chi

For once, the Devil May Cry office didn’t smell like blood, pizza, or regret; even better, it was bright because there was finally electricity. It was the late hours, usually when any work was done. You just stayed to rest or look after the man-child you are dating, who is now lounging in his beat-up chair, legs kicked up on the desk, lazy flipping a magazine as you sit on the counter nearby, sipping what’s left from your drink.

“You know, the place looks halfway decent for once,” he grins, and you arch a brow, hoping it’s not because of the random model that decided to bless his eyes. “Yeah, wonder why. Maybe because someone paid the bills.” Dante clicks his tongue, closing the magazine and throwing it somewhere on the wooden surface. “Can’t put a price on ambiance, sweetheart.”

You roll your eyes, but smiling in the process as you once again take a look at him. He’s still shirtless from earlier, chest slick with leftover sweat, pants loose around his hips, and the way his abs flex with every shift and breath—yeah, it’s distracting.

And maybe that’s why the words slip out before you can stop them, or stop yourself from talking before thinking. “I kinda want you to bend me over the desk.”

He stopped, literally stopped breathing, and froze, then slowly looked over at you, one brow raised because did he hear you correctly, was he fantasizing, or was this a dream come true?

“...Pardon?” he says, oh-so-innocently grinning like the devil, even though you know he heard it loud and clear. How could he look so calm yet so excited at the same time? And you just stared into space, not daring to look him in the eyes, feeling somehow embarrassed.

“You heard me.” “I did,” his tone is low, but has this playful ring to it, which to some extent challenges you to do something, to take the initiative, and not be ashamed to say what you think or need, especially if you need him. “You wanna run that by me again, princess?”

Your cheeks burn, but you still won’t look at him. How cute. “I want you to bend me over your desk and…fuck me.”

He whistles, rising from the chair with slow, deliberate steps. “Ask and you shall receive.”

And just like that, you’re bent over his clean desk and he’s behind you, pulling your pants down with one hand as you hear the rustle of his belt, the low groan when he fists his cock and drags it along your soaked slit.

“Fuck, baby… already this wet for me? What kind of filthy little girlfriend says stuff like that?” You moan something incoherent, and then he’s inside—deep. The same hand that pulled down your panties is now on your lower back, and it’s a little bit cold, but don’t worry, both of you will warm up. Dante rocks into you from behind with that slow, filthy rhythm that makes your eyes roll back and knees weak.

“That’s it,” he breathes, pressing kisses along your shoulder. “Taking me so good every time. Fuck, baby—you wanted this bad, didn’t you?”

You moan, nodding, unable to speak as he thrusts into you, dragging out every inch like he’s savoring the feel, because damn you always feel so good when you take him in one go. There’s something so nice, lovely, and magical about you, something so addicting since his praises pour between panting grunts.

“You are so warm, so tight—perfect for me…just look at you, my pretty girl.”

Dante leans closer, his breath hot on your ear, as he then presses a kiss to your cheek, but not before licking the sweat from your skin like he’s starving. Your devil boyfriend is relentless, hips hitting you just right, and you feel yourself squeezing his cock even more, embrassingly so. He groans when you clench, slowing down just to tease.

“You clean this place, pay the bills, and let me hit it raw? Yeah, I’m keepin’ ya~”

You are so close to losing it, completely lost in the sound of skin slapping, the sharp groan in his throat, the messy heat building between your thighs. So close to making a mess on the desk you spent so much time cleaning and tidying, and now your knuckles are white from gripping the edge, so damn good—until you hear footsteps.

Click. Clack. Click. Clack.

Your eyes shoot open, and Dante goes still. His head whips toward the door just as the handle turns. You let out a panicked gasp, and he yanks out of you with a groan that sounds physically painful.

“Under the desk, now,” he hisses, shoving you down as the door creaks open. Panic flashes across your face, but he’s already gently pulling out and shoving you under the desk. “Shh, I got this,” he whispers, stuffing himself back into his jeans with one hand while casually grabbing his magazine with the other. His grin returns like nothing happened, dropping into his chair, pants halfway buttoned, hair a damn mess, and props his legs up like he hasn’t just been deep inside you fifteen seconds ago.

“Lady! Damn, didn’t think I’d see you tonight.” he greets, far too casually as the woman steps in, hands on her hips looking rather annoyed. “Doing midnight office hours now?”

“The place looks rather intact. I expect you to have the money you owe me. Or are you just lazing around again?” And of course, it wasn’t Dante’s doing that the office looks brand new. It was yours. Because that’s what a good girlfriend does: helps her idiot devil boyfriend keep his business from crumbling into hellfire, and tries to be quiet with her hands over her mouth so she doesn't make a sound.

“What can I say?” Dante shrugs. “Gotta stay busy somehow.” The other devil hunter narrows her eyes, then glances around the room. Her gaze lingers on the desk, unbeknownst to her, you are hidden and trembling under it.

“Something smells… off,” she mutters scrunching her nose, and he chuckles, masking the flush on his face with a cocky grin, like he usually does when he caused trouble, trying not to get caught. “Just the manly incense, for the vibe.” Dante plays it cool as Lady continues to speak about money, debt, and new gigs. Above you, though, his hand casually drops under the desk, just enough to twirl a lock of your hair to keep you somehow calm, that this whole fiasco would end soon, and there’s no need to worry. Yeah, no need to worry my ass.

Lady shakes her head and sighs, not wanting to deal with his nonsense right now and ruin her night. “I'd better have that 20 grand by next week. If you don’t have the money, I’m coming back with Trish.”

The second the door clicks shut, Dante lets out the longest breath of his life. This was incredibly hard; maybe Lady really is the final boss…of interrupting things. Thousands of thoughts ran through his head—like how next time, he’s locking the damn door after midnight. One time, he tried to have sex in the office, and of course, Lady walks in, of all people.

But that didn’t matter now. The important thing is she’s gone, and it’s just the two of you again.

“You can come up now, sweetheart.” His voice is warm as he reaches under the desk to help you sit back on his lap, and when his hands glide up your bare thighs, making you shiver. He kisses you, slow and sweet, his lips burning hot from the build-up pleasure which was unfortunately interrupted. But don’t worry your pretty little head, everything can be finished or started from the beginning when Dante is on the case.

“Now… where were we?”

You’re still panting from the shock, from nearly being seen by one of your friends while you are being sent into another dimension. Flushed and needy, Dante thrives on your reaction. One of his hands settles between your legs, gently nudging them apart again.

“Shit, baby,” he murmurs against your throat. “Still so wet. That interruption didn’t slow you down at all, huh?”

You shake your head, breath hitching as his fingers slide up your slit, spreading your slick as your hand gripped his shoulder to support yourself.

“You really were gonna let me fuck you stupid on this desk,” he grins. “God, I love you.”

He slips one finger inside, then another. Slow, shallow strokes that have you squirming in his lap, nails digging into his shoulders. He keeps his other hand on your thigh, holding you open just the way he likes. His lips graze your ear.

“C’mon, sweetheart. Be good for me, yeah?” His fingers curl just right and you cry out loud for fuck sake, thighs clenching, hips rocking helplessly against his palm. You can't believe how good it feels, as if he's touching you for the first time and knows what to do, as if he's loving you for the first time, but darling, you're his first and last love. Here is the climax, heavy breathing, squeezing and when you cum, hard and sudden, he keeps moving, gently now, of course. Don’t want you overstimulated before the long-awaited dessert.

“Atta girl.” Grinning, smug as ever, Dante kisses your temple, completely drunk on you. You are so beautiful, gentle, and adorable, he simply has no words to describe you, to describe exactly what he feels—one thing is clear, it is love. “Let’s finish the business we had on the desk, hmm?”

You felt the low rumble in his throat before you heard it, slick with satisfaction as you tried to ignore him since he was so nosey he had spoil his own surprise. "This is... interesting," his voice slithered off his tongue and into your ears like a snake dipped in sin, already feeling your body beginning to warm up before he'd even got close enough to touch you.

"You weren't supposed to see it so soon. It's still healing," you grumbled out at him, glaring and rolling your eyes at him through the mirror to let him know how annoyed you were.

He didn't care.

"Oh? A surprise then?"

You nearly jumped ten feet in the air whenever his fingers began to lather the ointment you’d smeared on your tattoo instead, spine curving at his gentle touch as your body burned starting from the tips of your toes to the top of your head. He knew exactly what he was doing and what it was doing to you, your fingers gripping the edge of the sink when he went as far as to lightly trace the burning flesh with his nails, a purr at your shiver making your body cave in and the first pitiful sigh left you moments after. It certainly didn’t help he’d taken to running his nose along your ear until his lips were pressed against your lobe.

"Sensitive?"

Very. He had your toes curling in your shoes as you fought off the moans and jerked your ass back into his pelvis instead — clearly, he was very affected by the tattoo. Still, you remained defiant, not so eager to let Vergil win the game he wanted to play. "...No."

"Mm, you lie,” his nose dropped to trace the throbbing pulse in your neck, his hum making your skin erupt with your wired nerves while his warm breath ghosted teasingly against your flesh. You didn't get to have another word when his fingers traced the sensitive flesh of your new tattoo, his thumbs digging into your lower back in measured circles before he used the hold he had on you to bend you completely over the bathroom sink.

You couldn't help the squeal when his hand jerked your shirt up, fully exposing your lower back to him the same time his hips caged you into the counter and his feet kicked yours apart to allow him more room. Vergil only lowered his torso enough to let his lips caress your ear, fingers still rubbing along the tattoo of his initial as your knees buckled and your ears burned with his haughty chuckle.