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Vergil shifted on the bed, the sheets soft against his bare skin. The bed he was lying on was large, luxurious. Comfortable. And if he closed his eyes, he could pretend he was waiting on his and his lover’s bed, awaiting him with spread legs and soft, kissable lips. He imagined the faceless man standing in the doorway and shooting him a smile, imagined returning it with a smile of his own and beckoning the other closer with a slight tilt of his head. The man's smile would widen, before joining Vergil on the bed, his long, pale hair falling over his broad shoulders as he lowered his head, dropping a soft kiss on Vergil's mouth...
Vergil let out a breath, blinking the image away. How was it that his mind kept drifing back to that man, with his sparkling blue eyes and beautiful smile? A man he'd last seen on the edge of a waterfall, reaching for him as Vergil fell into the darkness below?
Well... it didn't matter. There was no such man here, noone who would look at him with love in their eyes, and it was pointless to pretend otherwise.
He wasn't lying here waiting for his lover to come home. No, in fact, he was bound to the bed, thick, slimy tentacles tightly wrapped around his wrists and tying them to the headboard, while another pair held his ankles captive, forcefully keeping his legs spread. He felt vulnerable, exposed, the cold air surrounding him making him shiver from time to time.
He didn’t know how long he lay there, the only sound to be heard the one of his own quiet breathing. It could have been hours, days… he didn’t know. So he endured it, letting his eyes slip shut and ignoring the strain in his arms and legs from having lain in the same position for too long. And he just... waited.
Then, a sound. His head lifted from where it had sagged toward his chest, his sensitive ears picking up the sound of heavy footsteps moving toward the room Vergil was in. It was a sound he knew well, a sound he'd come to associate with pain and pleasure, if his master was feeling generous.
A moment later, the door opened, a figure cast in shadow stepping inside. Even though the newcomer’s features were hard to make out in the dim light of the room, Vergil knew who it was.
"Look at you," Mundus‘ deep voice rumbled, before stepping closer to the bed, letting Vergil get a closer look at his face. "So beautiful and regal, even bound as you are."
Three deep, red eyes blinked down at Vergil‘s prone form, his shoulder-length hair falling in silky waves across his shoulders. He was dressed in all black, fingerless gloves covering his hands not unlike the ones Vergil himself had worn some time ago… though the memory was fuzzy, unreachable for him.
It didn’t matter, though. If his Master wanted him naked, then he would be naked, not a single piece of clothing covering his slim, tall form. The few times Mundus had allowed him to wear a silky, blue robe around the palace, he’d seemed to take great pleasure in ripping it off Vergil's body before bending him over the nearest flat surface, fucking his ass, or his pussy, or both. Fucking him until Vergil was filled to the brim, his legs shaky and his voice hoarse from moaning and grunting. It was likely the only reason Vergil had been allowed to wear it in the first place. So it could be ripped off of him later.
Mundus settling on the mattress in front of him brought Vergil back to the present, his lips parting slightly as his master placed a hand on his thigh, running his fingers over the soft skin of his inner thigh.
"Have you missed me, hm?"
"Yes," Vergil murmured, biting his lip as Mundus‘ hand lightly trailed over his cunt. "Please, Master… I need you."
Let me feel something, no matter what it is. Allow me to feel the pleasure of your touch, allow me to make you feel good. Let my wrecked voice be the sweetest of melodies for your ears and your ears alone, the tight heat of my dripping cunt your safe haven.
Let me feel something.
Mundus chuckled as if he had heard him, those long, slim fingers trailing further upwards. Vergil let out a sound of protest as those fingers left his cunt, bypassing his hardening cock in favor of trailing over the swirling lines of the tattoo on his belly. Put there by one of Mundus’s most trusted demons themselves -- a blond woman, beautiful and with sharp senses. Her hand hadn’t trembled at all while pressing the ink-coated needle into his skin, over and over. Vergil had barely felt the pain at the time, too distracted by the familiarity of the woman's face. He felt like he knew her, somehow, but he'd never been able to figure out why.
"How is it going in there? Everything well?" Mundus suddenly asked, lightly pressing on his lower stomach. A gasp left Vergil’s lips at the sudden pressure, jostling the eggs inside him around some.
"G-good. Everything’s--," he bit his lower lip as Mundus slightly started massaging his stomach, hands tracing the clearly visibly outlines of the eggs nestled safe within Vergil’s body. "Everything is fine."
"You think you’re ready to push them out yet?“
"Not yet. They still need… time," Vergil managed, letting out a sigh of relief as Mundus removed his hand. He’d been listening for the smallest signs of the eggs within cracking beneath the pressure, but thankfully, nothing like that happened. His babies were safe.
As much as he despised having become Mundus' mate, his whore and sweetheart and lover, or whatever Mundus wanted to call him -- he couldn’t stand the thought of anything happening to the eggs. They were the only thing keeping him sane in this seemingly hopeless situation, giving him a purpose -- that he needed to be strong, as strong as a son of Sparda was supposed to be, and make sure they get to see the light of day and live a happy life.
"Anyway, you said you needed me, huh?" Mundus interrupted his thoughts once more, fingers already unbuckling his belt. An image flashed through Vergil, of Mundus’s true form -- not the one of a human male, but something made of stone and coldness, slimy tentacles wrapping themselves around Vergil's ankles and pulling him down into deep, dark waters.
"Yes. I always need you," Vergil said.
"Oh, I know," Mundus chuckled, dropping his pants and kicking them away. He then snapped his fingers and suddenly, the tentacles holding Vergil's arms and legs captive released him, slithering away into the darkness. Vergil sat up slightly and rubbed his wrists, feeling the blood rush back into his limbs. Mundus just looked at him for a moment, then said, unsurprisingly,
"Now, get on your hands and knees, ass in the air. There, that’s a good bitch." He nodded in approval as Vergil did as he was told, arching his back and burying his face in the pillow beneath him. As degrading as the words were, they made his breath come faster, his legs spreading in anticipation of what was sure to follow.
The mattress dipped beneath Mundus' weight once more, before two hands gripped his hips, tight enough to bruise. Vergil exhaled slowly, closing his eyes.
…
Vergil opened his eyes, a small, surpised breath escaping him as he stared up at the ceiling of his and Dante's bedroom.
He hadn’t dreamed of Mundus‘ in a while now, of the time he’d spent as the man’s slave, his demon queen and soldier at the same time. It had been two years since Dante and he had severed the Qliphoth’s roots and returned from the underworld, and a year since his brother and he had gotten together.
And life… well, it was pretty good. Vergil had Dante, and Nero, his son -- he'd been the only of the eggs that had hatched, the only one who had made it. He was a young man now, gentle and brave, and Vergil loved him dearly.
"Vergil?" Came Dante’s voice from behind him, a gentle hand trailing over his shoulder. "Are you okay?"
"Fine," Vergil said shortly, but he did twist around in the other’s arms. His hair was tousled from sleep, a few stray strands falling over his forehead and into his eyes, his pale eyelashes casting shadows on his cheeks from the moonlight falling in through the window. Dante gave him a soft smile as their eyes met, reaching up and pushing a hand through Vergil's hair, pushing it back into place. The gentle gesture made Vergil sigh, a smile tugging at his lips.
"It was a dream. A nightmare, really."
"Mundus again?"
Vergil nodded his head. "Even though he is dead, he’s still with me. I can feel him, sometimes." He vaguely remembered escaping from hell -- how he used to wake up and think he was still chained to a bed somewhere, awaiting his master’s presence. It had taken some time for him to begin to heal, to be able to kiss Dante without thinking of his master’s lips on his instead, taking everything he had to give, and more.
And Dante… Dante had been patient with him, sensing when Vergil was most likely to have a bad day, trying to get his mind off things by going demon hunting with him, or cuddling on the couch while devouring slice after slice of pizza. It had been… nice.
Vergil had found himself drawn to his twin brother, had found himself dreaming of Dante’s hands on him instead, whispering dirty things into his ear and making his folds swell, his cock harden between his thighs. Vergil wanted to give Dante everything -- his heart and soul, his love. All the things Mundus’ had never been worthy of.
But Dante was worthy. The worthiest. Vergil still remembered their first kiss, Vergil having leaned in after their gazes had met while sitting beside each other on the couch, legs placed on the low coffee table in front of them. The look inside Dante’s eyes had been nothing short of intense, full of hunger, and Vergil had taken the other’s face between his hands, sealing their mouths together in the most wonderful of kisses.
"He’s gone, Verg," Dante said quietly, and Vergil looked at him. "You don’t belong to him. You were never his, remember that."
"Am I yours, then?" Vergil asked before he could stop himself, his eyes searching. Dante’s brows arched in surprise at those words.
"Vergil, I… we’re together, you and I, but you’re not my property--"
"What if I want to be?" Vergil asked, and Dante’s mouth fell shut. Vergil felt bad for startling him like that, but the truth was… the truth was that the thought of belonging to Dante made him feel safe, loved. Dante meant everything to him, and he wanted nothing more than for himself to be Dante’s and Dante’s alone, always.
When Dante didn’t immediately reply, Vergil leaned in, pressing close to the other and leaving a trail of kisses down his shoulder. "Please, brother. I just need to know--"
Dante’s arms suddenly wrapped around him, gathering him close. One of his hands slid down Vergil’s back, stroking over his pale, warm skin. There was a slightly pained look in his eyes, as if he was internally cursing Mundus' for everything he'd done. But there was also love, there.
"If that’s what you need to hear… then yes, Vergil. You’re mine," Dante whispered, and Vergil felt himself relax, practically melting into the warmth of the other’s body. "All mine. And I will always love you."
"Good," Vergil said quietly, and smiled, leaning in and brushing their lips together. Dante let out a content sigh against his mouth, deepening the kiss.
Some days were worse, some days were better, yes. But Vergil knew they would always be better, as long as he had Dante by his side.