His eyes return to their icy blue after a few moments and you forget about the fact that he's as hard as a rock just inches away.
Your phone pings from his other side - in your distraction, you'd forgotten that you were in quite the conversation with your best friend. In a fit of irony, you'd been complaining to her about Nero. Well, better late than never to tell her that you were just being mean and that Nero was actually not an asshole.
All it takes is one movement.
Something as small as leaning over Nero just a little too much to grab your phone leaves him at your complete and utter mercy. You linger again, immersed in replying to your best friend about him; Nero makes the mistake of looking down and sees more than he'll admit to wanting to see. You aren't wearing a bra.
Whether from brushing against the fabric of your crop top, or from the general excitement of talking to your friends, your nipples are perked. It makes him salivate. All the calm that he felt before dissolves as he reaches up and under your crop top to do what his body tells him to - to touch and pinch and brush his thumb against what he considers the perfect nubs.
Such a movement startles you out of your distraction and you look down. "Nero!" That doesn't seem to stop him, and you certainly don't as his hands gently squeeze at you. It's almost funny how juvenile it all seems, if it weren't for the fact that you can feel yourself starting to get wet.
Nero sits up just enough to disappear under your top; you cradle the back of his head with an arm as a hot, wet mouth latches onto one perfect nipple. You're glad you locked your door. Still distracted by your text messages, you send a quick, brb, gotta take care of smth quick. The phone is tossed on the nightstand and forgotten about as you slide further into bed. Nero follows without question - his teeth graze against the sensitive mound and you whimper. "Sorry," his breath feels hot against your skin as he slips between your legs to get comfortable.
Your fingers card through his hair. "It's alright, I--" You pause, knowing that boundaries should be set, "I have only one request, I guess, or, or just something to keep in mind."
Nero makes a noise to acknowledge you, although he's far more interested in circling his tongue around your opposite nipple. You feel a gloved thumb brush up against the first.
"Don't ruin my pillows."
Nero snorts. "I won't," he murmurs back as his lips slip lower and lower. He doesn't think about what he's doing; Nero is letting his demonic nature make all decisions as he succumbs to his most basic desire.
To tease himself, Nero takes his time pulling your shorts and panties away from your body. His lips never leave your skin as he presses his nose into the soft skin of your navel; he doesn't need to see you to know how aroused you are. His other heightened senses tells him all he needs to know, and God, has he never wanted to taste something as desperately as he wants to taste you.
His breath is hot against your lower stomach as he takes the time to pull his gloves off - he won't be needing them, or his jacket, or his shirt. You watch as he fumbles and tosses them across the room. You've forgotten just how handsome he is underneath all of those layers. Nero slides back up your body to press a kiss to your lips - he's too afraid that he'll ruin his cargo pants if he does what he really wants to.
You indulge him, fingers tangling in his hair as you taste Nero's tongue against your own. His own scent, though you don't quite realize it, is just as intoxicating as yours is to him. Though you have no demonic heat like his, you can feel the desperation to feel him build. "Don't hold back if you need it." You whisper against his lips as you reach down and tug at his belt. He doesn't stop you, not even when he feels your fingers slip under his boxers to palm at him.
You commit the way he shivers against your touch to memory. You wonder if he's ever been touched like this before. You wonder if he's ever done this before when he's like this. With the way he responds to how you stroke his length in his boxers, you know the answer. Nero's fingers wrap around your wrist as he pulls his bottoms down just enough to expose himself; he rights the way you stroke him and nearly spasms right there on the spot.
It seems that Nero can't hold out anymore - he pulls your hand from his length, all thoughts of tasting you gone. He can't wait any longer. He must have you now. "I need you," he whispers, "right now. Please."
You watch his expression; his cheeks are as bright red as the tip of his aching length. His eyes won't look at you, no longer bright gold but still just as intense. His pupils are blown so wide its as though they aren't blue at all. It's weird to see Nero with dark eyes. "How do you need me? Any specific positions, or--"
"Just--Just roll over." Whether out of embarrassment or because he really does want you a certain way, you do just as he asks. It'll do no good to tease him, so you don't even bother as you turn over and arch your ass backwards; he stops you halfway and pushes you back down against the bed. Trembling hands brace on either side of your chest as he kicks your knees together. His length brushes against your skin and he shivers.
You look back just as he reaches down and presses himself where he wants to be. "Go on, I'm a big girl." You coo, cradling a pillow. Nero doesn't answer you, but he pushes forward and moans just from the feeling. You don't know any better, but he's never felt so sensitive before. You relax and bit your lip as he pushes, and pushes, and pushes. It's as though his length will never end. When he finally bottoms out, blushing and panting against the nape of your neck because he's so worked up already, you feel more full than you've ever felt before in your life.
"Y-You're so wet," he breathes; his hips start up without hesitation as he presses himself against your back. It's funny just how animalistic Nero seems in this moment, and just how little he realizes it as he stays nice and close. You can't even fault him - it must be difficult to be a demon in heat. "H-How badly did you..." his voice trails off, thought fizzled out just as he had it.
He's so talkative, you think as you push back against him and give him something better to look at. His hips gather pace and soon enough, you can do nothing more than bury your face into your pillow and gasp. Nero's moved on from just bracing against the bed - one hand holds your hips against it, the other braced just beside your head in your pillow. He's working you from every angle he can manage, trying to find something that feels right for you. Even in this state, half-transformed and in desperate need of a release, he still thinks about what you need.
If only he knew you needed exactly what he was already giving you. "N-Nero, right there--" you gasp as he slips deeper inside of you. He's long since stopped talking, favoring soft growls and grunts occasionally in your ear. "Right there, yes--" Nero practically pounds the spot that's making you moan his name. You get the hint he wants to hear it more.
You oblige, gripping your pillow as you moan his name again, and again, and again, between quiet cries of 'yes please's' and 'fuck me's. It only serves to get Nero going as he starts to pant, then grunt, then growl.
Nero hits his peak just as you hit your own; when you reach back to try and tug at his hair, you find it falling in your face. Something pops, and you can feel Nero expanding inside of you. You have to spread just to fit it all as you kneel underneath of him. Nero seems no worse for wear as sharp teeth bite down on your neck. It's not enough to break skin, but it's enough to leave a mark as you instead find purchase gripping at a solid, feathered horn. You can just see clawed fingers tearing into your sheets and you don't have the heart to yell at him to stop.
He thrusts until you grip at his bicep and whimper; only then does he slow, though he doesn't transform back into his human half. It's as though he's stuck like this as he shifts with you. Though Nero gives you enough time to calm down, he never not once leaves you, not even as he releases. He shifts until you're in his lap, supported by his hands around your thighs. You don't even need to ask if he needs more... it's clear that he does as his hips start up at the first sign of you being okay.
Nero isn't as gentle the second time around. Something in him has awoken as he holds your hips and moves them for you - you brace against his biceps and arch. The laughter that leaves your lips feels manic. You, letting a demon have its way with you? You're just thankful it's Nero. A part of you hopes Dante never finds out; he might never speak to you again. Not that you had any intention of pursuing him. He was old and grimy and not at all like the half-demon underneath of you.
You don't remember ending up pressed against the windowsill, legs wrapped around Nero's demonic hips as he reaches his second peak, nor do you remember how you ended up straddling his hips so that you can ride him. It's all a blur as he takes you in every way he can manage, until he's exhausted and throbbing against your inner thigh. You can feel his release dripping from you, almost four orgasms' worth, but it doesn't freak you out at all. All you care about is how gentle Nero cradles your body and breathes heavily against your throat.
He swallows and exhales; you start to say something but he speaks before you. "I'm sorry."
"You--You keep saying that. I don't think you mean it." When Nero pulls back, you're nibbling on your finger, lips curling into a devious smile. He licks his own lips.
"You're right," he mutters, pushing your finger away from your mouth so he can kiss you instead. You can just barely feel his hand reaching down to press himself against you again. "I'm not sorry at all."