Burning

Burned
A/N: NO SMUT. Body modification, MAJOR squick, angst, and graphic descriptions of slight gore and sexuality. You may have heard mention of Dante’s infamous Dick-pierce in a few of my other pieces. This is how, and why, he has it. ~W.D. I do not own DMC. It is Capcom's.


Moonlight cast it’s blue gaze on his brother, spying on him in the night. He slept peacefully, free of the nightmares that had plagued him ever since they had found themselves alone. He shifted slightly, murmuring softly and letting a thigh peek out from underneath the down blankets. He licked his lips. Suddenly turning over, presenting his back to the man standing in the doorway. A boy, really.

Dante stared silently, in awe of his twin. Even in sleep he held the final graces that kept them so far apart. For the umpteenth time in his short life, he wondered why that had to be. Slowly, as if challenging himself, he left his brother’s unconscious presence, seeking the morbid solitude of his own room. The stone wood door slid open, not making a sound, revealing the dark fascinations of Dante’s room.

His bed hung high from heavy chains, blood red silk and satin overflowing it to spill on the floor- so much like the liquid itself. A bookcase masked an entire curved wall, decorated with trinkets, old toys, weapons and books so old they were in a different tongue. The opposite wall was actually a great tank, stretching from all four corners and bathing the space in eerie blue light. An odd creature with a very long tail fin paced to the sides, eyeing his keeper as he made his way to the far corner.(1) Past the drumset, nearly hidden from view was a small loft, big enough to hold Dante’s secrets. Every last dark one of them. He crouched before a low table, where dozens of toned bottles lined up like soldiers. Each one had a Latin name scrawled in slanted handwriting on them. Dispholidus Typhus. Ophiophagus Hannah. Basilisk. Venoms. Snake venom, dragon venom, cruel and merciless Devil venom.

Dante deftly rolled up his sleeve, reaching for an unused hypodermic needle. He swabbed hid arm, then filled the syringe to the maximum with the fatal Melashe’d venom. His own breed- a hybrid of the most powerful bloodlines known- had milked the precious liquor from his own father, at the peak of adrenaline. It was potent enough to kill any Devil in the blink of an eye. Dante had been building immunity over the years, unbeknownst to all, save his father. This would be the last time he would need to inject it into his bloodstream. Similarly, he had conquered all the other toxic poisons.

The bizarre fish circled slowly next to his loft, tail occasionally grazing the thick glass with a tap. It watched as it had so many other times before. Dante raised the needle to his arm, face already setting in concentration. He plunged it in, groaning as he felt the tip puncture his vein. The golden-amber liquid seeped slowly into his black blood, heart pumping it throughout his entire body. This was it. He could feel the intense rage coiling once again, burning himself inside out as long-ruined memories of his Father, riding into battle slipped to and from him like shadows. The white-hot flames licked at his brain, washing it in sensations no words can describe. Dante reared back, screaming. Every time.

The pain and rage slowly subsided, leaving him delighted. Some missing piece had been snapped back into place. He was a true Melashe’d, now.


He blinked. The midnight black ceiling loomed over him. His muscles were trembling with energy, begging to be spent. Every part of him thrummed, and he gasped, sitting up. Arget had stopped swimming around him, flitting to him however when he tapped on the glass. He couldn’t recall time; in his room it was impossible to see sun or moon or stars. It was black and evil. It was him.

He sighed, frowning. Him, so opposite from his brother’s white and golden room. Opposite his twin. Then how, in all the ages, did every one mistake him for his perfect rival? His twin- glorious, smart, good. Himself…dark, wicked, and downright dirty. It seemed impossible that they shared the same parents. Impossible…

Suddenly, Dante wanted nothing more than to hurt his brother. Make him suffer for being more worthy than he. Strike him, choke him, rend him. Greedily!

He stopped. Stunned at his own outburst, Dante stared at himself. There were several large dents in his wooden table. Recoiling from himself, disgusted. In his hands lay a small sewing needle. It gleamed, like the Devil’s promise, in the candle light he didn’t remember lighting. As if he had two minds, each vying to be the only one, he ran a finger over it. He wanted to be bad. To do something so unforgivable, that no one could ever take him for his twin. Ever again. The shadow of burning hate rose up once again, channeling itself through his own hands, in one unbridled thought. He wanted to pierce through the ideal that he ever had a twin.

Smiling softly, he set the needle down, opening a small box under the table. Inside, a fiery ruby necklace lay, undisturbed for years. The blood red stone glimmered mischievously. But what had caught his eye was the chain, thick rings defiantly stark in the pale box. He bent one, stretching it away from it’s dozens of relatives. Shutting the broken necklace away once again. Taking the curled, cold metal in his nimble fingers, he shaped it into the form of a full moon. Still smiling with half a mind, he set it too, down. This would be worth all pain.

He dropped a hand to his crotch, taking out his aching length and bringing it to full hardness. He growled, low in his throat, using one hand to turn the needle over in the candle’s fire. The metal hissed, it’s chrome skin burning off. He grinned fully, pulling the needle to his flesh. It hurt. His hand stayed, inches away from his throbbing flesh. He hesitated, briefly, before the Devil’s pull thrust the needle into him. It seared through, drawing blood that ran down his cock. He shouted, bringing to life a blank, burning pain. The needle stayed embedded in him, as his hand moved shakily away to grasp the contrasting cool metal ring. Again he cried out, removing the needle and replacing it with the circlet. Dante squeezed the gap shut in his flesh at the head of his desire, gasping. Blinding pain flooded his heightened senses, more black blood mixing with pearl white seed. He fell back on his spine, screaming and writhing. Instead of driving the stake between him and his twin, he only wanted him more! To be held, and comforted, driving away all of his pain. He was a fool.

Dante closed his eyes and relaxing as the lack of blood took it’s toll. Tomorrow, when the unseen sun rose, maybe he could go see Vergil.


1. This fish is actually a Thresher shark! R&R appreciated.