Devil May Cry; Dante/Trish; "In The Dark"
Title: Heatstroke
Author: darkmanifest
Fandom: Devil May Cry
Pairing: Dante/Trish
Table: In The Dark
Prompt: #17. Hot summer nights
Rating: PG-13 for language and suggestive themes
Word Count: 300
It was ninety seven degrees outside, the air conditioner in the office hadn't worked since 1995, at the least, and Dante felt like he was about to dissolve.
"Leather was not made for this shit," he complained, rubbing sweat off the back his neck and leaning back in his chair. All the windows in the office were open to let in the night air and he was already coatless, shirtless, and shoeless, but it was still too hot. He glared at the slow-moving ceiling fan above that was doing fuck-all to manufacture a breeze.
Trish perched on one of the seats at the bar looking perfectly cool and comfortable, the bitch. Too bad for him he wasn't demon enough to be impervious to weather like she was. "So why don't you just take off your pants?" she asked reasonably.
Dante scowled at her. "'Cause to hell with you, that's why." Heat always made him cranky, even worse than cold.
She studied him for a moment, then smiled. "You're going commando again, aren't you? Tsk, tsk."
He really hated it when she saw right through him. "Oh, bite me. Like you've ever worn underwear."
"I do sometimes." Trish slid around on her stool, pulled down the waist her leather pants and tugged up the thin black strap of her panties.
Dante eyebrows went up. "G-string?"
"And black silk," she confirmed.
Did it just get hotter in here? "This is not helping," he groused.
"Who said I wanted to make it better?" Trish said archly, and released the string with an audible snap against her skin.
A couple of beats passed. Dante practically launched himself out of his chair at her like a torpedo.
He never did manage to cool down, but he enjoyed being naked the rest of the night anyway.
-
Title: Sunrise
Author: darkmanifest
Fandom: Devil May Cry
Pairing: Dante/Trish
Table: In The Dark
Prompt: #4. Long dark night of the soul
Rating: G
Word Count: 300
Sometimes when she closed her eyes, Trish remembered nothingness.
Twice in her life had she been there, before Mundus drew her from the womb of his will, and then after he struck her down for defying that will. He had made her, and it was his right to unmake her. But if nothing else, she had been able to choose the meaning of her own destruction. She hadn't died for his whim; instead, she died protecting the one thing in this world that ever wanted to protect her.
The abyss after death was different from the one before birth. Before she existed (for all she could put nonexistence into any sort of context), she had wanted for nothing, hadn't known what it meant to want. And now, all she could do was want, one more word, one more chance with him.
So was this all there was? Silence and solitude, forever? Not even able to go crazy or tear at her skin or scream, just stare into the empty. Maybe this was justice. She'd been so quick to try and destroy what little she'd had before, just because it was what she had been told to do. Maybe nothing at all was the least she deserved.
But an eternity of night was worth the moment of fire she had earned.
And then a streak of red tore the dark to pieces, and she gasped awake, amulet burning at her breast.
"Trish." A gloved hand landed on her shoulder. Trish opened her eyes, glancing over at Dante. "Watching the sunrise again?" he asked.
She shrugged. "It never gets old."
But when the sun broke over the horizon, it was his face she watched in the light, and he was the one she silently thanked for bringing an end to the darkness.
Author: darkmanifest
Fandom: Devil May Cry
Pairing: Dante/Trish
Table: In The Dark
Prompt: #17. Hot summer nights
Rating: PG-13 for language and suggestive themes
Word Count: 300
It was ninety seven degrees outside, the air conditioner in the office hadn't worked since 1995, at the least, and Dante felt like he was about to dissolve.
"Leather was not made for this shit," he complained, rubbing sweat off the back his neck and leaning back in his chair. All the windows in the office were open to let in the night air and he was already coatless, shirtless, and shoeless, but it was still too hot. He glared at the slow-moving ceiling fan above that was doing fuck-all to manufacture a breeze.
Trish perched on one of the seats at the bar looking perfectly cool and comfortable, the bitch. Too bad for him he wasn't demon enough to be impervious to weather like she was. "So why don't you just take off your pants?" she asked reasonably.
Dante scowled at her. "'Cause to hell with you, that's why." Heat always made him cranky, even worse than cold.
She studied him for a moment, then smiled. "You're going commando again, aren't you? Tsk, tsk."
He really hated it when she saw right through him. "Oh, bite me. Like you've ever worn underwear."
"I do sometimes." Trish slid around on her stool, pulled down the waist her leather pants and tugged up the thin black strap of her panties.
Dante eyebrows went up. "G-string?"
"And black silk," she confirmed.
Did it just get hotter in here? "This is not helping," he groused.
"Who said I wanted to make it better?" Trish said archly, and released the string with an audible snap against her skin.
A couple of beats passed. Dante practically launched himself out of his chair at her like a torpedo.
He never did manage to cool down, but he enjoyed being naked the rest of the night anyway.
-
Title: Sunrise
Author: darkmanifest
Fandom: Devil May Cry
Pairing: Dante/Trish
Table: In The Dark
Prompt: #4. Long dark night of the soul
Rating: G
Word Count: 300
Sometimes when she closed her eyes, Trish remembered nothingness.
Twice in her life had she been there, before Mundus drew her from the womb of his will, and then after he struck her down for defying that will. He had made her, and it was his right to unmake her. But if nothing else, she had been able to choose the meaning of her own destruction. She hadn't died for his whim; instead, she died protecting the one thing in this world that ever wanted to protect her.
The abyss after death was different from the one before birth. Before she existed (for all she could put nonexistence into any sort of context), she had wanted for nothing, hadn't known what it meant to want. And now, all she could do was want, one more word, one more chance with him.
So was this all there was? Silence and solitude, forever? Not even able to go crazy or tear at her skin or scream, just stare into the empty. Maybe this was justice. She'd been so quick to try and destroy what little she'd had before, just because it was what she had been told to do. Maybe nothing at all was the least she deserved.
But an eternity of night was worth the moment of fire she had earned.
And then a streak of red tore the dark to pieces, and she gasped awake, amulet burning at her breast.
"Trish." A gloved hand landed on her shoulder. Trish opened her eyes, glancing over at Dante. "Watching the sunrise again?" he asked.
She shrugged. "It never gets old."
But when the sun broke over the horizon, it was his face she watched in the light, and he was the one she silently thanked for bringing an end to the darkness.