Shin Megami Tensei: Nocturne (Dante/Futomimi)
Title: Not an Afterglow Sort of Guy
Author: Emerald Embers
Rating: PG-12
Warnings: Some dark themes, brief references to incest.
Word count: 1031
Summary: Dante being a smartass, and Futomimi having none of it.
Prompt: Dante/Futomimi 'smoking' "I'm just amused at how easy cigarettes are to find. Not that it's a bad thing, mind you."
Dante liked his post-coital rituals. Even if he'd managed to get near blind drunk or done something ridiculously stupid like invited himself back to a demon's lair, once he'd cleaned himself off and had a cigarette he usually got his head together pretty damn quickly. Handily, the cigarette stage gave him the chance to investigate who the coitus had been with, and plan the best route to his sword, the nearest exit, or to getting further coitus accordingly.
Dante lit up and settled himself comfortably between Futomimi's legs, looked over the manikin's body, and decided this was one of his better conquests - not least because Futomimi was a) attractive, and b) not likely to attempt slashing him to death. The only things at all peculiar with the situation were the moments of discomfort flashing across Futomimi's face as he tried not to spasm in the typical manner of manikins; that, and the way he was holding his hand out for the cigarette.
Dante couldn't say he was too surprised when Futomimi stubbed the cigarette out on receiving it. "Not very nice of you."
"I was human," Futomimi reminded, seemingly oddly collected all things considered, but that said he'd actually managed to orgasm calmly.
"You're pretty good for a half human," Dante said with a smirk, rolling off to lie at the manikin's side.
"As are you," Futomimi replied, eyes slightly veiled and definitely cautious. Dante's tendency to keep his belt buckles - and thus, his guns - on during sex tended to have the caution-inducing effect on near everyone he slept with, but considering the company he kept it didn't seem an unreasonable precaution.
Dante grinned, stretching and folding his arms beneath his head, feeling decidedly satisfied with his own performance. "You're lucky. If you were a demon I'd have thumped you for that." Snorting, then. "Go figure, though - humans died out but it's still easy to find cigarettes. Not that it's a bad thing, mind you." Futomimi was being resolutely quiet, seeming caught up in his own thoughts. No shock there, given the whole psychic deal. Dante briefly pondered asking if there was anything exciting coming up, but didn't want any surprises to be ruined. "I love smoking. Best bad habit I picked up after incest." Ah, that made the mannequin squirm, and not in discomfort either. That could be worth asking about later. "I-"
"Do you always talk this much?" Futomimi interrupted, looking a little irritated by the wall of noise Dante had presented him with.
"Only after sex. I'm not an afterglow sort of guy." The small sigh Futomimi let out made Dante snigger, and he released a hand to ruffle the manikin’s hair affectionately, finding his efforts hindered by the fact it had the texture of silk and wanted to snare less than the comparative material. "You seem perkier though."
"I needed time to think," Futomimi replied. "You're the only one amongst us whose futures look decent."
"Futures?"
"If the future was set I could have made a lot of money by now." There it was, the sly hint of humour that the manikin had started showing as time wore on. "Some of the others have potentially good futures, but there are plenty of events that could go one way or another. Naoki will shape the world, you know."
"Eh." Dante did know. Just so happened that with both Vergil and humanity gone, he didn’t care. "Explains why you’re afraid of lung cancer."
"Emphysema, actually."
"Right." Dante smirked again. "Sounds about God's sense of humour. Cure curse, cure poison, cure death, but cure debilitating heart and lung diseases? Hell no." He winced a little, thinking about it. "Wait - if you got it, that means you'd have it for eternity, right?"
"Or until Naoki chose a Reason."
"Ouch." Dante pondered the cigarettes in his coat pocket and whether it would be worth giving them up, but decided against it. He'd been to one or two demon-friendly doctors before and knew well enough the only thing he had to worry about was getting stabbed in the wrong places by Vergil, which wasn't likely to happen anytime soon.
"I told you earlier you shouldn't hang on to the past," Futomimi said after a moment's silence that Dante hadn't really noticed. "You should know... the past isn't as gone as you think."
"Hm?"
"You've been to hell and back, Dante. You're not the only one who could get out of the place alive."
Dante frowned, puzzled, wondering what Futomimi could mean as the manikin sat up carefully, rearranging its robes and grasping blindly behind him for the discarded hair tie. How in God's name the tie worked was beyond Dante, especially given Futomimi's hair was near liquid-smooth. "What now?"
"We go back to Naoki. He'll need you when he starts killing the humans."
"Oh god." Dante rolled his head, rolling his eyes too subtle a gesture for his liking. "Chick flick moments, here I come."
"He's likelier to hurt you before taking himself off to cry, but it's a possibility." Futomimi ought to have been serious but there was a definite hint of a smirk in the very corner of his mouth, the sort of gesture Vergil had been so good at; Dante was good with one-liners, but Vergil had always beat him at straight out expressions.
"I'll throw him at you if he starts crying."
"He'll want a real half-human for that," Futomimi reminded, hair finally fixed and - god damnit, Dante should have watched closer, because it was perfect and that ought to be bloody impossible. Must have been a magic trick or something. God.
"Hate you."
"No," Futomimi replied, smiling now, standing up and genuinely looking like he hadn't had the... well... what ought to count as life shagged out of him. "You don't."
Dante redressed, feeling for his cigarettes and taking another out, deciding he may as well finish one before catching up with the others. Okay, Futomimi was pretty. And good. And could actually hold his own in a fight.
Okay, changing that line of thought before he talked himself back out of his mood.
But god, dating a psychic was a bad idea.
The End
Author: Emerald Embers
Rating: PG-12
Warnings: Some dark themes, brief references to incest.
Word count: 1031
Summary: Dante being a smartass, and Futomimi having none of it.
Prompt: Dante/Futomimi 'smoking' "I'm just amused at how easy cigarettes are to find. Not that it's a bad thing, mind you."
Dante liked his post-coital rituals. Even if he'd managed to get near blind drunk or done something ridiculously stupid like invited himself back to a demon's lair, once he'd cleaned himself off and had a cigarette he usually got his head together pretty damn quickly. Handily, the cigarette stage gave him the chance to investigate who the coitus had been with, and plan the best route to his sword, the nearest exit, or to getting further coitus accordingly.
Dante lit up and settled himself comfortably between Futomimi's legs, looked over the manikin's body, and decided this was one of his better conquests - not least because Futomimi was a) attractive, and b) not likely to attempt slashing him to death. The only things at all peculiar with the situation were the moments of discomfort flashing across Futomimi's face as he tried not to spasm in the typical manner of manikins; that, and the way he was holding his hand out for the cigarette.
Dante couldn't say he was too surprised when Futomimi stubbed the cigarette out on receiving it. "Not very nice of you."
"I was human," Futomimi reminded, seemingly oddly collected all things considered, but that said he'd actually managed to orgasm calmly.
"You're pretty good for a half human," Dante said with a smirk, rolling off to lie at the manikin's side.
"As are you," Futomimi replied, eyes slightly veiled and definitely cautious. Dante's tendency to keep his belt buckles - and thus, his guns - on during sex tended to have the caution-inducing effect on near everyone he slept with, but considering the company he kept it didn't seem an unreasonable precaution.
Dante grinned, stretching and folding his arms beneath his head, feeling decidedly satisfied with his own performance. "You're lucky. If you were a demon I'd have thumped you for that." Snorting, then. "Go figure, though - humans died out but it's still easy to find cigarettes. Not that it's a bad thing, mind you." Futomimi was being resolutely quiet, seeming caught up in his own thoughts. No shock there, given the whole psychic deal. Dante briefly pondered asking if there was anything exciting coming up, but didn't want any surprises to be ruined. "I love smoking. Best bad habit I picked up after incest." Ah, that made the mannequin squirm, and not in discomfort either. That could be worth asking about later. "I-"
"Do you always talk this much?" Futomimi interrupted, looking a little irritated by the wall of noise Dante had presented him with.
"Only after sex. I'm not an afterglow sort of guy." The small sigh Futomimi let out made Dante snigger, and he released a hand to ruffle the manikin’s hair affectionately, finding his efforts hindered by the fact it had the texture of silk and wanted to snare less than the comparative material. "You seem perkier though."
"I needed time to think," Futomimi replied. "You're the only one amongst us whose futures look decent."
"Futures?"
"If the future was set I could have made a lot of money by now." There it was, the sly hint of humour that the manikin had started showing as time wore on. "Some of the others have potentially good futures, but there are plenty of events that could go one way or another. Naoki will shape the world, you know."
"Eh." Dante did know. Just so happened that with both Vergil and humanity gone, he didn’t care. "Explains why you’re afraid of lung cancer."
"Emphysema, actually."
"Right." Dante smirked again. "Sounds about God's sense of humour. Cure curse, cure poison, cure death, but cure debilitating heart and lung diseases? Hell no." He winced a little, thinking about it. "Wait - if you got it, that means you'd have it for eternity, right?"
"Or until Naoki chose a Reason."
"Ouch." Dante pondered the cigarettes in his coat pocket and whether it would be worth giving them up, but decided against it. He'd been to one or two demon-friendly doctors before and knew well enough the only thing he had to worry about was getting stabbed in the wrong places by Vergil, which wasn't likely to happen anytime soon.
"I told you earlier you shouldn't hang on to the past," Futomimi said after a moment's silence that Dante hadn't really noticed. "You should know... the past isn't as gone as you think."
"Hm?"
"You've been to hell and back, Dante. You're not the only one who could get out of the place alive."
Dante frowned, puzzled, wondering what Futomimi could mean as the manikin sat up carefully, rearranging its robes and grasping blindly behind him for the discarded hair tie. How in God's name the tie worked was beyond Dante, especially given Futomimi's hair was near liquid-smooth. "What now?"
"We go back to Naoki. He'll need you when he starts killing the humans."
"Oh god." Dante rolled his head, rolling his eyes too subtle a gesture for his liking. "Chick flick moments, here I come."
"He's likelier to hurt you before taking himself off to cry, but it's a possibility." Futomimi ought to have been serious but there was a definite hint of a smirk in the very corner of his mouth, the sort of gesture Vergil had been so good at; Dante was good with one-liners, but Vergil had always beat him at straight out expressions.
"I'll throw him at you if he starts crying."
"He'll want a real half-human for that," Futomimi reminded, hair finally fixed and - god damnit, Dante should have watched closer, because it was perfect and that ought to be bloody impossible. Must have been a magic trick or something. God.
"Hate you."
"No," Futomimi replied, smiling now, standing up and genuinely looking like he hadn't had the... well... what ought to count as life shagged out of him. "You don't."
Dante redressed, feeling for his cigarettes and taking another out, deciding he may as well finish one before catching up with the others. Okay, Futomimi was pretty. And good. And could actually hold his own in a fight.
Okay, changing that line of thought before he talked himself back out of his mood.
But god, dating a psychic was a bad idea.
The End