Chapter Text
Vergil wouldn’t necessarily describe Nero as… Sweet.
Maybe it was more accurate to say that the boy was forgiving.
More so than Vergil could have ever been. But sometimes Nero really was… kind, in an unexpected way.
At first, when the twins strolled into the DMC office freshly returned from Hell, Nero was rightly infuriated by the sight of them. To the boy, he had been rejected yet again by his family. And he wasn’t shy about letting them know it. There was a lot of yelling and fists thrown in the first few weeks, but the virulent anger faded quicker than one might expect from the hot-headed boy.
Vergil wouldn't say he was worried so to speak, but seeing the boy’s anger fade was nerve-wracking in its own right. He certainly wouldn't let the man who ripped his arm off back into his life. At first, he was convinced that the boys' instincts were compelling him to submit to the two older half-breeds. But truthfully, Nero seemed oddly delighted to be in their presence; even if he would never admit it aloud. He often quietly made the small humming vocalizations that indicated happiness in demons. It was strangely comforting to know that Nero was spending time with the pair because he wanted to get to know them and wasn't being forced to. The boy had even taken up residence in the Devil May Cry office for the time being.
Vergil didn’t find himself as chafed as he thought he would be returning to the human world either. The humiliation of his defeat faded away by the time Nero had calmed. In fact, he caught himself more than once feeling prideful of Nero’s strength. Oddly enough, the time spent with his brother in Hell had reacquainted him with the majority of human customs. Interacting with Nero on a human level was imperfect, but considerably easier as a result. Instead, the father and son had shifted into a mostly amicable relationship. They spoke without snapping at each other and completed missions without bickering incessantly… It was nice. For lack of a better word. Instinctually, Vergil was happy too, and Dante had taken no time at all to bully him over it in private affectionately.
And as their relationship improved, Nero’s small acts of kindness did as well.
If Vergil slipped into an uneasy sleep, often plagued by nightmares, he awoke gently with a soft blanket covering him.
When Vergil’s tea went cold while absorbed in a book, he found a hot one with just the right amount of tea bags replacing it shortly thereafter.
Just when Vergil was about to run out of reading material, more thick, leather-backed tomes found their way onto his shelf.
It could only be Nero who performed the oddly kind actions while Vergil was otherwise distracted. The twins had rekindled their adolescent relationship in Hell, but Dante often left Vergil to his own devices for the most part. It wasn't that he didn't care, Vergil knew his twin was trying to preserve the tender peace between them as well as he knew how.
Besides, the blankets, mugs, and books always carried an overture of Nero’s subtle scent.
Cranberry and Hibiscus. Very tea-like. It’s the sort of scent one can miss easily, but when noticed, it becomes a pleasant, warm aroma. It was very distinct from his brothers' rosy gunpowder-infused scent. The… markedness of the objects was impossible to miss. It almost gave him the impression Nero was longing for something.
Vergil wasn't quite sure what to make of it. Demons typically lived in close-knit packs, and by that measure, Nero’s actions weren't too out of place. It was natural to comfort packmates with scent or provide them with sustenance and gifts unasked. But the boy had always seemed painfully human in the short time Vergil had known him; despite the clear manifestations of demonic power. Dante never gave any indication that the boy had acted in any instinctual way when he was younger either. His brother was still strangely cagey with any information regarding Nero and their shared past.
Nero had never signaled that he wanted his actions returned either. The boy didn’t verbally voice a need for scenting or protection, things Vergil was instinctually obligated to give.
When the boy saw the twins scent each other in greeting or for comfort, he politely averted his gaze; fists clenched in his lap like he was uncomfortable with the sight. When he saw the pair retreat to the same bedroom at night, clinging close to each other, he never spoke a word of it; not even teasingly. Vergil had even insisted they stop performing such actions around the boy, to make him less tense. Nero didn’t ask for much out of the pair, this was the least they could do to avoid unnecessary conflict.
He felt compelled as the boy’s father to nest with him, provide for him, and more… But… Vergil was still somewhat timid revealing his own nature around his son. Vergil feared that the boy’s experiences with demons, namely Urizen, had soured any want for reciprocity. Nero may be forgiving and might have even moved past his father’s betrayal internally, but they had not had any true discussions about it. Yes, their relationship had improved, but more so out of avoiding the topic. There were still tough conversations that needed to happen between them. Least of all on that list was how demonic in nature his son was.
Speak of the devil and he shall appear.
Amid Vergil’s reflection, Nero half-walked half-slid down the banister to start looking through Dante’s desk. Throwing papers and old pizza boxes to the side, he seemed to find what he was looking for in short order. Quite a feat considering the mess that covered it. The boy cheered to himself as he thrust a piece of paper in the air. “Found it!” Nero turned to face him, “Want to go on a job with me and Trish while the old man is out?”
Vergil closed his book quietly. On the one hand, he secretly delighted in fighting alongside Nero. Their fighting styles complimented each other surprisingly well, and it usually helped them bond in some way or another. Demons were social creatures who bonded through proximity and violence.
Though on the other hand, he despised that foul copy of his mother. It wore her face unfeelingly, and it reminded him of his worst days as Nelo Angelo. That she-demon who sounded so much like his mother often counted monotonously for Mundus as he doled out physical punishment. Dante assured him over and over that… Trish was a victim of Mundus as well, but all Vergil saw was a beast in his mother's skin. It was uncanny at best and triggering at worst. But… It was a necessary sacrifice to spend time with his son.
Just this once, he would allow it.
“I will accompany you, if that is what you wish.”
Nero’s crooked smile was a reward all on its own. A little pleased trill escaped Vergil before he could stifle it. Tension Vergil hadn’t initially noticed in the boy’s shoulders dropped as he turned to the antique phone on Dante’s desk. “Great! I’ll call and let her know where to meet us.” Nero’s scent was pleasing too, it bounced around the room lightly as he brightened up. Vergil was glad he said yes, despite how incensing he knew it would be. Never let it be said he wasn’t attempting to spend time with his son.
Though he had forgotten how poor his son’s driving abilities were. While not as terrible as his friend Nico’s driving - they were still, in fact, on the road - Nero seemed determined to outdo her in terms of ‘potholes hit on rural roads.’ On a particularly rough bounce, the boy laughed uproariously, “Haha! Sorry,” he exclaimed, “I don’t actually have a license or anything!”
Not very shocking considering the feudal-era town Nero grew up in, but fear-inducing all the same. Vergil still couldn't get quite used to the nausea that accompanied long stretches of driving.
Vergil chose to remain silent after the boy’s quip, though his death grip on the Yamato’s hilt must have been palpable. Nero slowed significantly once they reached a smoother portion of the rural road and moved to close his right hand around Vergil’s tightly wrapped fingers. The boy squeezed his father’s hand lightly and flipped Vergil’s wrist face up. Before he could protest, Nero began to stroke lightly at his pulse point under his gloves. “It’s alright,” he said slowly, soothingly, “We’re almost there.” Nero’s scent thickened in the small work van, and his pupils dilated into a subtly more inhuman shape.
Vergil felt like he was going to spontaneously combust in the passenger seat. The small gesture of goodwill sent a bolt of feeling coursing through him. A combination of relief and gratitude mostly, but more frustratingly, arousal. Whether the boy knew it or not, he was possessively covering Vergil in his scent by touching him like this. It was the type of gesture he would have expected from Dante, not his son. Revulsion towards incest was not a concept demons understood. They frequently mated among family lines, since it was safer that way. His son, who surely must have acted innocently, would be revolted if he knew how his touch made his father feel. So, Vergil choked back any sentiment rising in his voice to hum quietly in affirmation, pulling his hand away.
Briefly, Vergil thought he saw Nero’s face pinch in agitation; but it was gone too fast to truly analyze. The boy was likely annoyed that Vergil had failed to respond in depth verbally.
“We’re here, see?”
And so they were. The van clunked along before coming to a stop in front of a dilapidated farmhouse. It was complete with several sheds and a large red barn. It was surprising how rural Redgrave could be past the city limits. As a child, he had never really left the more metropolitan areas.
“Ah, there’s Trish.”
Nero cut the van’s engine and swung open the door, leaving Vergil inside to stew briefly. That woman was poking around the piles of rotted wood that littered the area, kicking debris this way and that. He could hear his son’s cheerful greeting through the panes of glass and Trish’s welcoming reply. Reluctantly, Vergil took his time opening his door to join the pair of hunters.
It wouldn’t do to sulk.
Though, it seemed like they were in a slight disagreement as he approached.
“No, he won’t want to do that with you.” Nero said quickly, “I’ll go with him to the barn and you check the house.”
“It’s more efficient to have Vergil and I check the house, and you do the barn. We’re both long-range fighters, and you’re not.”
Ah. The dispute must be over who would work where and with who. But it was strange that Trish was fighting to pair with him and not work by herself as she usually did.
Nero’s frustrated growl surprised him, but it didn’t impress Trish. “You’re too dramatic. Look, we won't split up at all if it makes you happy, but the job will take ten times longer if we do.” The demoness threw an indecipherable look at Vergil while still speaking to Nero, “Besides, you need some alone time anyways. He’s the one working you up, not me.”
What has he done now? Vergil had hardly antagonized Nero all day and said nary a word to Trish. Just why was she fighting to be alone with Vergil when he had made his feelings towards her more than clear? The petty argument was starting to grate at Vergil’s senses, but he didn’t know how to interject without provoking the pair to further blows; that was Dante’s job.
Suddenly, the boy turned red and sputtered at the she-demon's quip, “I don’t need alone time; I’m not a child, Trish!”
“Then don’t act like one.” She snapped back, “Can’t go without seeing Daddy for more than five seconds?”
Now Nero was dead silent, but trembling with rage. Perhaps it was time to interject before his son exploded on someone he usually considered a friend.
“Enough. Trish and I will clear the infestation from the main house. Nero, you’ll clear the barn. The sooner we begin, the sooner this will be over.” Vergil paused, “Acceptable?”
Nero kicked around in the dirt a bit but grunted out an affirmation regardless. Trish looked smug and she crossed her arms over her chest. The boy spun on his heel and headed toward the barn without saying a word. Trish watched him move away intently, seemingly searching for something. Then she abruptly strode away from Vergil and towards the dilapidated house.
Something told Vergil she did not want to pair with him out of the goodness of her heart. The witch was likely planning on saying or doing something to antagonize him, knowing that Vergil would be reluctant to engage for fear of upsetting his brother.
No matter. She was nothing to be concerned about. His son’s reaction on the other hand…
“Are you coming, or are you just going to stand there?”
The demoness was already in the foyer of the house waiting for him to stop watching Nero disappear into the distance. Wordlessly, Vergil pushed past her and surveyed the interior for signs of infestation.
The once grand house was smashed to pieces inside, something that could have happened with time or from a demon attempting to nest in the space. To the left, a hallway was littered with the telltale webs of spider demons. To the right was a large kitchen, also webbed thoroughly.
“I’ll take the left, you take the right,” Vergil spoke as if the matter was already decided. Hopefully, it would deter whatever that woman was trying to do by getting him alone. “Fine by me,” Trish hefted his father's sword over her back with ease, “Try not to start the next apocalypse while you’re there.” Vergil grit his teeth and stalked away. He couldn’t afford to get distracted by her antics. The sooner he cleared these insignificant demons from his path the sooner he could rejoin with Nero.
But it became apparent quite quickly that whatever had nested here was long gone. Dried webs and the stiff remains of small animals were all that remained in the corridor and respective rooms. It was best to return to the foyer and check if Trish had encountered anything.
It seemed she had found more of the same, nothing. The woman was leaning across the remains of a kitchen island, eyes closed, looking for all the world as if she had no worries.
“There’s nothing here,” Vergil snapped, aggrieved. The woman’s blase attitude was starting to irk him. Trish opened one eye to glare at him, “The client was pretty sure of what they saw. I really doubt there was nothing. I only gave Nero the barn because there’s no way a demon would nest in it, so it has to be here.” “Well, it isn’t,” the look Trish was giving him was starting to make his stomach twist against his will. “Once again, you’re a complete failure,” Vergil sneered.
Shockingly, Trish actually looked hurt; but she quickly smoothed out her face. She didn’t fight back physically like Vergil expected her to, but the hair on his neck was rising from her electrical buildup. The woman seemed to make an attempt to collect herself.
In a strained tone, she said, “I’m not going to stand here and apologize to you because I know it won’t mean anything. I can’t erase what I did, but you can’t either.”
That absolute demon , trying to equate their experiences like they were in any way commensurate. His voice was filled with fury as he spoke, “We are nothing alike. YOU are a failed creation from a failed God. You will never understand me, nor do you have any right to understand!”
Trish’s mouth pinched and her brow furrowed. She looked just like his mother when she was about to cry. The sight made Vergil feel sick to his stomach.
“That may be true,” the demoness said quietly, “but I still need to speak to you about something.”
“Then speak .” Vergil managed to growl out.
“You should take good care of Nero and stop rebuffing him if he’s really chosen you.”
“ Excuse me? ”
What right did she have to comment on his relationship with his son? But Vergil felt his stomach sink even further if possible. Had she noticed something between them he had not?
“Don’t tell me the great ‘Alpha and the Omega’ is that oblivious to how his son feels.”
“You know nothing, witch .” Vergil snarled, but he was starting to panic internally. How did Nero feel? Had he been mistaken that his son’s actions were well-intentioned? Were they attempts to placate him?
Trish continued despite his internal crisis. “I don’t care what you think of me, but I do want the best for Nero. And if that means kicking his father's ass I will.”
Vergil was about to show her what ‘kicking ass’ really looked like before a large monstrous bellow rang out outside.
Trish and Vergil practically shoved each other to get out of the house, stumbling over debris and webbing. But as they burst outside, there was nothing on the surface. No sign of any demon or Nero. “Damnitt!” Trish hissed, “I think the barn has a basement!” The demoness took off like a bullet for the open barn doors and Vergil followed without complaint.
There were towers of old hay and webbing clumped up in massive piles everywhere. It seemed like every available surface had been transformed into a nest of some sort. While Trish viscously ripped apart the room looking for an entryway, something about the piles caught Vergil’s eye. Gleaming obsidian spheres were stuck together in a mess of goo and sinuous string amid the hay. This wasn’t just a nest, these were egg sacs. The demon below them was spawning at an incredible rate. If the eggs upstairs were fit to burst with demonic young, what did the basement look like?
Another huge bellow shook the barn floor and Vergil thought he could hear the rev of the Red Queen’s engine. That’s where Nero must be, fighting the ‘mother’ of these creatures. Demons were notoriously protective of their young, and a spider of significant size must have made these egg towers. The boy was in real danger, they needed to find the entranceway now. “It’s here!” Trish cried as she swung open two large embedded doors. Vergil didn’t spare her a single glance, he pushed her out of the way and descended down the dark stairway.
All he could think about was Nero.
Nero, Nero, Nero.
He was such a fool, letting the boy out of his sight when all his instincts demanded he keep him close. The sounds of battle were ringing louder and louder, the clashing of Nero’s sword paired with scrabbling pinchers echoed. Coming to the large interior room expecting the worst, what he came upon was much more glorious than that.
Nero danced and weaved through the air with the grace of a fully formed predator. His flaming sword whipping behind him illuminated the sharp angles of his face in swirling red light. The boy was practically foaming at the mouth as he stuck at the spider beast. His usually small canines were enlarged to a dramatic degree, giving Vergil the impression of a vampire ready to rip the throat out of its prey. When the pair locked eyes, he could see Nero’s yellow slit pupils dilate rapidly.
He was so demonic. He was so human.
It was so wonderful. Exhilarating. Powerful.
And painfully arousing.
It all seemed like a natural sway of violence on the surface, but to Vergil, it was a peacocking swan song. A dance catered to the violence of his demonic soul and the tenderness of his human heart. He stepped closer naturally, just to get a bit closer to the object of his desire, but it was a miscalculation. One of the spider demon’s remaining pinchers slashed him across the chest and caught him in the neck.
For Vergil, it was a flesh wound. One that would heal quickly as long as he got out of the way in time. Nothing that could kill him, not after all he had been through. But the screech that emanated from Nero made his heart palpitate, though not in fear. Dropping his sword to the ground, the boy triggered fully and his wings of blue light temporarily blinded the spider demon. Using his claws alone, the demon was dispatched in a purely feral manner. Blood and meat painted the room. Even after the spider had fallen to its last death throes, Nero continued to rip the carcass into unidentifiable chunks.
Detriggering seemed to be more of a forced measure than a conscious one. The boy simply ran out of steam after his rampage. Nero’s face and body were dripping in demon blood and he was still breathing heavily over the spider's decimated corpse. He was rocking back and forth so much on his toes that Vergil feared he might fall over. He took a step forward to check on the boy but was pinned in place by his son’s gaze. Nero’s eyes were lit from within like a serpent, and something unidentifiable swirled in their depths. If Vergil had to name it, he’d say it was desire.
But as quick as it came, the clouds cleared within him and Nero visibly slumped. Vergil laid a tentative hand on his shoulder. This seemed to knock the boy fully out of his stupor. Nero surged forward and engulfed him in a bloody hug. It was shockingly warm. Likely from a combination of the boy’s natural demonic warmth and the blood. “Are you alright?” the boy whispered into his shoulder. It made Vergil shudder. He could feel the warmth of his breath too. Nero leaned back from the embrace and inspected the place where he had been wounded. But it had already healed. Nonetheless, the boy placed a scalding palm over Vergil’s flesh where the slice had once been. He looked miserable.
“Nero, I’m fine.” A whine was slowly building up in the child’s throat, he didn’t believe him.
“ Nero, look, it’s already healed.” Nero slowly released him and met his eyes, they looked wet. “If you say so,” the boy choked out gruffly. Nero stood to his full height and moved away from him like he couldn’t bear to be around Vergil anymore. Head pointed towards the stairs he said, “Sorry for not calling, Trish.”
Huh?
The demoness was standing in the dark, completely still on the bottom stairs. She must have been watching them the whole time. Foul thing. Letting Nero take on the spider demon and seeing Vergil make a fool of himself without lifting a finger.
“It’s fine, Nero. Just keep what I said in mind.” And with that, she vanished up the stairs. Nero was soon to follow, leaving Vergil painfully confused in the dark.
Vergil couldn’t sleep that night. And for once, it wasn’t because of nightmares.
Nestled in the covers of his brother's bed, the arousal pooling in his gut was impossible to ignore. Dante still wasn’t home yet, and the combined scent of his brother and himself was only serving to agitate him. He longed for Nero’s scent to be here as well, mixed with his family’s in a way that all demons craved. The boy’s gracefulness on the battlefield… It was not something Vergil had known yet. His cunt clenched on painful emptiness as he recalled the vision. Vergil just knew the boy would be delicate with his hole first, and rough once he surrendered to his desires.
The way his grip adjusted to his weapon's deadly spew of fire… Would Nero’s fingers feel calloused and warm on Vergil’s stiffened cock? That too, had started to weep with arousal the more he thought about his son. His palm had been so hot on Vergil’s icy countenance…
He couldn’t resist the temptation anymore. The bed coverings were whipped off in desperation as Vergil stripped his clothes off hurriedly.
Laying one hand over his glistening slit and one around the base of his cock, Vergil let the memory wash over him again. The boy’s protective savagery as he tore apart the spider demon… He had wanted to lick the blood from his son’s face and throat and worship the feral nature he kept locked inside. Destroying that demon until it was unrecognizable, the boy was possessive after all. Those fangs… the thought of them buried gum-deep in his neck until he bore Nero’s mark made his cock twitch untouched on his belly. Precum was spilling furiously over his fingers now and he’d barely even begun touching himself.
He could submit to Nero, Vergil thought deliriously as his legs slid open instinctually more and more. It wasn’t something he ever did with his brother, but for the boy, he’d willingly welcome his nestling back where he belonged. Slipping two fingers roughly inside of himself, he worked his cunt open until it was squelching with wetness. Ah, wasn’t that a thought? The child returning to the cunt that birthed him, who had stretched Vergil open until it was the perfect hole. That’s where the boy belonged, safe and resting inside of his father. Filling him more than he could ever allow anyone else to.
The encompassing warmth from the bloodied embrace had stirred Vergil up as well. Would Nero’s mouth be that wet and warm? His whole body? He took his slickened fingers out of his dripping pussy and stroked his cock roughly, trying to imagine the feeling. Fuck, it was already almost too much. It wasn’t just the fire in his boy that made him so aroused, it was his tender heart too. The blankets, the tea, the books, were drenched in scent and protection. The lust felt amazing to indulge in, but the care in conjunction with it incensed his instincts like nothing else. His cock threatened to spill and his cunt was twitching wildly, but he didn’t want it to end yet. If it ended, he’d be reminded of how alone he really was right now; writhing over a son who would never reciprocate these feelings.
Vergil sunk his teeth into a pillow steeped in Dante’s scent, and it brought him back from the peak of orgasm. Slow. Slower. He could do that. He wasn’t in the throes of heat or a fumbling teenager. He could control himself.
Vergil released the tight grip on the base of his cock and replaced it with slow, languishing strokes. Nero would do the same to him, wouldn’t he? Torture him with want as punishment for denying him. For all his puritanical upbringing, the boy seemed the hedonistic type; wanting pleasure to last as long as possible. He certainly wanted that spider’s suffering to last. Vergil circled his clit lazily. Now that he wasn't so close, he could indulge. Dante liked to fuck hard and fast, over and over till they were both spent. Vergil liked that too, but Nero didn’t seem the type to abuse his cunt like he abused Dante’s.
No, it would go more like this right? Slow, but measured. Vergil pressed down more roughly on his clit as his cock was lightly stimulated. It would be a gradual build-up until both parties were forced to unravel. The pleasurable knot in his stomach was tight, and Vergil let himself slip over the edge. His cock throbbed as he messily shot his load over his stomach. The dripping of cum drove him crazy as he imagined Nero marking him in such a way. He usually despised the slick sensation but the thought of being Nero’s hole to claim was intoxicating. His cunt finally relented and spasmed around his fingers, trapping them in place.
It wasn’t enough.
It wasn’t Nero.