Corrupt Me

Their fights were always the same, the pace never changed, the insults just got wittier. It always began in the same way; Vergil would call his brother out, goading him into a fight that he would always pretend that he didn’t want. Killing innocents was generally effective in this area, as it was pretty much guaranteed that Dante would come running the moment he smelt blood and could link it to his twin. Children in particular got his brother riled up, Vergil discovered. He was becoming more and more inventive with his calling cards, more from boredom than anything else.

He’d had a particularly brilliant idea this time, though; his boredom often took him out into public, he’d walk through the streets as any human would, casting his disapproving eye over anything remotely to do with the disgusting creatures, which seemed to be pretty much everything. He had been passing by a large, many-windowed structure when he’d heard high-pitched voices laughing and squealing in joy. Glancing over the low wall, he could see what seemed like several hundred children running around a large, open playground situated in front of what he assumed was a school. The thought formed as quickly as the smirk on his face. Yes, it was ostentatious, brazen, and quite over the top, but it was also brilliant and served two purposes; to bring his brother out, and to function as some form of revenge for the suffering and injustice he himself had suffered as a child.

A bench across the street provided Vergil with a perch while he waited for the inevitable bell to ring signalling the end of their lunch period. He didn’t have to wait long, only five minutes or so, which was fortunate as he was beginning to have strange looks thrown his way from ignorant passers by. He fought the urge to kill them where he stood; the last thing he needed at that time was to create a scene and possibly warn his victims of their impending deaths. He waited another ten minutes for the last stragglers to return to class before standing, stretching slightly to ease tight muscles, positively alight with anticipation.

He met no resistance entering the school, no one questioned him in the hallways or even so much as looked his way as he scoped out the layout of the building, working out a route for maximum efficiency. Returning to the foyer, he decided to start with the receptionists, running them both through effortlessly before tossing their bodies to one side. He moved quickly, disconnecting the phones and internet before heading out to continue with his task. Spotting the control box for the fire and panic alarms, he disabled those as well; the less noise there was the better. Vergil hated loud noises.

It never ceased to amaze him how frightfully easy it was to skewer a child. Moving from one room to the next, he dispatched one class after another, sparing none. Some tried hiding under the tables, in cupboards, various places around the rooms; he simply looked for them, listened for their terrified whimpers, and killed them all the same. One brave child had even tried running past him for the door while Yamato was buried up to its hilt in a classmate. He hadn’t lasted long, not counting on Vergil’s inhuman strength or speed, and was cut down where he stood. Vergil learned to lock the doors after that.

Three classrooms in, Vergil decided that killing the teacher and any classroom assistants that happened to be present first was more efficient, as they tended to put up more of a fuss. After the seventh classroom, he had discerned that the children were all between the ages of seven and twelve, though he didn’t know why that would interest him. Nine classrooms down, he ran into the head teacher and a few other members of the faculty who had come to investigate the disturbance. They died quickly, but made a little too much noise for Vergil’s liking. He didn’t want his fun to be disrupted so quickly, so moved the bodies with ease into a nearby bathroom. There he found a couple of children, not more than ten, kissing in one of the stalls. They died together with one thrust of his sword; children of that age were far too young to be kissing.

After seventeen classrooms and no resistance, Vergil was starting to get bored. He was splattered with young blood and beginning to tire. Realising his error in expending so much of his energy, he swiftly finished the job, completing his mass slaughter. It hadn’t taken him long to finish his rounds of all the rooms once he set his mind to it; humans were slow, children were slower and tended to huddle together. If he stopped concentrating on the torture and short-lived mental anguish he could finish a whole room in just a few minutes.

Severing an arm from a little blond boy he had just killed, he headed outside, squinting up into the afternoon sun. It had been fun, he thought, though that thought was twinged with a slight sense of regret, which he quickly quashed. Using the bleeding stump, Vergil wrote an eloquent but brief message to his brother on the wall of the site of his latest massacre.

-----

Dante was furious. In fact, he was beyond furious, he was absolutely livid. Not only had he been practically dragged to the most brutal bloodbath he’d ever seen, it was his brother that was responsible for it.

‘Dante, I’ll be waiting – V’ the neat scrawl, in blood of course, broadcast his handiwork for all to see. Dante knew that his brother was a pretentious, psychotic, unpredictable bastard, but he believed that he still held at least a little of his humanity beneath that cruel exterior. Apparently not.

“You’re going to meet with him?” Trish asked, glancing to the side, taking in the barely-contained rage of the man standing next to her. His hands were balled into fists, shaking from the pressure, while his lips pressed together in a thin line. She could tell that the scene had upset the man beyond words; he hadn’t spoken at all since they had entered the building, and had even had to shut his eyes a few times, trying to process what he was seeing. Why the police had insisted on taking them on a tour of the gory scene she would never know.

“That asshole is not going to get away with this, not this time.” Dante responded. He was gone then, speeding across rooftops to the spot where he knew he would find his brother, rebellion already unsheathed in preparation for their encounter.

“Good…” Trish replied softly, knowing that the man would not be able to hear her. Wrapping her own arms around herself, she wished, not for the first time, that Lady was there with her. That would make the gory discovery bearable at least.

-----

Vergil hadn’t expected the sword arching through the air towards him and barely had time to block, moving back out of its range. Dante swung again, gaining quickly on his brother, faster than usual. His swings and thrusts held more power than usual, the anger adding to the fires of hate that were slowly starting to build in homage to his twin.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to go! Dante had a set pattern; they would banter, he would start throwing insults, Vergil would counter them. Dante would start getting annoyed at that point, before firing off a couple of warning shots. The fight would then begin, with Vergil making the first move, goading his twin, trying to make him lose focus.

Today, though, Dante was completely focused. He was going to make Vergil pay for what he had done to those poor children, and if that meant killing his own flesh and blood then so be it. He was landing more hits than usual, causing more damage, making Vergil back further and further away from him in an attempt to escape his attack radius if only for a second. Dante was always there though, bearing down on his brother, pure fury fuelling his movements.

Had he been in his usual condition, Vergil knew that he would have stood at least a chance of winning. Dante’s borrowed strength and speed would wear him down fast as he wasn’t used to them, but Vergil had already used much of his energy on his little calling card, not expecting the fight to be so taxing.

One stumble and he was down, Yamato skidding across the floor as Dante kicked it away. Before he could even think of standing Dante was there, right in front of him, kneeling between his splayed legs with Ebony pressed against the panting mouth of his twin. He was too close, much too close, and Vergil knew that even he wouldn’t survive a shot from such close range. He remained perfectly still, almost statuesque, waiting for his brother to either finish him or move away.

“Take off your pants.” He growled at his twin. Vergil just stared, for the first time not sure what he should do, or what Dante was going to do. If there was one thing in life he could count on it was the predictability of his brother, and it seemed that he’d even lost that. Dante growled at him when he didn’t comply, pushing the muzzle against bared teeth, loving the way it clicked slightly against them as Vergil trembled slightly in a fear that he wouldn’t admit to feeling.

“Dante, I don’t-” he was quickly silenced by the gun forcing its way into his mouth, making his eyes go wide at the taste of the cold metal.

“Just take of your fucking pants, Verge!” His voice was almost a roar and left no room for argument. Vergil moved to pull his boots off, slowly, not wanting to give his twin any reason to pull the trigger. Despite his love of violence and almost orgasmic enjoyment of pain, Vergil did not want to die, much less like this.

Boots discarded to one side, he unzipped his trousers and pulled them off, throwing them on top of his boots though not really caring where they fell. Dante forced the muzzle of the gun deeper into his mouth, making Vergil gag and forcing him down onto the ground. Cold fingers wrapped around his half-hard erection; despite himself, Vergil was enjoying this rough treatment, this threat of death. He moaned around Ebony, hoping that the sound would please his brother, that it was what he wanted to hear. He received no punishment or reward for the noise though, and decided that it wasn’t really worth the effort.

Vergil could only watch as the hand that had been pleasuring him to full hardness moved away, slightly sticky from the small amount of pre-cum he had produced. Two of those long fingers made their way up to Dante’s mouth, slipping inside, giving Dante a taste of everything that was his brother. The older twin felt his aching cock twitch at the sight of Dante sucking on his own fingers, moistening them.

He had expected it, but it didn’t stop it from hurting as Dante twisted one wet finger until it was completely sheathed inside his ass. He grunted slightly, but made no other sound or movement as a second finger joined the first before he was ready for it, scissoring inside him, preparing him roughly for what was bound to be a painful experience. The thought of it, along with the sensation of being penetrated, made his arousal twitch and ache. He wanted more, needed more, and knew that he was probably going to get it.

Dante removed the two digits far too swiftly, dragging what should have been a hiss from around the gun barrel in Vergil’s mouth. He was too angry to care, though, as he used the same hand to unfasten his trousers and free his own straining erection. Spitting on his palm, he used the moisture to add some small degree of lubrication to his jutting cock. Placing the head at his twin’s entrance, Dante pushed in, ensuring that only the head entered the tight hole, ignoring the loud cry of shock and pain that it caused. Leaning over, he grabbed one of Vergil’s earlobes in his teeth and tugged, making the older twin shudder.

“I’m going to fuck you, Vergil.” Dante’s voice was slightly hoarse from exertion and barely-suppressed lust. “I’m going to fuck you so goddamn hard you won’t remember what walking is.” Not waiting for a response, or not wanting one, he pushed all the way inside. Vergil practically screamed, the gun pressing into the back of his throat, making him gag until he relaxed back into the floor.

The devil hunter started a cruel pace, pounding into his brother’s limp body, revelling in the cries of pain he was dragging from the other. His right hand never left Ebony, finger constantly on the trigger, that threat always there. The other hand gripped Vergil’s hip, making sure that he couldn’t move away from the punishment he was being given.

It didn’t matter that Dante was no longer fisting his cock; the pain was incredible, like nothing he had felt before. He felt himself rip at the first intrusion, blood helping to lubricate their motions somewhat. It felt as though he was being ripped in two, the pain and the fear mixing together to form something akin to love for his twin. Love for making him feel so good, for coming every time he called, and for being so unpredictably dependable. It didn’t really make sense to Vergil, but it didn’t need to. He could feel his orgasm closing in, threatening to push him over the edge.

Vergil barely noticed that the gun had been retracted somewhat as he came, allowing him some added freedom of movement. His hips snapped up, white streaming over his partly-bared belly, mixing with the blood on his coat. It was intense and quick, not the most mind blowing orgasm he’d ever had, but certainly the most memorable. Shuddering slightly, he watched as his brother continued to push himself into his tight ass, never taking his eyes off the gun still placed firmly in Vergil’s mouth.

He could tell that his twin was close to climax; his hair and body were dripping with sweat, stomach tensing, breathing laboured. His thrusts had become more erratic as well, and Vergil noticed a little red patch on his abdomen that hadn’t been there before, a mirror image of the one he would get before a particularly intense orgasm.

Dante was coming then, thrusting harder, grunting and throwing his head back in pure pleasure. Vergil could feel the hot semen filling him, it seemed to burn his insides, and he wanted it all the more for that. Jet after jet filled him, making him shudder despite himself. It was over far too quickly, Dante pulling out, leaving him feeling decidedly empty. Panting heavily, the dominant of the two stared down at his brother through lidded eyes, taking in the sight of his dishevelled hair, crumpled clothes and cum-stained coat.

“I’m going to kill you now.” Dante finally spoke, after getting his breathing under control, his voice frighteningly similar to his brother’s. It was cold, harsh and without any sort of mirth. Vergil knew that he was going to die.

Time seemed to slow as he watched that finger tighten around the trigger and pull. His eyes shut tightly, forcing unbidden tears forward, waiting for the end.

He heard a click, accompanied by a laugh from his brother. The gun was gone then, his mouth still hanging slack, eyes firmly shut. He kept them that way, not wanting to see the look on his brother’s face, the one that he knew would be a mirror image of his own, more so now than ever before.

He hadn’t wanted this. He had wanted Dante, his brother, to come to him, but not like this, never like this. He didn’t want to be the one responsible for corrupting his brother, not if the hate was to be directed at him. Perhaps he had made a mistake…

For several moments Vergil lay there, motionless. Finally, his eyes cracked open, looking up at the dark sky. Heavy raindrops began to fall, washing the evidence of the night from his body, cleansing him. Sitting, wincing from the pain that shot up his spine, Vergil looked around; Dante was gone.