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It says a lot for Dante’s stroke game that you notice he’s troubled that way, even before he says anything. Maybe you should find a better moment than when he’s bottomed out in you to bring it up, but you never got anywhere with him by being subtle.

“Are you okay?” You ask, twisting around and shoving you both out of the moment faster than a bucket of cold water. 

“Uh,” Dante looks as surprised as you feel, handsome face flushed and a bit slack. His dick twitches inside you unhelpfully, but you aren’t willing to try and separate yet. “Yeah?”

You can’t blame him for being thrown off. The late afternoon had been going more or less perfectly until you threw a wrench in the gears-- the shop had been empty for a bit, and there had been a temporary lull in work for the day. Holing up in his cramped bedroom and fucking your way into evening had been a wonderful plan, and difficult to mess up. 

“Sorry, something changed in your pace. It happened earlier, too--”

“I don’t think we’ve slept with each other enough to be able to use sex rhythms as mood rings.”

“Maybe you can’t.” You lean forward, pulling yourself off his cock with a noise of reluctance. Dante looks truly mournful at the loss, but still gets close and gathers you in his arms when you lay down and pat the bed for him. “What’s up?”

To his credit, he doesn’t waste your time with a Nothing, everything’s great! That’s a hard won privilege, with him. “The better we get at this, the harder it is to keep it together. For me, specifically.” 

“Hey.” His gaze has drifted away, and you pull it back to you with a firm grip on his chin. You’ve won staring contests before, and aren’t afraid to wait for him to meet your eyes. “Are you worried you’ll do a demon thing in the middle of sex?”

He shrugs, trying very hard to be casual with his dick still out and hard and resting on your inner thigh. “I know you’re cool, but you didn’t sign up for that.”

“Pretty sure I signed up for all of you. Just do it and then you won’t have to be afraid of it.”

Dante seems to think it over, before heaving a big sigh, running a thumb over your lower lip. “That easy, huh?”

“Yeah. I’ll tell you when I want to tap out.”

“I know you will.” He ducks in for a kiss that starts quick, and deepens. 

You’ve seen his Devil Triggers before, but always at a distance. Never up close and personal, and your impression is that it’s just big, red Dante with extra spikes. One of them has a bunch of wings. He doesn’t talk about it much, and you’d always figured it was something personal, or close to sacred. Had you ever done anything to make him think you’d be afraid of him like that?

Dante keeps kissing, lower and slower. His mouth is attached to the skin over your heart when you’re about to tell him to just do it, and there’s a feeling in the air that shuts your mouth. Something like before a thunderstrike. 

It happens quickly, light and heat all the same in one overwhelming flash that makes you gasp and pull back like touching a stove, but it’s over in an instant, leaving a very different landscape. The bed groans and the lighting in the room has changed from the sudden inclusion of wings, all struggling to fit in the same confined space. 

Two beautiful horns have pierced the pillow of either side of your skull, and you hear Dante sigh, distorted but still recognizable. He starts to lift up, and you grab the pillow before it can go with him, throwing it off the side of the bed. “Ta-da.”

“I know you’re joking, but, wow.” You wet your lips, in anticipation more than nervousness. He’s big. All of him, each thick wing equipped with a curved talon, body segmented in chitinous armor. A tail you’d never noticed before thumps on the floor in either agitation or impatience. “Is the tail new?”

“It’s kind of an arousal thing.”

You think that over. “Doesn’t Vergil--”

“I don’t wanna talk about it.”

You move, crawling to touch him, admire the roughness of his armor and the hot seams between it. Dante stays quiet, watching you explore with your hands, making a thrumming sound when you finally take one of his hands. It’s big enough to crush your head, and you know he’s more than strong enough to do it. Not to mention the glowing, razor-sharp claws, or thick rings of chitin along his fingers. 

Looking up, you stare at his angular face for a moment, the sharp teeth, the piercing bright eyes that don’t convey any emotion at all. Just when you’re starting to psych yourself out, his head tilts a little-- just like he always does if he’s curious, or trying to get a read on you. 

You smile, putting your face against the palm of that terrifying hand and nuzzling into it. “No surprise you’re handsome like this, too. Where’s your dick?”

Dante’s laugh rattles the windowpanes, but you can still tell it’s him. “Oh, you got priorities!”

“Don’t hold out!” You fight the sinking mattress to get up close to him, reveling in the contrast between your skin and his armor. “How am I gonna take it, if you won’t give it to me?”

Maybe that helps get him back into his own body, because he moves like himself, drawing you into the crook of one arm and dipping you low over the bed. A wing hits the ceiling fan and showers the both of you with dust, and he groans. “Next time, the living room.”

“Already a next time, and I still haven’t seen that promised dick.”

He lets you drop to the mattress, bouncing a little, and you wiggle playfully, even more into the contrast of your own body versus Dante’s. He truly looks like a demon, ready and able to tear you to pieces. Not a bad way to go, in all honesty.

“And next time,” Dante says, horns scraping the wall and wingtips thumping on the floor as he positions himself over you. “You gotta wear something, so I can tear it off.”

“Sure, but you’re buying it for me.”

“Deal.” His mouth opens with a waft of steam and his tongue slides out, long and almost scalding hot into your mouth. It takes a moment for you to adjust, but you do your best to reciprocate, rubbing the foreign texture with your tongue, sucking before he pulls away, leaving drool smeared all over your lips, running down your chin. 

He moves slowly to give you time to object, but you grab his horns and shove him between your legs, letting go as he has to move back off the edge of the bed. You’re breathing hard just at the sight of him, but then the jaws open… and keep opening, past what you thought they’d be able to. The needle teeth hover over you as his tongue unfurls again, bright and hot enough to make you start when it touches your skin. 

There’s a huge rumble out of his chest when he finally gets to your hole, still open and sensitive from earlier, and you whimper for him as his tongue ducks in, hot and slimy. The first touches are exploratory, getting more bold as you get louder to let him know it’s good-- and it is, it’s good, the drag of his tongue over and into you, the sound and feel of his too-warm saliva coating between your legs. 

“Ah, shit,” Dante grumbles, nearly poking your eye out with a horn as he twists to look, and you prop yourself up-- the bright seam down his armor has finally split at the jut of armor between his legs. “There you go.”

You navigate past the spines and cliffs of chitin to hold his cock in your hand as it slides out, sloppy with internal juices and just as hot as his tongue. It’s not much bigger than his human dick, which you appreciate-- you could work up to something bigger, but that would take time. This, you can take right away. 

“The texture…” You muse, gently squeezing soft, buttery-leather plates and wringing a generous flood of precum out of him, along with a strangled little noise. “I can’t believe you hid this from me.”

“Just wait until it-- ah!” Such a cute yelp shouldn’t come from something so scary looking, but it does as you push your face into the base of it, drag the flat of your tongue up to the tip. His precum is more watery and has a taste unlike anything else, and you’re ready for more when Dante puts the heel of his palm (appreciably the least sharp part of his hand) against your forehead. “Babe, I can’t really stand any more foreplay. Being outside you like this is, hah.” He trails off, enormous fists flexing at his sides and wings shuffling impatiently.

“Oh! Yeah! That makes sense.” You keep a hand on his cock, which flexes gratefully and a little insectoid under your touch, and lay back. “This is a vulnerable state for a demon, right?”

“Pretty sure it is for everybody.” His smooth, blunt head lays in the crease of your hip, and you promise to yourself you’ll make him work for it another time. Maybe with restraints involved. “I’ve got claws, sweetheart, can you…?”

You smile, taking your time in running your hands down your body, parting your legs and hold yourself open for him. There’s something in the light pattern of his wings that makes you think his heart is hammering. “All yours, big guy.”

He makes good use of it, cock pressing in fast and hot and the rest of his body folding up around you, encasing you in sharp edges and unfamiliar light. You don’t focus on that, instead on the way he split you open so easily, the wet slide and slap as he starts to thrust, how small you are in his grip and how easy it is to let him do all the work. 

You wish he’d say something, but it’s hard to know how to phrase that in a way that wouldn’t make him think you were scared-- and you aren’t scared, not really, but you want to hear him. The novelty of fucking a demon is nothing if it isn’t him. Should you have told him that, did he need to hear it?

Dante snarls, dragging you further from the headboard and fully underneath him, arms sinking into the mattress and pinning your legs up, apart, open. Your brain takes a moment to catch up to the moment, before you think it through staggered breaths-- it’s a mating press. Someone finally put you in a mating press and it’s Dante. You let yourself say it, yes, please, that’s good, bright saliva and his tongue dripping out of his mouth to try and kiss you. 

Something on a pull out of you catches, and you force yourself not to freeze up, not until it happens again. The bed scrapes against the floor as Dante shoves you into the mattress and then can’t pull out, and your encyclopedic porn knowledge is really coming in useful today.

“Did you knot me?” you ask, trying to breathe and failing under his weight.

“... Yeah.”

“Oh.”

“Probably should have mentioned that could happen.”

“It doesn’t always?”

“Not unless I’m… really into it. You. And I am.”

“Mm...” You shift, squirming a hand between your bodies and causing Dante to flinch as you keep pleasuring yourself, tightening around him as a result. “Why’d you stop?”

He finds a way to get even closer, burying his fossil-like armored face into the bed next to your neck. Biting would be too serious with teeth like that, so instead you find spots safe to touch him, to hang onto him. Maybe press a kiss or two where you can. “You really like this?”

“Uh-huh. I really like this.”

That spurs him on, curling his body tighter and fucking up into you with even more sound and fervor. You know he likes it when you’re noisy for him, so you let yourself fall into it, helpless and vocal.

It happens too quickly for him to warn you, and he even makes a noise like he didn’t know it was coming-- the base of the knot pulses and flutters, the rest of it briefly contracting before sending a load of steaming hot, too-big-to-be-cum too soft to hurt rubbing and pushing against parts of you he hadn’t even touched yet-- instinct tells you they’re eggs, and you scream. 

You hardly hear yourself over the sound Dante makes, but whole body shaking at once and claws anchored into the mattress and for a moment you worry you’ll burst, or he’ll take one huge hand and tear you open without meaning to-- 

“Hell-- sorry, sweetheart, you okay?” He sounds more scared than you’ve ever heard him, which warms your heart a little, even as your whole body is focused around the hot point between your legs and in your guts, stuffed full. He moves, huge and careful to let your legs relax and leave you lying flat on the mattress under him, the bellows of his chest working hard near your shoulders. “I didn’t know-- talk to me?”

“I’m okay?” You’re muffled and pressed against a wet spot where you’d drooled without knowing it. Some of the frenzy is wearing off, and you aren’t scared of him anymore-- that’s Dante. Your Dante. Who’d just laid eggs in you. You reach a hand back and he nudges the pointy chitin of his chin against your palm, breath hissing out between needle teeth. 

“Sorry. Again. That’s, uh, new. You sure I didn’t hurt you?” He shifts, just barely pulling like he might try to dislodge the knot and you whimper, Dante freezing immediately.

There’s a knock at the bedroom door, and one of Dante’s clawed wings preemptively slams against it to keep it shut. From the other side, Vergil sounds unbothered. “Your sex noises passed the threshold from annoying to alarming.”

“Not right now, Vergil!” Dante snarls, the strength and growl of it rumbling against your back from deep inside him.

“Did someone perhaps lay some eggs they weren’t expecting?”

You shove your face into one of Dante’s flat pillows, half-mortified and half-relieved. Leave it to the scholarly brother to know what’s going on.

“I’ll take your silence as a yes. Dante’s sterile during any demonic trigger form, so they aren’t viable.”

The man himself sighs, hanging his head and slicing another hole in the wallpaper with his horns. “How do you even know?”

“I have a personal life, Dante. Just because it can’t be heard from down the block like yours--”

“Okay, alright! Cool! Great! Go away!”

“May I hear from the other party involved, so I know you haven’t killed them?”

You peel your face away from the pillow and try to sound cheerful, although it still comes out as a wail. “Thank you, Vergil.”

Even if you can’t see him, you can hear the smile in his voice. “Carry on.” He even leaves with some extra care to make his steps audible, and Dante finally relaxes when he hears Vergil head down the stairs. 

“Reconnect with your brother, they said.” Dante grumbles, rearranging his wings and knocking a whole array of shit off his dresser in the process. “It’ll be better for everyone, they said.”

“That was really nice of him, honestly.” You return your hot face to the pillow, heart still pounding and vividly aware that Dante is still in you, along with what feels like a belly full of coals. 

Dante makes a noncommittal noise that you know as a human, but it ends up a little more like a chainsaw coming through him as a demon. 

“Too bad there isn’t a card for that,” you say, at a loss and just wanting one of you to be talking. Make this a little more normal, or at least less embarrassing. “‘Thanks for on the spot supernatural sex ed,’ that kind of thing.”

“Sweetheart,” Dante chokes out, a big shiver running through him and all the air leaving your body as he levers more weight onto you, pressing you further into the mattress. “I know you’re being nice, but don’t talk about my brother while I’m in you like this, it gives me a bunch of weird instincts. Makes me think I have to put another litter in you. Make sure you’re mine.”

“Oh,” you gasp, almost light-headed. “Is-- is it weird that’s doing it for me? Not that I wasn’t ready to keep going, but--”

Dante’s wings move again, fast and hot and bracing him against the walls and ceilings. From your view, you can see one curled claw drag a spiral of wood out of the floor as it digs in. “Fuck. You’re kidding me. You still…?”

Not too strange? Don’t need to stop? You try to take stock of yourself again, looking for discomfort, but there isn’t anything. In fact, you need him to know that there isn’t anything dealbreaking about this, about him. It’s weak, but you flex your hips back against him. “Could you… fuck me a little first? I think you gotta… make room for more.”

His sigh comes out through his teeth in a hiss, and you hear his tail knock over something else in the room as he rearranges, pushes your legs back up to fold over his, settles his weight back at the right angle. “This good?”

“Uh-huh. I didn’t know you liked this way so much.”

His hips start to move again, slow and steady and shoving you full of his dick, even as the knot won’t let him draw all the way back out. You moan, knees weak and feet bouncing with the movement. “Feels the best. Feels like I’m…”

“Mm?”

A big growl swells out of him, hanging in the air, reptilian and otherworldly at the same time. “Like I’m breeding you.”

“Oh,” you whisper, dizzied with how good that sounds coming from him, how relieved you are to know that it doesn’t have any consequences, how hot it is that he wants you that much. “I know you aren’t--”

“Me too. Also not trying to start that conversation.”

“No, me neither. But you…” You swallow, thickly. “You can say it as much as you want.”

His chest, bright and hard, expands over you in a visible breath. “Yeah?” A twitch of his hips, a little faster, a little harder. “You want me to breed you?” You nod, Dante’s hips hitting your ass loudly, even with his movement limited by the knot. “I want to, baby. Fill you up, make sure you’re mine. I have to.”

“You better,” you gasp, more of his full weight resting on you, wings drawing close to shut out the room, the world, the thoughts of anything else but his knot in you, and the sensation of slick cum escaping from you at every opportunity. The mattress is beyond saving, you think hazily, he’s going to tear it up and fuck you through it--

“Whoa, hey--” There’s another windstorm of wings, and your head lolls a bit as Dante rearranges, moving your legs as he needs to to get you on top of him, his back against the mattress. “You almost faded out.”

“Sorry-- you’re--” You swallow, torn between trying to reassure him and adjusting to the feeling of being stuck upright on his knot. “Heavy.”

“We’ll do it like this,” he soothes, one big hand on the small of your back enough to support you. It makes you feel like a doll, and you wriggle hopefully at the thought of it. “God, you’re a hell of a view.”

“I feel like a toy.” 

“Yeah?” He curls forward, big tongue leaving a stripe of heat up your neck-- too much to stand for long, but good enough to make you shiver in his grip. “You look fucked out. Completely. I almost feel bad wanting to screw you harder.”

You smile, missing his face and appreciating the unrestrained aggression of his demon form. Every part of this body could kill you, but you know you could tell or ask him for anything and he’d do it. “I’m not done yet. Still waiting on those eggs, actually.”

“Well, pardon me. I’ll get to work.” The permanent leer of his face puts an extra twist on his tone, and he guides a hand to work yourself while he holds the rest of you. Every upward thrust feels like it knocks your brain out of focus again, so you give up, easily wetting your fingers and palm with the cum sliding out of you for your own use, and letting yourself moan and cry out as Dante gets lost in you.

The second load of eggs comes faster than the first, forcing a gush of slick out from you, barely past the plug of his knot, and you aren’t so shocked this time, able to enjoy it more-- the way Dante flexes and brightens and just steams, seething with pride and desire as he watches you makes it all worth it, even if you weren’t also filled completely, trembling with effort. 

“So good,” he mutters, tongue coiling behind the fence of his teeth, heat like an oven coming off the exposed star of his heart. It runs together into a dark language of praise, so good, you’re mine, taking it all, fuck, love it, love you, look at you…

The moment drags on, not unpleasantly. Dante keeps his hands on you, supporting you where your legs won’t, claws safely kept away from your skin. When you can move, you run your fingers over the armor of his hands, his forearms. Your human body looks so naked and defenseless against the gnarled, glowing chitin, and tears fill your eyes.

“Hey, hey, hey hey hey--” The whole room creaks as Dante curls up, brings his big forehead to rest against yours, the heat making fresh sweat spring up at your temples. “Talk to me. Please?”

“I’m okay,” you sigh, for what feels like the hundredth time. But it’s true. “It’s just a lot. Almost a little scary how much I don’t want to stop.”

“Listen, if you didn’t already have a lifetime pass to get this dick before, you do now. Pretty sure you’ve ruined me for all other holes in this world, actually.”

“Did you just call me a hole?”

“I know what you mean, though.” He’s reluctant to move much against your face, maybe afraid of spines or sharp edges where you don’t want them. You don’t have the same fear, and press your soft cheek against his, the almost concave curve of his jaw framing your face comfortingly. “It feels like a dream.”

You move your hands to the slopes and furrows of his chest, and Dante leans in to accommodate you. “Like nothing this good can be real.”

He’s quiet too long, and you know he’s gotten into his head. “Yeah.”

How had Vergil literally knocking on the door been less of a moodkiller than you getting introspective? It fires you up, and you take a firmer grip on Dante’s natural armor, adjusting your weight. “I think we might just both be stupid, though.”

There’s a little rumble from his chest. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

“Because…” Your thighs burn and Dante stays very still underneath you, like he doesn’t want to interfere with you. The stillness turns into forced tension as you lift, shaking and biting your lip hard as the knot pulls at you, your body reluctant to let it go. The final pop of it coming out is overwhelmed by the flood of slickness rushing out of you, racing down your thighs and dribbling onto his armor plates, and you arch your back. “Ah! Because!”

“Because, babe?” He sounds breathless, even as that same rumbling noise, like a purr, gets louder in his chest. 

You forget to breathe as you drop and then press yourself back onto the knot, and Dante’s tail lashes out to crash into a lamp as it pops back inside you. “Because this is good but I still want to… just see you, you know?”

“Tell me,” Dante gasps, maybe one of the most powerful people in two whole dimensions under you, lodged in your guts, and audibly begging for your words. “Please?”

“I like…” you swallow, mouth dry and body coated in sweat. Dante’s purring is matched by a little trembling, visible in the edges of his wings. “Going out to lunch, with you. And I like staying here and just--! Watching movies, too.”

The wet pop as you drag yourself up off the knot sends feeling racing through your thighs, your back, your stomach, makes Dante twitch in a full-body way. You let your throat relax and a long noise pull out as you lower yourself back down, swallowing him again. 

“I like being a home here, and I like your rude brother and your weird family--” Dante’s hips buck a little, rubbing the knot inside you and you stiffen. “Yes! That-- that’s-- uhm. I like buying you coffee, even though you always get a--” The slightest bounce from underneath him, and you melt into his supporting hands. “A strawberry frap, but it’s so cute, I can’t s--”

He sets a pace, floorboards squeaking and his knot crammed into you, and you feel yourself starting to let go all the way, eyes starting to drift shut. He’s a beautiful, fiery smudge just beyond your eyelashes. 

“Even if-- even if you weren’t hung and great with your mouth and your hands and you couldn’t sh-shoot me full of eggs, I’d still be so in love with you, sorry--” 

The fever of his pace bouncing you on his lap breaks just as he grabs your face with an enormous claw-- uncomfortable heat blooms out from him in an instant before subsided along with the light, and you cry out in relief and delight at the feeling of his skin on yours, his blunt human fingers digging into your cheek to hold you upright while he kisses you. Desperately.

You let yourself go limp, and Dante exhibits a truly heroic show of strength and cunning to roll you onto your back, staying buried between your legs and comfortingly big, pressing down on you. You lay there and enjoy the friction of very sweaty human skin, the scratch of hair and the sound of two bodies breathing. 

“I just put a gallon of cum inside you, I sure hope you love me,” Dante pants, close to your ear, and you laugh, you keep laughing while he kisses you and ends up mostly smooching teeth, and he laughs too, body relaxing on top of yours. 



--- -- -



“Do you need me to say it back?” Dante asks, from the tub.

You lift your head from where you’d been letting it hang. “Huh?”

He shifts, oversized for the bathtub and soaking maybe about only sixty percent of his body mass in the warm water. “That I love you.”

You’re at eye level with him, still on the toilet. Most of that gallon of cum has drained out, along with some gooey remnants of what must be egg shells, and it’s maybe the grossest thing you’ve gone through with another person in the same room. At the same time, it’s all him, so there’s nothing that gross about it. 

“I think it’s implied,” you shrug, unscrewing the cap from your second water bottle. The minifridge had become unplugged from the wall during sex, but behind the soda and an energy drink from the 90s, there had been enough water to start rehydrating you. “Also there may have been some mid-act mumbling about it, so--”

“I do, though.” He rests his head against the tiled bathroom wall with a clunk, staring up at the light and looking exasperated with himself. “And in the same way. It’s not just the sex.”

“And the sex is good, even though you did very much lay eggs in me--”

“And you liked it, so who’s the weird one?”

You both turn at the sound of the downstairs door opening, the sounds of Nico and Nero returning loud enough that Kyrie must be with them, inspiring such a fuss. You find yourself smiling without meaning to, liking how the extra sound fills up the shop. 

You had meant that, too, about how happy this place being a home made you. How much you liked being a part of that home. 

“C’mere.” Dante beckons you over when you unsteadily rise and flush the toilet, and you give him a doubtful look.

“It’ll overflow the tub.”

“Who cares?”

Well, with that logic. You step in carefully, Dante’s hands on yours for stability, and the warm water rushes out over the edge and splatters onto the floor as you lay down on top of him, getting settled in a tangle of limbs. The tub isn’t big enough for him, let alone the both of you, but there’s nothing better than resting your cheek on his chest, being able to nose up into his neck and chin. 

The best of his heart is unhurried, even sleepy. You shut your eyes and listen to the soft lap of water against skin. 

Eventually, you hear the outraged holler about water comin’ through the fuckin’ ceiling, goddammit, and the sound of Nero’s boots pounding up the stairs.