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Vergil was a curious man by nature, methodical in his pursuit of knowledge. Precocious as a child, he reminded his mother of a cat, pushing things off ledges just to see what would happen when they fell. That trait didn’t leave him as he aged. Researching his father’s power, gathering information from half-finished tomes and decaying ancient libraries for the Temen-ni-Gru, learning whatever he could when he was a thrall at Mundus’ feet about his rise to power using the accursed Qliphoth tree, and so much more.
He utilized that now, as he pulled at the thick leather belt which had found itself looped around his brother’s neck.
Breath-play was not something they commonly indulged in, but during a snarly, almost playful session, Vergil found the belt, with its gaudy silver square buckle, in his hands. Dante was beneath him, full of snark and sass-mouthing him with every attempt Vergil made to make love to him. The loop around his neck made him shut up, easily enough.
He pulled, testing his theory.
Dante’s knuckles were white, clenching the sheets as he struggled to stay on his hands and knees. From the neck up, though, Vergil could see his usually pale face was blushed, all the way to his ears. Vergil was kneeling behind him, up on his knees. He had fully inserted himself into the younger twin, the heat and the tightness of Dante’s hole enveloping his cock.
Vergil hummed while giving the length of belt in his fist a strong tug.
Dante made a noise, similar to a choked squeak, and tensed. All of him tensed. Vergil’s eyes threatened to roll up in the back of his head, the pressure around him obscene and sublime. He continued to pull, too, and to escape it, Dante sat up, his back to Vergil’s front, both hands on the belt. He was trying to give himself some slack. Vergil knew, if Dante truly wanted to, he could get away, break free, and put Vergil in his place for attempting such indignities.
The submission of one to the other, Vergil found that to be a delicious treat. He wrapped his free arm around Dante’s chest, still tugging at the belt. Dante had never been tighter, in Vergil’s estimation. He pressed his cheek to Dante’s, eyes closed and breathing heavy. Perhaps that bothered Dante, his own breathing so stifled.
It wasn’t the deep fucking he had usually preferred when he gave, but for Vergil to rock barely back and forth. Dante was just so tight, it wasn’t as if he could pound him like this anyway.
“You know,” he whispered. “I had experienced this once .. “
“You suck at dirty talk,” Dante whispered right back, his voice high and tight, barely able to inhale as Vergil generously allowed him enough slack.
“Something about the helplessness,” Vergilc continued. “It makes everything focused to a white-hot pinpoint. You want to focus on anything else, but you can’t. There is only sensation and want.”
Dante made a small noise, a squeak, gripping at the belt again as Vergil pulled back, tightening it. The elder leaned back, ever so slightly. He stopped bracing Dante with his free arm and instead used that hand to begin to tease his brother’s straining erection.
“See?” He whispered, wickedly. “You like this kind of play, baby brother.”
Vergil knew they could not die, not by normal means. However, he would not suffocate his brother during their love-making, not for real. He gave slack, enough for Dante to breathe again, pull air into his straining lungs. At the same time, he started again to work his hips, pump his cock into Dante’s supple ass, his hand working Dante’s erection at the same time.
All the while, he whispered those dark sweet-nothings into Dante’s ear, keeping him focused and present and desperate.
“You feel sinful,” he continued, listening to Dante pant, now that he could. “Do you know that? Why is it your entire body just exudes sex?” Dante’s body was broad along the shoulders, but while he was muscled, he also had a plump ass and a fair belly pouch. He reminded Vergil, in his more poetic musings, of the old portraits and paintings of the Renaissance, before modern beauty prioritized svelte figures. Like the Venus de Milo, his brother was ever so slightly fleshy, and something about that got him hard.
When Dante didn’t answer, Vergil responded by pulling at the belt again, tightening it around Dante’s thick neck.
Dante trembled, a slave to the sensations. Vergil was very right about his focused pinpoint comments. He could focus on three things, and only those three things. The dick in his ass, the hand around his dick, and the belt around his neck. He wasn’t sure what he wanted more: to breathe or to cum. Maybe that was why this was so hot?
Vergil gave a little more slack, and before Dante could thank him for it, the little black spots in his vision dancing for a moment, his head throbbing, his brother decided to really set a brutal pace. The front of Vergil’s thighs slapped against Dante’s asscheeks. He was jerking him off with his off hand, so the pace there was a little disjointed and jumpy. Not that you’d hear Dante complain. He didn’t want to know the punishment for having cheek right now, given the fact that Vergil was holding the leash, so to speak.
Perhaps bored of the angle or perhaps frustrated with how he wasn’t able to get in deep, Vergil abandoned the upright position. He pushed his brother forward. Dante was back to hands and knees, realizing dully that the belt hung around his neck, the strap hanging down, abandoned by Vergil.
Vergil instead used both hands to grip Dante’s hips, use them for leverage as he fucked him. The burn and stretch and in and out was a comfort, to Dante, so he leaned forward, resting his head on one folded arm, and the other disappeared between his legs to help bring himself to orgasm. Vergil at least new his limits.
The lewd sound of skin slapping skin, the stink of sex in the air heavy. But Dante could breathe. And when Vergil came, first, he could inhale, relishing the warmth and the subtle joy he felt knowing that he and his brother could do this, together. This was something they shared, no one else.
He came onto the sheets, his dick hanging, and Dante didn’t care one bit.
Vergil flopped onto the bed beside him, catching his breath. Dante long realized that it was a big deal to his brother as well. He looked at him, face down as he was, one eyebrow raised.
“ .. Good for you?” He asked, teasingly, before he cringed. “Throat’s wrecked.”
Dante’s voice was hoarse, likely from the abuse it suffered from the belt.
“I’m sorry,” Vergil lied, but it was a sweet lie, one that he doubled down on when he went to wrap his arms around Dante, cuddle him as if they were average lovers and not twins who derived as much joy out of hurting each other as they did fucking. “Was I too rough?”
Dante just nuzzled him back, making the quiet promise to repay him in kind.
.. That chance came a little under a week later.
Whatever had crawled up Vergil’s ass, Dante’s patience with him was steadily wearing thin. His brother could be a brat on the best of days, an unrepentant bitch on extreme occasions. He woke up in a mood and he intended to make it everyone else’s problem. If it wasn’t that the coffee was weak and cold, it was that the shop was drafty. If it wasn’t that the shop was filthy, it was that everything was falling apart, why couldn’t they get something new? Why couldn’t they keep from letting the bread go moldy, or the milk go sour? Why did they never have eggs when he needed them? Why didn’t Dante do the laundry all in one night? Why didn’t Dante put the lid back on the trash cans, because Vergil knew he heard the raccoons rustling in them the other night?
On and on it went until Dante’s famous patience wore, not just thin, but to the bone.
In the middle of yet another vicious nag, Dante approached Vergil. His brother was a beauty, to be sure, but it was so annoying to him in that moment. When Vergil turned his displeased blue eyes on Dante, he knew he was getting ready to unleash more vitriol.
It died on Vergil’s tongue, as did the air in his lungs.
Dante lashed one hand out and gripped his pale white throat. He squeezed, and Vergil’s hands gripped Dante’s one, eyes going wide, mouth still open. His face started to color.
“Y’know, sweetheart,” Dante whispered, darkly. “Despite all your bitchin .. You do look positively fetching in blue~”
It was meanspirited. It was downright nasty.
It was something Vergil had shared that Mundus had done, a time or two. He shared he had never felt more like a child, than when Mundus forced eye contact in that way, than when Mundus held him by the throat.
Vergil tried to make a word, his mouth moving, but no sound was made. His hands were on Dante’s, the nails digging, but they found no real purchase and Dante’s grip was secure.
“You’re in a bad mood,” Dante continued. “I can tell. Maybe you’re just stressed out? Y’know what makes me feel better? When I’m not feelin good?”
Dante would later feel bad about the fear in his brother’s eyes when he said that. Right then, though, he feasted on it.
He bent Vergil over the back of the couch, his hand twisting to hold him by the back of the neck instead of around his throat. It wasn’t hard, tapping into some of his demonic strength, to rip his brother’s breeches down, let them bunch around his milky thighs. Vergil gripped the fabric, teeth grit.
“Dante – “ He rasped.
Dante shushed him, cracking him across the back-side.
“Pipe down, ya spoiled brat,” he murmured, using that once punishing free hand to slip between Vergil’s cheeks and tease at his hole. He felt Vergil shudder beneath him. Vergil grit his teeth, eyes screwed shut.
This was purely demonic, this game of theirs. If a mate was being fickle, shrewish, mean? Just fuck the bad feelings out of them. If Vergil didn’t want it, Dante knew he’d claw and rebel like a feral cat. If he accepted Dante’s authority in the home, he’d let himself have this and just relax, let some feel good chemicals flood his brain and calm whatever snit he woke up in.
The elder groaned, loud, when Dante sank into him. He was tense, his shoulders hunched, his head buried in the back cushion of the couch. Dante steadied him with one hand on his neck and one on his hip. He gave a few brutal thrusts, each one forcing noise from Vergil, and he was slick now, and he was able to be fucked quite well and decently.
“There we go,” Dante purred, while Vergil moaned. “Don’t we feel better?”
Vergil didn’t respond, outside of moans in time with Dante’s thrusts.
“Hey.”
Dante moved his hand, around Vergil’s throat and pulled. Vergil’s hands scrabbled to grasp Dante’s hand, as Dante hauled him upright.
The younger twin grinned.
“You know,” he whispered, lips against Vergil’s ear.
Vergil’s eyes were watering.
“I’ve experienced this once,” Dante continued, kissing his mate’s temple. He had hoisted Vergil up, and gravity forced him to either try to desperately stay on tip toes or allow himself to be impaled on Dante’s cock. He wheezed, trembling in Dante’s grip, spots dancing along his vision.
Dante didn’t want to prolong this. He rolled his hips, up into his brother as he struggled, squirming as much as he was able to. He kept that hand around his brother’s throat, keeping him pressed to his chest as he did so. Vergil moaned and keened, whined and whimpered, Dante loosening his grip every so often to allow him to catch his breath.
The end goal was Dante’s climax, and if Vergil’s punished prostate let him squirt, then so be it.
He fucked up into his twin. Each thrust made Vergil jerk and try to get away, his hands around Dante’s wrist. His eyes were rolled up, mouth open, drool down his chin. Eventually, he exhausted himself. Vergil ruined his throat, trying to cry out, as he could no longer stand on tip toes to avoid it. Slumping against his brother’s chest, there was something humbling about being little more than a sex toy as Dante saited his appetite.
Everything was just his want for air and Dante’s cock. Every so often, lightning behind his eyes, as his prostate was pounded. The climax was jumpy and hard to chase, but when it came, Vergil left his stomach striped with cum. He gripped Dante’s arm in a vice grip, keening when Dante found his own orgasm. He was buried deep into his twin, pumping him full, squeezing Vergil to his chest as he rode out his orgasm.
Dante took his hand off of Vergil’s throat and kept his brother upright by putting that arm around his chest. He didn’t pull out yet, allowing his dick to soften within his brother.
“ .. Do we feel better?” He asked, softly.
Vergil grimaced, sore. His throat hurt. He tried to speak, tried to give a submissive affirmative, but he merely croaked and grimaced again.
Dante kissed the side of his face again.
“Good boy..”