Author's Note: Hey guys. Sorry for the long update wait. This semester I'm graduating and I just released my first comic (PLUG TEEHEE: working on the second book now :D YAY check it out info about the first book at artifact dot raythereign dot com) so I've had to really put writing on hold for a while. Things in the story will start to shift, but I'm excited about what direction I want to take it. There were so many things left unexplained in DMC4, but I did a lot of thinking about it, outlining, drafting possible ideas. I hope it's plausible enough for the universe I set up. haha Anyways, once again, thanks for reading!
"How could you possibly let her out of your sight like that?" Credo hissed.
"How was I supposed to know she'd be drinking champagne? She never does that!" Hovering behind the older man, Nero managed a low, heated whisper.
Credo trudged up the stones steps to his home, his sister's feet dangling lifelessly over his arms as he carried her through the threshold. Kyrie lied soundly in them, her cheeks ruddy red. In this state she looked much like a dreaming cherub; his brow rose at the silly grin plastered on her young face.
"Ah, yes, remind me why that was again?" Credo let out a snarky scoff, taking an immediate right to a room adjacent the kitchen. As Credo entered Kyrie's room, Nero followed close behind with a deep frown.
"I mean, she's totally out cold. All we can do for her is leave a bucket by the bedside, and hope she'll come around by morning, right? Works for me."
At that, Credo gave a rather sever glance that had the boy puckering his lips shut.
"When people catch wind of this—and oh they will" Credo groused as he straightened to fix the front of his outfit with a deft tug. "—She'll have much explaining to do."
"Or no one will care. Even she can live a little, right?"
Credo didn't bother answering the youth as he shooed the boy out, closing the door behind him. "Remind me never to designate you as her guardian ever again."
"Not everything is a mission, don't freak out." Nero called out after him.
The commander was already heading rather rapidly in the direction of the loft, wondering to himself if his sister would go down the same path of drinking to excess. Kyrie was a light-weight at best, and why his sister decided today of all days to taste alcohol was beyond him. Was there something she was struggling with that he perhaps didn't know about?
He would probe her thoroughly with questions, hangover or no. He would get to the bottom of this. Their parents would roll in their graves if they knew Kyrie had followed in his footsteps. No doubt they would see him for the disappointment he truly was.
Credo didn't have time to really think on the matter as he heard someone clear his throat adjacent to him, his mind seemingly caught in the spiral of dark clouds collecting within his inner conscience. He finally realized that Nero was standing there, watching him. It was like déjà-vu all over again, much like the time when he first discovered the boy had the gall to ogle him.
Truth be told, he absolutely hated when Nero did that. It reminded him of too much curiosity, and God only knew how many times he'd had to force his eyes elsewhere because of it, reminding himself of what was at stake should he lose his mind.
That ship had clearly sailed a long time ago, along with his sanity.
With his back turned, Credo began to undo the belt that held his rapier in hopes of centering himself.
"You don't need to worry, y'know."
"Worry about what?" Credo paused, squaring his shoulders.
"About Kyrie." The boy said simply, walking past to sit on the divan across the older man. He was watching him intently just as he had at the doorway. A shrill awareness came rushing up Credo's spine at yet another new discovery as their eyes met once more. He wondered how the boy could be so damned perceptive of his emotions. Had he been so transparent?
For once Credo found no words to say, focusing on not focusing instead.
As he systematically began removing his mantle, Nero watched on in silence. He watched the boy relax visibly into the divan, his hands resting casually on spread thighs. And although Credo didn't look at him at that moment he knew Nero was looking at him. No doubt the boy was entertaining brow-raising ideas in that foolish young mind of his, considering what they almost did in the dark hedges of the labyrinth.
Worst of all a part of him seemed infuriatingly curious about it. Credo recalled a time when he was everything but that. I have no time for curiosity, damn it, he thought to himself as he begrudgingly began to unbutton his uniform.
Mid-unbuttoning, he heard a soft sigh and turned to find Nero grinning in his direction.
What is this fool smiling about now? Credo thought defensively.
Had it not been for that he would have missed the way one of Nero's hands meandered from his knee to his inner thigh. He proceeded to stare on as that hand slipped further inward, brushing over the now tenting material of his expensive dress-pants.
Credo's dormant libido found life at the boy's blatant show of sexual interest. His eyes followed the motion of that hand, saw the way he rubbed and caressed himself there. A lewd little whimper escaped him then, and Credo found himself uncomfortably aroused by this. It didn't take him long to realize how easy it was to fall prey to the boy's whims. How undeniably erect he was at the sight of the boy's own resounding erection before him.
He is, he is, his mind supplied venomously, he's going to be your downfall…
Nero was on his feet, standing in front of him only to get on his knees. There were no words of objection he could possibly think of, not with Nero staring up at him like that. The voice in his head could go shove off.
"You promised," He had hardly been able to hear that over the sound of his own heart pounding fast and furious in his chest as nimble hands reached for his trousers. Mortified at his lack of restraint, his hands rested on Nero's shoulders to push him away, but Nero's hands had already made quick work of tugging his trousers down the middle of his thighs.
His shoulders were broad and strong for a boy his age, muscle and sinew connecting together in young, physical perfection as they bunched beneath his kneading fingers. As the boy drew his briefs down to expose his erection, Nero's gasp had drawn Credo from his momentary lapse of thought, wondering what had caused the curious little noise. His cock surged at the hunger he found there in the boy's cerulean eyes.
"My first time doing this, so…" Even from here Credo could see the blush creeping on the boy's cheeks and ears. He vaguely remembered his first time giving head. He hadn't been good at it at all, but thankfully his partner had been much more privy to the art of cock-sucking. The memory faded as fast as it came.
"No teeth and you'll be fine." Credo managed to say, his hand sifting through Nero's soft hair. There was a part of him that took secret satisfaction in tousling those white locks. The boy looked up at him, his gnawing worry dwindling away.
"Easy for you to say… you're no walk in the park." Perhaps referring to his size, Credo smirked at that. He tugged Nero's head back at the nape gently, the boy's eyes falling shut. A soft moan built in his throat.
"I'm sure you're up for the challenge."
At that, Nero didn't hesitate as he took hold of Credo's cock to stroke from base to crown. The older man sighed, fisting his hand into the boy's hair to guide the tip to his mouth. A hot breath ghosted over the head as Nero opened his mouth to take him in. His tongue darted out to lap his slit, the sensation making his hips sway forward for more contact.
"Open your mouth," Credo commanded softly, and Nero obeyed willingly. He pushed inside that soft, hot mouth with a low groan, careful not to choke the boy as he did so. Watching the way his cock slipped past those full, pliant lips did sinful things to his libido, more so than Credo ever wanted to admit. The hand in Nero's hair was suddenly cupping his chin to guide the boy's rhythm, caressing his throat.
"Use your tongue… like that, yes…" Credo breathed as Nero's head bobbed back and forth in a slow cadence. The accidental scrape of teeth against his cock seemed to enflame his desire rather than quell it, finding the boy's inexperience somewhat endearing.
Nero took him halfway and hummed a moan, pulling off to catch his breath. Saliva and pre-cum connected with rosy-pink parted lips, looking up to watch Credo with eyes glazed with lust. In-between all of this, the boy's hand had found his own cock to stroke, catching his lower lip between his teeth as he gave Credo a shifty glance.
He knew what he needed by then, taking hold of Nero's arm to force him to his feet. The boy gasped as Credo spun him around to push against the nearby desk. Nero whimpered into the mahogany surface as his pants came barreling down his slender thighs with no warning. With what little self-control he had left, Credo managed to procure the lube from the drawer.
Slick for penetration, he spread Nero's legs as wide as his ankles could allow in the prison of his pants. Credo's thumbs parted pert globes of flesh to behold the quivering ring of flesh there. He could hear Nero's breath shudder into a staccato as he pressed the bulbous tip of his cock into that soft hole, edging forward in a slow motion. Although he was still tight, it was easier to enter him without much preparation. Nero had begun to touch himself, a stifled whimper escaping the boy as Credo thrust deep.
Nero's sudden cry aloud and the sudden jerk of his body into a standing position alarmed the older man. He stopped dead in his tracks, wondering if he'd hurt the boy, fear taking root.
"Hurts?" The older man huffed in confusion.
"Fuck, I—I uhh… c…ame... s-sorry…" He responded shakily. Credo began to relax at that, leaning forward to kiss the back of Nero's neck.
"Nothing to be ashamed about." Credo whispered, thrusting deep again. The boy moaned his name readily then and the older man took his cue to continue. Nothing seemed to matter anymore except for the sweet sounds of Nero's surrender.
When morning came, Kyrie had awoken as her usual cheery self. How she wasn't hung-over was beyond Credo, but sitting across from his sister now made him ponder back on Nero's words carefully.
Nevertheless, Kyrie was far from 'off the hook'.
"Want to tell me what last night was about?" Credo frowned as Kyrie took a loud, long sip of her usual cup of Earl Grey, her eyes askance. He cleared his throat to grab her attention.
"Nothing! Honestly, you worry too much." Kyrie smiled.
Blast that infernally sweet smile of hers, Credo thought. She was buttering him up, and was perhaps the only person in existence to be successful in doing so. He was impartial to all, or so he felt. But Kyrie's bright smile always disproved his theories from the get-go. He pitied the man who she beguiled with her feminine charm. Perhaps even Sparda himself would have a hard time saying no to a girl as fair as his baby sister.
Credo straightened and prickled at his sister's probing gaze. "What?"
"Nothing, brother." She smiled behind the porcelain cup raised to her glossed lips.
Wondering where she was getting at, Credo began to ask another question as Nero came shuffling in slowly.
"Mornin'…"He yawned, scratching his side in his usual sloth-like fashion. His hair was in total disarray. It was amazing how wild it looked in the mornings. Credo didn't respond right away, something unusual tugging at his gut at the sight of the boy looking so disheveled. He'd been all but gentle last night, but Nero seemed to have enjoyed it. The loft was not sound-proof in the least, but the sounds the boy made had been…
"I see Scrooge McButt here got to you before I did."Kyrie's incessant giggles did very little to calm Credo's irritation at the youth's jibe, crashing back down to reality. Yes, he thought to himself, I have a role to play. Credo gave a stern look in Nero's direction, further irritated by the small chortle that escaped the youth.
"I expect you to explain yourself when I return, Kyrie. This isn't far from over." Credo stood slowly, reaching for the folder nearby. The contents held within would determine his physical health. The test Sanctus ordered him to do would be soon. Credo didn't want to think about it, and he most certainly didn't want to alarm his sister about the risks. They were much better not knowing, Credo had decided.
He touched Kyrie's head in passing, stroking her coiffed hair, running a hand gently down her ponytail as he headed towards the doorway that led to the front door. "Be good. Make sure Nero doesn't get into trouble." He muttered.
"Hey, I'm right here!" Nero called out in mock indignation, stopping at the doorway. "What, I don't get a goodbye?"
Credo stood in the hallway, his back to the youth. If there was anyone who didn't need to know the most, it was Nero. The unfamiliar feeling in his gut roiled again at the innocence held in that voice. He wondered if the boy would cry over him when he was gone.
Credo lifted his chin high, finally turning to regard the teen. "Goodbye, Nero."He had managed to say, touching the boy's head gently. Nero seemed perplexed by the action, having never really received any sort of contact from the older man. He awkwardly accepted the pat, a little blush creeping on his boyish features.
When Credo left, a sadness he thought he'd never know sank deep in his gut. He had spent his life running away from everything but the Order of the Rose. The irony of the damage he'd endured under Sanctus' rule was outstanding. But he was still a military man first. His emotions would never be as important as the job he was ordered to do. Had he been detached from his emotions all these years? Perhaps he had been… until Nero.
However, Sanctus' orders were absolute. There would be no turning back now. He would at least be remembered, and that to the commander, was good enough for him. He had even written a will.
There was a vehicle already waiting for him outside the cobble stoned street before his home. Credo gave a look of surprise that faded as quickly as it came at the sight of Agnus coming out to greet him.
"What are you doing here?" Credo asked rather rudely.
"Sanctus sent me personally to get you. I had to make sure you wouldn't lose your gall and back out." Agnus seemed rather giddy about the idea of Credo reneging on Sanctus' orders. His blood boiled at the thought. Suddenly punching Agnus in the face to hear him squeal like the filthy pig he was sounded much better than speaking another word. Credo squeezed the folder in his hand instead, regarding the bigger man with cold eyes.
"Ah, is this it?" Agnus pointed at the folder, and Credo handed it to him before stepping into the car, slamming the door behind him. The last face he didn't want to see was the rat bastard sitting beside him.
"Don't worry, my child. Sparda has already chosen…" The words Sanctus had told him that day echoed in the back of his mind as the car began to move. The old fox had his usual cryptic way with words. And quite frankly Credo didn't believe at all in miracles. But today, of all days, he wanted to try.