Work Text:
Vrrrrrrrr…
Generally speaking, Vergil is grateful for the keen senses his demonic lineage bestows upon him. But when a being with superhuman perceptive powers is placed in a terribly human context, where sounds continuously buzz in the background – whether it’s the whir of the fridge, the rumble of cars’ engines rolling by outside – those faculties become a double-edged sword in the most mundane situations. He's been trying to sleep for a couple of hours now: just on the threshold of sleep, a low, buzzing sound – but still intense enough to his ears to feel it vibrating straight into his brain – snatches him back into wakefulness.
Vrrrrrrrr…
He's no longer the sexually candid boy who couldn’t place or explain the source of the sound. He heard it for the first time only a few nights after moving in with his older brother. It is, no doubt, one of the many sexual toys that were Dante's best friends before Vergil managed to slip between his legs himself. Peculiar. He hasn't heard that sound in quite some time. Now it will be just a matter of seconds before he hears, muffled by the wall between them, a sigh from his brother absorbed in the onanistic act. It was an auditory spectacle that, in the past, had first left him confused; then mortified; then aroused; and then he had begun to suspect that Dante did it on purpose.
Now it’s not the case. If he were really putting on a show, his own sort of obscene version of a siren song, he would be sacrificing more effort into his vocal performance. By now, Dante is a being Vergil has studied thoroughly; he knows the reasons for his behavior, knows his unsaid words, knows his looks. He is still his brother, and he has an innate dictionary for interpreting him, however much Dante may be twenty years older and however much life may have kept them apart until a few years ago. He won't get up to interrupt him, he won't bang on his wall to angrily ask him to stop or move to the living room. He will listen.
Vrrrrrrrr…
He just feels vaguely offended.
Those gadgets are tacky. They're gratuitous. Vergil has left modesty behind, and understands they must be more entertaining than simple, bare hands; but they're often squalid, scurrilous, vulgar in a way that makes him frown rather than arouse him. Vergil hoped he'd infused some elegance into Dante's tastes by now, and removed any need for such indecent gratification. Scraping away the sloppiness that's been ingrained in him for probably longer than he's been alive must be a more perilous undertaking than he'd imagined.
Vergil almost trembles when he hears a faint, high-pitched sound escaping Dante's throat. The buzzing continues for a few more seconds, almost in fits and starts, and then the room falls silent again. He hears Dante take a deep, sated breath. Vergil feels his cheekbones burn and buries his face in the pillow.
He had been planning to go to sleep for a couple of hours; now, his cock is pressing against the mattress, squashed between it and his pelvis. That, of course, gives his body a completely different message, and either he stays still enough for his hormones to tire or he satisfies it. He could make it quick: spit in his hand, buck into his fist and make a quick job out of it, almost annoyedly so with his face buried in the pillow, like a parent hastily giving their kid candy for the sake of quieting them down.
…But his brother coddles him so.
He slides out of bed.
The door to Dante's room is already half open; the old hag really has no sense of privacy, or was really that sure Vergil was out cold. He rakes a knuckle against the door and it silently gives way, just enough so he can see the whitish light from his phone’s screen illuminating Dante's face, curled up prone under the covers. From behind, he's illuminated by the dim blue light from a light on the dresser.
"...Dante."
His brother’s gaze shoots up toward him. Judging by how his eyes have widened and the speed with which he's moved his head, it seems like the last thing he expected was to find his little brother at his bedroom door at... what is this, just after midnight?
"Hey, baby." He doesn't turn off his phone, which continues to cast its annoying glow on his face, but he places it on the duvet and settles in, his cheek on the pillow and his arms under it; he’s always reminded him of a large cat. "Can't sleep?"
His brazenness.
"I suppose not." He replies. His bare feet drag against the floor as he crosses the space between the entrance and the bed, sitting next to his brother, who's lying with the languor of a Hellenistic statue. The mattress bounces slightly as he sinks onto it. "...It's just that there was a disturbance."
"Ah..." Dante's eyebrows rise imperceptibly. Then, he has the smile of a cheeky child who acknowledges his guilt but finds it all too funny. "I didn't wake you, did I?"
"You... kept me from falling asleep."
He's almost too sly; his tight-lipped smile makes the corners of his eyes crinkle.
"I'm sorry, honey... you could have put your beloved earplugs in." he taps the inner of his ear for theatrics’ sake.
He could have; touché. Vergil bites the inside of his cheek, and Dante's look further morphs into insufferable smugness.
“It doesn’t matter. Sleep with me… we both know my bed is much more comfortable. What’s that look on your face? Don’t tell me you’re angry.”
Vergil feels his face pinched in annoyance. The infamous toy is nestled in the folds of the duvet, as its owner was too lazy to get up and put it away; God forbid, clean it. He picks it and holds it up in front of him, observing it in the glow of the light. It could even be mistaken for a simple, useless decorative trinket: it is – cloyingly – heart-shaped, but the small buttons and the hole at the top of one of the two arches reveal its true function. As if that weren't enough, some spots are coated in shiny slick that glistens under the minute lighting.
“Such bad taste.”
“Mhm…”
“What did you use this for?”
“It’s multipurpose. You’ll have to guess.”
“And did it satisfy you? Did it make you come?”
“Your aversion to sex toys is adorable, you know that? Sorry. I thought you were tired, I just got horny when I got into bed. Otherwise, I would have asked you.”
Dante, that harlot, pushes himself up into a sitting position and crawls on his knees to get a little closer. He leans toward him. “And anyway, there are so many ways to put you to sleep. I still have more to give. You need your big bro…? Is that why you’re here?”
In response, Vergil places his lips on the toy. With something like an open-mouthed kiss, he cleans off some of the film that made it shine. Dante's expression crumbles.
It's gathered almost all around that little mouth at the tip of one of the heart's curves, and Vergil sticks the tip of his tongue there – as far as it can reach – trying to reclaim everything Dante had released on there. He can practically hear the thud of the other’s heart dropping into his cunt. His older brother bites his lip, leaning back to sit back on his heels; he clenches his arms together in a move that pushes his bulging pecs together, something thoroughly distracting.
"Does it really do its job?" asks Vergil, his voice down to a murmur, after lovingly tasting his brother's bodily fluids.
"It's fun," he replies, almost defensively. The darkness prevents him from seeing, but he can practically hear the redness of his face in his voice. “Yes, it does. Doesn't mean I prefer it to you, Verg.”
“I thought so.”
He vaguely looks like a cornered dog when Vergil turns to put away the instrument, the object of so much of his impatience, the phone annoyingly discarded between the two of them, too, and Dante’s spine quivers in anticipation. But Vergil barely has a second to turn back to him before his lips are on his, his tongue rushing to part them as if Dante is in a hurry to taste what has coated his little brother’s taste buds with – himself, from a third source. Vergil doesn't hesitate to reciprocate. He sinks his hands into his hair, pressing his fingertips into his scalp.
But when the older man’s hand gravitates naturally toward his swollen crotch, he grasps his wrist.
“Eh?”
“Why don't you take one of your… allies?”
In a very beastly display of want, Dante is throwing himself on his back and letting his legs go slack at Vergil’s sides. Only now, fully exposed and in the light, does Vergil realize that his lower half has been naked ever since he came in. Highlighting his intentions with that trivial display of his pussy, still glistening from its previous release, is vulgar at best; it reminds him of a cat in heat thrusting her ass in the air praying for someone to mount her, and never fails to regrettably hit Vergil directly to the groin. Maybe he's the one corrupted by brotherly tendencies, and thinking about redeeming him from his debauched ways is too late. Dante begins to absentmindedly torment his clit. "Come on, be serious..."
But Vergil is serious. He wants to see him bounce on one of his beloved silicone, detached simulacrums of a cock, all while having the clear sight of Vergil's very real erection before him which will finally make him ask what the point is of keeping that vulgar arsenal at home, when there is that.
“Humour me, really. I want to see what you do with those.”
Dante raises himself up on his elbows. The light beside him paints his skin a warm-toned blue, spotlighting the vague pout that forms on his face. He may be scorching for the real thing, but evidently what the other is proposing sounds too tempting to him to play otherwise. He's a show-off, and he wouldn't miss the chance to put on a raucous show to provoke his little brother into ramming his guts. Vergil knows this, and intends to exploit it for humbling him. There really is no predator or prey, as there never is, in sex.
What Dante's open drawer reveals – he's lying prone to reaching the bottom of the dresser on the opposite side, and Vergil won't focus on the exposed buttocks directly beneath the light or the sinuous curve drawn by the groove of his spine, the one he can see when his ratty T-shirt bunches further up his midriff – is his personal sex shop: blocked as he is by the light, there's a good section in shadow that Vergil can barely decipher, but he understands that his brother keeps at least one example of different types of outlets there. Some so bizarrely shaped, he wouldn't even be able to tell what they're for.
"I should have you throw them all away," he asserts dryly. He hears the drawer thud shut and Dante sits up, brandishing a decent-sized clear silicone cock between them.
“Hey, these darlings have been my faithful companions for years. I would never throw them away, out of pure affection.”
It's an… ideal penis. The synthesis of one, regular in shape and gracefully curved upward, swollen at the tip to simulate a glans and smooth, widened at the base. He would have imagined that Dante would have sought out the most realistic version of a phallus possible, but instead it's a simple shape, colored a very unnatural, dull purple.
“Here, to give you a practical demonstration of what I want from you.” He wraps his fist around the shaft and gives a few good pumps. “It’s about the same size as you, right?”
Ridiculous. They may be similar in length, but this artificial dick, lacking his girth and the veins bulging under the skin, is nothing like what Vergil has to offer. He frowns, but doesn’t respond to the provocation otherwise. Dante seems eager to feed his greedy cunt something, and lies on his back, throwing his legs in the air. He holds its little jaws open with two fingers in a v shape, teasing its mouth by rubbing the dildo’s glans against it: a sight far too inviting for Vergil, undermining his resolve to maintain a facade of stubborn offense. He’s still soaking wet, every little movement elicits a mushy sound.
“And what good would it do to have me get rid of them?” Its head is easily engulfed by Dante’s pussy. Vergil can’t look away – in fact, he crawls closer, right between his thighs. “What about when you’re gone? When you’re on one of those looong missions, and I start missing you?”
So, it isn’t and won’t be the last time since they started sleeping together that he’s used those contraptions to relieve himself. The dildo’s head breaches the threshold of his cunt; Dante lets out a faint keen in satisfaction that makes Vergil feel like he’s breathing through steam. He doesn’t want to touch him, not yet; he’ll let him, sooner or later he’ll naturally start begging for his little brother to do anything to him.
“Then maybe you should practice your patience,” he retorts. He looks up at him, his facial muscles that are already dissolved and lost in sighs. “Or maybe I should leave you a child to take care of. That way, you'd never even feel alone.”
Both his mouth and eyes widen as if he's been slapped across the face; Vergil can't help but rejoice at his triumphant blow. For a couple of seconds, he's fairly confident he's managed to send Dante into a state of shock before he manages to bring his expression back to a half-sneer – a weak one, considering how much his brain is giving his body, already neck deep in filthy pleasure, room to speak.
“Listen to him… a proper boy… already starting to think about kids.” He sighs. He withdraws the dildo until just below the glans, and easily slams it back into himself, all the way to the base; keeping it firmly buried inside him, he wiggles his hips feebly. “It's a shame I'm a poor old man.”
“Our mother was older than you are now when she had me. And we both know genetics are on our side.” He reaches out, pulling his shirt up until the hem rests bunched on his collarbones, and wraps his hand around the mound of one of his pectorals. He palms the muscular flesh with little grace, making a silent point it would be the perfect milk sac for a baby. Dante gasps.
“Now tell me,” He murmurs, continuing to knead the flesh – firm, yet yielding – under his fingers. “Is that really so good, what you’re using? Do you really think it can satisfy you in my absence, is it that much like me? Are any of your gadgets?”
“I don’t know, Verg,” Dante pushes the dildo in and out at a frantic pace, bouncing his back on the mattress to encourage movement. He can only speak between gasps. “Can your dick vibrate? Ah-!”
Vergil mercilessly squeezes his nipple between two fingers, making the bundle of nerves he was pinching shriek.
“Don’t be stupid.”
“Nuh…!” A trickle of saliva actually manages to escape from the side of his mouth, and he licks it away hastily. His Adam’s apple bobs desperately in his throat. “I was kidding! V, kidding, I swear.” Even after the apology, his nipple doesn't escape the merciless grip of his fingers. That doesn't seem to bother Dante, who chuckles weakly. And when Vergil’s hand nudges his own away and grips the base of the dildo, his breath stutters again. Vergil rams the shaft inside, a lot less graceful than he has been, and Dante’s spine shoots up. “Fuck, baby…”
Vergil moves his hand cruelly enough to make the muscle of his triceps strain. He squeezes the base as if he wanted to strangle the inanimate object, forces it into the canal that only he is truly privileged to perceive. Dante, propped on his elbows and panting tremendously, pushes his stubbly cunt down at each of Vergil’s, stabs, almost meeting his fingers. Vergil sees a drop of sweat running down the valley between his pectorals and feels drool pool behind his lip.
“What’s the use in… doing that…” another sharp thrust and Dante’s chest quakes with a hiccup. “…when you can stick the real thing in me?”
“So, you’d rather have me.”
“Yes, yes, you stubborn ass! I said it, didn’t I?!” But his gaze immediately softens, seeing how Vergil sucks his lip in – courtesy of the way his cock strains swollen and weeps against his underwear – just his childishly stubborn attempt at clinging into some last sternness. He’s pulled forward by Dante’s strong forearms, and his attempt at fucking the dildo into him falters when he feels digits lovingly trail up his scalp. “You can put the act away. We both want it, c’mon.” he wriggles his ass close to Vergil’s crotch. “You look like you’re about to pop a vessel.”
The silicone dick, snugly plugged deep into Dante’s pussy, gets unsheathed with a wet sound and falls sadly beside them, possibly tainting the duvet. Vergil really doesn't feel like taking off his flannel pants properly, he pulls them down along with his boxers just enough to let his cock bounce out, letting it butt the back of its head on his belly.
“You’re voracious.” That’s what he has to say as he settles between the older man’s legs. He’s not sure whether he means it as slander or praise, but Dante takes it for what it is – the words of a freshly twenty-year-old who can’t resist his brother’s lust, who clearly delights in expressing himself like a monk forced by a demonic being to break his vow of chastity; every time.
“Mhm.”
“You’re ravenous.” He pushes his cock where Dante’s pussy already waits to embrace him.
“It’s undeniable.” Dante smiles, caressing one of his cheekbones with his thumb. “Ah, that… that’s good. Keep going, come on, baby.”
Dante's cunt was swollen, soaking wet; it sucks Vergil in in the blink of an eye. Warm, too warm. Squeezed by the sopping duct – he’s half sure he can feel each and every bump of the flesh inside – his muscles momentarily forget their function, and he slumps with his forehead on his clavicle; Dante chuckles, gently ruffling his hair.
“…Feels good.” Vergil manages to punch the words out of his throat. It’s pretty much every time, that he feels that greedy cunt squeeze his brain out from his cock, the only way he could explain the quickness at which his faculties crumble. Dante’s soft coo in response washes over him like warm water.
“I know it does.”
Managing to push himself up onto his palms, he looks at his brother below him. They're still, having done nothing but slot themselves into one another yet, but Dante's placid expression is already betrayed by the flaring of his nostrils with each deep breath. Deep breaths that only swell his chest with each inhale, pushing out the pink nipples; they always seduce him. Before speaking, Dante runs his tongue over his lips – already glistening from the torment of his teeth and tongue.
"So…? You're in control. Don't make us wait, do what you have to do."
Vergil sighs. Pulling his brother's legs up to his ribs, he begins to move: it's slow, it's deep, and it makes Dante melt beneath him.
“T-there you go…” he breathes. There's a wobbly smile on his face. Vergil can't tell if it's the light, but when he looks into his eyes, they seem to be glistening. Another sway of the boy's hips, and Dante feels as if the head of his cock has pushed his heart into his throat, making his spine tense from the bottom all the way up to his head. “Oh, baby…”
Swallowing around the stubborn lump in his throat, Vergil begins to repeat the movement with determination: he can't give him a second to relax his nerves. He's precise, channelling all the strength in his muscles into a focused movement, he fucks as he fights, and Dante drags his sweaty palms across his face before tightening his fingers on his little brother's shoulders.
“Yeah—yeah, baby.” He never shuts up. Especially during sex: if he’s not moaning something wanton, he spews lewdness after lewdness, and every word claws the common sense from Vergil's brain.
“How’s it?”
“Good! So good…” he gasps. “Better—better than a dildo. Is that what you wanted to hear? Of course it’s better.” He weakly smiles. “’S juicy… big… it can knock me up… You’re a sweetheart—you’re big brother’s sweetheart…”
“Mom’s.” Vergil corrects him peremptorily. When he’s drunk enough on pleasure as he is now, he allows himself to indulge in that fantasy – there’s no being less maternal than that sloppy Dante, but it’s different when they’re in bed, when he cuddles him like a child and Vergil really begins to feel all his years on him, his maturity cradling him. He’s warm, he’s welcoming, his womb churns when he pushes as if he tries to break in it—it’s just like that. And maybe he shall learn proper maternity, if Vergil goes through in his promise of giving him child.
“Mommy’s! Sure, whatever.” Dante chuckles, then interrupts himself with a yelp at a particularly mulish thrust. Then he hugs his neck again, pushing his little brother’s face down in his sweat-soaked pectorals. Vergil makes a strangled sound, but it’s not a protest. So, with his sight and smell half obstructed by those plush hills into which his nose sinks and which he mouths, he has only to concentrate on the bestial rhythm he has established, in addition to Dante's languid howling and sobbing, which he feels vibrating from his chest directly into his face.
Partly rebelling against the heavy hand on the back of his head, he manages to reach one of his nipples; he sucks it into his mouth with shameful transport, but Dante is in ecstasy, judging by his vocalizations.
“You’re so good…!” he gasps out hoarsely. “Baby… my baby…”
Vergil feels his throat melt into a groan that he couldn't hold back even if he'd put all his strength into it. He feels himself truly drooling like a newborn, all around that teat.
He has no mind. That, or his brain has fallen into his pelvis, which moves with renewed force and brutality. Dante makes a drooly, fucked-out sound.
“Uh-! You'll kill me, like this…!” Beneath him, Dante’s stomach meets his own as he arches up painfully. The strong thighs clamping around him threaten to steal Vergil’s breath, but he can worry about that only when they’ll actually manage. He hisses out a breath, his brows pinched. Everything in his body is coiled, from is ball sack to his stiffening abdomen, everything pulls. He feels the warmth of the other's arms leave his neck, and once again Dante has a death grip on his shoulders.
“Nh- that’s it- nh, honey!” Vergil blinks through a fogging sight. The back of his mind registers Dante’s hand between them, desperately bullying his clit. The other, instead, he feels touching the muscles of his back. “Good boy. Mommy’s love. So strong… you gonna keep your promise? Are you giving me a baby…?”
Maybe it's the praise; probably it's the last question. Vergil feels the accumulated tension pop out like a rubber band, and he empties everything he has into his brother—mom? He doesn't understand anything anymore—whose cunt feels so close to strangling him; he really does feel a pressure around his head, but in the sweetest way.
Dante must have come around the same time as him. When his sight returns, he's looking at him through half-closed eyes with a serene half-smile; he sees his white eyelashes flutter.
"My little man..." he murmurs affectionately.
Which is completely insulting. Little man? He's a man through and through, however small Dante might make him feel; only in bed, let that be known. Vergil grunts his disapproval, sitting up to...-
"No, no, don't- don't pull out." He feels Dante's warm palms on his forearms, stopping him from moving from where he's nestled. "Let's sleep like this. Hm?"
Thinking back, it's actually already too comfortable. His cock can fall asleep with him, still snug in the warm cave. Yes... quite idyllic.
"...As you wish."
“By the way, I used that toy to have my clit sucked. Maybe tomorrow morning you can prove how better you are at that, too, hn…?”
“…Hmph.”
In truth, Vergil falls asleep shamefully quickly. Sure, it's easy without any annoying gadgets buzzing in the next room, without any distracting moans… the chest his head rests on too helps.
And Dante—Dante is almost asleep. But he likes to stay like this, enjoying the darkness and the view – albeit obscured – of Vergil's relaxed face. His perpetual frown is elegant and charming, sure, but he's rather lovely like this.
"Mom, huh..."
With a yawn, Dante turns his head toward the nightstand beside the bed. In the dim light, the photo in the frame is unclear, but Eva looks at them with her saintly smile. Dante grins at her.
Sorry, ma. Long as you're gone, someone oughta take your place.