Chapter Text
When you walked into the foyer of the Devil May Cry office, you sensed it immediately. There was a strange, heavy tension in the air. Dante had told you Vergil was in a bad mood and that he needed space, but he hadn’t warned you of how overpowering it felt. You shivered.
Still, there was no helping it. Dante refused to change electrical providers, so you were stuck having to find the physical invoices he had strewn around his office. They give me pizza vouchers each month! He’d protested, and you cursed the company for finding his one weakness.
Vergil had been in his bad mood for around a week now, and while you’d love to wait for him to get over his man-flu, there was no helping it. The deadline for the bill payment was midnight, and you were damned if you were going to get a late fee. Managing finances for devil may cry was relatively straightforward most days, so it made up for the occasional hassle of having to tip-toe around an all-powerful demon.
“Here we are,” you murmured, spotting the invoices. They were, of course, hidden under stacks of old pizza boxes. Sighing, you got to work, and were finally rewarded with the invoices, mercilessly free of grease.
The wind picked up, making the old building creak. The lights flickered on and off, and you tensed, feeling the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. Suddenly, you realised what this feeling was. Someone was watching you.
You turned to the doorway. Vergil stood, features tight.
“Sorry,” you said, waving the invoices, “Dante said you were feeling unwell, but these couldn’t wait. They’re due tonight.”
He didn’t say anything. His eyes were glowing, and his hands were slowly turning blue. You’d seen them transform into their devil trigger forms, but never partially before. You felt like prey standing before a more powerful predator. The room felt claustrophobic. Whatever was going on with Vergil was worse than Dante had let on.
“I was just leaving,” you said, moving to the exit, hoping that would appease him, “I’m sorry to have bothered you while you’re… sick. Hope you feel better soon.”
There was one issue— he was blocking the doorway. He still hadn’t spoken, and he was deathly still. You wondered if he’d even breathed.
You stopped a foot away from him. “Vergil…?”
Impossibly fast, he moved. Like a string pulled too tight, he snapped, and before you realised what had happened pain struck the side of your neck. You struggled, pushing at him, until the pain turned to pleasure. Heat coursed through the bite, spreading lazily through your veins, making you feel weightless.
Dimly, you realised— he’s in heat.
Morrison had explained it to you, when you’d first taken the job of managing their finances. Demons did things differently to humans. They had periods of intense lust where all they could think of was sex. It was extremely painful for them not to have sex.
Dante had told you that Vergil would be back to normal tomorrow, which meant he’d been in heat for over a week now.
“Vergil,” you managed, your voice embarrassingly breathy, “Please.”
His entire body tightened. Then slowly, his teeth withdrew from your neck. You stayed like that, pressed against each other, while your body cried out at the lack of pleasure. His hands remained glued to your arms, claws digging in. He wasn’t planning on letting you go anytime soon.
When you finally managed to look up at him, his blue eyes were blazing. Pain— so much pain.
He spoke, his voice like gravel, “Leave.”
You couldn’t exactly do that while he had you in a vice grip, but you figured that wouldn’t be too helpful to point out right now, “Are you okay?”
A silly, stupid question, because of course he wasn’t, but concern was bubbling within you. On the few occasions you’d met Vergil, he’d seemed aloof. Standoffish. Most of all, in control. The man before you was barely holding onto that control.
“If you do not wish to continue this,” he said, eyes closing, “Then you need to leave. I cannot hold back much longer.”
His hands moved away. Blood trickled out lazily from where his claws had pierced you. Lightheaded, you tried to think. He was giving you a way out. You should leave. Once that control snapped, you had a feeling there’d be no turning back. But that concern had hit a fever pitch. His body felt hot and clammy under your touch. To see the impossibly strong Vergil so weak in front of you bothered you in ways you couldn’t fully understand.
“There must be something I can do to help.”
He hissed, “You do not understand, human, this is not—”
“It’s your heat, right?” you said bluntly, “And there’s one night left? I can help. Let me help.”
“Foolish,” he snapped, but you could see his resolve weakening, “A fragile human would not survive the night.”
You snorted, “I’d say we’re a bit stronger than you think, tough guy. Try me. I won’t break.”
“You need to leave. Now.”
Too stubborn for his own good. You stood on your tiptoes, wrapped your arms around his neck, and brought your lips to his. You felt it when his composure broke— he took control of the kiss, becoming hungry, demanding.
You felt him move the two of you out of the office, up the stairs and into his room. Your clothes were torn off at some point, but you were so lost you didn’t care. You couldn’t believe you were doing this— with a half demon, with Vergil, for god's sake— but the pleasure clouded your mind and helped you forget. The bite on your neck burned, and that heat spread throughout your entire body.
Your back hit the mattress, his scent surrounding you.
“If you wish to stop, now is the time to say so,” he managed. His eyes seemed to be glowing even brighter now, turning luminescent.
“I’m not going anywhere,”
“You’re making a mistake,” he said, and there was so much pain in his voice your heart hurt, “Those who come close to me end up dead. They always do.”
“That’s not going to happen with me,” you said, running your fingers through his hair, coaxing his head up and pressing your lips against his.
He groaned against your mouth. His phased hands ran along your body, the claws hooking on the last remnants of your clothes and tearing them off. You were completely covered by him— he was like a furnace, and everywhere he touched burned, pushing you half out of your body. More— you wanted more. You needed more.
You fought blindly at his clothes, trying to take them off as he tortured you with kisses down your neck, your chest, your stomach. You’d managed to get his shirt off when he’d started to kiss lower, straying dangerously close to your inner thighs.
“I was supposed to be helping you,” you gasped, “Why— why are you—“
“Hush,” he said, his voice guttural. He pressed a gentle kiss against your core, and you writhed, the bed sheets tangling against you
“Don’t tell me what to do,” you bit out.
He pressed deeper, and you groaned. You tried to slide down and press into him further, and he chuckled. The vibration travelled throughout your lower body.
“Don’t tease me,” you gasped, your thighs clenching around him, trying to draw him in closer.
He answered by moving his mouth in a slow, steady rhythm, and you closed your eyes. He was good at this— too good at this. The languid pace made you keenly aware of every sensation travelling through your body. The pleasure lazily increased, warning of the impending release, and you lost yourself in the sensation.
“Vergil—“
Release came suddenly. You cried out as your body spasmed. Vergil held your legs down, his claws digging in, the pain mixing with the pleasure and driving you insane. Mercifully, Vergil maintained his rhythm. The orgasm seemed to drag on forever. When it finally ended, you lay unmoving, your body feeling completely light.
You’d come into this thinking you were going to help him. You hadn’t expected how vulnerable it would make you feel, being in front of him— completely splayed out in all your glory. But what surprised you more was how right it felt, how comfortable you were with him, how much you trusted him with yourself, even though you’d only ever known him at a distance.
He was kissing you again, up your thighs, your stomach, your arms. It seemed like he couldn’t stop, even if he wanted to.
“You’re still wearing pants,” You realised, reaching over and tugging them down. The material caught, irritating you, and you pulled harder.
In a blissful few seconds, he was exposed. You swallowed. Suddenly, you understood the need for all this foreplay. He was huge. Long, thick, and phased, his length was blue and covered in very fine scales. You’d be lucky if you could fit half of that in.
You stroked it, enjoying the feel of the ridges underneath your fingers. Vergil cursed, and you couldn’t help it— you smiled.
“Don’t like being teased, huh?” You said, “Well, hush.”
His answer was another string of curses.
You chanced a glance at his expression. His eyes were shut, and pain and desire were equally splayed out across his features. It was intense enough that you softened. You ran your hands along his length, adjusting to it, testing different amounts of force, and then you covered him with your lips.
He cried out, and then his hands were in your hair, pulling you closer. The claws tangled with your hair, but you were so far gone you barely realised.
You used your hands with your mouth, playing with him, testing different amounts of pressure, using your tongue every so often. Each movement pulled a response from him— a cry, a growl, a curse— and you soon learned what he liked and what he didn’t. He was so open to you right now, and it thrilled you to see him so submissive under your ministrations.
“Gods,” he muttered darkly, “I’m going to lose my mind.“
You chanced a slight graze of your teeth against the top of his length and he hissed. His body grew impossibly tight, and you knew he was getting close.
“Enough,” he growled, and he pulled away. You let out a sound of protest. You’d been enjoying it.
But there was a dangerous light in his eyes that showed he was at his limit. He stood over you, gasping, fighting for control. You looked down at his full, straining length, and understood why he was waiting. He didn’t know if you could take it.
You moved to him, parting your thighs, and slowly let him in. He stiffened. Your jaw clenched as you took him in, inch by inch. It wasn’t just his length. He had immense girth, and he filled you completely, the ribbed edges stroking your inner walls, increasing biting pleasure with pain.
Vergil didn’t move. You didn’t think he was even breathing. You finally managed to pull most of him in, your muscles relaxing around him.
“Slowly,” you managed, “Go slow.”
He still didn’t move, so you pushed against him gently, gyrating your hips. He let out a tortured cry, doubling over, his hands slamming into the mattress, claws piercing the sheets. His body pressed into yours, all the hard edges against your softer curves. You continued your slow movement, and the pleasure loosened you.
“Vergil,” you said, “It’s okay.”
That was all he needed to hear. He slammed into you, and you met him with a downward push of your hips, groaning as pleasure whited out your vision. Realising that you were unhurt, he picked up the rhythm. Fast and hard, he hit into you, angling it so that his ribbed length hit your core. You’d thought he was good at sex earlier, but you hadn’t realised just how good he could be.
Your hands gripped the sheets as your climax slammed into you. Your entire body shook with the force of it. Your walls tightened around Vergil, pulling him into you further. He cried out as he came, collapsing on top of you, his body going completely soft.
You stroked his hair, massaging his scalp. Pressed against you, you could feel his body slowly starting to heat again. When he looked to you, pain and lust still tortured his features. There was none of the post-coital bliss that you’d seen in other men. Orgasming hadn’t seemed to soothe him at all— instead, it had only turned him on more.
He watched as you understood, “Do you want to stop?”
It looked like it killed him to ask it, but you knew his offer was genuine. If you told him you wanted out, he would let you leave.
You cupped his face with your palm, “After that?” You smiled, “No way. You’d have to kick me out.”
You caught a flicker of amusement in his eyes before he kissed you again.
He was insatiable. You’d known it would be different with a demon, especially with one in heat, but you hadn’t expected how different it would be. You got him off with your hands, your mouth, your core— until finally, after hours of the most intense sex you’d ever had, he soothed. Like a bow drawn too tight, he passed out, collapsing onto the bed and lying still. When you touched his skin, it felt cool.
You stroked his hair, idly wondering if you were the only person to see him like this— the son of Sparda, completely undone, defenceless and vulnerable. You checked the time and grimaced. There was only an hour left until the invoices could be paid.
You moved out of Vergil's bed, wincing as your shaking legs collapsed under you. After a minute, you were able to stand, and you found the remnants of your clothes. They were torn and completely unwearable. You muttered an apology as you raided his closet, surprised to find a sweater and loose pants in between the endless amounts of… armor? You shrugged them on even though they were too big for you.
You stood in the doorway and hesitated. From the state of the room, the heat had been rough on Vergil. From how pale and clammy he was, he hadn’t been eating. You didn’t know if demons needed food, but you ran down to the main kitchen. Miraculously, in between the rotten fruit, there was an apple that was salvageable. You grabbed it along with a glass of water and left it on his bedside.
You hesitated, then shook your head. What were you doing? You weren’t his mother. You weren’t anything to him. And yet you didn’t have the heart to take the food away.
You poked him in the cheek, “You owe me.”
You didn’t believe that though, not really. You’d enjoyed it more than he had. He’d been enslaved to his instincts, and you’d had some of the best sex in your life.
You caught sight of the time and cursed, hoping you wouldn’t run into anyone on the walk home. Mussed hair, your awkward waddle, and the assortment of hickeys and bruises left absolutely nothing to the imagination. You muttered thanks that you lived in Red Grave, where roaming demons meant that most people stayed indoors at night.