Domitus

A/N: Unrevised. May undergo changes.

~ Part IV ~

Tony Redgrave smiled wistfully; Trish was all business today, curt and sharp. The gunsmith extraordinaire watched as the tall woman rifled expertly through the cases of shells.

“This all you have?” she asked brusquely.

“Yeah, sorry…”

“Slacker.”

Tony arched a brow at her. “You want more than this? What’s the occasion?” He lit a cigarette and flicked the match into the ivory ashtray on the countertop. “Something heavy going on that I don’t know about?” he asked, blowing a few smoke rings in Trish’s direction.

She absently waved the smoke away. “You sure ask a lot of questions,” she said. “But yes, you might say so.”

“Where’s my man today anyway?”

Trish set four boxes of .45 caliber shells on the counter with a rattle. “Sleeping. We had some trouble last night.” She sighed. “Bad shit. Enzo picked up some heat for Dante…”

Tony bolted upright in his chair. “Enzo’s murder had to do with Dante?”

Trish gave him a guarded look. “So you’ve heard about that…”

The gunsmith returned the blonde woman’s hard stare. “Fucking A I heard about it,” he said. “Police came around asking questions, wanted to know if I knew anyone who had anything on him.”

Trish ran a hand through her hair and chewed her bottom lip for a moment before replying. “Someone… was looking for Dante,” she said finally.

“Shit. Who—?”

Trish gave him a twisted little smile and tapped a slender finger on the box of .45 shells. “Someone who won’t be around for much longer,” she said, a bite of distinct bitterness evident in her voice.

The gunsmith leaned back in his chair and regarded her appraisingly. “So you won’t tell me.”

“Nope. For your own sake.”

Tony snorted. “Of course, of course. Well, shit. You kids be careful…”

Another wan smile. “Aren’t we always? How much do I owe you?”

He took a long pull on the cigarette. “Nada. Consider these a gift in Enzo’s memory. You just make sure they’re delivered express to the perp.”

He thought he sensed something slightly demonic in her winning smile.

“Consider it done,” she said, and collecting the boxes, she turned and strode swiftly from the shop.

o-o-o

His world was burning.

Dante had felt all kinds of pain in his lifetime, it came with the job; but there had never been anything like this before.

Honestly, he didn’t know what Daemon was doing to him, or how he was doing it. All he could see were bright flashes of white-hot light, and he had no idea whether his eyes were even open or closed. His throat constricted by agony, he couldn’t even scream.

Daemon was laughing.

Through the dull roaring in his ears, he could hear the young demon delighting in the cruel havoc he was lavishing on the hunter’s body.

It was flawless… Mundus was a goddamn genius. What in the name of bloody hell… His thoughts were a train wreck, a massacre of rationality.

And as suddenly as it had begun, it stopped. Dante felt the agonizing haze ebb away and he gasped and panted as the constriction in his throat eased. His vision returned and Daemon’s face swam into view, his perfect smile burning a hateful image into his victim’s retinas.

Daemon caressed his cheek; Dante vaguely noticed that his hands were soaked to the third knuckle in crimson blood.

“It’s thrilling, isn’t it?” Daemon lolled, rubbing a bloody thumb over Dante’s trembling lips. “Rather feels like having your heart cut out of you and then squeezed? I wouldn’t know, but that’s how I imagine it.” He slid two fingers into his prey’s open mouth; Dante didn’t even have the strength to bite him as his own life’s blood was smeared onto his dry tongue.

Still smiling, the demon drew a length of razor-thin cord from his breast pocket. Immobilized by the wash of pain in his limbs, Dante could only watch helplessly as Daemon crossed his wrists and lashed them together. Easing the hunter’s arms above his head and pinning them there with one hand, the demon kissed Dante gently on the cheek.

Dante hissed and tried to jerk his head away; Daemon buried his face in his neck, his hot rotted breath stinging against Ifrit’s burns. He could feel the demon’s eyelashes flutter against his skin and his whole body twitched in vile disgust.

Trying to gather his strength, he writhed and twisted against the hard body pinning him to the floor. The sharp cords were lacerating his wrists; he could feel blood flowing freely as the arteries there were torn open. Daemon lipped and sucked at his neck, tonguing and gently grazing the burned flesh with his teeth.

Dante shivered again as a warm, slick hand drifted down his rigid abdomen and over his inner thigh. He was drowning in choleric hatred… he could feel his face burning with the flush of enraged humiliation. He fought desperately against the twinges of hopelessness that threatened to steal up on him; there had to be a way out of this. He had never found himself in a situation that he couldn’t manipulate to his favor…

As if sensing his thoughts, Daemon spoke into his ear, his voice a languid murmur. “There’s a first time for everything,” he drawled softly, stroking the crook of Dante’s thigh. “I said before— no expenses were spared in my creation. My master wanted only the best for you.” The unwelcome hand crept still lower and Dante gasped as two blood-slick fingers were pushed past his reluctant entrance.

“You really ought to learn to appreciate a gift,” Daemon whispered heavily into his ear; Dante grimaced at the deathly scent accompanying that languorous voice. The demon spread the fingers buried inside him and twisted them brutally, causing the hunter’s breath to hitch in his throat.

Dante didn’t have any strength left to sap, but he knew immediately that if he had, Daemon’s invasive affections would have drained it instantly. Abject confusion muddled his senses as he tried to distract himself from the burning agony tearing through him. How? He realized he knew almost nothing about Mundus’ creationism abilities; Trish had been modeled after the likeness of his mother and she had unique skills, but nothing like this. The sheer difference in power blew Dante’s mind; this demon had been designed for him on a higher level of animus… Mundus’ upgraded second gift. He almost laughed aloud.

“Again, you aren’t giving me your undivided attention,” Daemon admonished. “You truly are a glutton for punishment, aren’t you, Dante?”

“Eat shit, fucker,” the hunter ground out.

Daemon shoved a third finger past clenching muscle as he cradled his prey’s jaw in his other hand. “You have to be careful,” he simpered. “That dirty mouth is probably the cause of half your troubles, you know.”

“Go to hell.”

“Been there already. I much prefer it here.” A gentle clinking of metal as Daemon undid his belt and a rustle as he slid his pants down.

Dante clenched his teeth and struggled to suppress a cry as the demon withdrew his fingers and replaced them with the throbbing head of his sex. He tensed and tried to draw his legs together, but Daemon kneed them firmly apart again. “By all means, continue resisting,” he chuckled lazily. “It will only cause you more pain and make things even more enjoyable for me.”

“You little bastard,” Dante snarled as Daemon pushed against him. “What the hell are you?! Mundus…” he trailed off as the demon forced several fingers into his mouth, pressing his tongue into stillness and grinding a sharp thumb into the tender underside of his jaw.

“I told you, time for talk is over.” The hungry eyes were devouring him, lips curling back into a cruel smile. With a single fierce thrust, he tore past Dante’s resistance, wrenching a startled cry from the hunter’s throat. Releasing his prey’s face, he gripped him firmly by the waist and lifted his hips off the floor to rile him with vicious strokes.

Dante could feel tender muscle ripping and giving way inside him. Thick blood was smearing the pair’s thighs as Daemon ravaged him mercilessly, bucking hard against him.

“Nnn, you’re tight,” the young demon moaned into his ear, his languid voice heady with pleasure.

Dante bit his lip as ragged breathing threatened to escalate into hoarse screams. Daemon was rock-hard and uncharacteristically huge; his thrusts were growing progressively deeper and harsher. Dante's eyes burned and stung and he tried desperately to blink back tears of loathsome frustration.

The demon extended his talons; Dante felt them pierce his sides and he was rocketed to a new level of torture as he was speared both inside and out. He abandoned his dignity and screamed as torment overwhelmed him, the demon’s lustful laughter ringing in his ears.

Daemon’s bucking achieved a frenzied pitch and Dante felt his own spine arch off the floor as the virile demon drew back and impaled him violently one last time, painting his insides with searing passion. The hunter was dizzy with hurt and exhaustion; Daemon’s heaving body collapsed atop him.

Dante’s consciousness was fleeing him. Through a pained haze, he heard the demon sigh once in satisfaction.

Then he let Daemon slip out of mind as darkness swallowed him.

~ Part IV FIN ~