Hidden Memories

Just a few notes before we get started. I actually started writing this fic before DMC4 came out, going on the rumours that Nero was somehow a manifestation of Vergil. The game didn’t really explain anything so I thought I’d just go ahead and finish the fic as I started it. Therefore the plot (there’s a plot?) doesn’t directly follow what happened in the game, but I hope you enjoy it anyway.

Events in this fic take place just after the initial boss/training fight with Dante. Differences from the game are that Nero knows who Dante is at this point and he hasn’t always had a demonic arm.

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Nero was still breathing heavily as he slumped against the doorframe leading to his quarters within the Order. The room he normally occupied was spartanly furnished, revealing no clue about its master to the casual viewer. Even though he was exhausted from his battle with the half-demon he was still fastidious enough to place his weapons carefully in their holders before collapsing into a small chair facing the window.

The sun was dipping below the horizon, casting long ruddy shadows through the room. Nero stared out the window, his blue eyes squinting slightly against the glare, not seeing what was before him, but rather replaying the recent events over in his head, trying to understand why.

He involuntarily clenched the demonic right hand that he had been so careful to keep concealed as he undid the sling and slowly revealed the atrocity to his view again. The Order of the Sword strove to live up to the great knight Sparta’s ideals and slay all demons, preserving this world for those who deserved it and yet he, who was one of the order’s most powerful members, was succumbing to this infection. Lately demons had been becoming stronger, weaker members of the Order had fallen, but nothing had been as tragic as the mass slaying by… him…

Dante. Oh he looked human on the surface, but cursed blood flowed through his veins. If Nero hadn’t seen the proof for himself he would have never imagined that the coupling of a demon and human was possible. But that wasn’t the most disturbing revelation by far. The thing that remained forefront in his mind, the one thought that refused to go away was the fact that they shared the same face. Dante was older, looked rougher around the edges, but the similarity was there. The same unusual white hair, icy blue eyes and predominant nose, it couldn’t merely be a coincidence could it?

Nero snorted at the thought that he could have anything to do with that murderous half-breed. Dante was just another demon that would eventually be crushed by the Order’s ideals. Nero stood suddenly and began to strip; he desperately needed a shower after his fight with half-demon. Quickly he discarded his overcoat and boots and turned on the hot water to let it warm before removing his vest and trousers.

Even Nero had to admit that Dante possessed skill that far outstripped anything he had come against before, although he was pleased that he had managed to hold his own against the other man.

As the small tiled room filled up with steam Nero shrugged off the last of his clothing and stepped into shower. The streams of hot water felt good against his skin, soothing the battered flesh as he washed the grime of battle from his body. Although Nero had fought seriously he couldn’t get over the fact that Dante had just been toying with him. Even though it was clear that Dante had the upper hand, the fact that he was teasing him somehow hurt his pride; annoying him, always with the same knack that Dante had to annoy him.

Had always annoyed him?

Nero shook his head sharply, sending a small cascade of water across the shower from the tips of his hair. It was a preposterous thought; this was his first encounter with the other man. There was no way that he could have a basis for such feelings.

He closed his eyes and turned his face into the shower, feeling the hot drops drumming against his eyelids, plastering his white hair against his skull as he drove thoughts of the other man from his mind, not reopening his eyes until the only sound in his head was that of water running down the drain.

The young man stepped from his watery refuge with a sigh, knowing that his peaceful reprieve would be short-lived as he roughly dried his body, leaving one towel loosely wrapped around his hips as he used another to dry his hair.

It was like this that he re-entered the main room, a cloud of steam slipping out through the bathroom door in his wake. The sharp glint of the Red Queen in the sun’s dying rays reminded him that he still had a job to do, his thoughts once more becoming preoccupied by the enigmatic man in red.

Dante; once again. He must have been a misfit all of his life, with his unusual coloured hair and abilities. Nero understood. Although the Order accepted him and Credo and Kyrie had welcomed him into their family, he still saw how others looked at him, distrust in their eyes because he looked and dressed differently. Things were even more difficult now that he had this damned arm to hide. He did his best to cover it up with a cocky attitude and a sharp tongue, but deep down he knew he was different too. All he could do was to prove that he was useful. He sighed again as he dropped into the same chair he had occupied before, torn between exacting revenge as the Order demanded and wanting to find out more about Dante.

It was almost as if a memory was teasing the edges of his consciousness, drifting in and out of focus but disappearing when he tried to grasp it. He couldn’t shake the feeling that Dante was familiar to him somehow. He leant back and closed his eyes, picturing the white haired man, playing back images of their brief encounter. As he let the thoughts drift through his mind, slowly more images of the other man came to light. Nero knew now not to try to force these thoughts, but to let them come as they pleased.

They were of Dante; but not as Nero knew him. He saw images of the other man at various ages. A young child blowing out candles on a birthday cake. A teen atop a desolate tower in the rain. A man wandering a remote island. Then suddenly an image that Nero was not expecting in a million years floated to the forefront of his vision. An image so full of wanton lust and sex that Nero’s body shuddered with arousal despite himself. In his mind’s eye Dante was completely naked, lying on his back, legs spread seductively, leaving nothing to imagination, gazing up at him with such an expression of longing and need.

Nero was surprised by how much his body reacted to the image. It felt like he wasn’t in complete control anymore, but rather a casual observer within a whirlwind of memories and emotions. His body was hot, aroused more than it ought to be and almost involuntarily his right hand moved towards his hardening member. His hand slowly slid across taunt abdominal muscles, fingertips brushing through the curly white hairs, teasing around the base and balls, running the length of his cock and smearing the bead of pre-cum that had gathered at the tip around his head and finally wrapping around the stiff length. He had never gotten himself off with his demonic hand before, not really trusting it; but now the feeling of that power around his cock aroused him even more.

The images in his head weren’t relenting either. As he slowly pumped his cock the thoughts became more vivid, he could almost feel himself thrusting into the other man as he pictured Dante writhing beneath him. Moaning and gasping and calling out, pushing the other over so that Dante was riding his cock, jerking himself off as he pulled himself on and off of his length.

It didn’t stop with just fucking either. His right hand didn’t relent in its steadily increasing rhythm as Nero began licking and sucking the fingers of his left hand as his thoughts filled with sucking Dante off. Running his tongue along the thick shaft, taking the head into his mouth and sucking hard.

And soon another image filled his mind, Dante was pushing into him, filling him with his rock hard cock. Nero moaned as he slipped a saliva-slicked finger into his ass, playing with himself as Dante pounded into him in his mind. Everything was running at an intensity he had never felt before and with pleasurable assaults to his cock, ass and mind; his over-stimulated body was not going to last much longer.

Nero could feel himself reaching the point of no return and his demonic hand jerked forcefully at his cock, causing the teen to growl deep in his throat, his breathing becoming more and more ragged. Nero came with a shout and an almost violent convulsion of his body and the memories dissolved back into the recesses of his mind, leaving only the warm exhausted afterglow the extremely intense orgasm. He sat for a little while longer, panting slightly, eyes still unfocused and then slowly hoisted himself up and started redressing.

The white haired teen collected his weapons as he left his room, intent on finding the half demon. Even more questions were racing through his head now, the most pressing being whose memories were they that he had seen and experienced?

If he thought carefully enough, he could almost make out the name that had been on Dante’s lips...

Vergil...