Poison

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~ Chapter VII ~

Satisfaction crept into the corners of Vergil’s mind as he watched his brother twitch and shudder in the aftermath of his release, but now his own need was beginning to send overwhelming electrical impulses into his loins.

Dante’s eyes were still screwed tightly shut, and he was shaking his head slightly as though to clear water from his ears. Vergil released his brother’s still-throbbing sex and gripped him roughly by the shoulders with sticky hands.

He heaved his brother’s limp form to his feet; Dante stumbled a little as his legs shook, but he tried to stand; his pants were still tangled around his thighs.

With more force than he had originally intended, Vergil pushed his younger twin down on his stomach across the desktop; Dante was resisting again now, and he could sense some unhinged desperation in the way his brother’s legs stiffened and his biceps twitched as he tried to push himself back up off the desk.

Vergil could tell the effort was costing him— with a soft hiss, a sudden gush of warm blood rushed from the wounds on his back and chest where Yamato had run him through; he started to cough… hacking, wet coughs that dripped dark poison onto the smooth mahogany desktop.

A pang of— concern? Dante might just die of blood loss if the poison continued to prevent clotting. Vergil frowned to himself now as his passion-muted senses slowly regained their previous clear-minded vitality. He needed his brother to live long enough to recover his strength, to fight him again with pride and that old defiant righteousness, as pitiable as it was. He cast his eyes about the room for something— anything— that might suffice to bind Dante’s oozing wounds and curb the bleeding.

Those leather holster straps would probably do— he could cinch them tightly, and—

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a flicker of crystal. Instinctively, he raised an arm to shield his face as he staggered under Cerberus’ crushing blow.

o-o-o

As he had been watching his dark blood drop onto the equally darkly polished mahogany of his office desktop, Dante had seen the blue-white glint of one of Cerberus’ spiked prongs protruding from beneath the desk.

He could distinctly feel that Vergil had been momentarily distracted, and that he was scanning the room behind him for something (what?); he took advantage of this brief chance to slowly reach a long arm and shaking hand down—felt a thrill as his fingers closed around Cerberus’ ice-cold chain.

Tension had built up in every aching muscle of his body; the three-headed nunchaku couldn’t have been a more ideal weapon for the situation: it was one that required more manipulation than raw strength (of which he currently had none), and its flexible melee range was admirable enough to deal damage without forcing Dante to even stand or turn around.

With a tense jerk of his arm, he flicked the weapon over his shoulder, marveling briefly at the ease with which even his weakened, trembling arm finessed the sanchaku through the air—

He felt it contact, felt Vergil stagger back; he heard bones crack and break beneath the impact.

Of course, he hadn’t forgotten the crucial disadvantage he was still under… he was poisoned, brutalized, weak and wounded… his brother was healthy and strong, and capable of types of cruelty Dante could barely wrap his mind around— but for a few seconds, he allowed himself the fleeting achievement of this singular retaliatory act.

It was a succinct victory; Vergil’s recovery was so swift Dante barely had time to draw a single shuddering breath before his furious older twin had yanked Cerberus from his grip and was beating him mercilessly with his bare fist. His knuckles pounded a stabbing flurry of blows into the meat of his back, driving the last remaining air out of his good lung.

He could feel his consciousness slipping away from him again; his mind clawed after it desperately…

~ Chapter VII FIN ~