apricot glaze

The stars were hidden, moonlight dim as it tried to break past the clouds that blanketed the sky.

Vergil hummed as his hand mapped the skin of the boy’s exposed thighs. The flesh quivered at the feather-light touches, squirming in his lap. He squeezed the boy’s waist, effectively quieting him, hand continuing in its exploration. He pressed the tips of his nails in, feeling the boy jump when skin broke. He moved to see blood welling within the crescents, marking the canvas of skin. His teeth ached, heart racing as he pictured his nails at their full potential, tearing into the supple flesh, spreading beautiful, glorious red all across.

The boy squirmed once more, and he squashed down the urges, hand moving to toy at the hem of the boy’s shorts. The material was coarse, shoddy in design, nothing like the quality he had known growing up.

Slowly, his fingers shifted the fabric, ruffling the material as he exposed more of the boy’s thighs to the world.

The boy tilted his head back, and Vergil moved forward, nosing along the ridges of the arched neck, closing his eyes, and inhaling deeply.

He had been playing in the forest again, the scent of flowers still clinging onto his smug form. The boy tilted his head, grinning widely, sharp teeth practically gleaming as the wind tousled pale, silvery hair.

The boy swallowed, Vergil’s eyelashes caressing his skin as the man frowned.

So close, yet still so far. How frustrating cheap imitations were.

“Ver—” A hand found its home around the boy’s neck, cutting off his words with a choked gasp, fitting him like a collar. Vergil pulled back, towering over the small boy’s gasping form, his hands shaking as they clung onto his new leash.

Wrong smell. Wrong eyes. Wrong boy.

“Sora,” he said calmly, easing his grip, Sora greedily gulping in air. Vergil glanced him over properly, taking note of the sweat that had seeped through the shirt, the green strokes of grass brushed here and there, staining the third-rate material. Damp bangs clung to Sora’s forehead, watery blue eyes watching him carefully, waiting for his next move.

Just like him.  Just like him.

Sweetly, Vergil brushed back the sweaty bangs, Sora’s pupils dilating. A laugh fell from his lips.

Foolish child. So easy to read.

He placed a chaste kiss on Sora’s forehead, feeling the boy swallow in his hand.

Wrong smell. Wrong taste. Wrong imitation.

“Open your mouth.”

Sora took a second too long, and he squeezed, the boy’s mouth falling open with a pained gasp. He smiled, nothing short of mocking as his thumb brushed the corner of Sora’s mouth.

“Good boy.”

He could see the stars dancing in those eyes, Sora’s consciousness phasing in and out, body shaking as it tried to make what little air it had left last. He eased his grip, pressing his mouth to Sora’s flushed cheek.

“Just like that,” Vergil hummed, teeth aching as the demon within him cried to tear the boy to pieces and consume him. It was searching for a substitute to his missing half, but this wasn’t the one. “Good boy.”

Their lips slotted awkwardly together, a parody of romance that would have had him laughing in any other case. Vergil’s tongue easily filled Sora’s mouth, the boy trying his best to accommodate him.

Sora’s throat hummed in his hand, the boy attempting to speak. Drops fell onto Vergil’s skin as saliva dripped down Sora’s chin, and he pressed harder into the kiss, Sora’s hands moving to grip the collar of his coat and drag him in deeper, mimicking him.

They used to be in sync like that too.

A thread of saliva trailed between them as he pulled back, lapping at the corners of Sora’s mouth, the boy breathing rapidly, replacing the air in his system while he could.

Vergil could feel his heart hammering from deep within his chest, and for a foolish moment, he wondered if the organ would beat right out, tearing its way from his rib cage and out through the scar that marred his front.

He removed the collar and cupped Sora’s cheek.

“That’s a good boy,” the blood pounded loudly in his ears as he planted a kiss on each of Sora’s eyelids, the boy’s long lashes caressing his chin as if returning the favor. “Just like always.”

Just like Dante.

He brought their lips together once more—

—and blood blossomed in his mouth.

Vergil pulled back, tongue aching, a thin trail of red inching down his chin.

Sora’s eyes were brilliant, shining with the light of a thousand stars as he placed a shaky palm against his chest, Vergil’s heart beating louder and louder at the glare directed up at him.

Just. Like. Him.

He huffed, gripping Sora’s chin and towering over the small frame once more, blue light sparking from his hands. “Right,” he said, scales coating his arms, teeth aching with desire. “You’re just the fake.”

He made sure to shove his tongue in as far as possible, Sora’s throat spasming as it tried to fit him. Sora’s eyelids flickered, the brilliance in his eyes fading as Vergil effectively dominated all his senses. But the boy was stubborn, clinging on with nothing more than a sliver of a wish and crumbling pride.

Sora’s teeth scraped against his tongue, and Vergil groaned, his canines puncturing the boy’s bottom lip. Their blood mingled, spilling down Sora’s chin with the saliva from before as he continued to press into the kiss with fever.

“C’mon, Vergil,” a playful tilt of the head, an even more taunting wink.

Sora’s hands grabbed hold of his, trembling.

He’d never admit it aloud, but the smile that tugged at his brother’s lips was something he always imagined heaven crafted itself. His brother opened his mouth, calling out to him ever so sweetly.

The hallway found itself bathed in blue light, Vergil’s vision blurring as he pressed harder and harder against Sora, crushing the boy against his body, their hearts so close, yet still so very, very far. He could feel the heart in front of him beating rapidly as if about to give out, and he snarled, licking the back of the boy’s throat.

“Let’s—”

The pressure in the hallway continued to build, the window frame rattling as his scales ripped toward the surface. Sora struggled in his grip, desperately hanging on as he drank him in. Blood ran hot through their veins, pooling in their mouths as the world around them faded, the two huddled together in their makeshift sanctuary.

He could continue to pretend, continue to imagine that the boy in his arms wore a different face and owned a different heart. He could finally, finally learn how to cast off his desires and—

“—play!”

The window shattered, glass spraying and dancing before settling on the floor.

Vergil let go of Sora with a gasp, chest heaving as the boy collapsed against his chest. He blinked, turning toward the empty, broken frame, shards of glass glittering on the carpet.

The blue had faded, Sora’s heart beating softly against him.

Carefully, Vergil readjusted Sora on his lap, the boy’s thighs quivering from the night wind. Vergil wrapped his coat around him, Sora huddling close, hands pressed over his heart as if to guard it. Absentmindedly, he began to run his hands through Sora’s hair, dreaming of a world where soft strands would reflect pale moonlight once more.

“...foolish child.”

Sora laughed quietly against his chest, the front of Vergil’s shirt growing damp.

“Yeah,” the boy pressed his face closer to his heart as if the small act would make a difference. “I know.”

Moonlight trickled in, finally having made its way past the clouds. Sora’s breathing evened out as he listened to the lullaby of Vergil’s heart, no doubt wondering of a different world.

Vergil leaned his head back against the wall, resting his hand on the small of Sora’s back, staring up toward the hidden stars, and wondered the same.