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When Trish asked Dante what he had planned for you on Valentine’s Day, he had to admit that the thought hadn’t crossed his mind in the slightest. He hadn’t asked you to clear your schedule and hold the date for him, or anything like that. It never occurred to him, and why would it? He’d never been one for a real, actual romance, didn’t even know what to do with one. But that was before you walked into the Devil May Cry one fateful day months ago.
Dante knew that if he didn’t ask you to be his valentine first, someone else would. And that thought alone lit a fire under his ass. He had to get a plan in motion, and quickly. But the problem was that he had absolutely no idea what he was doing. You were absolutely worth the effort though, he knew that much. Whatever it was that burned between you and Dante was special. It was organic, growing at a surprisingly fast rate but one that felt entirely natural. As much as he tried to keep you out, you just found your way back in. There was a part of him that had always been looking for a connection like what you had, craving the intimacy so deeply it almost hurt when you were away. And yet, he didn’t even realize how badly he wanted it until he finally got it.
You were easy. Not in a crude way (although everything that went down between you two like that was entirely effortless too), but in the way that you were so painless to be around. Dante could let his guard down around you almost completely, in a way he couldn’t with just any human outside his demon-hunting life. Still, you knew the weight of his baggage and helped him carry it, you saw the ugly side of him and didn’t look away, instead choosing to continue on like it was nothing. You made him feel normal in a world where he was anything but.
So yeah, he had to do something to make you feel special, if at least a pinch of how special you made him feel on the daily. Messing up and adding you to his never ending list of fuck-ups would not be acceptable. He’d lost so many in his 43 years of living, so he was determined to hold on to you as tightly as he could.
Before Dante got to your place Friday night, he stopped by the store. How the hell was a measly bunch of flowers almost $15 now? Maybe he was more out of touch than he realized. Nevertheless, he handed over the money, paying mostly in change to his (and the cashier’s) dismay. It would be embarrassing if you were here to see it, but not really. This was simply how his life was, and you knew that already. He had nothing to hide.
With the flowers secured, Dante made his way to your apartment. As he climbed each stair, he felt an unfamiliar disturbance build in his chest which had to be one thing: anxiety. He was way out of his comfort zone, having never been a ladies man, even when he pretended to have game in his younger years. It was quite the opposite, actually, as he had historically horrible luck with women. But even that seemed to be looking up once you entered his life.
However, that was not the case for you, and Dante knew that. He felt secure enough about where he stood with you to not feel threatened by your past experience. There was even a part of him that liked how you took the lead most of the time, easing him though the path of his own inexperience in a way that was assertive but soft. He’d even claimed that he didn’t have a single jealous bone in his body and you could do whatever you wanted.
But that was before now. Things had changed for him, whether you realized it or not.
Dante stood outside your door. A thin veil of sweat had formed under the collar of his coat, making it stick to his skin uncomfortably. Regardless, he willed himself to knock on your front door with three heavy raps. After what felt like an eternity, he could hear the pitterpatter of your footsteps behind the door before the locks slowly unlatched. Hesitantly, your front door pulled open and your perfect face peeked out.
You looked surprised to see Dante standing there in front of you, holding a bouquet of flowers no less. Neither of you spoke for a moment and you didn’t move from where you blocked his view into your apartment. Did you have another guy already in there? The thought made Dante gulp nervously.
“Well, well,” you hummed with amusement before tucking your chin against your shoulder coyly. “I was wondering if I’d hear from you today.”
If said by anyone else, those words could have been laced with annoyance. But coming from you, they were only accompanied by that familiar, playful smile that had grown to captivate every single one of Dante’s waking thoughts.
“Oh yeah? Why? Something special about today’s date?”
His teasing made your smile grow larger, which Dante mirrored in return. You stepped back, allowing him to finally walk into your apartment. The recognizable warm scent of those candles you liked to burn flooded his system, and he got the weird sense of a nostalgic homecoming. Scanning around your place quickly revealed to him that no one else was here but you, to his instant relief.
“Those for me?” You reached out to grab the flowers, and Dante passed them over to you.
“Nah, found them on the side of the road and figured I’d give them to the first chick I saw.”
You snorted before sauntering off to find a vase to put them in. In the meantime, Dante took a seat on your couch. It was lumpy and uncomfortable, but there was a worn sense of normalcy there too. Once the flowers were squared away, you returned and took your seat next to him, banging your knee against his own.
“Hi,” you offered.
“Hi,” he returned.
Without missing a beat, you leaned in before grabbing his face between your hands and pulling him closer to you for a kiss. It was fleeting, but enough to make his heartbeat pick up again. Your lips were so soft, it almost felt wrong that you were pressing them against his own chapped mouth.
When you pulled away, you had a giddy smile spread across your face. Dante looked at you, eyebrows raised in question about your silent laughter. “What’s up? Does my breath stink?” He kicked himself mentally for not checking before he came over.
“Nah,” you swatted his arm, toothy grin still plastered on your face. “I sorta had a feeling you were gonna turn up eventually. Call me psychic or something- I already ordered a pizza.”
“Oh yeah?” Dante couldn’t hold back his excitement. Man, you really were the girl of his dreams: smoking hot and one step ahead of him by knowing exactly what he wanted.
“Yep. No olives.”
“You’re the best, babe.” And he meant it too.
“Don’t you forget it. And we still have some time before it gets here…” Your voice trailed off before you sent him a heavy-lidded look.
Dante knew where this was going, he could tell by the tone of your voice and the way you looked at him. Plus he could literally smell the want starting to drip off you.
“Oh, yeah?” He repeated, feeling stupid that it was the best thing he could come up with. Of course he knew what you were getting at, but there was still that nagging sense of inaccuracy that stood solid in the back of his mind, reminding him over and over that you were wayyyyy too good for him. Truthfully, he was lucky you even gave him the time of day, let alone the fact that you willingly let him into your bed.
“Yeah.” You started to rise up from the couch. “So why don’t you show me exactly how much you think I’m the best, babe?”
Dante practically hopped up off the couch before grabbing you and throwing you over his shoulder. Your laughter rang in his ears as he marched off towards your bedroom, pushing the door open with his foot. Once he reached the edge of your bed, he slapped your butt lightly before dropping you on the mattress.
You bounced once before remaining stationary, stretching back on the bed before making quick work of your jeans. Shucking them off your legs, you kept your underwear on. It was a cute pair, scarlet red with lace embroidering the edges, and the way the color matched his coat made a piece of him ache for you. Was it on purpose, or were you only keeping in line with today’s theme?
When he had finally freed himself from his coat, belt, and boots, Dante was on you. He crawled up your body, never fully putting his weight on you, and his lips found your own. The kiss was slow to build as Dante followed your lead. But when he felt your tongue slip between his parted lips, the intensity seemed to naturally grow into a frenzy. Your bed smelled like you, and he could smell the lingering scent of himself sticking to the sheets despite being washed since he was last over. It was making him feel hot all over, causing him to feel almost dizzy with desire.
He was still hovering over you, using his forearms to keep himself steady while his knees rested on the bed between your spread legs. You, however, seemed to be determined to get him as close to your warm body as possible. One of your arms curled around his neck to keep the kiss locked, while the other slid down the side of his torso. It lingered on his waist for a moment, and Dante half expected it to race under his shirt so you could get a feel of his abs. Instead, your hand went to the other side, grabbing a firm handful of his ass and squeezing it harshly. It caught him off guard and made him groan directly into your mouth, but he couldn’t find it in himself to be embarrassed at all. He was too fueled by lust to even try and disguise the needy noise as anything other than what it was.
You eagerly swallowed up any noises he made and responded with your own breathless moans. Using your hand still on his ass, you slowly pushed him down, and Dante was compliant in letting you move him until your pelvises were snug together. It would be a lie if he said he didn’t secretly enjoy the way you manhandled him at times. The hastiness behind your actions made him feel wanted and desired, something he wasn’t used to feeling but was quickly becoming comfortable with.
Dante pulled away so he could kiss your cheek, then the side of your jaw, and then he began to create a path of kisses down your neck until he found the spot that made you gasp. Each sound you made encouraged him to keep going, biting and sucking the delicate skin of your neck until it started to bloom in shades of purple and red. It blew his mind that he was the one making you sound like this. He mumbled into your skin. “You’re driving me crazy, sweetheart.”
It was weird hearing his own voice sounding so foreign to himself. It was too hoarse, too gruff and low from the effect you had on him. But what he said was the truth- you were turning him insane. You responded with nothing but a coquettish giggle, but even that alone made him feel electrified. All the blood in his body felt like it was rushing straight to his cock. He was rock hard, and his mind was racing with all the countless things he wanted to do to you. The urge to make you feel as overwhelmingly good as possible was the only thing he could think of, and he could feel all rationality fade from him as he gave into that hunger.
He needed to have you now, if not for any reason beyond placating that red-hot gnawing sensation that simmered under his skin. Continuing his journey downwards, he kissed across your clavicle before starting on your sternum. You arched your spine, trying to hold him closer to you while both of your hands dove into his tangled hair. Dante could feel the pounding of your heartbeat each place he put his lips, and the pounding jumped tenfold when he slid his hands up under your sweater. Your hips jolted against his own suddenly, providing some much needed pressure to the strain under his pants. It must’ve been obvious to you by now just how hard he was.
Pulling him up by the hair, you brought him face to face with you once more. Your eyes bore into his own, and he had to fight the instinct to look away. But at the same time, he didn’t want to look at anything other than the lascivious expression on your face. The wanting look in your open, glassy eyes, the way you licked your lips expectantly- it was nearly too much for him to handle.
“Will you go down on me?”
God, you always knew what to say to send a shiver down his spine. He almost agreed immediately before reeling back. Despite how he’d do basically anything you asked him to, and with a smile, he knew that he had to play it cool.
“What’s the magic word?”
“Will you go down on me, please?”
“Whatever you want, babe,” Dante promised before raising up onto his knees with the intention of sliding down your body. But before he could, you grabbed his wrist and he halted immediately.
You pulled your leg back until your knee met your chest. Then you brought it forward to rest your foot on the sizable tent under Dante’s belt. You rubbed it playfully with the sole of your foot, which was bare besides the pink polish that coated your toenails. “You can do whatever you want”, you teased, the implication heavy in your words. “But don’t come yet. I want you to finish… somewhere else.”
Dante groaned, his head falling back slightly. Your teasing always did something to him. And even though the stimulation was light, it felt so good he had to hold back from rutting against it. Normally, Dante would not say he had a thing for feet. But since it was your foot, it was different. He could be into it, if you were, and every part of your body really was the best, since it was yours. Hell, maybe he was into it. Love changes you, he supposed- hey wait, that was not what was going on here!
He grabbed your ankle before tossing your leg aside, back to where it previously lay. “Is that so?” he asked rhetorically as he began inching his way down your body for real this time before settling between your thighs. “Sounds reeeaaal promising.”
Boosting yourself up on your elbows to look at him, you started to reply with something undoubtedly snappy, but he beat you to it. Pulling the soaked gusset of your underwear aside, his vision locked on your now exposed pussy. There was a sense of satisfaction he derived from the knowledge that you got so wet just from kissing him. He had to keep himself from moaning at the sight alone, and instead chose to dive on in.
Just the feeling of Dante’s breath against your sensitive flesh was enough to get you to moan, making pride swell within him. He inhaled deeply, taking in your particular scent with a rumble in his chest. It was addictive- you were addictive, and it would be a problem eventually, he was sure of it. But for now, he gave in. The first flick of his tongue against your clit made you gasp, the sound high pitched as your fingers knotted in his hair. He started with a slow rhythm, something he knew if he drew it out, it would turn you as crazy as you made him.
But you were impatient, rolling your hips into his face and practically shoving yourself against his mouth. Not like he minded though, if anything it only encouraged him to continue the movement of his tongue. When he opened his eyes and gazed up your body, Dante could see the way you had thrown your head back onto your pillow, your mouth parted in a perfect “o” while cries and gasps flew from you. He brought a hand to your hip to hold you down against the sheets tightly, but still you fought back by snapping your hips and grinding on his face.
Your reaction purely fueled his own desire, and it was getting harder to ignore that call. In an effort to appease his own quickly growing need, Dante ground his pelvis into the mattress. It felt good, fine really, but it was nowhere near close to what he wanted. But then he recalled that you did give him your blessing to do whatever he wanted. With that thought in mind, he undid his pants with ease and slid his free hand past his zipper and under his underwear. Shit, he was so hard- and leaking too, staining through the threadbare lining of his boxer briefs. But the relief that squeezing his cock brought him inspired him to put more effort into getting you off. His eyes shut tightly as he channeled his attention on bringing you pleasure instead. He pushed his tongue against you firmer, adding more pressure, and he was rewarded by the sharp prick of pain along his scalp as you pulled his hair tighter in response.
It was hard to stay focused. The sounds of your cries combined with the feeling of his own hand around his cock was making his head spin. When all of his senses were surrounded by you, it was easy enough to picture that it was your hand jerking him off, and it was even easier to conjure up memories of when you had before. A playback of images of different times you’d been intimate together flashed through his mind. His own hand felt unbelievably inadequate, not good enough when he’d felt the soft skin of your palm around his dick. Yet he continued stroking himself off, despite how awkward of a position it was for him. He had to angle his hips in a way that allowed access, which was difficult enough while face down, but he also had the added disadvantage of being so tall his feet nearly dangled off the bed.
Dante switched up the movement of his tongue, letting it dip down to your opening and press inside to let himself get a full on taste of your heady flavor. Both of you groaned in unison while your legs fell farther open, letting him get a better angle to stick his tongue deeper inside of you. You were so slippery that it was almost hard for him to keep his face from sliding against your slick skin, but luckily the added traction of his stubbly facial hair kept him in place just fine. Plus, selfishly he liked how it rubbed your skin almost raw, creating a real physical reminder for you that he had been there, between your legs, making you feel better than anyone else could.
With his tongue running over the most intimate place of your body, Dante felt almost drunk off the taste of your sex. He changed the angle of his face, refocusing on your clit once more. It seemed like the right call since every swipe of his tongue against it made you cry out as your back started to arch off the bed. He moved his tongue over your clit in tandem with his fist around his cock, like some sort of sex magick spell to bind your pleasure to his own. His cock pulsed in his hand, a betraying sign that he was getting close to finishing, and while he knew you wanted him to stave that off, he wasn’t so sure he could. Especially not when he had you so close to coming on his face.
His tongue picked up speed. You cried out in response, pulling his hair so tightly it should’ve hurt but instead it made him more desperate to get you to your climax. It was getting harder to remember to focus on breathing through his nose, but any time he spent with his mouth not on you felt like a complete waste. He was so sticky under his tight leather pants now, to the point that while it made for an easier glide, it was also very uncomfortable. But he could deal with that later, what mattered now was you.
When you weren’t moaning, what left you was a nonstop stream of pleading. A repeated combination of “Oh god- oh yes- right there- don’t move- that’s fucking perfect, baby- yes- keep going- don’t fucking stop” flew from your mouth along with the never ending cries of his name, like it was the only one you’d ever heard in your entire life. You were so close, Dante could almost taste it. Maybe he could too, since he had practically memorized your taste down to the base notes and could tell the very minuscule shifts in flavor. Half-demon genetics were good for more than devil hunting alone, it seemed.
He wasn’t far behind you either, if the tingling at the base of his spine was any indication. It was unavoidable that he was going to come right when you did, regardless how he knew you’d pretend to be disappointed in his inability to abstain from finishing. But Dante knew that you loved it when he got off on getting you off. How could you not, when he put as much effort into it as he did?
With a loud cry, your orgasm hit you hard, it appeared. Your thighs attempted to slam shut in reflex to the sudden bliss, but Dante didn’t let you push him away. He kept up the motion of his tongue, working to prolong your climax as long as you’d let him. His hand kept pumping his dick, influenced by the onslaught of pleasure that seemed to waft off you in waves. Catching him off guard, Dante also gave in and slipped over the edge of orgasm, spilling his warm seed into his fist with a full body shutter.
Slowly, as you both came down from your highs, Dante pulled away from your pussy to rest his cheek against your thigh. A thin strand of saliva connected his mouth to your body, and it grew taut before snapping entirely. He looked up at you, watching the rise and fall of your chest as you caught your breath. It was almost too bad that you came with your face out of his sight, and it was a shame that he didn’t get the chance to finish inside of you like you hinted at earlier. Well, for now at least- that was easily remedied with a second round, which he was more than down for.
Once you caught your breath, you looked down where Dante was still resting. “C’mere,” you yawned, smiling at him with that perfect, all-forgiving smile of yours. You had that endearing sleepy look in your eyes, which told Dante he did his job right.
“Not yet,” Dante responded with mild discomfort that overshadowed the otherwise wonderful post-orgasm bliss. “Gotta clean up first.”
“Oh!” You responded with a giggle, but nothing harmful to his ego. If anything, Dante was certain you’d expected it to go down like this.
Regretfully, Dante pulled himself away from you and went off to the bathroom to clean himself off. When he returned, you were still laying in the same spot as before. You looked completely spent and disheveled, although you’d pulled your panties back in place thus hiding yourself from him. He already missed the view, but whatever, he was sure he’d be bestowed with the chance to see it again before the night was over.
At the sound of Dante reentering your bedroom, you looked up and over at him. You threw your arms open, beckoning for him to finally snuggle up with you. Despite how badly Dante wanted to keep up the appearance that he was cool, calm, and collected, and not nearly as into you as he actually was, he crumbled into your arms. But who could blame him? It felt so right, like he was meant to lie with his head on your chest like this. The rhythmic beating of your heart echoed in his brain, cementing the soothing sound there forever. You already were the sole thing on his mind, so what was one more detail added to the collection?
“What are you thinking about?”
Your voice snapped Dante out of the sleepy trance that had fallen over him. He almost jolted awake and out of your arms, but you held him there tightly. You combed your fingers through his hair, trying to detangle the knots you created only a little while ago while also rubbing at his scalp comfortingly. It was enough to make him melt further into your embrace.
Maybe this was his moment. It was Valentine’s Day after all, literally the most romantic day of the entire year. And everything leading up to now told Dante that to some degree, you had to have felt the same way he did. Maybe it was possible that you also wanted more than this undefined passion that appeared to dictate every encounter you shared. So maybe this really was his chance to take that risk, hell, it wasn’t any scarier than the nasties he faced on the daily, right? Right?
He opened his mouth to respond. Then he closed it. Then he opened it once more, fully determined to say at last what had been on his mind for the last few weeks.
But then he closed it again. The words weren’t coming. He didn’t know how to say what he wanted to say, and he didn’t even know where to start. It just wasn’t who he was, these things just didn’t come natural to him despite how badly he wanted it. Feelings like these… they were so foreign to him. So he didn’t say anything.
Luckily, he didn’t have to. Any potential awkwardness caused by his silence evaporated when the doorbell came to life, buzzing all the way from your front door. You quickly released him, pushing him aside ever so gently as you popped up off the bed and scrambled to put your jeans back on.
“Oh, that must be the pizza!” you confirmed as you hopped on one foot while pulling up a pant leg. “I’ll go grab it, wait here!”
Dante did as you requested. He stayed put, rolling over onto his back so he could stare up at your ceiling fan, wondering what to do next. The idea that he had fumbled this chance made him scowl. There were so many things he wanted to say to you, but for now he’d just let you live in the peace of not knowing the depth of his feelings for you. He couldn’t get the words to form anyway, couldn’t quite determine what to say nor could he really pinpoint exactly how to get his feeling across.
Oh well. Maybe next year’s Valentine’s day will be different.