Work Text:
For years, Dante dreamt of bringing his brother home. It’s all he thought about, whether he allowed such sentiments in or not. His very soul ached for his twin, an ache and restlessness that wouldn’t disappear regardless of how much he drank or used suspicious substances to blanket the pain.
Funny how things never turn out the way you want them to. Or maybe, he should say he should’ve been careful what he wished for .
At the time, the only thing that mattered was ripping that disgusting armor off his twin and keeping him safe. Vergil had been through enough, felt enough torture and agony , and it was time for Dante to step up and do what he should’ve done long ago.
He couldn’t save him then, but he could now. Dante demolished the devilish deity responsible for ruining both of their lives, Vergil’s twice over, and brought his newfound family home.
Everything was supposed to fall into place then— things would return to normal, at least a semblance of normalcy, and he can enjoy a life that’s no longer empty and cold. He could put down the bottle and focus on his family, finally !
But, what he didn’t expect , is emptiness continuing to permeate his chest every time he looked at his twin. Vergil’s existence should’ve lit up the shadows of his office, instead he became a stark reminder of his failures. He didn’t know what he expected of Vergil when he came home, and he knows his fault also lies in wearing rose-colored glasses, yet that didn’t soothe him.
Trish had inadvertently worsened it. She was there during Mundus’ reign of terror, and had spoken to… Nelo Angelo on numerous occasions, leading to Vergil reacting the moment she entered the room. At first, it was outwardly hostile with Vergil baring his teeth and backing up into a corner much like a caged animal. Trish didn’t push it, taking her hint and promptly leaving.
Dante suspected she felt guilt over it, but he couldn’t blame her for possible wrongdoings. Both her and his twin were victims, products of trauma and manipulation. And although he wished for both of them to be in the same room for his own comfort and sanity, Trish had become his rock after all, that same wish was a huge no-no and would end in a bloodbath and tears.
So, Dante sits in his office, the tang of cheap liquor and the hum of the jukebox the few things keeping him grounded. Of course, he couldn’t have the jukebox too loud or else Vergil would cower; long gone were the days of dancing on his pool table and mimicking an electric guitar solo.
(He tries not to think about the crushing disappointment that his twin would be terrified of him dancing and singing, rather than being able to join him.)
The heinous armor is gone, but Vergil is hardly Vergil ; he’s wracked with side effects that ruin the illusion. Vergil is not soft and warm, a cozy home for Dante to lie in, but a husk .
His skin is dreadfully cold and covered in purplish veins. Sometimes, if Dante stared long enough, the veins would undulate with scant blood flow— the one sign his twin was even remotely alive, or, “undead”. The sclera of his eyes are permanently tinged a faint red, his irises are a terrifyingly bright indigo, the pupil so white Dante thinks he’s looking into the eyes of a mythical creature.
If it wasn’t for his opalescent hair and his identical visage, Dante could mistake his own brother for a rotting stranger. There’s no traces of his humanity, and hardly any remnants of his old personality. He doesn’t receive snarky quips, only groans and choked words. He doesn’t see Vergil nurse a cup of tea and read his favorite genre, no, he sits on the couch for hours, mind wandering to whatever astral dimension he is stuck in.
Dante can’t pretend anymore— the corner of his lips ache, the gravity of the situation weighing down his fake grin until he didn’t remember what genuine smiling felt like. He tried to smile for Vergil’s sake, hoping the bubbly expression was coaxing Vergil out of his shell, but at this point, wearing a cartoonish mask would be more convincing than the pitiful expression he wears day in and day out.
The silver lining to it all though, is when Vergil aches for cuddles .
He doesn’t outright say it of course, but when his gangly arms wrap around Dante’s torso and Vergil pulls him onto his lap, Dante hears his command crystal clear. It’s a blast to the past, a lovely bout of nostalgia Dante visits each time he tightly hugs his brother. Dante shares his warmth, and hopes his adoration is just as searing, for his twin’s skin is frightfully cold. Another reminder that Vergil is an empty shell of a man, a corpse that Dante props up in his office.
Despite that, Dante’s iron-grip hugs aren’t enough. His half-demon body only generates so much heat, and to regular humans who have their own processes to warm them, this wouldn’t be a problem. But, Vergil’s broken body has lost the ability to maintain, well, anything of his usual needs. His past torture permanently ruined him— the icy stone of the dungeon he was stored in and the frostbitten thorns that skewered his skin will never leave him.
He’ll do anything for Vergil, anything to give him reprieve from the void he’s stuck in. That promise leads him to doing a lascivious act he never pondered before.
It’s a night like any other.. Dante prepares Vergil for bed first by helping him into the shower and allowing scalding water to run over his skin. Vergil immensely enjoyed hot showers, and in little words had made it clear to Dante he required one before retiring for the evening. Dante wouldn’t dare let Vergil go without this luxury, which had led him to continually borrowing a hefty sum of money from Lady to keep his utilities on.
Dante sits on the small bathroom counter, waiting patiently as Vergil absorbs the heat and cleanses his hair. Ah, this too.. was lingering proof that he still had a twin. Vergil was such a stickler for his hair, even as a rambunctious child, and he stayed a stickler despite his dull affects.
(For the first time that day, Dante smiled from ear to ear.)
Once he’s done, Dante hands him a towel and hovers around him with an armful of clothes. Said clothes are oversized, hanging off Vergil’s collarbones and struggling to stay around his lithe hips, but it was impossible to find proper fitting clothes for him especially when he couldn’t leave the house.
Still, Dante finds the warmest clothes, such as soft sweaters, fuzzy pants, and the works.
This evening, Vergil is given a pale blue t-shirt and a charcoal sweater, the pants matching his tops with their cool toned striped pattern. Vergil examines the pajama pants, studying the pattern, and finally giving Dante a strange furrow of his brow.
Dante jokes with a crooked smirk, “Would you’ve preferred polka dots?”
As usual, Vergil doesn’t reply. He robotically slips on the clothes and steps out of the bathroom, making a beeline for the bed.
While Vergil tucks in under a mountain of pillows and blankets, Dante does the bare minimum in terms of personal hygiene and self-care— brushing his teeth for a quick spell and running his razor over his face. He replaces his red coat and black undergarments for a comfy, though ripped and stained pair of sweatpants.
Vergil’s hair is fluffed up by the comforter, his stormy irises fixated at the ceiling then flickering to Dante once he enters. Dante swallows past the tightness of his throat, and slides in next to his twin. Immediately, Vergil flops on his side and curls up beside Dante, stretching his arms over Dante’s waist and bringing him closer.
Due to the thick comforter and Vergil being fresh out of the steamy shower, Dante already feels sweat beading on his back and his nape. His natural heat is slowly being dialed up, and soon it will be unbearable, but for the sake of his twin.. well, he will grit his teeth.
Vergil’s cool cheek presses against Dante’s shoulder and coaxes a tiny tingle in his spine. “Are ya cozy now, Vergil?” Dante asks, slightly twisting his neck.
Vergil responds with a guttural purr, nuzzling into his warm skin.
It’s not words , but it’s enough. The lovely noises Vergil makes in place of conversation is still communication, and right now, Vergil communicates he is content; and that alone makes Dante happy. He’s safe under the blankets, with no one to rip him from his twin.
Then, Dante realizes with a sharp pang in his chest, that Vergil is content in another way. He thinks it to be a trick of his senses, that he is merely humanizing his brother, but no.. the stiff, thick body part prodding Dante’s buttocks tells him he isn’t crazy. Vergil shifts further, his erection pushing up against Dante’s cheeks.
For a moment, Dante is at a loss. Should he say anything? What would he even say? It’s not as if Vergil will quip back, whether in embarrassment or lust.
Most importantly, is Vergil even aware of how his body is reacting? He hasn’t indicated that he is..
Regardless, Dante really didn’t think Vergil could get, uh, those anymore. The warmth of the shower must’ve caused a surge in his veins, but why this night out of any he couldn’t guess. He has a slew of questions tumbling through his head, some based around morality as he wondered if satisfying his twin would somehow be wrong .
Being able to have skin-to-skin contact is a success in itself, one that hailed from a long, arduous path to ensure Vergil wasn’t forced 10 steps back in his healing process. To touch him.. intimately, would he allow such a thing?
A thought pops into his head then, one that has chills crawling over him and his heart to sink to the pit of his stomach. No, he doesn’t want to think Vergil had trauma relating to that . Surely it didn’t happen— no, it couldn’t have..
Dante’s disastrous thoughts are interrupted by Vergil’s whimpers, his icy slender fingers digging into the hot flesh of his stomach. The increasing pitch of Vergil’s croaky groans alongside the tight grip on him signals that something was wrong.
Dante releases a shaky sigh.
“Vergil, hey, what’s wrong?” he rotates his upper body to catch Vergil staring at him like a deer-in-headlights. He speaks softly, “What’s wrong, love?”
Vergil’s explanation is a series of heavy breaths, his thin eyebrows furrowed in a mixture of apprehension and curiosity. Oh, he definitely knows now. The poor thing has been smacked by the terrible fate of having a human body, reminded of the ways his tissues and veins may react to certain exposures.
“C—co-old,” Vergil mutters, his tongue struggling to abide by his wishes. He mushes their torsos together, his thick clothed erection straining against the fuzzy cotton and rubbing into the crack of Dante’s ass.
The view of Vergil’s scrunched up brow, half-lidded eyes, and plush pout shouldn’t be turning Dante on, but within seconds, his torn sweatpants also struggle to contain the results of blood pumping to his dick.
Dante brushes a few rebellious strands out of Vergil’s face. “Come closer, then. I’ll keep you warm.”
“I..” Vergil harshly swallows. The bobble of his Adam’s apple is delightfully sexy.
“Yes?” Dante’s sapphire eyes glitter, eager to hear what he may say.
“N–not enough..I.. I wa—want..”
Dante nods, giving him a gentle cue to continue in the form of a cute smile.
“... t—to be in.. in—side you.”
The raspy growl in which Vergil utters those words gives Dante whiplash. This is unlike anything Vergil had done or said before— and dare he say, there is unbridled passion laced throughout his wish. Dante’s heart skips a beat knowing the most human Vergil has acted as of yet is due to lust.
Ha , the power of love sure is strong, isn’t it?
Suddenly, Vergil yanks down the waistband of Dante’s sweatpants, or at least attempts to. Dante yelps, though covers it with a teasing remark.
“Impatient, are we?” he manages, but is drowned out by Vergil shoving him on his side and tugging down the raggedy pants. His fingers inadvertently wrap around Dante’s hardening cock, the flesh stinging hot in contrast to his twin’s frosty touch. Dante hisses, his muscles tensing and his mind struggling to keep up with what’s going on. He doesn’t know what to say or do, albeit he knows he doesn’t want to reject him.
Unfortunately, a quick, sweet handjob is not Vergil's goal. He lets go of his brother’s dick and slides his palm further down Dante’s hips and thighs to remove the sweatpants the best he can. Hesitation and apprehension morph into excitement as Dante realizes how long it’s been since he’s indulged like this. Not just with his twin, but in general .
As silly as it sounds, he felt no one was important enough to give himself to; a body is a temple and all that bullshit. Really, it was less that he considered his body above others and a prize to be won, but rather he was leftover scraps in an alleyway, waiting for the one he loved to come back to him while others gazed upon his wretched form with disgust and judgment.
It almost was… insulting to allow others to have him. Insulting to both him and a possible lover. They didn’t deserve garbage, just like he didn’t deserve the caresses of those who would never be enough for him.
Vergil’s breathing picks up as he squeezes Dante’s ass, his hips rutting against his twin’s backside.
“I get it, I get it ,” Dante jokes. “You can have me in a second! Let me make this easier on ya.”
He reaches over and rips out a drawer from his janky nightstand in search of lube. No lube, but he finds a half-used bottle of lotion. Vergil proves to be far too impatient, already stuffing his dick inside Dante’s tight hole. The red devil squeaks, a sound he’s not proud of, and grabs Vergil’s forearm wrapped around his waist. It shouldn’t hurt like it does, considering the shit he’s been through, but goddamn if being stabbed with his brother’s dick doesn’t hurt more than if he had been pierced with Yamato. Either he’s truly lost his marbles or Vergil’s sword grew since their last tussle.
The lotion falls to the floor with a deafening clang as Vergil continues to fit himself inside his twin. Something tears, Dante thinks, and warm liquid drips out of him. Vergil sighs in utter bliss, squeezing Dante like a teddy bear and threatening to crack ribs. He may be a zombie, husk, whatever , Vergil never lost his strength– that’s for sure.
On cue, the hellish powers coursing through his veins repairs any damages he received, only for Vergil to reopen wounds with his cock. He can’t stop, refuses to, and thrusts upward until every last inch of him is secured inside his brother.
Dante bites his lower lip until that too bleeds, his teeth grinding as he fights through the sensation. It’s awful, yet so wonderful . The lotion wasn’t necessary, not when hot crimson dribbles down Vergil’s cock and softens the dull pain.
The instant Vergil smells the iron, the notes of sulfur and ethereal energy radiating from Dante’s blood, he bucks and rams the rest of his cock until his balls smack against Dante’s taint. Vergil doesn’t have to speak, Dante knows that he’s thinking how delicious he is– and that alone has him rock hard, unable to hold back from touching himself.
Yet, he’s stopped from doing so. Vergil loops his arms under Dante’s armpits and cages him in, keeping Dante’s arms strapped to his torso with no way of relieving the pressure building in his dick. He doesn’t believe Vergil did it on purpose, though a part of him hopes it is. It sure sounds like something Vergil would do, being the smug, teasing prick that he is, but his twin’s creaky groans and desperate attempts at heating his skin up tell him otherwise. Well , a man can dream!
Dante relaxes, his brother’s cock stretching his hole and leaving him full. He’s never felt as whole as he does now, so filled with love and warmth.. Sweat pours down his neck and abdomen, smearing everywhere Vergil’s cotton sweater meets his skin. Vergil too seems finally comfortable. He twitches inside of Dante, perfectly fine with staying motionless rather than rocking back and forth for extra pleasure. One day, Dante can coax him into doing just that! Show him how warm and wet he really can get. For now though, he will let Vergil use his body however he needs to.
Even if it means melting into nothing but oily skin and bones for Vergil to gnaw on, Dante will gladly do so for his one and only.