Categories > Games > Devil May Cry

The Devil & The Lady

by warjournalist

What happens between Dante & Lady immediately after the events of DMC3. Soft-petaled but NC-17 for the sheer volume.

Category: Devil May Cry - Rating: NC-17 - Genres: Erotica - Characters: Dante,Lady - Warnings: [!!] [X] - Published: 2010-02-05 - Updated: 2010-02-05 - 2183 words - Complete

The Devil and The Lady

He leaped and she turned. He struck and she parried. He slashed and she fired. The flaming projectiles of her bazooka filled the air with smoke, as did the constant billowing of gray from his pistols. They were in a heated battle for their lives. Dante and Lady were not fighting each other, but an ever-regenerating horde of demons. Lesser demons; common underworld swine. Each blast and slash filled the air with dust as the beasts were destroyed one by one.

The two had met each other barely a day ago, yet they felt united in their cause. He a prince of darkness; the immortal son of a demon. She, the nameless daughter of a priestess with an iron resolve to destroy demons. She knew she wanted to kill them all… except one. Her distaste for him had slowly melted away, just as the ice had from her heart. He was reckless, cocky, flirtatious, and handsome. He knew it, and he relished it. He had hated his father, fought with his brother, and his mother was dead. He was the son of a legendary demon who had saved the human race. They were more fun than the denizens of hell, but that was an easy task. He didn’t see them as all that special… except one.

They were both experienced hunters, which is why they pondered these thoughts in the heat of the seemingly endless battle. Scythes clashed with blade, and bullets with dry demon flesh. Monstrous cries and muzzle blasts echoed down the empty streets, canceling out any other sound that could have been made .

Then suddenly, they stopped coming. He cut and she fired, and they were gone. The battle had been so intense, and yet so short. They were sweaty and tired. He looked upon the ruins of his new business and home, and walked to it reluctantly. The roof had caved in, and most of the right side hung open like a fresh wound.

They heard each others tired, labored breathing but did not speak. They both knew the only thing they could say was “good job,” and that seemed insufficient. They had not been the friendliest to one another. Smoke and dust filled the air, but was slowly clearing as the mid-day sun crept down from its perch to afternoon. Empty shells and magazines littered the ground, and all the demon blood was quickly evaporating.

He gestured inside, between the fallen doors. She followed with reluctance & tired curiosity. To his surprise, the bathroom and bedroom were still intact, if a bit drafty. They both leaned against the barely-standing walls that had made up the door frame. She looked into his eyes; cold blue; filled with life. He looked into hers; brown and green; full of wanting. By now their silence wasn’t kept by the lack of words, but rather neither of them wanted to break the calm after the storm, nor that of the new one approaching. She removed her belt & exhausted weapons, letting them fall to the floor. He removed his holster and stabbed his blade into the cracked stone wall.

They stared hard, and leaped at each other. Not with fury or anger, but with passion. Wild, satisfying passion. Their lips tore at each other, each seeking sweet nectar. She pushed his loose coat off of his broad and chiseled frame. He tore the shirt from her fine, but strong figure. Both their torsos warmed each other, and seemed to fuse and become one. As they tore, savagely but gently, at each other, they moved toward the bedroom. Like a lustful dance they spun as they approached the disheveled mattress, neither daring to open their eyes and ruin the moment. They removed each others’ gloves as their hands explored and embraced each other.

His back collided with a wall dividing the bedroom from the living room/office/foyer. The red shag carpet of the spacious, dark bedroom was warmer and more inviting than the cold wood of the foyer. Pain didn’t exist in the state of blind passion he shared with her. She pushed away from him and fell back onto the cushy bed; the inviting covers allowing her to meld with them. Despite the cool draftiness of the slightly destroyed building, she was ablaze in her cheeks and her soul. Her pale but shapely legs lay off of the end of the bed, blindly beckoning him. He approached slowly, kneeling down between them. He quickly unlaced her knee-length boots, letting his lips feast on the delicate flesh hidden within. Had his icy blue eyes been open, they would’ve been bright red with a passion he had never felt, even through his history of womanizing.

She released a delighted moan as he kissed & licked her feet, then her legs, knees, thighs; slowly closing in on her swelling gates. She ran her fingers through his soft, snow-white hair. He tore away her restrictive garment, and entered her gates. Her scream of pleasure could be heard throughout the neighborhood, were there anyone left to hear it. She bit her lips as his ran free, roaming her Eden unrestrained. His left hand caressed her outer thigh. She felt her chest heave against it’s black lace prison as her breathing became difficult and erratic. She struggled with the lock in the back before tearing it open at the front. His right hand roamed her exposed torso. What he had seen as hills had become mountains, which he scaled with his fingers and palm. Her hands traveled between embracing his hair, her own landscape, and his hands. His right hand rested and constricted on her breast, and felt her heartbeat. Its violent rhythm drove him wild. His skin against hers felt like a warm fire burning with passion and love. She shook with pleasure as his tour of her garden came to a close.

He had grown since the start of this venture, and she longed for her innocent soul to be purged. She used her feet, knees, and thighs to remove his lower garments, the clasp bursting open and giving way to their wanting. He moved himself upon her and allowed his lips and tongue to conquer her mounts; circling, and sucking slightly. He enveloped them in his mouth and bit the rosy tips ever so delicately, inspiring another moan from deep within her chest. His state of high refused him the recognition that he now lay in the soft covers, and she above him. He felt the warmth of her body heat and the cool wetness of her sweat on the blanket. She found and released his solid, taut tower from its prison. Her virginity wept as she gave him entrance, rose to the sky, and fell again, and again, and again. He grunted softly as her efforts reaped fervent results. The bed shook with their actions, as though the Temen-ni-gru were rising beneath the homestead. Her angelic form and his demon structure slowly became one again and again, until her voice rang out once more, his resistance dissolved, and their rivers of love converged in a spectacular explosion.

He knew he could not sire, and had used the fact to his advantage many times, but now saw it as a curse. Her heavens met his earth as she fell atop him. Their synchronized heartbeats like earthquakes. He wrapped his left arm around her, while his right climbed her ridge leading to her glorious garden of hair. They each took in the others' sweet scents, drowning in the thick aroma of their lustful actions. Their breathing matched in intensity, and each treasured the heat of their breath on each other. Their sweat glued them together as their toned torsos felt glorious against each other. Their love had sparked greater heat than that of the deepest pits of hell. They lay against each other for barely a moment, before he rose from the inviting blanket, lifting her with him. Her flimsy and now drenched skirt fell away. He blindly fell/charged into the wall that had begun this session. She like him felt no pain in her elated state. His undergarments clung to his sweaty knees. Her legs wrapped around his waist as he forced her against the wall again and again, each impact drawing shallow breaths from her.

He kicked the air and sent his boot sailing across the room to destroy a large vase, but their passion had deafened and numbed them to all but each other. His other boot flew less forcefully to rest against a wall, followed by the remainder of his garments. Her hands roamed and massaged his chest, stopping to sample each strong muscle. He pulled her away from the wall and began backing up toward the bathroom. She was almost distraught with passion and could not stop the hot tears from pouring down her face. Still, neither opened their eyes. She allowed her lips to savage his once again. Her legs remained strong around his waist like a chastity belt, while her arms roamed his strong, sweaty, sculpted back.

She felt him moving backwards through a doorway. He felt his feet touch the edge of the tub, and stepped inside it. She grabbed for the curtains to pull them closed, but when they refused, he tore them down with a flick of his arm. They were still locked in a lovers embrace, and when he bent backward to reach the handles for the water, she moaned again. He turned one while grasping her breast, and she turned the other handle while scratching his shoulder. He heard the water heater kick on, but no water flowed from above. He moved forward and pushed her back against the wall opposite the handles, turned them around, and slammed his fist against the tile wall. The warm water and its sound that had sprang forth from his action made no difference to the pair, as they drifted off together into another duel of fiery passion.

She dragged her fingernails across his skin making him bleed. He healed instantly, leaving his blood sliding down his arm, and her hand. She put the bloodied finger into her mouth and sucked slowly and delicately removing every bit of it. She forced his back into the wall opposite the warm rain, where a towel rack hung above their heads. She forced him flat against the wall beneath it. She reached up and grabbed the towel rack above them with both hands. She began lowering herself upon his enduring tower continuously. Her arms and legs soon became sore from the repetitive motion, but she didn’t care. He eventually found her rhythm and began thrusting in time with her advances. They both moaned, almost faintly enough to be masked by the shower.

He felt things getting dry, despite the water. He reached over her arm and retrieved a bottle of body wash from the window counter. He opened the cap and poured the viscous liquid down between their scraping bodies. He poured some in his hand and brought it down where they met. He rubbed slowly but roughly at their berth. She almost released another scream, but restrained herself with much difficulty. Her leg muscles spasmed as she again allowed her flood gates to flow freely.

He took the opportunity for dominance by using his hands to lift her soft rear and slam it against the opposite wall below the showerhead, injecting her with himself as he did so. He forcibly removed her and turned her back to him, her long legs now firmly placed on the ground. Her beauteous face and breasts pushed against the wall. The cold tile made her mountaintops only stronger. His re-entry shook her painfully but sensually against the tile. She reached her right hand behind her back, and embraced his outstretched right hand. Her left hand rubbed both her mountain range and her bulging gates. He thrust again and again like a group of invaders seeking entrance to a palace, each time allowing his strong toned stomach to reach the small of her back.

As he slowed and stopped his advances, she relaxed and went slightly limp. He relaxed and sat down below her, kissing down her smooth back and legs as he went. As she followed him down, she flicked the switch beneath the faucet to stop the water’s escape down the drain. The two laid themselves against each other in the water. They kept their heads above the water, sitting peacefully on the rolled up comfort towel placed opposite the faucet for just this position. They embraced and kissed one another, too tired for another escapade. They let the warm rain and the rising flood relax their muscles.

For the first time for both of them, they didn’t feel restless. They wanted to sleep. They awaited the sands of rest, curled against their lover. Neither caring who or what came their way in the future. Just knowing they wanted to face it together let them finally drift off to a peaceful slumber.
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