cookies' corner

Waking up along the strings of the night and into the early hours of the morning was something that wasn’t necessarily extraordinary for him, however each time the circumstances ended up differing whenever he did so. Whether it be the bouts of insomnia that tapered his eyelids more times than he ever would admit to anyone, or perhaps being that rare, fleeting night he’d have a nightmare that ended as quickly as it started – as opposed to the long ago memories he sometimes wish he didn’t dream of so casually – he had been the victim of waking in the time before dawn one too many times. Nevertheless, that night was different, and it was but a few moments of pushing through a sleep-addled brain to realize just why he had woke up.

You.

Though, it was quite a few moments of sluggish analysis he would’ve berated himself for until he was able to realize that you had been the cause of his awakening. Of course being abruptly ejected out of the deep sleep he had been in was enough for his eyes to flutter open, a sharp glint already finding way in his irises as the hairs on his neck rose and a furrow lined in his brow when he took in the situation around him.

It was late, the shine of the moonlight casting through the window into the room matching the hue of his pale eyes nearly as he absently stared at the spot on the wall across from him, his eyes already adjusting to the darkness of the room to let him to be able to see better. Albeit his fatigue crusted his eyes, he sat still for a long moment, ears starting to listen in for anything that would’ve alerted him out of his sleep, yet only coming up short when the only noises he could pick up that was deemed of any importance was his brother’s snores down the hallway, and the sound of your breathing and heartbeat. It was quiet, and not an ounce of threatening energy suffocated his throat and shot his nerves, so he was quick to blame his awakening on another round of insomnia.

Coming up short and no longer disturbed, he closed his eyes again and lowered his hackles, his nostrils flaring into your nape as the intoxicating scent of you invaded each one of his senses and pricked along his frontal lobe and he immediately grew back to his alert state for what he was able to pick up so close to him and so strong radiating off of you.

Your smell, and how warm you were.

Vergil’s eyes cracked back open quicker that time around and fully without an ounce of drowsiness, already setting them down in a glare down at the back of your head when he realized your positions. It was never odd to wake up and find your leg slung over his waist or your face buried into his collarbone, breathing heavy and light snores leaving your mouth as you were a restless sleeper at times and often gravitated to him for his body. Normally you were the clinger, and he found it incredibly shameful it seemed to be easier to sleep at night whenever you were close to him, and often times he would awake if he could no longer feel your skin so close to his own. Because of that, he was usually digging a shoulder into your back to feel any semblance of what it felt like when you slept so near to him and kept that dark subconscious at bay.

(He’d never tell you that, and perhaps you knew somehow, but it was an unspoken fact between you both that he’d rather keep in a silent exchange of actions rather than words. He had never been one good for his words anyway. Vergil, however, knew it was a cemented truth on your end, your want to wrap yourself within his sheets rather than staying in your own well enough for him to assume that he had quite the effect on you. Just like the one you had on him.)

Though that time around you faced away from him, your back lining up along his torso and hips pressed into his pelvis as he had ended up throwing one arm around your waist and the both of your legs entangled with one another. Not a strange position entirely, and it also wasn’t so odd given your lack of pants and one of the shirts you had stolen from him adorning your slumbering figure, though he wondered if you had pulled away from him at some point in the night and he had just moved unconsciously to keep you close from the brewing layer of deepening thoughts that rested in the recesses of his mind ready to crawl forward and plague the serene he’d been having. That alone was evidence enough of the devastating effect you had on him, something he would consider both a bruting strength for purpose, and a solidified weakness for his humanity.

Either way he dismissed those thoughts as quickly as they came up, his brief time awake showcasing his quick thinking as he truly realized why he had awoken altogether and why he had awoken curled up against you and with his nose pressed into the bone of your nape.

Your smell for one, and granted your smell was pleasing as was, but it was a particular scent that had him scowling when he realized it was the same smell you emitted whenever he’d watch your fingers twist into the sheets next your head with your calves sitting atop his shoulders as he tried not to rip the pillow apart in teetering control taking you as persistent as he could. Vergil could already feel his jaw clench at the bombardment of images for numerous past trysts in his mind and the slide of a hot tingle down into his loins. It seemed even in your sleep that he still was never truly able to escape your seductive clutches; even as you rested you continued to tease and prod at him until he fell victim to his ethereal lust for you.

Succubus.  

However he was more-so curious as to why you were like that, but the heat radiating from your inner thighs through the cloth of his pajama bottoms and the heavy sighs beginning to leave your mouth told him enough. He’d call you insatiable in your desire for him if he wasn’t of the same way, straightening his spine and kneeing your thighs apart to slide one of his own up until it was rooted up against you and he could feel the evidence of your increasing arousal along his muscle.

A low sigh left him as the skin underneath his clothing began to grow warm from the heat of your cunt and wet the fabric of his pants from how soaked you were through your panties, an intolerable urge to press himself into you when he felt the pulse from you pound into his thigh he had to fight off. You were dreaming, and not only that, but having a wet dream. He very nearly rolled his eyes, thoughts turning to hours beforehand when he had you pinned underneath him again and realizing you truly were greedy in want. Yet Vergil knew he wasn’t one to speak of that matter without sounding like a hypocrite, the feeling of you steadily soaking and warming his thigh, along with the tantalizing aroma of you still assaulting all sensible reasoning, sending a jolt of pleasure curling into his abdomen until it slid down towards his cock.

He sighed. If he wasn’t awake before, he was then.

Briefly he wondered if you could feel his glare on the back of your head in your sleep, your slight squirming making him bar his arm down and curl over your abdomen harder, until he jerked his thigh up for a reaction from you. He got the reaction he wanted when a soft keening noise left your mouth and you rolled your hips to grind along his thigh, the movement stimulating his hardening cock and making him suck air through his teeth in a hiss while tucking his face into the side of your neck, his pointed nose pressing into your earlobe.

Vergil called your name once to wake you, yet you didn’t stir.

He snuck his hand up your shirt and flattened his palm against your abdomen, his other arm’s hand twisting into the pillowcase where it laid under the pillow below your head as he realized there would be no going back to sleep for his – and yours – predicament. While you had vouched that you didn’t mind if he touched you in your sleep, he didn’t necessarily ever want to do it that way, he found it more pleasing when you were awake and knew what he was doing to you as much he liked the expressions that crossed your face. Shamefully, he all but had a one-track mind when it came down to carnal desires, and having you lay so pliant and so… wanting, responsive for him was almost making him throw reason out the window and use you as he wanted right there.

Vergil’s control seemed to still loosen when it came to you, much like a tightly wounded spring coming uncoiled either in slow circles or altogether too fast for him to comprehend, and regardless of how many times he found himself lost in the never-ending, treacherous paradise that was you, it never seemed to help in building back up the sense of self-control.

One way or another, he was utterly drenched in sinful and covetous desire for you, and against better wishes for himself (and your own safety and life), he kept coming back for more.

Much like he was then; him gritting his teeth and hissing into your skin when he found his hips rocking back against you while you sloppily grinded on his thigh, all the while your sighs and slight inhales stoking that fire burning in his loins as your cunt only pulsed harder to match the drum of your heartbeat that he could hear. It was to the point he couldn’t ignore it any longer, nostrils flaring in a heavy breath as the texture of his pants began to stick to his thigh from your juices, and the flexing of his quadricep only whisking you on as you stimulated yourself for whatever was in your dreams.

He had made up his mind then, his blood pumping down towards his cock too fast for his liking and the heaviness it brought within his balls too much for his self-control. Vergil didn’t feel the slightest bit of guilt for trying to wake you, thinking back to the many times you had awoken him wanting sex from him, and despite the iron will he tried to put around you, he always was one up for it. So what was it if he did wake you up for once?

Surely you wouldn’t mind.

He tried waking you again, lips skimming up along your neck in a circle until they were pressed against your earlobe, and he exhaled heavily into your ear, “Wake up.”

You still did not stir, your subconscious determined to keep the hold it had over you and continue on whatever was happening inside of that mind of yours (a feat he wasn’t sure he ever wanted to truly know). He felt his eyes narrow into another glare, lips down turning into another hard frown as he surmised it must have been one Hell of a dream for you to remain asleep after he whispered into your ear – something that normally made your pulse skyrocket and tickled your skin. You were far away from him then; attention plagued by whatever you conjured in that abyss and leaving him to watch as you fell into throes of pleasure without him.

He was annoyed about it.

However, it was no doubt you were dreaming of him given the nature of your relationship and knowing he had been the only one you had been active with (another thing that ballooned his ego, though he wasn’t about to admit that), yet if it was something you could do awake with him, then why dream? He nearly cursed himself for sounding so deprived, yet he couldn’t take the grinding against his cock any longer or how hot and heavy it felt without having any proper attention in the matter.

His lust won out in the end once more, and for that he slid his lips slowly down the slope of your neck, cool breath grazing over an area he had bitten hours previously, before he inhaled once more for your dizzying scent and did something he knew that would finally awake you.

Vergil bit into your neck.

It worked and you jerked as you awoke, stretching like a cat and a long breath leaving your chest as you slightly wiggled in his hold and lulled your head about away from his bite. He released your skin, tongue tasting of you running along his teeth feeling for every crack until he had to bite onto his cheek whenever your back arched and your ass rubbed along his dick again. Damn you.

Brat.

You must’ve not heard the barely concealed grunt he let out into your neck, a long sigh pushing past your lips as you tipped your head back to lay further into him. His nose scrunched as your scent hit him harder, the saliva in his mouth growing as his palm pressed down harder onto your stomach to keep you from moving any more that would’ve jeopardized his want to keep things in his hold. It was a few moments of silence, and he had wondered if you had just fallen back asleep until you spoke, voice groggy with sleep and barely intelligible if he hadn’t possessed the hearing that he did.

“Mms’fuckin’ early, Vergil,” you grumbled, seemingly unaware of the underlying issue that was in-between your legs and pressing into your back. You complained more than you realized he noted, and yet even with you complaining about him awaking you, you still didn’t move away from his ministrations or his hold. Instead you spoke again, remaining still in his hold as you continued to gripe at him, “Mm’arm’s asleep… What time issit?”

Vergil’s eyes slid towards the clock on the nightstand of your side, the glowing, red lettering a stark contrast to the cool darkness and pale shine of the moonbeams shining in through the window. It was 3:07 A.M., and a sliver of humor found its way into him as he realized the meaning behind the time he had awoken and in turn awoke you. Witching hour; Devil’s hour, and yet despite the circumstances regarding his species compared to your own, he had called you a Succubus seeking him out of lust, when in reality he was the one preying on your malleable form in your dreams true to his status as a demon.

However, despite that, the way your body looked stretched out against his own in the streams of the moonlight that came through into the bedroom at that moment indeed made you look like an otherworldly phenomenon sent from the depths of the unknown yet to be discovered by humanity.

Siren. He had many names for you, and yet none seemed to justly fit the criteria and effect you had on him.

He let the thought pass, a fleeting observation on his part, as he answered you and removed his eyes from the clock to flutter his eyelashes against your neck, “3:07.” He felt the inflow of your breath at his voice, a shakiness to it at his proximity that you tried to play off, yet the influx of chills rising along your skin and the skip of your heartbeat lying for you in the end. He didn’t comment on it, deciding to wait it out in his play for you to answer.

And you didn’t take long in spite of your grouchy state.

“Why are you biting me at three in the mornin’?”

A huff escaped him then, feeling your body twitching at the suddenness of his cool breath blowing across a sensitive part of your skin before he removed his hand from the spot on your stomach and curled two fingers under the collar of your shirt. He pulled your shirt away from you, exposing your shoulder to him and air as he ran his nose along the skin there – discreetly inhaling as he went – until he was settling his lips upon your shoulder. He kissed it once, before nipping at it and sighing whenever you jolted at the action and beginning to trace a path along your skin there as he noted the rate of your pulse picking up.

Vergil eventually answered you, arm sliding back around you and teeth snapping against the flesh of your trapezius as his breathing got heavier when you started to grow more aroused, “You were dreaming.”

You wriggled in his grasp again and he unflexed his thigh to keep you at bay for the teasing he wanted to bite at you for dreaming so carelessly for things you could have awake. “Yeah, people do that when they sleep, Vergil,” you mumbled, yet the tilt in your voice told him you were distracted.

“Brat,” he voiced aloud that time in a hiss, accompanying another bite onto your skin for your sass. He allowed you another moment of squirming against him before he realized he couldn’t wait any longer with all the movement against him, a hum vibrating deep in his throat and rumbling out of his chest against your back as he released your skin free from his teeth and glided his lips back up to your earlobe. The shudder was not lost on him, his nose against your temple and voice raspy wisping along your skin for his desire, “Hmm, obviously so… Mind telling me what you were dreaming of then?”

He knew he had you had caught when your breathing hitched, the pulse pounding through your panties matching your heart once more as he flexed and pressed his thigh up further into you again. A small grunt passed your mouth finally, and your one free hand gripped onto his wrist, nails prickling into his skin in a pathetic hold that held no pain over him, with your hips rocking forward to rub what you could of your clit against his protruding muscle and backwards to rub your ass against his pelvis once more. Vergil had to hold back his groan for the moment, the sensitivity in his cock growing the longer he played around with you.

You spoke, quiet and shaky, and the slight waver in your voice betraying the way you tried to keep up the act, “You’ve never asked before, what’s changed now?”

“Mm, curious…” Was all he offered you, yet he made his intentions known dragging his fingers down your naval in a slow draw before he ran a lone index finger along the lining of your panties.

The bones in your shoulder blades popped when you arched your back again, ass pressing further into him as you caught onto the obvious bulge in his pants. His nostrils flared against your cheek that time, your smell growing stronger for your growing desire and his own impatience growing the longer you stalled. You eventually answered though, a haze in your voice and lucidity lost on parts of your limbs as you continued to grind on his thigh.

“I… I don’t remember –”

“Lies,” he hissed, snapping the elastic of your panties against your skin and jerking his thigh harder up into your cunt, enjoying the louder, gasping pant that left you, “Don’t play coy with me… Tell me, what you were dreaming of that had you this wet and shamelessly using me for.”

The temperature of the room grew to boiling, his bloodstream feeling as if it was fueled by fire rushing through his veins regardless of his body temperature running a warmer degree due to his heritage. Your skin was warmer than usual too, yet the heat radiating from your inner thighs was the real source of it all and it was hard not to imagine – and remember – just how warm you felt inside and how you would still somehow heat his cock up when he got inside of you. It made him scowl, irritation for himself for growing greedier and greedier each time he got close to you in a licentious manner fast enough to furrow his brow and clench his jaw, but your voice breaking through the silence and giving into him was swift to diminish that.

“You… I was dreaming about you,” you confessed, lifting your hips up a fraction and circling them back onto his drenched thigh for a faster route to pleasure.

Vergil could feel his lips twitch upwards for a split second, his pride boosting that he was right as he rewarded you by slipping his finger down into your panties and placing the pad of his middle fingertip onto your clit. An audible hiss did escape him however that time, your clit swollen under his finger and you wetter than he had originally thought guiding him to ease onto you with slow circles to get you lax and submissive in his hold again. You sighed then, a high-pitched sound he had committed to memory, as your muscles relaxed and the tension in your shoulders released while your hips followed along with his movements.

He didn’t let you off the hook so easily though, his curiosity to know just what you were dreaming of that got you the way you were (and dreaming of it anyway since he had taken you mere hours before), and he slid his arm out from underneath the pillow where your head rested and curled it around your throat. He didn’t press down right away, only pleased with your immediate reaction to tilt your head further back into him so that he had a better look of your face and a better hold on your form to touch you in the way he so wanted.

Watching your eyelashes flutter over your hazy eyes, Vergil pressed down hard onto your clit, holding a dark chuckle back at your flinch and the way you tried to close your thighs around his hand if it wasn’t for the presence of his own in-between them. He hummed again, flexing his fingers on your throat and pressing his nose to your earlobe once more, “Tell me more. What was I doing?”

Your mouth parted, puffy lips coated in salvia with wet sighs falling free as you answered quicker that time in a show of your neediness for his touch, “Do you remember that time in that church? When you bent me over the altar and made me repent for letting a demon defile me?”

A sharp, electrifying shock prickled down his spine and Vergil paused in his ministrations, finger sliding off of your clit for a brief moment as he was glad his face was still slightly behind you and you could not see well in the dark because you would’ve seen the way his eyes widened a portion and saw the dilation he felt in his irises whenever he remembered the incident. Another pang of shock twitched his cock and tingled inside of his balls; how could he forget? It was… debauch in all its intentions for doing that to you, but it was also extremely pleasing to him whenever he you indulged him in that little fantasy and how much he realized he liked the idea when telling him.

He had blamed it on his devilish lineage of course, the repeating chanting you did that night of saying you were his and belonged to him in a church something he etched into his memory and thought more of than he would’ve ever admitted. The idea of corrupting a being much like yourself (and he realized he had truly corrupted you given your penchant for suggesting more of the sinful of ideas in the bedroom, and how you were particularly happy to please him for his own side) something that nearly made his eyes roll back – and they did when he had you pinned down on that altar and started rocking himself inside of you – and fueled a different type desire for you in the end that had to be put out before it grew too strong.

And yet, the burning sun of want and need for you in all your carnality and your emotionalism only surged as the days passed and the more time he spent with you, a notion he donned a fee of damning sin and a gift of blissful redemption on his behalf.

Vergil swallowed and narrowed his eyes; minx, he knew what you were doing. For that he dropped his thigh away from you, ignoring your little whine for the loss of friction, before sliding his fingers down your slick folds and deftly pushing his middle and ring finger inside of you until he was three knuckles deep of each finger into your soaked cunt again and curling them against your soft walls for your oncoming release. Your back arched again for the suddenness of his actions, a louder gasp bubbling up from your lungs while you clenched around his appendages and urged him to move by a slight rock of your hips.

“I remember,” he answered, voice thick with barely concealed control and teetering into delirium for you, “Though, were you truly dreaming of that, or are you toying with me?”

You lulled your head back again, though that time you pressed your nose into his hot cheek and sneakily slid your hand away from his wrist and down his bare abdomen, a nail dragging along each individual, flexing, abdominal muscle until you were rubbing the back of your hand along his cock through his pants. He felt himself twitch again at the long-awaited touch, fingers slightly squeezing down on your throat in warning when you teased him by curling your fingers around him through his pants.

In spite Vergil pressed up against your hot walls – the feeling of them akin to nothing of comparison but just plush comfort – right under your clit, and enjoying the squeal that left you and the way you clenched up around him and pulsed around his fingers. He began to truly move his fingers then, an agonizing curl and dip for your part as he listened to each squelch your body made and felt each gush of liquid coat his fingers when you rolled along with him. He nearly missed the way you slid your hand into his pants and you twisted your wrist around his cock if it wasn’t for a fingertip pressing down into his cockhead leaking of precum and gently stroking along his slit.

That time, he growled.

Your chest was heaving and your body was moving like tides in the ocean, following along each way he curled his fingers and pulled back to push against that spongy spot lying within you. Vergil’s mind was spinning by then, your smell and the feeling of you pleasuring him with your soft, cool hand so unlike his own making him sloppy in his movements and totter on his hold of control and his ability to hold out for what he wanted to do. His fingers felt as hot as the blood roaring through his veins did, and he all but had to strain to hear you speak again to keep himself from tipping out of self-control and flipping you over for his own gain.

“Why would I lie? It’s one my favorite memories,” you turned your head and sighed in his face, while he hissed from the tone your voice had taken and the increasing speed of your hand around his cock. You continued though, never one to take precautions for his slipping control, “You can’t say much… You’re already so hard, how long were you laying there awake debating what to do with me?”

He closed his eyes then, his skin beginning to prickle and hackles rising for an entirely different reason as he felt the familiar sticky, oozing of his precum soak into your hand and coat his cock each time you slid your hand to the base of him, and all the way back to his tip. It was scalding in combination to the coolness of your hand, the heat of his cock growing tenfold and pulsing along to his balls when he felt the distinct feeling of a release along the way.

The first pleasure-laden grunt left him that time, his fingers harshly pressing into you to stretch your plush walls as much as he could for a reaction, and you gave one in the form of another jab at him, taking up his silence for the time being as your own time to shine.

You sighed in a particular way that made his fingers press down harder onto your throat, a light wheeze leaving you as he dipped his face back into your neck and huffed against your skin when you began to match the speed of which he was fingering you to rub away at him. “You didn’t have to wake me up, I told you that you could fuck me in my sleep and use me how you want.”

Vergil felt a jolt inside of him, static prickling his nerves as he bared his teeth against your neck, “Stop.”

He didn’t mean it, and he knew that you knew that.

“But I wouldn’t get this chance, and I know you like it when I talk to you like this… Did you wake me up because you wanted me so bad?”

He exhaled heavily, “No.” He did.

Your head rolled and you swiped your thumb across his swollen cockhead, “Mmm, it’s okay if you did… Dreaming of you fucking me doesn’t compare.”

His expression scrunched up, fingers shoving up into you faster – harder, almost desperate to get you to cum so you would be quiet and he could relinquish all control for the session. You nearly moaned then, the obscene sound of your cunt drenched along his hand and fingers adding to the sound of both of your labored breathing and his growing growls and hisses. Every time you prodded at him, and every time he fell into it.

And every time he gave in for you.

Vergil hissed against your skin then, nerves haywire and bones tightening as you pulled him free of his pants and into the air of the bedroom before you ran a slow line of your finger along the protruding and pulsing vein on the underside of his cock. Though you had let him know what you had wanted, he was never one to not make you beg a little; a cruel part on him perhaps, but it was something your depraved-self liked just as much when he could feel your pulse pick up and pick up the staunching of your arousal each time he edged you along.

He never said he was a fair lover in the bedroom.

Vergil squeezed your throat again, relishing in your cunt closing in around his fingers – which had to have been completely furrowed with how wet you were and sopping into his skin with each push of them inside of you – and let his mouth kiss along your jaw and cheek before finding your ear once again. He blew air into your ear for a brief moment, feeling the shiver rock your body that he wondered if was from the sensation of, or for when he pressed his finger against the skin underneath where your clit laid again and purposefully rocked his hips into your hand for the last bit of foreplay between you two.

A brief thought of how easily you complied him into your hands crossed his mind, and he was close to really sitting there to ponder over who corrupted who for how you two danced around each other.

He didn’t settle on thinking on it too long, lips parting back open slowly and tongue searing as it slid along your earlobe before he whispered hotly into your ear one final time and he knew you sealed the deal for the both of you.

“Tell me, or I leave you to your own hands.”

It was an empty threat, and he knew that you knew that.

He was just trying to wrangle in the control he had beforehand over you (and the control he was steadily losing for his sensuous desires).

Your whine that time was louder, the grogginess in your voice all but vanishing as you pulsed and tightened up around his fingers whenever those words left his mouth. You could’ve came then and there, but you were holding yourself back he had acknowledged, and that revelation sent a hard throb throughout his body pulsing down through cock and balls in the end when he figured out what you wanted. His growled again; all you had to do was say it.

“Say it.”

Your pussy pulsed again and you were close, the rapid rising of your heartbeat warning him as it ended, but before you did so you finally spoke, a raspy moan from the hold he had on your throat egging him on and nearly making his eyes cross when he heard what he wanted.

“Vergil, please, I’m yours. I wanna cum with you inside of me – Wanna feel you fuck me again, please.”

He obliged you then with a snarl, too thoroughly fed up with your teasing words and his own edging over you and pulled free his fingers from inside of your soaked cunt to trade them in for curling in the fabric of your panties to pull them to the side. Thankfully he didn’t have to free himself, only pushing his hips back far enough to make you release the hold you had on his cock before you slightly turned onto your back and lifted your leg over his hip to give him better access to inside of you. Letting his eyes fall over your nipples peeking through the material of your – no, his (hishishis) shirt, he began to wonder how he ever could resist you.

Vergil didn’t dawdle any longer, head dizzy with lust and senses overridden with everything that pertained to you as he slid his cockhead along your slit for a moment and tried to ignore how engorged and raw his cock looked from the amount of time it took before he was able to give it any attention. He wouldn’t last…

There was always that initial sensation of when finding himself back inside of you, a certain type of unmatched warmth that tickled his nerves all down the nerves and veins of his cock, but his tip prickling with satisfaction when sliding against the soft, gripping walls of you outdid it all. It felt… unreal; unreal in the life he had lived, and the rush of adrenaline and excitement that sparked a deeper emotion in his brain he fervently had tried to fight away, but the satisfying feeling that came from the warmth you supplied him was too much to bear.

(If Vergil could akin it to anything, it nearly felt like going underwater; waterlogged and the satisfaction of your entire body cooling reminded him of slipping himself inside of you. The feeling of heat brushing along his cheeks on a cold day; lying himself along velvety sheets and wrapping himself in the comfort of them as solace found its way inside of his mind and body.

He’d never admit it to anyone, not even you, content with keeping his own findings in the matter of physical and emotional to himself. You had known well that he was more of a man of actions rather than words.)

He blinked a couple of times at the thought until he pushed the tip of himself in with a low sigh, testing your keening sigh for any signs of possible discomfort, only to completely shove his cock in to fill you to the brim with one single push, and it was hard then to not slip out of the fragile control he had on you to take you as relentless as he usually did when he watched you take in all of him with that high-pitched moan combined with your expression.

He knew he was a lot for you to take in, and when you still felt so tight after all the stimulation from before it was so hard for him to stay still for the moment. You were already squeezing him, his entire cock coated with you and how warm you were throbbing around him was sending him into a frenzy again. Yet he managed to pull through when your slight trembling came to a rest as he sat still inside of you, your hand skimming up along his chest again until you were twirling fingers into the messy locks of his hair, that for once laid over his forehead as opposed to his usual slicked back appearance.

You sighed as you drug a nail over his scalp, his spine tingling at the attention for a brief moment, until he knew it was the sign. It wasn’t as if you needed it, you were very accustomed to the feeling of him inside of you, and you knew what it felt like. Yet like how it was different that he woke up to an entirely different circumstance that night, there was something different in the wave his hips began to roll into you in a slow tempo that was just equal parts of pure torment and bliss.

It was languid the way he rocked you both; in and out. It nearly felt like you both could liquefy into the mattress from the smooth way he moved along with you. Generally Vergil tried to have you gasping for breath each time around he pushed himself inside of you in deep and fast strokes, his desire to always have you cum before him too strong to ignore until he had you all but shaking underneath him. Usually he was all but fucking you like it was the last time he ever would; always so hard, fast, rough, and just pure raw, near animalistic sex on his part, but there was something that made him give in to a slower form for the time being.

(Personally he wanted to just pin it on his fatigue and your own, or perhaps he was going so slow because he knew he wasn’t going to last long if he pulled you down on his cock like he normally did, but either way it had him feeling an odd mixture of affection along with a growing of fatigue for the lazy movements.)

You seemed to enjoy it as well, if the airy, “Vergil” escaping your lips was anything to go by. Vergil rumbled low in his throat, all control back inside of his mind as his pulse slowed down and the tingling of static rising in the room dissipated, craning his head back down to mouth at your neck in various forms of bites, sucks, and kisses that grew in harshness the longer you two moved. It was another form of leverage he used to keep himself in check, not one for triggering in his somnolence, and the erratic jolts of pleasure sent to his cock each time he pushed in as far as he could go and you clenched up was enough for him to bite down to hold himself together.

Of course, if he was feeling as exhausted, he could always fuck you back to sleep as well.

Vergil’s hand had taken to gripping your hip, the bones in his fingers tight and popping as he grasped onto you harder before leaving your hip bone altogether and sliding his hand back up into your shirt to clutch onto the breast closest to him. He squeezed it in tune with how he scraped his teeth along your shoulder, fingers twisting around your erect nipple the way he knew that you liked until he had you squeezing around him again and arching your back from the repeated pleasure slipping down your body.

“Vergil – fuck,” you cursed under your breath, craning your head back farther for his mouth when he squeezed your throat gently once more, your hips trying to desperately rock back into his own to meet him pace for pace. He bit down hard on your neck in return, a yelp escaping you as you rolled back down on him again for push him as far as he could go inside of you. The copper taste invading on his tongue and salivating his gums made him realize he had drawn blood, and he sent a swift swipe of his tongue along the wound, leaving a trail of his saliva after doing so before moving to suck back at your jaw.

The noises you made always spurned him on, especially when you moaned out variations of his name whenever he did something he knew you liked. It was reprehensible for how you had him but a strand around your finger; a slight tug from you having him pulled forward as much as it seemed the other way around. He had you, but you had him just as much, and he curled to you in a way far from the way you did for him, but all the same in the weakness.

Vergil’s eyes slid open and he growled into your skin, his hold on the slow pace he had faltering the longer he let his thoughts run rampant, and the longer he subjected himself to the warmth of you.

His ears tuned in to the sounds of your bodies, almost muted by the comforter lying over both of you if he didn’t have that heightened sense. The temperature in the room continued to rise as you both continued to stagger on down into pleasure with one another, the sweat on your bodies growing and slicking each of your bodies. The sounds resonated in his head and off the walls of the bedroom, coating you both in a blanket of something warm, and suddenly it didn’t feel like it was enough.

He moved then, perhaps quicker than was needed for you, pulling free from the plushness of your cunt and rolling atop of you in-between your spread thighs. Even in your previously awoken state you were quick to curl them around his waist, your soft thighs caging him in as he felt you lock your ankles at his lower back as he paused for a brief second to take in you beneath him. He was mystified; always would be despite it all, that someone like him had entangled you in his grasp.

You couldn’t see in the dark, but he could.

It was a hypnotizing sight every time you were below him, yet there was always that want to see more from you each time; the want to be the one to bring that out in you raging every time you were tangled in each other’s pleasure.

A longing sigh left you and he trailed hot, calloused hands up your abdomen to skim upwards past your breasts, gently pressing down on your erected nipples, tingling your collarbones, and swiftly wrapping around your neck before one hand was sitting at your nape and the other was grasping your cheeks in a squeeze and angling your head to meet his an opened-mouth in a kiss. A kiss full of redemption and desire that left your skin puckering into eager chills as your hands threaded into his hair for comfort, all the while his weight coming down atop of you once more as he interwove your bodies with a low grunt he bit into your lip and a keening gasp you sent into his mouth as his tongue delved deeper into your mouth and his hips rocked greater into your entire being.

With your mouth preoccupied with his own, Vergil moved his hand away from your face and grasped the breast above your heart, your heartbeat quickening as he tightened the grip on it before kneading it and making you cry out. It was louder that time and vibrated against his tongue, his self-control withering away as his pace left that slow roll and quickened to something more used to how you two usually had sex. He filled you with every thrust, your body bucking and arching with the sensation of being completely full of him, an overwhelming feeling on his end as well when he broke away from your lips and the hand behind your neck moved to slam onto the wall above your head.

He was ravenous, dizzyingly hungry for his yearning of you that it nearly made him sick and starved for that sweet satisfaction you brough mere hours beforehand yet again. He was glad you couldn’t see in the dark, his eyelashes fluttering with each blink as he tried to fight off the feeling of them rolling in back from how good you felt, and how soft – you were always so soft – and just how warm you were around him and so compliant and bending to his will…

It was maddening… You were maddening.

Vergil pressed weight into his hand harder onto the wall, the drywall caving underneath his strength as he heard the new noises of the bed and louder pleasure echoing off the wall and joining obscene sounds of you both. It was him; he that time was making the noises into the air that assaulted his ears more than anything else. He could still hear you below him however, a sigh of his name here and there in a combination of your soft moans, though his vision was swirling with the invasion of all his senses erratic by the onslaught of the physical pleasure being given to his body, and the rushing of the chemical imbalance that his emotions were taking.

He couldn’t necessarily begin to explain what it was doing to his mentality.

(Lust, there was lust, but something there as well clawing at the edges almost seeming taboo to him; something he felt like he couldn’t ever tell you.)

Your hands were on him, so soft and slender, smaller than his own, tracing along the contours on his chest until you were wrapping your fingers along his skin of his biceps. The ivory tone of his skin all but shined in the moonbeams continuing to pour in from the window, the scars he no longer possessed marking his skin something that you had absently traced over as they were a witness to himself of the life he had lived and the battles he had gone through to get him where he was then.

An itch began to grow at the base of his spine, his cock beginning pulse in tune to how you continued to grip him with every deep thrust he surged into you, your pelvises remaining more connected than he realized. He was so deep inside of you; he was losing himself once more to you as he brushed along something in you that was so sinful and so rewarding, he had you shuddering and your thighs beginning to shake as that stoking fire of pleasure inside began to brim towards its edge.

Vergil could feel it building up inside of you, your orgasm a forgone conclusion each time around he was fitted into the raw wetness of your cunt. It spurned him on harder, that relentless speed you were both used to showcasing again as the noises of you both grew perhaps too loud for the silent night, yet he was too far gone to even begin to care when he had you so sweetly laid out before him.

Your hands skimmed to his back, nails tapping along each shoulder blade as you pressed yourself closer to him and drew your mouth to his ear. He could feel the hairs on his neck stand up when you panted so hotly into his ear, your thighs tightening around him as your heels dug into his lower back with each roll of his hips into you. You were close; you were desperate for something, and your expression and the gleam in your eyes gave that away before you tried to hide yourself from him. Your pulse was picking up once more as he heard you inhale once before you moaned into his ear.

“I want it,” you slurred, a nail dragging down his spine as he pressed his face into the pillow next to your head. He didn’t speak at first, willing you to continue on speaking and let him hear what you were so desperate for. “Vergil, I want it – I want you to cum inside of me.”

His brow furrowed, the sinful words that poured free like honey off of your tongue too easy for you say. He had heard it countless times before in your sessions together, yet each time it sent a hard burning down towards his loins and churned a deeper, new feeling in his mind that he had only ventured towards so few times. He was going to do so anyway, it was the only place he ever did release in you, besides your mouth, and he supposed he spoiled you for it when he didn’t ever make you ask or beg for and gave it to you freely.  

Truth be told, he was just as desperate for it.

Though his silence of the matter apart from his grunting and hissing apparently wasn’t enough for you, your back arching as he planted the hand that had held your breast onto the bed next to your ribs and pressing your chest farther into his while squeezing your thighs around his waist. For a split moment he figured you were about to cum, ready to fall into relief just behind you if it wasn’t for your damn mouth moving again and whispering like Siren luring him from the rocks into his ear.

“I want it… I want you to cum and put a baby in me.”

Vergil faltered; his mind, his body, his words, his tempo, everything stuttered for a beat or two as those words traveled so wickedly into his ear until it stuck to his brain like adhesive. He had moved his face into your neck before you had whispered those damnable words, his teeth baring against your skin again in rebuttal for your little stunt. He wasn’t so pissed for the dirty talk that it completely ruined the moment, more-so he was agitated and how much it fueled him to jerk harder into you, his cock twitching inside of your trembling cunt in agreement for what you wanted.

His hissed into your skin, hand grasping onto your ribcage and flexing his fingers onto each bone, “What did you say?” he groaned out, raising his head away from you to watch your expression morph in desperation for your words. He watched you closely, your mouth parted, eyes glazed with desire and that fatigue still there, and skin so dewy layered with sweat. Damn you.

“Put a baby in me, Vergil,” you repeated, unabashed for how they sounded and the underlining meaning below them. He could feel your cunt gush around him again, the sensation blurring him for a moment as he felt all the blood from his brain rush down to his cockhead and felt his balls burn with the want of doing what you had said.

It wasn’t so much of the actually ‘putting a baby in you’ aspect of it, supposing that it was the risk. He knew that and you knew that. How many times had he cummed inside of you and you hadn’t gotten pregnant? Far too many for him to even count, and he wasn’t sure if that was perhaps something on his end or the contraceptive you used that prevented it, but it was the risk that got him going. The risk of cumming inside of you and making sure you were forever given something of his; the risk of the responsibility there by being irresponsible much like he had before; it was all in the risk.

He liked the risk of it all.

Vergil’s nostrils flared as he inhaled your scent once more, breath huffing against your face as he threw himself into deeper, feral pace again. That languid pace of sex he had been trying to chain himself into doing was gone at once, the overwhelming need to fill you full once more too strong to withstand as he snapped at your bottom lip for the words and grew closer to his release.

Once again, he was bending to your world and falling into the pool of his never-ending desire for you.

“Is that what you want? A claim on you to let be known that your mine?” he snarled out into your mouth, breath turning hot as that familiar static began to fill the air again. He needed to finish you off before it snapped out of his control. “Say it,” he hissed again, the overbearing weight of his orgasm ready to crush him the more he pushed in and out of your sinful body.

You blubbered, thighs shaking in their hold on his hips while your nails began to scratch down his back in a phantom sense of pain while you bounced back and forth on the mattress below him, “S’all I want… Make me yours, Vergil. Breed me and let no one else have me, please – Vergil!”

He very nearly slapped his hand over your mouth for the octave your voice had taken on that last cry of his name, but you cut off into a choked gasp when he had pressed his face back into your neck and bit into your skin hard for your plea. He could feel it, the scent of you altering and your pulse shattering as the last of your wobbling hold on a clear mind fell over the cliff and the rushing of your cunt busted forth and surrendered to that lurch in your gut.  

There, with the increasing speed of his hips slamming into yours and cock all but ruining the inside of your cunt, he felt your muscles lock around him, your pussy squeezing him hard as you were suddenly thrown into the throes of pleasure and helplessly arching and moaning incoherently through your orgasm. He took it all, greedily continuing to fuck you through it as the hand he had on the wall slammed back down onto the next your head, ready to tear the pillow to shreds, and your nails became violent in the way they scratched down his back, his skin mildly stinging from how hard you were dragging them through his flesh. It was to be expected, the way he was also repeatedly shoving himself back inside of you for the growing crescendo of his own release, something that too close for comfort and too close for him to comprehend as it slammed into him all once the moment your orgasm began to subside and he felt that throbbing of your cunt vibrate into his cock.

It was always nearly impossible to hold out so long after you, the way you would convulse and constrict around him, and the way you smelled, the way you sounded, and just the way you felt – so warm and so tight – Shit.

Vergil clenched his eyes tightly shut to keep them from rolling back, the loud groan he gave muffled by the skin of your throat as a harsh snap pulled at his abdomen and the pressure in his balls rapidly unraveled while the harsh-like rapture of his orgasm hit him by the force of wave crushing him underneath its raging waves. He didn’t fight it, but it was still rough to pull through while shoving himself into you as hard and as much as he could to completely coat your insides with his cum and fill you to point you couldn’t hold it in you. His hips jerked with each spurt he let out, the muscles in his abdomen twitching while listening to your huffs whenever he sharply rutted into you and felt your clit twitching against his lower abdomen. It was sweet relief once more, and there was that defining, underlining meaning to the moment, words, and the way he poured everything out into you and only you.

You were his. You always would be his.

And for that in return, he was yours, the implications not lost on him as a foreign word tasted bittersweet on his tongue and resounded in his brain fueled by the endorphins his body and mind were encased in.

It wasn’t long for his sensitivity to overrule him, his cock too vulnerable for the feeling of your pussy any longer as he let out a long huff and pulled himself free of you. Nearly like a cork in a wine bottle, he seemed to pop out of you, a shuddering exhale leaving you from the thick loss of him and a low sigh he let his out before he turned and landed on the bed face-up next to you heavily with a bounce. Vergil blinked for a few moments until his mind stopped spinning, until he was no longer dizzy with all his senses invaded by you, and he was blinking through that foggy, euphoric-like state his brain had been subjected to. It didn’t take long for him to find clarity as his blood cooled and his nerves settled, the scratches on his back beginning to heal as the pleasurable tension left his body and he relaxed his shoulders back onto the mattress, all the while listening to your breathing level out and heartbeat once more calm down as you both laid there basking in post-coital bliss.

Neither of you spoke, content for time being with the comfortable silence the orgasmic bliss brought to you both. There were no words needed, something he found increasingly grateful in you for since he wasn’t sure how to handle words so easily (as well as never knowing what to actually even say).

He gave a slow blink, the ceiling becoming less clear as he realized his predicament.

He was tired; sleepy.

And he very nearly could’ve fallen asleep like that so quickly if you hadn’t shifted next him, your lips finding way towards his jaw in a lazy kiss before you pressed your face into his collarbone and threw your thigh over his waist, a position reminiscent of the mornings where he’d awake and you’d be clinging to him. It wasn’t like he wasn’t accepting it either, but the way his eyelids continued to grow heavy over his eyes and how he had to remind himself to blink them back open was putting off like he was ignoring your affection. He wasn’t, more for letting you express it than himself and curling up and around as much as you wanted in private, he was just tired. And that was something you seemed to take notice of.

Though… he was for once surprised you didn’t tease him with, “Pussy put him to sleep” like you had done once before, instead pressing your cheek into his warm skin in a lazy manner that almost had his male pride skyrocketing when he realized he had tired you back out as well. He forced himself to remain awake as he listened for you to fall asleep, a sigh leaving him as his eyelashes tampered with his vision when he heard your heartbeat settle into that steady murmur. It was endearing, though he’d never admit it to you, your ability to sleep so soundly so close to him reminding him of the same way he slept easier so close to you.  

Vergil could feel himself blink slower, body completely pliant to keep you still and asleep on him that he didn’t want to move into a more comfortable position. He was supposed it was fine that way, mind already falling into the arms of sleep as he subconsciously turned his head towards you and buried his nose back into your hair.

He could deal with all the repercussions of the following day for seeming so careless that night, for pulling your chest beating so vividly with your heartbeat against his in a semblance of your existence and humanity felt entirely wrong on his half.

And for that he let drumming of it lull him back into a fraction of dreams, sleep coming smoother to him with your presence and never seeming a problem for as long he felt your heart beat against his own.