Chapter Text
You woke up late at night with the feeling that someone entered your room.
Just over an hour ago you were desperately tossing and turning between blanket and sheets in attempt to fall asleep. Now, an extremely presumptuous person has decided to just wander around your bedroom while you were dreaming peacefully, thereby waking you up. Part of you worried it could possibly be anybody: even a stranger, who slipped into the office past two demonic brothers… However, you were aware they are always ready for any kind of intervention. They were also at home today so this scenario was unlikely. At least you saw them both before you returned to your room (although Dante suggested all of you three go to the bar, you refused right away and Vergil, apparently didn't really feeling need to drop his reading, had same answer as yours; that's why the question was closed pretty quickly).
Well, whoever your mysterious guest was, he's in a big trouble. In any of the situations possible, you were ready to defend your place and, if necessary, yourself too.
Raising your eyelids to look around the dark room, right in front of your eyes you saw a familiar combination of dark fabrics. In your head, there was an instant idea of whose figure was standing over your bed. Quick look at the katana, the light laced handle of which could be seen from behind the side of the person’s coat, has brought your mind to unambiguous conclusion of their identity.
Is that really was Vergil? He was someone you didn't expect to see at such a late hour on your doorstep (or already beyond it, given the circumstances); the eldest son of Sparda, who always respected personal space and followed the principles of non-interference with someone else's free time.
But now he was here.
Unlike Dante, who could constantly distract you for any reason when he was insanely bored, Vergil would never bother you over trifles. More so, never just appeared within your place without a word. You even thought he had some kind of a taboo on this matter because he hadn't even been inside this room since Dante let you stay in it. More than half a year has passed since then.
So, you couldn't understand one thing: what the hell did he forget here at two in the morning?
You didn't have the courage to address this question directly to him, of course. Standing up on your elbows and arching your eyebrows sternly, you just stared up at him. He was acting… strange. It looked like before you woke up Vergil was watching you sleep, as if his steely eyes were unconsciously drowning in the sight of your figure, part of which was visible from under blanket that had slid to one side. The fact he didn't stop after your wakening made you a bit nervous. Only when you pulled the blanket up in such way that almost all of your body was covered, his usual cold gaze rushed to your face. After establishing direct eye contact, he also did not consider it necessary to begin to explain. You both just stared at each other for a while, until your patience ran out.
"Something happened?"
You might had been still dreaming, but when you spoke his gaze softened a bit.
Without saying a word, the first thing he did was carefully placing Yamato against the back of the nearby chair. Then he sluggishly took off his black coat and hung it there. You saw his bare arms for the first time.
Well, by this time, his game of silence was beginning to creep you. Why was he undressing?
Removing slightly shabby gloves from his hands, Vergil turned around and flopped awkwardly on the edge of the bed near your feet to undo the straps on his boots. You were still exasperated, but it honestly was so much fun to watch him ‘suffer’... Probably because it really looked and felt like suffering: his hands didn't want to obey him properly so he was getting through the task badly. For this, you suppoused, you didn't even mind enduring his silence a little longer. To your pity, he was surprisingly quick to realize the futility of his efforts (or he just felt how you were playing a thousand and one jokes in your head why Sparda's power, by mischance, did not help him cope with this problem at that very moment) and simply gave up.
Alas, it all didn't end there and then. When you realized that instead of continuing to entertain you he began to climb onto your bed, you almost squealed. With wide eyes you watched as a muscular male figure leaned on his hands and knees to crawl closer to you along your legs. You tried to put your hands in front of you to stop, to push him away, but this was not effective. He was stronger than you were. Bigger too. With a quiet indistinct murmur of an apologetic gentle touch he placed a palm on your forearm, trying to caress you.
Many different emoutional words were running through your head without transforming into speech, albeit you wanted to scream and prevent anything that he could potentially do to you. It was Vergil, after all. You knew him well. He was so not 'force you to have sex' or 'hurt you' type to begin with. But this was still absolutely not normal.
What could happen to this severe, collected man in a couple of hours that now he was trying to get you under him?..
You wouldn't even dare to think of it. But the answer to this unasked question didn't take long anyways: as soon as he got close enough, you noticed that he smelled not only of a pleasant mint cologne but of strong alcohol too.
It looks like Dante managed to drag his brother into the bar, after all.
Now you were in a complete stupor, because until this moment you couldn't imagine Vergil drunk. Especially, thus drunk. You heard the story from Trish that Dante once reached such a drunken state that he offered his hand and heart to a mop, but… Okay, this is pretty fun and sad at the same time, actually.
Though it's one thing to hit on a mop, and different thing to start harassing a real person.
When Vergil finally stopped, you were able to look him in the face again. Not that you was mentally prepared for this though. He was still quiet. It felt like there wasn't as much sobriety left in those deep gray eyes as usual… How ironic. Again, all of this was not so as usual. Trapped beneath his strong and, judjing by his hands, also muscled body, you almost forgot how to breath. Almost. Barely even touching you with his body, he quite succeeded in squeezing you right into the mattress with a single glance: tense and attentive, piercing through you.
Isn't Vergil realizing now that he pinned you to your own bed?
Doesn’t he realize, that if he pulls blanket aside, you will appear in front of him in a nightgown only?..
Oh-h…
…But, uh, who said he should really do it?
Anyway, you just want to believe that you don't have an idea what to expect from him now.
As you had already guessed, his indelicate behavior was provoked mainly by alcohol. However, you were still wondering what, in his condition, could bring him to you. It was improbable that he suddenly decided to take advantage of your vulnerable state to indulge his… instincts, as you had also mentioned. At least, if he would start to put his hands on you, there was always an option to punch him well. You was ready. Looking at his face (now much more relaxed than ever before in his life, you think), you start feeling carried away with the idea of assault on his face more and more. Your thin fingers were still on his shoulders, gripping the fabric of the dark blue vest tightly.
So what was it then?
What if Vergil was drunk enough to allow himself going against his own principles in order to be in your room now, with you?
It seemed like you would find out the truth very soon.
Meanwhile, half-demon was watching you intently, absorbing every reflection of thoughts on your face. He suddenly began to doubt. To share your worry. What if he was doing something bad, but just too thoughtless to realize it?
Not noticing how his body leaned forward by itself, he began to draw closer to you again. It seemed that he was attracted by your lips, as if to a magnet. With every second that passed, the distance between his face and yours shortened. However, still not fast enough for you to react.
You flinched. Stretching your arms between you and him, you tried to push him away in chest again, grip thouse bare hands and kick him with knees but the effect was miserably small. He didn't seem to feel it at all. Then, in panic, you squeezed out a desperate, strained "no", grabbed him tightly by chin and cheeks with your fingers to just hold him in place. And he, finally realizing that there was something wrong with his pressure, ceased the action.
Under the pads of your fingers, skin of his cheeks burned. His steely gaze, so languid and slightly bewildered, slowly floated along the lines of your face, your lips especially, while you were counting the seconds before you punch him. At the same time you couldn’t help another, extremely ambivalent train of thoughts.
You just imagined running your fingers through his gray hair. How you would pull him even closer to you. How your lips would intertwine with his in a gentle, long kiss. How his tongue would probe your mouth, and you would moan your pleasure aloud…
It was only when his gaze returned to yours, did the train of these improper thoughts stop by crashing into his eyes hard.
On the other hand, Vergil seemed to be ready for anything you wanted to give him, be it a gentle kiss or a punch in the face. Probably, your contradiction within had displayed on your face. Why else he could close his eyes and take a deep breath as if calming himself, you could not imagine. And then there was such a low, meaningful "hmmm" from deep of his throat that chill ran down your spine right after.
You just thought that you had never been so close to this man before. Never sensed his warm breath on your skin…
When his eyes reopened, their steely gaze somehow softened one more time.
"How about you just get off me, and I’ll pretend that none of this happened," you asked with a quiet hope in your voice, continuing to hold his face.
Vergil stayed silent, considering his answer. Oh, how he would like you to accept his refusal without a fight! If only you knew how he felt at this very moment. How all his thoughts — both good and bad, — mixed into one big muddle. If only you knew how lost he could feel, being drawn into a tangle of his own memories, fears and desires. Truth to be told, he simply would not have thought about it before. He would close himself off from everything hostile, and that was it. Now he needed to start fighting it face to face. Why? Well, because he’s afraid to ruin your inner peace, perhaps.
'How can I live in harmony with someone else if I cannot live in harmony with myself?’ he used to repeat to himself. But it never was just about harmony. It was about the interaction between both states: harmony and chaos. Chaos without harmony suppresses his will. And his will… is to be with you. Show his affection to you. Alcohol helped him take the first, albeit radical step. Or ten at once. He wasn't sure.
The grip of your hand was weakening bit by bit. Just as you thought about repeating your question, he gently grabbed your wrist and pressed it to sheets beside your head. After that, ignoring your little rebellion, Vergil laid down, leaning against you. In this position, your chest was flush against his torso. To feel weight of his body pressing you was not an insurmountable discomfort for sure, but this dizzying closeness… His strong natural scent… You could even swore that you felt the same frantic heartbeat in his chest as yours.
The half-demon's face was somewhere near your right shoulder, one of his legs was between your tense thighs, but not on purpose. Now he answered briefly:
“No.”
And, here it comes…
"What do you mean by ‘no’?! I'm not your freaking pillow!" Your fists hammered desperately against his back, as you saw him smile slightly. "Can you hear me?! You! Why the hell are you-"
You felt his closed lips touched your shoulder weightlessly. They were soft, they were hot. Gentle in their movements along your bare skin. You became quiet, almost whole protest was gone. Couple of moments later, his nose was buried into your fluffy hair. Rough hand, accustomed to hold only hard book covers and the hilt of the Yamato, finded your fragile left wrist. Your lips barely parted to argue about that, but no sound escaped past them. His fingers closed around your wrist, just for a split second. Then they relaxed to gently run over the surface of your delicate skin one last time.
You really wanted to say something. Something very important. After that, you would definitely start scolding him. And you would scold him… only if you could.
His breath on your neck haunted you. It mercilessly chilled on inhale and burned on exhale, bringing goosebumps over your skin each time. You wasn't sure you'd mentioned it before, but god, he was so close to you. You were starting to feel besotted with him. His skin, warmed by the burning blood in his veins, was dope. The longer you were with him, the more it seemed to you that it was contagious. A spark was forming under your skin, the one from which you would inflame just like him very-very soon.
Turning away from Vergil, so he would never be able to see the expression on your face at this very moment, you closed your eyes and bit your lip.
There is no point in denying the obvious: most likely you cannot resist him because deep down you do not want to. You don't want to push him away. Although, you still couldn't physically do it.
Lying on your back under Vergil, you slowly got used to the feeling of his body next to yours. Your heartbeat gradually leveled off, although it was exciting for you to even move a little.
But, along with the judgment falling on him, half-demon felt he had to go. It would be the right thing to do after all that you… had to endure from him.
A couple of breaths later, he let go of your wrists. Leaving another weightless touch on your shoulder with his lips and leaning slowly on his elbows, Vergil began to move. Turning your head back to his side, you watched with a lost look as he slowly and awkwardly backed away.
You knew he wanted to leave, and still,
you just couldn't let him make this stupid mistake.
So you didn’t fully understand how, but your arms were already wrapped around his neck, your fingers were buried in his grey hair, and lips with tremble covered his lips repeatedly.
You bet you saw Vergil's eyes widen in shock. But once in your hands, he finally got rid of the tension that fettered him from the inside. Groaning softly into a wet captivity of your mouth, he tilted his head to the side to dig deep into it while his palm gently caressed one of your cheeks. You moaned back, obediently letting him to take over as your hands clutched randomly to his vest.
Meanwhile, the table clock showed a quarter to three. It was still long before dawn, which meant you had some more time left for the two of you before magic of the moment passed.