Vergil is a sadomasochist to the core. Just like you. You could beat each other until your hands bled, until bruises bloomed on your pale skin or until one of you got bored of torturing your lover's body.

But, at one point, this paradise of torment ended. You broke it off. Proudly left without regrets behind your back, going to easily find a replacement and not to remember about the seductive half-demon ever. Turned out there weren’t many of the same fucked-up people left in the world. All your partners just twiddled their thumbs and look at you like you were crazy when you told them about your experiences and how you wanted your back to be decorated with bruises. More and more you began to miss Vergil, though you didn't want to admit it.

You sat in your house. Alone, in an empty apartment, with a whole body but an hurt heart. Unconsciously you began tearing the wound on your arm again. The last thing Vergil had left. You kept it from healing, constantly tearing the crust off again and again.

Suddenly the doorbell rang. You didn't react in any way, but it repeated itself over and over again, sounding more disturbing each time. Unable to bear the annoying sound, you got up from the couch and headed for the door, swinging it open with a disgruntled face.

You didn't even have time to get a good look at your visitor before you pushed against the wall. It knocked all the oxygen out of your lungs. Vergil clamped you in the hallway, raising your arms above your head and squeezing so hard that you had no doubt his touches would leave bruises. And it made you feel surprisingly calm. The half-demon's fangs were already in full force, tearing at the skin of your neck, and Vergil himself only whispered feverishly.

«I've really missed your touch...It never hurt so much»