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Even Vergil had to admit, the city was pretty in the winter.
The window of the spare bedroom Dante had allowed him to stay in, when he wasn’t in Dante’s own room, had a decent enough view of the city. The district the shop was located in was fairly industrial. Even so, in Vergil’s opinion, it was still a beautiful scene, oddly serene to look at. Gray buildings, an off-white sky during the day and inky black at night.
Sometimes, the snow would fall in fat, heavy flakes. Other times, the tiny flakes came down so heavy that it appeared to be a solid curtain, falling and gathering on the street, blanketing everything in white.
Currently, the snow falling was the latter sort. Vergil had a lot of time to think about it, rubbing his throat with some ire, cringing.
His throat had started to tickle a few mornings ago. He had ignored it, of course, as cambions – let alone the most powerful cambions to have ever been sired – were above such things as sore throats. Vergil rationalized that perhaps the shop was too dry. He tried to use a humidifier in his room, but to little avail. After three days, he threw in the towel. As much as he wanted to espouse the superiority of demonic and cambion immune systems and healing factors, that didn’t seem to stop a sore throat.
Once Dante found out, it was all over.
Apparently Dante did enjoy playing nurse. Vergil was bemused but he allowed it. He could sleep in, read, have hot tea brought to him on demand, and have an excuse to have something else for dinner besides pizza. That is what he told himself, anyway. Now, four hours in, he was staring out the window, propped up in bed, his book open on his lap.
How did people stay in their pajamas all day?
He sighed and closed his eyes, wincing as a swallow made his throat protest yet again.
As if summoned by Vergil’s malaise, the door opened and Dante came into his bedroom, still wearing his heavier winter coat around his broad shoulders. He grinned upon meeting eyes with his brother.
“It’s really comin down,” Dante said, huffing as he took his coat off, threw it over a chair in the corner. “I got some stuff from the bodega. Tea, honey, cough drops. Some other stuff. Chocolate.” He set the bag down to rifle through it.
Vergil’s sweet tooth was glad for it, but he was uncertain how effective it would be. It showed on his face, one snowy eyebrow raised.
“Whenever I had a sore throat, I took a shot of Jameson,” Dante continued, toeing his boots off.
“That sounds horrid,” Vergil huffed. “Planning on staying in here with me, or just leaving me to deal with your laundry once you think I’m well again?” Vergil closed his book.
“I figured you’d like the company.” Dante gave him a sheepish grin. “I won’t be up here long, anyway. I’m gonna make you something real fast.”
“Oh?”
“Something warm for your throat,” Dante explained. He approached the bed and kissed Vergil’s forehead. It had the added benefit of checking his temperature. “So it’s just a sore throat?”
“Unfortunately,” Vergil shrugged. “I believe I will be fine and that all this fuss is unnecessary.”
“So you’ve told me, over and over.” Dante stooped to grab his shopping bag again.. “I’ll be right back.”
And he was, returning with two mugs, steaming. Vergil could see a teabag string hanging from one, but the other did not.
“Here we go,” Dante said. “Go ahead and blow on this one and drink up.” He handed Vergil the one without the string. Confused, the elder did take a sip before pulling quite the face.
“Lucifer wept, what is this?” He asked, shaking his head.
“Garlic broth,” Dante nodded. “I heard that garlic helps with sore throats, immune systems, all that jazz.”
“So you gave me a cup of hot garlic broth?!” Vergil put the mug on the bedside table before reaching for the mug that he presumed was tea. “Of all the hare-brained ideas?”
“I figured it’d be like an onion soup?” Dante tried to defend himself.
“With garlic?! It’s a salt lick.”
Vergil swallowed a few gulps of tea, barely registering the heat. The hot tea on his throat felt sinfully good. His ire relaxed, too worn out from this strange little cold he had to keep it up for that long. He gave his little brother a scolding look.
“You gonna be sore at me for a while?” Dante crossed his arms, slightly unimpressed.
“No, Dante,” Vergil sighed, rolling his eyes. “Though, now you have I can’t fathom how much garlic broth to contend with, so I suppose that’s punishment enough.” He paused, before he exhaled again. “The tea is good, though. Very sweet.”
Dante gave him a tiny smile.
“I can at least do that much,” he chuckled. “Want some company?”
“I wouldn’t mind,” Vergil replied, leaning back on the pillows. He blew on the tea before drinking this time. Dante wasted no time crawling into bed with him, pressing their bodies together. It was a little awkward, given that Vergil was under the quilt and Dante was atop it. Still, it was a comforting weight and warmth. The shop was a little drafty, and the cold of the winter’s day, the calendar ticking down to Christmas, seeped into the shop, slowly but surely.
Vergil had a poet’s heart. There was something romantic about this. He lay, under the weather, in his upper-story room, the snow falling outside his drafty old window .. Vergil curled under the threadbare quilt he had stolen from Dante’s living room, the brass bed just lightly creaky.
Cozy.
Far too cozy, by half.
Dante brought him out of his daydreaming with a kiss to his neck.
“You just had me drink garlic broth,” Vergil reminded him. “And now you want to initiate kissing? Are you stupid or a masochist?”
“You’re worried you’re stinky~?”
Vergil huffed and popped Dante on the back of his head.
“Out,” he said, shaking his own head. “I need to rest.”
“I got another idea on how to make your throat feel better, though,” Dante murmured, kissing his temple. Vergil frowned, tilting his head.
“What’s the idea?” He asked, curiosity nibbling at him.
Dante grinned, and the mischief dancing in his eyes made Vergil swallow again ..
It didn’t take long for Dante to decide that, if they were going to spend the day in bed, they may as well put that bed to good use. The house was warm and after Dante pulled the curtains to the window, the draft was not so noticable. There was something far too cozy about it, harkening back to Vergil’s adoration of creature comforts.. The way that Dante decided to rub him down also helped Vergil relax. His brother knew what he was doing and he did it damn well.
“Are you certain?” Vergil asked, softly.
“I think it’d be good for your throat,” Dante said, grinning.
Vergil sighed, sitting up more in bed. He was propped up on pillows at the head of it, watching his brother. Dante straddled his lap, pulling at his belt buckle. Vergil sank down a bit and Dante inched forward. It was a little awkward, to be sure, but the angle and position was decent enough to get the job done.
Dante pushed his pants down, just beneath his ass, letting a half hard erection spring free from his boxers. Vergil took one last gulp of hot tea, before he saw to his brother’s cock.
The younger son of Sparda had far more sexual experience than the elder, at least of the purely consensual variety. Dante made up for lost time. He would push Vergil into trying new things. Vergil proved himself to be an eager student and a quick study.
Vergil gripped his brother’s butt, squeezing his cheeks as he licked up the underside of his cock. Dante bit his lip, looking down at him as he started. Vergil swallowed, wincing through the scrape of his throat and sucked on the head, flicking his tongue over the slit. Dante shuddered and sighed, letting his head fall back. He put his hands on his brother’s shoulders. The elder’s eyes were half-lidded as he continued his lapping, tongue working along the impressive organ.
Dante really did have an impressive cock. Certainly a respectable length and girth, the color of it ruddier than the rest of his body, and when it was fully erect, it seemed to blush even more, flushed with blood and throbbing. Vergil could feel his pulse, the soft skin of Dante’s cock laying against his tongue as he serviced him. He rolled his eyes up to look at his brother, inching forward to take more of Dante’s length into his mouth.
“Shit, it’s hot when you do that,” Dante murmured, looking back down at him. He moved his hands to Vergil’s neck, massaging and encouraging his lover to continue. Vergil was no blowjob god but he did well enough. In fact, though he’d never admit it, Dante liked the way that Vergil was inexperienced. It added a deliciously innocent bent to every touch, every lick, every unsure look right before Vergil steeled himself and pushed forward, to take as much of Dante’s member into his mouth as possible.
He did that now and Dante shuddered, forcing himself to keep his eyes open, to watch as Vergil closed his own eyes, and pushed forward. He buried his nose in the dense nest of white curls at the base of his twin’s cock. There was a burst of sensations and input for Vergil. His eyes watered, tears on his lashes, fighting a gag reflex, the head of Dante’s cock touching the back of his throat. Dante’s unique musk was thick with hormones and pheramones that made Vergil’s own sex ache with desire. Call him a pervert, there was something delightful about Dante’s scent.
He could only deep throat for so long and when Vergil had reached his limit, he eased off, letting the penis out of his mouth with a small pop. He took a moment to catch his breath, and realized that Dante was running his fingers through his hair, soothing and murmuring praise.
“Go back,” he whispered.
“In a minute..”
Vergil rubbed the hinge of his jaw and went back. Dante decided to help, wanting that little tingle of control. Here was the Eldest Son of Sparda, the Approaching Storm, Black Angel, Dark Slayer, Rightful King of Hell .. sucking his cock, in bed, in his pajamas, after a sore throat. And he took Dante’s asinine “idea” that demon cum might soothe his sore throat. That was a power trip if Dante ever knew one.
Dante laced his fingers into Vergil’s hair, light enough to convey that gentle sweetness between the pair of them, but tight enough to give that little taste of a threat. He tugged, Vergil made a small sound.
Vergil held to Dante’s hips, squeezing, closing his eyes, and Dante took it for what it was: the go ahead.
And ahead he went.
The fact that Vergil allowed Dante to fuck his face made Dante feel strangely warm and fuzzy. He rolled his hips, relishing the little sounds his twin made, the tiny flinches, the way he seemed to want to pull away, but chose to endure.
“I wanna put it on your face,” Dante whispered, his breath hitching. Dirty talk was a sure fire way to get Vergil’s engine running. He could tell he was doing a good job, because Vergil squeezed Dante’s hips, his own breathing hard through his nose. “You’re so pretty when I cum on your face .. But I gotta make yer throat feel better, eh, baby~?”
Vergil opened his eyes to give Dante such a glare. Dante grinned.
“Aw, mean face~” Dante teased. Something about big, bad, bitchy Vergil, cock in his mouth, glaring up at him while he waxes poetic about cumming across his cheeks brought Dante to the edge. He inhaled, sharp, before he moved one hand to the back of Vergil’s head and pushed, forcing Vergil to take his cock entirely.
Vergil’s nails raked down his ass and hips, whimper-moaning as Dante’s cum coated his throat, Dante shuddering as his orgasm rocked his frame. Vergil, ever the dutiful twin, swallowed the load in its entirety.
“There we go,” Dante whispered, letting his cock come free of Vergil’s mouth. It was slick with his saliva, softening gradually. Vergil’s mouth was red, almost kiss-bitten. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, blushing and averting his eyes. Dante moved his face back to him, holding his chin. “You alright?”
“Fine,” Vergil sighed, allowing himself to be vulnerable in that moment.
Satisfied and spent, Dante lay next to Vergil, slumped. He didn’t bother to pull his pants up, just yet. Vergil huffed and nudged him.
“If you’re going to nap with me, at least get under here,” he grumbled, tugging at the quilt. Dante sighed and rolled out of bed. He kicked off his pants, throwing them into the chair with his heavy winter coat. He crawled back into bed. Vergil felt Dante’s bare legs against his, the tickle of his body hair. With Dante under the covers, Vergil felt as if he were sleeping with a breathing furnace, wrapping his arms tight around his brother, resting his head on his shoulder, and dozed.
He wasn’t sure for how long, though when Dante stirred, so did Vergil. The light had faded outside, the pair of them napping for most of the day. He sighed and stretched, looking at his brother through half closed eyes.
“You feelin better?” Dante murmured, rubbing his face. Vergil shrugged.
“The throat is not so tight,” he admitted. He glanced at his brother, some clarity returning to his sight. “ .. You look pale, baby brother.”
Dante rubbed his neck, sighing.
“My throat hurts.”
.. Vergil raised a slow eyebrow.
“ .. I may have a cure for that.”