It haunted just behind him. A ghost that he couldn't see or hear or feel. But it was there, lurking at his senses, whispering words he only half understood, half imagined. A ghost.
He stared into the mirror above his bathroom sink for a long time, eyes trailing over the drops of water as they streamed from the tips of his hair to his collarbone, his chest.
If Vergil were here, he'd look just like this, after a shower. Dante snorted at the thought, smiling at his reflection derisively. He wanted to turn away from the mirror. Didn't want to think of or remember that person, that body, those times. But his eyes traveled his face, his sharp nose. His neck. The slope of his shoulders. The plane of his flat stomach corded with muscles that rippled as he leaned closer to the glass.
With his finger, he traced his reflections' lips, imagined they were Vergil's. he'd always loved Vergil's lips, the shape and size and taste of them, the way they pressed against the shell of his ear when he was sleepy, the way they quirked in amusement. The glass fogged as he let out a harsh breath, his bangs fluttering.
Something inside him stirred and raised it's head at the memories, at the old sensations. A need.
He wanted Vergil. He wanted to press their foreheads together, wanted to feel his heart beat beneath his hand, wanted his breath against his face, wanted to see the way silver grey eyes flashed when they were so close, so warm.
"I'm a fucking idiot." he cursed savagely, fingers following the line of his chest in the mirror.
Vergil would be more slender than him, long and sinewy and pale, like a drawn sword. Dante's lips twisted in a smirk, the need burning inside, fed by the memories, and the cool glass doing little to ease it.
"You make me like this." he told his reflection, lips brushing over the glass as he lifted one knee onto the counter to get closer, studying the chilled surface. What he wouldn't give to feel Vergil's warmth. Hear his reply.
His reflection blinked innocently at him.
He stroked his own hard length slowly and solidly, a sure and teasing touch. Vergil would touch him like this. Wouldn't take things too fast or move too slow or let Dante rock into his fist. It was always just enough to make Dante want. Just enough to torture, make the chains on his demon side rust and crumble, make his fangs sprout, make him moan incoherently.
It was always just enough to make him beg.
"Yeah, you're an ass like that." His reflection smiled, and Dante pants roughly, smirking at the silver eyes in the mirror, bracing himself against the glass. His grip tightened and his back arched and his muscles strained and the tiniest, imperceptible whimper escaped from behind his clenched teeth.
He studied his face, the expression he made with his eyes narrowed, glowing with lust, twisted in pleasure. Vergil would look like this, his lips raising over his fangs in a growl, warning, with such an animalistic passion that Dante always moved faster, harder, wanted to break and be broken, if only to feel that sound rumble in the chest beneath his fingers.
"Vergil." the name rasped through his clenched teeth. He couldn't close his eyes because he wanted to watch his reflection. Watched his own hand jerk back and forth with no finesse, but imagined it was Vergil, touching him the way he did when he was close. And he was close now, so unbearably close.
He came with a short grunt, panting softly as he eased off the counter, glowing with warmth as he washed the evidence of his own depravity, stupidity, away. "You do this to me." he told the mirror with an accusing glare as he exited the bathroom, feeling dirty and wrong and painfully alone, left to eat cold pizza and try to scrub the memory from his mind.
The reflection in the mirror smiled.