Vergil didn’t want another child.  He didn’t even intend on the first, and he could barely consider him as a child since Nero was well into adulthood by the time that he was even aware of his existence.  A child would tie him down.  A child would distract him.  He knew better.  He knew the risks, and he knew himself.  He had only just, after nearly four decades, managed to somewhat come to terms with the pitfalls of his youth.  Through all the trials and tribulations, he was the strongest he had ever been.  Still, he had… doubts.  Doubts that were never to be vocalized and likely unfounded, but they still persisted, especially in the still of the night.  Doubts… and fears.  If faced with the same situation that changed his fate so long ago, but with the woman that had managed to soften those blows and a child of hers in the picture, would he be able to protect them?  If he failed, would he succumb to the darkness that seduced him time and again?

The best course of action, the logical course of action, would be to avoid that situation entirely.  No, he did not need another son.  He was a failure of a father already, and it would be in his best interest not to further complicate things.

And yet…

When he got Diva alone in bed like this, all he could think about was claiming her.  Breeding her.  Filling her with the legacy of Sparda and watching her blossom with the life of his child.  When she was beneath him, with vivid curls splayed across the sheets and a deep pink blush dusting her porcelain skin…  When she made those desperate noises and that cherubic face of hers contorted with pleasure….  When she squeezed around him, clung to him, and moaned his name…  All those fears and doubts were pushed to the furthest recess of his mind.  He wanted to pound into her harder, fill her more thoroughly.  He wanted to seed her.  He wanted to make her the mother of his child.

His frustration mounted, as did his desire.  His human instincts were strong, no matter how he badly he wanted to deny them.  The image of her as a mother was so natural to him.  She had the perfect temperament for it, and the perfect body as well.  He could envision her holding a little demon spawn of his own, with downy white hair and soft blue eyes.  The genes of Sparda were strong, as evident by his identical kin, but he could still dream some of her lovely features would be present.  Her lips, perhaps?  Or the shape of her eyes? 

A huff of annoyance left Vergil.  Why was he still entertaining this nonsense?  He hiked her hips higher, and buried his face in the nape of her neck as his ministrations grew more deliberate.  He wanted to shut those foolish thoughts out.  He wanted to deny them before they had a chance to gestate, but feeling her constrict around him when they made love like this, he couldn’t shake it.  He wanted it— no, needed it.  Craved it.  Longed for it.  Yearned for it.  More than anything.  There was nothing stopping him from reaching into the nightstand, and retrieving her birth control, and popping pill by pill out of the foil into the toilet to flush… other than the fact that it would require him to pull out, and that was absolutely not going to happen.

Tiny crescents were carved on his shoulder blades as she gripped them tighter, trying to hold herself steady as each rhythmic thrust from him jostled her.  Open mouth kisses were pressed against her skin as guttural groans escaped his throat.  He could fight this.  He could suppress it.  He was strong.  He was powerful.  He was better than this.  He just needed to reach climax, then all these fleeting thoughts would escape him… until the next time he got her in this position.  This was getting bothersome.

“Vergil…”

Diva’s soft voice startled him.  Her fingers carding through his hair made him pause and glance up.

“Are you alright?” she asked.  Her eyes and tone were both laced with concern.

“I’m fine,” he answered.  “Why do you ask?”

The pad of her thumb brushed his bottom eyelid, wiping away the moisture that he hadn’t even realized had formed.  How humiliating.  It wouldn’t be the first time he’d gotten emotional around her, but it never failed to make him feel juvenile.  He cast his eyes aside, unable to look at her with all these pesky thoughts swirling in his mind without feeling both guilt and need.

“It’s… nothing we can’t discuss later.”

“But it’s bothering you now.  Please.”

He loathed when she did this.  It only proved him right.  It reminded him why he fell in love with her in the first place.  She was far too nurturing to not have a child of her own to channel that love towards.  Even though his jealous streak still ran strong and he detested the idea of splitting her affection with anyone else, he knew without a shadow of a doubt that she had more than enough to spare.

He leaned down, pressing a tender kiss to her lips before pressing another on the column of her neck.

“Fine.”  His lips caught her skin as they skimmed up her neck.  “I think…”  Another kiss was given, this time a little higher.  “You and I…”  One more followed, right behind her ear.  “Need…”  His breath fanned over her sensitive skin as he whispered to her, raising goosebumps.  “… A baby.”

That last word hung in the air even as his hips snapped against hers again, summoning a moan out of her.  He resumed where he left off.

“A-A baby?” she panted.  When he hummed affirmatively, he was greeted by the tantalizing velvety clench of her walls squeezing him.

“I take it… you agree?” he asked, drilling into her with wild abandon.

Her mouth formed the cutest little “o” as she breathlessly bobbed her head in response, making him sigh.  He found the sanctuary of her nape again and buried his face. 

“Let’s discuss it later,” he said, his lips ghosted the flesh once more.

Perhaps he would regret this.  If so, he could add it to the list.  At this point, there was no escaping this.  He might as well get it out of his system.