Sparing with a Sparda, Part 2
Thank you for waiting - please enjoy part 2!
Ever since his wager, you had found yourself more determined to train to the fullest. If he wanted to play hard to get, you were down to play ball. You took a break from training, not just to recover from the new set of bruises you sported, but because you needed to look for another teacher. Vergil was out on a high paying mission - one he refused to share any details about with you, but Morrison assured that the job’s pay should help keep the lights on for a little while. Dante was finally back from a mission, and after his designated day of rest, which included nothing but sleep and pizza, you approached him.
“How’s our little receptionist?” he cheerfully asked, and you gave him a smile.
“I’m good - thanks to that mission of yours, we can keep the power on for,” you checked your wrist for the imaginary watch, “the rest of the month.”
“Boo-yah!” Dante did a fist pump.
“Dante…it’s a week until the end of April.”
He winced, then shrugged.
“Nothing our incredible receptionist can't handle right?” he walked past and nudged your side with his elbow, causing you to visibly wince. He held his hands out.
“Woah! Sorry,” he laughed, “I forget my own strength.”
“No no, it's okay - I'm just sore from training,” you placed your hand on the side and took a deep breath in and out. It still felt good, but this wasn’t Vergil doing it. “Actually, about that...”
It didn’t take much convincing to get Dante on board with training you. In fact, to help keep the lights on for all of May, you exchanged your “salary” (if you could call it that), for the month in exchange for training lessons with Dante. He spiced up his offer by providing quips and tricks, to help "get under Vergil’s skin."
—
Training with Dante was much, much more casual than with Vergil. He was late to his own class the first few rounds. But after seeing how determined you were to truly learn something - and seeing that Vergil had taught you a thing or two, already - he began to take the lessons more seriously. But, you didn’t find yourself swinging your sword so much as learning “smartass” tactics.
“He hates showy shit like this,” Dante would goad, before doing a backflip and landing into the perfect split as a dodge. You could now understand Vergil’s annoyance with his brother in that way, with Dante seemingly treating these sessions more like dance classes, with how many moves he whipped out. But you realized…he was getting under your skin. Not only getting under your skin, but right when you stopped taking him seriously and went in to land a blow, he suddenly parried, and knocked you flat onto your ass. It took a while for it to click, with some stubbornness to hit Dante at least once, but you realized Dante’s tactics weren't catered for a direct confrontation. It was a distraction. And as the days went on, and you learned more basic techniques from Dante - ranging from armed strikes, to punches, and lots of dodging - you thought of one or two ways to create your own distractions, for Vergil.
The night before Vergil was supposed to return, you examined your body in front of the mirror. The bruises he landed on you, tragically, were gone. And while Dante didn’t shy away from landing a good blow or two, he purposefully tempered his attacks, so the hit wouldn’t hurt in the long run. You turned to the side and pushed your waistband down your hip, and right there was a straight-lined bruise - not intense enough to cause alarm to those who'd see it, but enough to notice.
And an idea clicked in your head.
—
The day had been going normally - with you at the front desk, examining new work requests that came in. You parsed out the requests that were clearly unrelated to any kind of demonic activity, and then noted cases to send to Morrison. It was one of the methods you proposed to help keep the lights on; one that helped increase the number of cases you were able to take on, because it didn’t take people having to call Dante specifically about a demon problem, but one that took multiple leads sent in by concerned people. Given it was Monday, there were a few cases to look through - one about a leaky faucet the homeowner swore was leaking blood (it was clearly rust), and another concerning a missing woman, who began acting strangely (possible demonic influence, you put that one aside for Morrison). People were also…elloquent in their requests, recently. Some people added five-page stories about their lives in their requests for help. It wasn’t that you minded the length of these, the more information to dissect the better, but sometimes people would add completely irrelevant information.
Like adding on a story about how an estranged relative leaked a family pie recipe that had been handed down for generations; how this violated the honor and sanctity of the family’s heritage and sacred cooking skills…and then it mentioned that the actual problem was that their dog had found a weird bone in their backyard and the police dismissed it. Why the pie story?
By lunch your mind was swimming with useless anecdotes about pies, family drama, and pictures that were too blurry to comprehend. That was your reasoning for why the next event occurred. On your way to the kitchen, you spotted Dante looking out the nearby window. The outside lights shone in a way where his figure was a perfect silhouette - his trademark hair flipping out at the sides, and his non-challant stance. You felt a grin grow across your face as you approached him from behind - being sneaky to surprise him with your attack - an attack he often employed during training.
Your hand raised back, and then swiftly directed itself onto its target with full force. A resounding and satisfying smack reverberated through the room, causing Dante to recoil from the sudden slap on his ass. You let out a goofy laugh and shouted, “Gotcha!” Your smile stayed plastered on your face as you continued on your way to the fridge for a drink. But there was no uproar, or bellowing laughter. It was…silent. Weirdly silent. Usually Dante had a quip back by now - a cocky catchphrase, or maybe he was planning a retaliation sneak attack. After finding your sought after soda, you turned to leave the way you came, pulling on the tab and opening the can with a satisfying crack. You brought the soda to your lips, ready to take a sip, and lifted your eyes to find Dante still standing there, stock still at the window. And as your eyes wandered further around the room, you then saw…also Dante...standing at the kitchen doorway.
Wait.
You looked back and forth between the two - your brain refusing to process what had just happened. But it happened, and with doorway Dante’s guffaw now filling the silence, you realized the man standing in front of the window was-
“Aww, Verg!” Dante barked, “she got you good!” He said, almost doubling over from how hard he was laughing, and you felt the blood rush to your face as you realized the sheer magnitude of your mistake. Your smackee turned to regard the both of you, a hand coming up to comb through his slightly-damp hair, pushing it back to achieve his classic style. His face read…well, it read “Vergil.” His usual calm, collected, unamused face as he ignored his brother, and regarded you, his arms now crossed across his broad chest.
“That’s the “welcome back” I get from our receptionist?” Was that…a joke? Humor? His deadpan face didn’t give you any hints, and your brain turned into mush as you tried to think of a response. The first thing to come to mind was how good he looked. He didn’t have a sheen of sweat on him, just the glow of a fresh shower. His clothes, though casual with just a shirt and pants, lay refined to his figure. He smelled faintly of shampoo. You probably looked dumb, standing there with your soda half-raised to your lips, your jaw hanging slack, and you were probably as red as the can you held.
Thankfully (or not) Dante's laughter settled down, and he staggered over to you. Before you could protest, he grabbed your soda, setting it aside on the kitchen counter so he could stoop low, and hoisted you over his shoulder like a sack of flour, presenting your ass to the room for all to see. You yelped, the absurdity of it all finally pulling a fit of laughter from you.
“C'mere, Verg! I got her!” Dante directed towards his twin., “It’s all in good fun - get a revenge smack! Right here!” For emphasis, Dante pulled his own hand back and slapped your ass as well, making you yelp. You couldn’t see Vergil’s face, but the lack of response made one thing clear; he was not pleased.. Sure, he still had qualms about his brother - but they could still banter and bicker, all in good fun. Instead, you heard a “hmph,” and footsteps receding. Your view of the floor spun as Dante adjusted you, trying to keep you in Vergil’s line of sight. But the steps continued to the kitchen entrance,, and out of the room. It hurt your heart, if only a little, to think you hurt his ego with the spank. As if he could sense your dismay, Dante finally set you down, retrieving your soda for you, before giving you a pep talk about all being well.
And you thought that was the end of it.
—
“I don't remember cancelling today's session.”
Vergil's voice caught you off-guard, your head jumping up from what you were reading on your laptop, to find him standing in the doorway of your small room.
“I thought,” you started, struggling to find the words. “Well, since you just came back, I thought you’d want a break.”
He scoffed.
“Foolish girl. You should know by now I don’t need rest like you do. Now, come.”
He turned and walked away from the door without another word, and you (ever obedient) scrambled to your feet to follow. Before you leapt out of your room, you paused, assessing your current outfit. It was hot, in recent days - and while the bills were paid, and the AC was functioning, you still felt more comfortable in a pair of casual jersey shorts, and a t-shirt. Even better, this would work for the plan you'd concocted for this sparring session - even though it had come sooner than you thought. With a few quick strides, you caught up to the man, following diligently behind him.
“How was the mission?” you asked.
“Fine.”
Ah, you thought, my usual conversationalist.
When the two of you reached the training room, just the the basement of the Devil May Cry shop, Vergil smoothly grabbed his usual wooden sword, and swung it in his hands like it was made of air, as he adjusted to wielding it. Coming back from a mission, he must have been using something close to his fuller power - a far cry from the heaviest blows he had ever landed on you. That familiar feeling in your body bloomed at the idea that he may strike you like that one today - if only on accident. Maybe as payback for your spank earlier - which reminded you. You took your own training sword, and joined him on the mats.
“By the way,” you began, “I’m sorry about earli-”
“Do not mention it.” His response was quick, and concise.
“Ah…ok. It’s just,” you smiled to yourself, “with your hair down you look so much like your brother-”
Vergil lunged, barely giving you a moment to lift your sword and block the incoming strike. It worked. Without warning, he had launched himself at you, the crack of the swords reverberating throughout the room. Somehow, when looking into his eyes, you didn’t lose your composure. He held a stoic expression, like usual - but this time you knew; he was hiding something behind it. A slight scrunch in the eyes. A hit nerve.
He stood back, separating the both of you, and assumed his usual position.
“Let us begin.”
The lesson was the same as those before, and you hated to admit it, but it was easier to duel with him when the bruises he left behind were fully healed. If he held contempt for the earlier spanking incident, he didn’t show it anymore - his moves and hits the same, usual, calculated dance he had done so many times before. Quick to be recomposed. Let’s see how quickly we can adjust that.
In a pause between strikes, you spoke up. “I’ve been training with Dante while you were away.” You said, barely managing to block his next strike.
“Do you want praise?” he said, taking a step back when you swung back at him. “continuing your training is to be expected - not something you should be expecting a reward for.” Damn. He wasn’t as phased by the news like you'd hoped he would be. The spar continued, the two of you trading blows until - as usual - Vergil landed the first hit, being too quick for you to dodge or parry, and you were thrown onto your back. Taking a minute to regain your breath, your shirt already clinging to the sweat forming on your skin, you contemplated your next move.
You sprung back to your feet, but adjusted your stance. Shifting your weight, you stood to face Vergil with your side, your hips pointed to draw his gaze. “Dante doesn’t hit as hard as you do, by the way,” you continued.
“As expected of the weaker sibling.”
“Well, don't go thinking he went soft on me, either.” You countered, engaging your trap card. Your hand came to the bottom hem of your shorts, and you lifted the cloth up the meat of your thigh to reveal the purpled bruise Dante had left behind. You looked up to make another comment, but stopped short when you felt the air in the room shift drastically
Vergil’s piercing eyes bored holes into your bruise, making it hurt as if he were pressing against it, himself. Your breath hitched as his eyes quickly snapped up to your gaze. You hadn’t seen an expression like that on Vergil before - and you had no clue what expression you wore yourself. Was it genuine fear? Surprise? Did you push it too far? You dropped the hem of your shorts, trying to take up your stance once again.
“I,” you started, not even knowing where to go, your words falling flat before they even left your mouth. “I, um...”
All it took from this man to make you go weak in the knees and feel the blood rush to your face, was a single damn look. One where he was taking in you - all of you - not allowing a single part of your body to escape the hold he had, without even moving a finger. The look held some contempt, some spark of rage. Even if you had seen it coming, there would have been no time for you to move. In a mere flicker, Vergil had disappeared completely from your line of sight, and before you could even think to blink, you felt the crack of his sword on your ass, the sudden blow being so hard that it sent you toppling forwards. The training sword flew from you hands, foregoing your grip in favor of snapping your hands out, trying to break your fall. You landed on the training mat, hard - the plastic easily digging into the soft skin of your palms and your knees, after Vergil all but threw you to the ground. You stayed crouched there, on the mat, dumbfounded at how quickly he had turned your attempt at distraction right back at you.
Your brain caught up, and you moved to grab your sword, trying to get back to your feet,when you heard a sharp command from behind you.
“Do not move.”
Understood.
You couldn’t find the words to respond, your heart and lungs lodged in your throat. You were expecting some kind of chastisement for that, given how he acted the last time you couldn’t speak. Instead you heard his footsteps rounding your side; where you had showed him your bruise. You flinched as you felt his hand grab the bottom hem of your shorts, tugging it upwards to see the very bruise that had set him off in the first place. You couldn’t stop the heat as it flushed to your pussy, growing feral, knowing that his hands were so close to such an intimate space. It set you off kilter-
“Stop moving.”
You sucked in a sharp breath, and bit your lip to keep yourself focused, to stay balanced. His finger brushed along the bruise, the feather-touch light so as to not set it off. Your legs immediately grew weak at the feeling, goosebumps rising along your thighs, as Vergil moved his hand, gently pressing his palm to the fat of your ass cheek. Suddenly, you felt a flash - an undeniable sting radiating through you, and you yelped out in surprise. He had spanked you. Payback, no doubt. You craned your neck to peer over your shoulder, looking at him, no doubt with bewilderment drawn on your face. He flicked his eyes to yours, his lips twitching into a coy, knowing smile. Almost mischievous.
“I know you like your bruises,” he began, lowering himself onto one knee, wedging it under your stomach to support you, where you were still obediently on all fours.
“But I should be the only one giving them to you.”
Despite all this time shared between the two of you, there were plenty of moments when you simply didn’t know how to talk to Vergil. Didn’t know what to expect. He kept that composed mask on at all times - only breaking now and then when he smiled, only slightly - either at a joke, at Nero and Nico bickering like children - or when you last pleased him, by confessing your need for his touch. You had been bold with him before - there was no danger in being bold now. So you finally found your voice.
“So, give them to me,” you muttered.
It felt like saying “I love you.”
The next smack was hard, planted right on the other cheek, with the full width of his palm. You made another noise - something between a yelp and a moan. Vergil steadied you with his other hand on the square of your back, pressing down firmly, to at least keep you still. Between his knee pressed against your tummy, and his hand on your back, you definitely weren’t going anywhere. The next few smacks came in rapid succession, each one as hard as the first, alternating between one cheek and the other on a whim. You let out little gasps for each one - enjoying the flash of pain it evoked, feeling the strength this man had condensed into a single focus on your body. Despite how it looked, it was indulgent - a dream come true. You didn’t need to do a dance for him to give you what you wanted.
Suddenly, the fabric of your shorts went taut - Vergil had grasped the back inseam of your shorts, and had yanked them up - revealing your underwear, and even more of your flesh, now turning a bright pink. He continued to spank you, hitting harder now, emboldened with each strike, after seeing you were able to take more, and more. He struck you fifteen more times, the final slap right in the middle of your ass, leaving you trembling. You hadn't even managed to catch your breath before you felt his fingertips trailing along your soft, exposed skin, igniting little sparks of pain and pleasure going straight to your groin as his hand gripped the fat of one cheek in his hand. You knew you were dripping - you wondered if you were already showing through your panties. But Vergil didn't leave you to wonder for long, as his hand moved, delicately, underneath the fabric of your shorts, under your panties, until one of his fingers lightly brushed along your outer lips.
You felt your heat dribble like honey, pouring over - his light touch moving, spreading your lips just enough for your wetness to escape. You felt him twitch when the pad of his fingers brushed along it, taking in an audible breath as he pulled away, making you mewl in protest.
The knee under your belly moved away, done supporting you. Though you trembled, you obediently stayed put, despite the growing protest in your knees and hands. As if hearing your discomfort, Vergil lifted his hand from your lower back, moving up between your shoulders, just to press you down. You whimpered as he folded you into this position, your ass fully up, automatically arching your back so it could be as pronounced as it possibly could, and your upper half gently resting on the ground, hands by the sides of your head.
You felt the larger man shift beside you, his head hovering just above yours, and with an authoritative, but soft tone, said
“Tell me if I go too hard, understand?”
You learned from last time.
“Yes…yes, Vergil.”
He hummed gently in response to your easy complacency, and in a swift motion, he pulled your shorts and panties down to your knees in one fell swoop. A hand grabbed your upper thigh, maneuvering it so you’d part your legs, just a little, to expose every little thing he wanted to see. Everything that he wanted to mark as his. You whimpered as you felt the chilled basement air roll against your ass, and now your pussy, completely exposed, puffy and dribbling, unashamedly showing Vergil just how good he made you feel with his strong hands.
Another series of smacks came - one after the other. You felt the arousal from the pain flash through you like a heartbeat, each smack sending a shockwave of pleasure up your whole body. You didn’t close your mouth, you moaned and gasped at each one, if only to make sure Vergil knew how much you loved them. He continued to hit a little harder with each slap - but it was nothing you couldn’t handle. The only breaks he took were moments of brevity to run his hands over your body, reaching up underneath your t-shirt to caress your back and press you down, as if you had even dared to move, merely affirming his control over you once again. His other hand, when not spanking, stayed plush against the flesh of your ass, trailing up and down the back of your legs, your inner thigh, and moving ever so damn close to caressing your needy pussy, but not yet touching.
Vergil pulled at one of your cheeks, exposing your holes to the air, to him, and you whined in protest, out of embarrassment. You couldn't see how a line of your own wetness had leaked down from your pussy, gushing out onto your underwear and shorts piled below on your knees.
“Vergil,” you croaked out, even turning your head to try and look at him at your side, eyebrows furrowed in desperation, “please.”
He struck you again.
“Please what?” he asked - gently; teasingly.
“Please…please can you finger me.” You didn’t mind begging at this point, your mind reduced to putty the same way your bones were. He regarded you with a gentle expression - the softest one you've ever seen him make. He didn’t answer, but his hand did move down, from the fat of your ass, and slid in between your folds. You moaned again as his thick fingers brushed against your opening, parting your folds, and brushing against your clit. You involuntarily bucked your hips forward, desperate for more friction, more pressure, anything against your sensitive nub, and his hand began to slip up and down. The wet sounds of his hand moving along your arousal, and your breaths of your little moans filled the room.
“Look at me.” You didn’t even realize you had closed your eyes until you heard his voice, fighting to reopen them, shifting your head against the training mat to better peer at him. Maybe it was the look you gave him, something lidded in your eyes, but he suddenly moved his hand away, instead gripping at your thigh, and pushed.
“Get on your back for me.” He rumbled, just for you to easily obey. You swore you heard your knees crack, as the tension finally eased off of them when you adjusted. Before leaning completely back, you kicked your shorts and underwear off, fussy to remove them at once. Your ass was still sore, making you hiss at the sting as your bare skin was pressed to the cold mat below you, and you lifted your hips up slightly, resting only halfway onto the ground, making sure to keep your knees up and bent. You still enjoyed how the pain spread through your butt, singing up your body, as you gently let your whole being relax. Was he going to get on top of you again? Cum on your face while he fingered you? Thinking of it, you looked down past your knees and between his legs, greedily spying on how his erection pressed firmly against the fabric of his pants, a small wet spot forming where the tip of his cock was straining.
But he didn’t make a move to release himself from his pants. Instead, he gazed at your body like he was observing an art piece - gently grazing his wet hand down your belly, down your navel, and you spread your legs further, inviting him in. He didn’t hesitate; his fingers dipping in and caressing your folds as he resumed touching you, causing your legs to shiver. Despite the harshness of the spanking earlier, he was so gentle here, fingers moving almost curiously as he took his time to explore you, the tip of one finger tracing your hole as his thumb pressed against your mound.
He took his time exploring; ensuring he coated each finger with your wetness to prepare them for you. When he finally pushed his middle finger into you, it felt like bliss - the perfect feeling, long and easy to adjust to. You moaned his name in an inviting response, encouraging him to slip his finger in and out. His other hand came to pull your shirt up, making you reminisce about your previous experience, as he tugged your bra up and openly groped at one of your breasts, his large hand almost enveloping it in full. Your hips rocked in time with his finger, making sure you vocalized each time he hit a spot that felt heavenly. Vergil paid attention to every little detail, keeping pace with your hips, but noting, and repeating, every motion you approved of. It didn’t take much for him to slip a second finger inside of you - stretching you so easily and filling you just as you needed him to. You kept muttering his name, looking up to him still kneeling at your side - seeing all of his focus on your lower body.
You realized your own hands were vacant - laying by the side of your head, palms up, simply enjoying the ride, but your gaze rolled down to his pants again. You didn’t want to leave him aching…even if that’s what he did to you last time. One of your hands twitched, sliding off the training mat as you reached for him, hooking a finger into the hem of his waistband. He flinched, and suddenly his hand moved from your breast to push it back - firmly but gently.
“No,” he mumbled, “I want to focus on you.” He said it so matter of factly - like he was performing a needed task. Despite its bluntness, you still felt your face grow even hotter, no doubt pink like a peach as you relented, and let your hand fall back to where it felt best. With that, he turned to look down at the mess you were making on his hand. The sounds were certainly hard to ignore, as he fingered your pussy with deep thrusts. He began to curl his fingers, earning a buck of your hips, and a gasp as he played with that sweet spot, deep inside you.
Vergil pulled his two fingers almost completely out, giving you little time to mourn the loss as he added the third, plunging back in with little resistance as he filled you even further. The stretch around him felt incredible - your own fingers not even being close to what he achieved with his much larger hands. You rolled your hips into the heel of his palm, and he matched your desperate pace as it quickened. Your breaths became more erratic, and you felt yourself getting closer and closer to release. With each deep plunge, his fingers pressed easily against your G-spot, and then they curved, and rolled back down your cave with each thrust, radiating pleasure to your clit.
He definitely didn’t ignore that. As your pace quickened, he pressed his thumb against the sensitive bud, rubbing it in tandem with his fingers, over and over. And that - that was all you needed.
You called out his name as you came, the tension in your legs, hips, and pussy all releasing in a euphoric wave. In deep spurts, you rode the waves of your orgasm out, his fingers never leaving you until your body finally stilled, your chest heaving as you panted to catch your breath. You pussy, ever so sensitive now, twitched and ached as he slowly retreated his fingers, causing your legs to shudder one last time as they pulled out completely, and you finally relaxed, sore but fulfilled.
You looked up to Vergil then, meeting his gaze with a tired, half-lidded stare, your skin flushed, and your hair in disarray against the floor. He carried that same gentleness he wore earlier - a far cry from the teasing he presented earlier.
“Are you alright?” he asked.
You nodded, swallowing to wet your mouth after it had been hung open for so long, getting dry from all the gasping and moaning.
“I’m good.” You smiled up at him, blinking slowly and relaxed from where you lay on the floor. He smiled back, and ever so slowly, lowered himself down to slot his lips against yours,and kissed you.
