Il filio de Sathanas: Infestissumam

Cain himself stood tall and strong. He easily stood at the same height of Vergil; it he were to straighten up a little more, perhaps a touch taller. Nihil never noticed- at least, not that Cain knew. Nihil didn’t speak to him much- really, Nihil didn’t have much to do with him at all. He couldn’t recall a single moment in his life where Nihil had shown outright pride for him- at least, not in a normal circumstance. He was proud when Cain had surpassed his mentor with the Bo staff; he had been proud when Cain had broken up Ghoul fight after Ghoul fight. But pride? Never. 

Not like Vergil. 

Vergil, who hovered like a mother hen, constantly looking over his shoulder and keeping an eye on him. Vergil, who had thrown himself in front of him to ward off an angry strike from Nihil many a time. Who had opened his arms for him when he’d scrapped his knees or his palms; who had wiped away his tears and chased away his nightmares. Vergil, who had always been more of a father to him than Nihil ever had been.

Vergil, who would be overseeing his Unholy Baptism, because Nihil was off fucking some whore, too busy delving into the sins of the flesh than to attend his own son’s Unholy Baptism. 

“You remember what you must say?” Vergil asked softly, walking closer to brush stray hairs into their place. Cain hummed, watching the Sister as she sank to her knees to shine his shoes one last time. She was pretty, with hair the color of night and sapphire eyes full and shining. 

“I do, fratellone. I’ve gone over it at least a hundred times by now,” he replied with a roll of his eyes and an easy smile. Below, the Sister let out a snort before quickly attempting to cover it with a cough. 

“I worry, you know this.” Vergil placed a hand on his shoulder, giving it a squeeze. “You will do wonderfully. This is a, ah, very big day, yes? Am very proud of you.”

Cain nodded, suddenly unable to speak around the lump in his throat. Vergil gave him one last glance over before leaving quietly, cooing to little Dante. 

“The First is a very nice man,” the Sister spoke softly after a moment, slowly rising to her feet. 

“He is,” Cain agreed with a nod, watching as she stepped away. His gaze turned to his reflection, taking in the way the blouse hung from his shoulders, how the trousers clung to his legs. “You did very well, Sister.” 

“Thank you.”

“I did not catch your name,” he turned, head titling to to the side, “may I learn it now?”

“Rosaline, sir.” She replied with a slight blush, ducking her head. 

“Very fitting for a blushing Sister.” He teased, winking. Slowly he took a step back, squaring his shoulders. He could hear the heavy footsteps of his brother’s Ghouls coming. It was time. “I hope to see you afterwards at the celebration, Sister Rosaline.”

She met his gaze boldly, “You most certainly will.”

Cain couldn’t help but laugh.

June 18th, 1830

The air was filled with birdsong and the scent of summer. Cain lay beside Rosaline, his eyes closed, the sound of wind whispering through the tall grasses akin to music to his ears. Rosaline was braiding a crown of flowers for the Solstice in two days time. It was calm, peaceful- even if they were both shirking duties to lounge in the tall grass in the clearing. He would get chastised by Vergil later- but for now, he was comfortable. 

“If Death came for me now, I would die happily,” he spoke softly, heterocrhomatic hues opening to glance towards Rosaline.

“Truly?” She asked, settling down to rest her head in the crook of his neck. “I do not think I would like to die, not yet. There is much I want to see, still.”

“Like what?”

“I want to see the sun rising over a snow capped village, I want to hear the sound of a waterfall, so loud that I cannot hear myself think. I want to visit Italy and see the countryside.” She trailed off, dropping her flower crown to wind her fingers with his own. “I want to see you become Papa one day.”

“I do not want to be Papa.” Cain shook his head, brow furrowing. “I am a bastard, Rosaline. I cannot be Papa!” 

“Says who?”

“Nihil.”

“Your father, you mean?” She teased, pressing light kisses to his jaw line.

A snort left him as he shook his head. “He is not my father. Vergil has always been more of a father to me than him.”

“So you say…” She sighed, pushing herself up, a wince dancing across her face at the slight pain from their earlier activities came rushing back. “I need to go before we both end up in trouble.”

“Or we could…” He reached out, trailing his fingertips up along her arm.

She slapped his hand away. “No, no. No. We need to get back!”

“Then, do me this- meet me here on the Solstice. I have something to show you.”

“Show me now!” 

“I cannot!” He laughed, shaking his head. “I cannot. It must wait!” 

“Fine, fine. Be secretive!” She pushed herself to her feet, fixing her habit carefully. She didn’t veil- she never had. Many Sisters chose not to. He was glad she didn’t. 

He reached out, pulling her into his arms for a tight, lingering embrace, his lips pressed to her temple. “It will be worth it, I promise.”

“We shall see!” She giggled as she pulled away, dancing and twirling through the tall grasses. In that moment, she was beautiful, young- dare he say, she resembled an angel, with the sun shining full and bright down upon her. His hand trailed to his pocket, fingering the metal ring there. It wasn’t much, merely a band…

But it would be enough.

June 20th, 1830 1:45 p.m.

She was late. The Abbey was bustling with activity, and Cain was waiting. Her stomach was tied in knots; her own Unholy Baptism was quickly approaching, and she would have to choose: remain here, or travel to another Abbey. As much as she wanted to stay-

She wanted adventure. She wanted to see the world. She wanted to explore. How could she tell him?

She rounded a corner, and froze. The sound of growls resonated through the hallway. Ghouls- fighting. A Ghoul fight. Oh, no. Someone needed to be told- but she couldn’t go back towards the Dorms, and if she backtracked to the main hall, she’d be late- even later than she currently was. 

She had to go forward.

Clutching her Grucifix, she sent a quick Unholy Prayer to Lucifer for protection before shuffling into the hallway, clinging to the wall. The Ghouls were growling, chattering, talking in their infernal language that she could never hope to understand. She hesitated-

A mistake.

June 20th, 1830 1:50 p.m.

A Ghoul fight had broken out. A Brother of Sin had come to fetch him, out of breath and pale faced. Blood had already been spilled, and it seemed that more would come. He’d dropped the bottle of wine he’d been holding, ignoring the sound of shattering glass as he ran from the kitchen. The Siblings parted for him like the red sea as he and a Ghoul- one of his own that he’d summoned- ran side by side. He was an Earth Ghoul, strong. Alps, he’d called himself. 

They rounded the corner, a scream ricocheting off the aged stone, and the blood in his veins ran cold. He skidded to a stop, watching as she fell, as blood sprayed across the stone walls, as her body fell limp.

He didn’t hear himself yell, but he must have, for a roar filled his ears. The Ghouls froze, looking at one another before at Cain. The Earth Ghoul took a step back; the Fire Ghoul lunged after him, kicking the now-lifeless body of Sister Rosaline. Cain rushed forward, slamming his shoulder into the Earth Ghoul, knocking the air from his body and sending him skidding across the floor. His hand darted out, gripping the Fire Ghoul around the windpipe- squeezing, squeezing, hidden claws coming free to pierce the thick gray skin. The Ghoul’s head bounced against the stone wall in a sickeningly wet way. Cain jerked his hand back, bringing the esophagus with him. 

The Ghoul sank to his knees gripping at his throat, eyes wide in surprise and fear. Cain did not watch as he fell forward; he stalked towards the Earth Ghoul who was whimpering, begging for forgiveness. “She was innocent,” Cain growled, watching as the Ghoul flinched and curled in on himself. “She was innocent and mine. You killed her- LOOK WHAT YOU DID!” He roared, teeth bared, Glamour falling away to reveal the demonic nature that lingered below the surface. Elongated canines, sharpened incisors, sharpened onyx claws.

The Ghoul didn’t stand a chance as Cain struck out, claws tearing through his throat with deadly accuracy. Alps stood back, watching; behind him, he could hear Nomos and Umbra running closer, no doubt working on keeping Siblings back. 

Vergil appeared with them, then, his eyes wide in horror at the sight. “Oh, fratellino…” He murmured, brushing past Alps to stand over Cain’s weeping form. He was kneeling in the blood of the Sister, clinging to her habit. “Nomos, Umbra- … Father?” He hesitated in giving his order, brows furrowing as Nihil examined the hallway. Blood splattered across the floor, dripped from the walls, pooled beneath bodies. 

“Take the bodies away.” He ordered to his Ghouls, gaze trained upon his Bastard son. Vergil’s stomach clenched as anger filled his veins at the pure pleasure that lingered in Nihil’s gaze. Pleasure- at the carnage his son had created. At the chaos. 

Nihil left without a word to Cain. Vergil bit his tongue as he helped his younger brother up, holding him close, letting him lean against him as he herded him towards his own room. If Nihil would not act as a father, then he would. And he did, setting Cain down onto the edge of his bed. He cleaned his hands of the Ghoul’s blood, washed his face. Held him as he sobbed, as he revealed the ring he’d planned on giving to the Sister.

“If I hadn’t told her to meet me,” he whimpered into Vergil’s shoulder, “if I hadn’t been so selfish, she would still be here.” 

“No, no. You know that is not true.”

“It’s my fault.” Cain shook his head, hiccuping. For hours, they sat there, with Cain sobbing, blaming himself,  and Vergil soothing him. As the night progressed, Cain settled into a silence that Vergil couldn’t even begin to attempt to break.

Vergil’s heart broke that night, and Cain’s heart shattered into too many pieces to try to put back together. 

Come morning, Cain crept into the bathroom to bathe, and returned with a cleanly shaven head and a cold air about him. 

-If his partner happens to know his true name, he'd prefer for them to n o t call him by it. The only person who does is Papa Nihil and his brothers. If his partner happens to slip up in the middle of him fucking them into the mattress, he won't hesitate to grip their chin and ask them just who they were calling for. He'll slow to a stop and just w a i t until they're begging, and then- t h e n he will make them scream his proper title.

•He has rules, and he tends to make them very clear to new partners. His regular partners know them. One-night stands, however, do not learn these rules.

-He is their Dom; he will take care of them, and they will be safe beneath him.

-They may leave at any time- this is by no means a romantic relationship. He has many partners, and he intends to keep it that way.

-He will never harm them unless they consent to it, and even then, he will obey their hard limits. Soft limits will be pushed, but not broken.

-ALWAYS be honest. He will be honest with his partner- what he likes, what he doesn't like. He wants his partner to be honest- what they like, what they didn't like. He wants them to be honest- not just in the bedroom, either. If something happens, he wants them to come to him. He is Papa- he can pull strings and give out punishments as need be.

-He does follow the color system: Green for good, yellow for slow down/hold on, red for STOP. If his partner can't talk, he prefers for them to use a tap system- one tap for good, two for slow down/hold on, three for stop. If need be, slap his arm. Though, he tends to pay a lot of attention to his partner, so he can usually tell when they're good versus when they aren't.

-He will give gifts. He won't spoil his partner(s), but he will, on occasion, give them a lavish gift. Expensive clothing/lingerie, a new expensive piece of jewelry. He's not like his younger brother- he won't drown his partner(s) in gifts.

-He prefers to know if his partner also has others on the side. He likes to keep tabs on these things, just to be s a f e.

•He has a plethora of kinks, lets be honest. And not all will be listed here, to keep if brief. -Sadism -Minor masochism -Exhibitionism -VOYEURISM -Knife play (giving, not receiving) -Breath play (giving, not receiving) -Dirty talk (both giving & receiving) -Lingerie (on his partners) -Leather -Orgasm control -Marking (biting, scratching, bruising) -Minor blood play (this purely comes from the demonic blood in him) -Rope play/Shibari

•He enjoys taking his time working his partner up. Having them sit in his lap, his hand just ghosting across their thighs, just barely touching where they crave to be touched most, working them up until they're a whimpering, whining mess. The moment they try to grind on his thigh, however, he's pulling away and clicking his tongue in disapproval.

-Leather gloves slipping between their thighs and working them to the brink of completion before pulling away and ordering them to lick his gloves clean, leaving them hanging on the edge.

-Not above having them kneel in front of them and pressing a foot into their crotch, working them up while he deals with paperwork.

-Will order them to give him head while he works. He'll, eventually, stop working and hold their jaw, or tug on their hair, and give them praise. /Will/ release in their mouth. They /will/ swallow, or else receive a punishment (most likely spankings).

•Is the type of man to skullfuck his s/o IF THEY'RE 100% OKAY WITH IT. While others may enjoy the sound of a partner gagging, he doesn't. It grates on his nerves and ruins the mood.

-If his partner cannot take all of him in- that's f i n e. He doesn't mind. They have hands. Make use of them.

-If they can, even better! He has a sizable length, and the girth is nothing to joke about. (It's that demon blood).

-He has a Prince Albert, as well as a small Jacob's Ladder (two piercings along the underside, one directly beneath the other). Yes, they hurt. Yes, they were worth it. All his partners have agreed.

•He can be very rough. This is typically reserved for his... Non-human partners. He knows exactly how thick Ghoul skin is, and what it takes to break it.

-Ghouls are tougher than humans. They can withstand the scrape of his claws across their skin and the sting of his teeth.

-Humans are delicate. However, this doesn't mean he won't be rough. He'll definitely leave bruises on their thighs, hips; bitemarks all across their shoulders and chest and the inside of their thighs. He enjoys seeing his mark on them afterwards.

-Knife play is reserved for a select few whom he knows can handle it. He will break the skin- not deep, just enough to have a few beads of blood pop up. He isn't like, say, Dewdrop, who enjoys more than just a few little drops being spilled. It takes trust, and Papa expects for his partner to know their limits when it comes to times like these.

-Breath play is another one that requires the utmost level of trust. He knows how long to hold down. He enjoys seeing that slight fear cross his partner's face when he squeezes. He's always careful, and never pushes if they do not wish for this.

•As much as he loves seeing his partner ride him (especially while he's sitting in a chair), he'd much rather have them bent over his desk, or a table, or the side of the bed. A fist in their hair or two fingers in their mouth as he grinds into them from behind.

-His second favorite position is mentioned above: riding. This is usually how he'll start things off- letting his partner ease onto him. Once they get a good rhythm going, then he switches things up. Don't get too cocky; he's always in control. His hips snapping up to meet his partner's thrust for thrust before he grabs their hips and holds them down as he just g r i n d s into them. Or holding their hips in place as he thrusts hard and fast.

•For partners with female genitals, he can- and WILL- make them squirt. He's v e r y well practiced with his fingers, and his tongue. Whether or not he'll wear his gloves during this depends on his mood (and if his partner wants it).

-He's also too good at overstimulation- just the right amount to have another orgasm crashing over them. He wants to have them shaking, pleading by the end of it. Begging for him to stop, to keep going, to touch them.

•Aftercare is next-level. After a rough session, he will lay with his partner, holding them close and just rubbing a hand across their back or over any bruises or cuts he may have caused, letting them calm down.

-His quarters have a full bathroom attached and a kitchenette, so no need to go anywhere or call anyone. He'll leave to get warm towels and come back to clean his partner up carefully, asking if anything hurts too much, if they're alright, if they need anything. He keeps fruit in his room for a reason; he'll peel an orange and grab a cold bottle of water for both of them before offering a warm bath or shower.

-If they say yes, then he'll draw them a bath or turn on the shower and let the bathroom warm up before carrying them in. He will get into either if asked politely; otherwise, he'll wait.

-If declined, he has no problem with laying down with his partner and just relaxing for a while.