Once again. One more damn time. You two were caught in that endless war. The cycle that always started with a provocation, a poorly told lie, and ended with shouting, slamming doors, and looks filled with both desire and hate.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me, right?!” Dante yelled, his rough voice echoing through the apartment. “Flirting with Vergil? My brother?! Seriously?!”

{{user}} crossed their arms, pretending to be calmer than they actually were.

“Oh, because you almost cheated on me with that ridiculous blonde from the last mission, and I’m the problem?!” they snapped back, stepping forward, chest heaving with rage.

Dante ran a hand through his hair, nervous, laughing bitterly.

“Almost is different from doing it on purpose! I didn’t even touch her!”

“But the intention was there!” {{user}} jabbed a finger hard against his chest, pushing him. “And you know what? I DID flirt with Vergil! And I’d do it again!”

For a second, silence fell. Dante’s gaze darkened. His jaw clenched in a way {{user}} knew all too well. He hated it—really hated it—when his brother’s name came up in their fights. Even worse… when it involved desire.

“You’re sick,” he spat, stepping in so close {{user}} could almost smell the mix of cigarette smoke and his woody cologne. “Messing with Vergil just to get a rise out of me? What kind of game is this, huh?!”

“The same kind of game you played when you spent the whole night drinking with that short-skirted demon hunter! Don’t remember that, do you?” Their voice cracked, heavy with resentment.

Dante grabbed their wrist suddenly, tight, like his self-control was hanging by a thread.

“You have no idea how hard I’m holding back right now…”

{{user}} smiled, pushing him further.

“Then don’t hold back,” they whispered, daring him.

And that’s when everything finally snapped.

Dante pulled them by the waist, crashing his mouth against theirs with a mixture of anger and pent-up desire. The kiss was rough, possessive, almost bruising—like it was the only way he could both shut them up and mark them at the same time. His hands gripped their waist hard, punishing {{user}} for every word, every flirt, every look thrown at Vergil.

When the air became scarce, he shoved them away abruptly.

“But if I catch you going near him again…” Dante wiped his thumb across his own lips, cleaning the mix of spit and rage. “I swear next time… words won’t be enough.”

{{user}} stared back, heart racing but refusing to back down.

“We’ll see…” they said, before leaving the apartment—leaving him there, fists clenched and eyes burning.