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Haywire
Author: Nyx Midnight
Rating: NC-17
Status: 1 of 1
Fandom: Devil May Cry
Type: Yaoi
Pairing: Dante/Jester
Warnings: Rape
Disclaimers: Characters and everything DMC related are all Capcom's properties.
I do promise to repair and clean them before putting them back where I found
them.
Feedback: Yes please! Critiques welcomed.
Spoilers: This takes place between mission 11 and 12 of DMC3
Thanks: Wolfsbride, Jchaos and Lerefuge.
“Well, didn’t that feel WONDERFUL, boy?” Jester asked loudly, his nasal voice grating on Dante’s ears like nails on a chalkboard. He sidestepped around the exhausted Dante like he was covered in worms.
Dante groaned and looked up from the ground, pushing his upper body up with one elbow, trying to focus his eyes on the annoying buffoon, to no avail. His vision was still blurry not only from the intense irradiation from the haywire generator, but also from the immense power boost it had given his newly born devil side. Groaning again, he clutched his heart.
Said devil side, instead of going back into dormancy as usual, was still fully present in his mind, furiously howling, tearing at Dante’s self-control. He had never felt such a surge of power before, such an animalistic urge to kill, such a visceral need to fuck. It was gripping his insides with long, searing claws, squeezing, squeezing…
“Hm… devil got your tongue, lad?”
Dante barely heard the question or felt the jester’s sceptre thump him on the forehead He was too busy trying to see through the red veil before his eyes. He grumbled something under his breath as he tried to at least get on his hands and knees.
Jester tiptoed to the struggling half-devil and leaned closer. “What was that?” he asked, putting his sceptre to his ear. “I’m afraid you’ll have to speak up, devil boy! I can’t hear you through all that grrrowling you’re doing!”
Dante’s slowly swaying head suddenly snapped up and he glared at Jester, their faces only separated by the impressive length of Jester’s white nose. “Don’t you ever shut up???” Dante roared, before shooting a hand out and grabbing the long appendage.
“Hey!!! Don’t touch the nose!” Jester cried out as he threw his head back to escape Dante’s grip, but to no avail. Already Dante had caught a fistful of his black shirt and yanked him down to the ground, knocking the wind out of him as he slammed him down into the hard metallic floor.
Wasting no time, the half-devil grabbed one of his legs, his long nails piercing the skin through the black cloth, and dragged him closer before turning him over on his stomach. Before Jester was finally able to catch a breath again, he was pinned under Dante’s heavy body.
This wasn’t good. He could feel the power coursing through Dante even though he wasn’t in devil form. He tried to wriggle free, the little skulls on his hat thumping on the floor as he did, but even just that small noise only infuriated Dante further.
Grabbing him by his nape, Dante squeezed until Jester stopped moving. After a few seconds, he ripped Jester’s black suit with his long claws, leaving long bloody marks in the supple white flesh of Jester’s lower back and thighs. Jester renewed his struggles with even more energy. Unfazed, Dante simply squeezed harder while he spread Jester’s knees with his own, digging his claws in the devil’s neck. Jester could only cough and let out small strangled cries.
Satisfied that the obnoxious voice was finally reduced to silence, or close, Dante grinned, eyes flashing red, and undid the fly of his brown pants with one hand with relative ease before taking his painfully hard cock out and burying himself deep inside Jester. The buffoon let out a muffled cry, but Dante didn’t hear it. Nothing existed for him in this moment other than his body’s need for a warm hole to fuck, and Jester’s body deliciously hot and tight around him, squeezing him hard. Holding on to Jester’s throat and grabbing his hip for leverage, he slowly pulled back, smiling at the voiceless gasp that escaped Jester’s painted lips, then rammed back into him.
Trapped, Jester had no choice but to grit his teeth and bear the insane with lust half-devil’s assault. He could have escaped a Dante weakened by incessant battles—and Dante had done nothing but fight all the way from Beowulf’s little chapel/torture chamber to here—but that thrice damned haywire generator had held him in devil form so long that even though Dante’s exhausted body had reverted back to his human form, the devil was still there, still in control, and still strong enough to hold him down and tear him to ribbons if he so desired. And there was no reasoning with that side of Dante.
Fortunately for him, very soon, it was over. Dante was much too aroused to last very long and came with a devilish roar after a mere few deep thrusts, grating Jester’s face against the floor with only last, powerful shove, skinning half of his face and a good part of his nose as he filled him to the brim with his seed. Jester cringed as the devil pulled out of him a few short moments later, tucked himself back in, smoothed his hair a bit and left to continue on his merry devil-killing way without as much as a second glance to the heap on the floor that was Jester.
In a sense, it was better this way.
It took Jester almost half an hour before he gathered the strength to slowly sit up, the wounds on his behind already fading, but Dante’s essence still trickling out of him. He grabbed his sceptre and growled as he repaired his suit with a thought and a shake of the gilded baton. Fucking ungrateful half-breed. See if he would help him next time!
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