Sine Alis Volare
Easy Way Out
Credo had been more than welcome to lock himself up in his office until dawn. He had convinced himself this was the best course of action. Some would call it delusion. Credo rather liked the term “confidently incorrect” instead.
He had no intentions of coming home. That courage, or whatever the hell was left of it, to deal with the situation remained unseen but he had done something right. He had done well not to succumb to the Nero’s ridiculous plan.
As much as it pained him to admit to himself, Credo didn’t want to reconcile the fact that he was avoiding a teenager. While he lied on the divan in his office waiting for sleep that would never come, Credo created all sorts of reasons why it was for the best.
So much for the easy way out.
It seemed to be the least likely place for Nero to find him. He hated coming to the Order headquarters unless he absolutely had to. However, Nero had already demonstrated on more than one occasion that he could be frighteningly resourceful when he wanted to be. Credo preferred not to interact with the boy until they both could cool their heels. He still hadn’t found a way to deal with Nero just yet.
“I’m gay, I think…”
For the millionth time, Credo decided he shouldn’t care.
The words echoed in the back of his mind as he rotated and fidgeted on the divan. He was still so very convinced that this was none of his business. Nero could have chosen one hundred other boys his age to do his cannon fodder with.
If Nero truly was curious about being gay, he had better prospects than him of all people to give innocent doe-eyes at.
Credo reminded himself that he was a grown man.
A man with principles and morals, and… who the hell am I kidding??
Credo’s hand swept across his ragged features, but the soft strangling noise at his balcony had him alert and reaching for his sword. The sound made his neck hair stand on end, readying his blade. The captain stood, drawing the curtains aside with the edge of his blade slowly. If he was dying tonight, he at least had a surprise waiting for his assailant.
Someone stood at the balcony’s edge, a weapon held securely in his hand. It was dark, but he knew whose white hair that belonged to. Nero’s coat flapped in the wind as he turned to regard Credo from the balcony edge.
For just a moment, Credo had mistaken Nero for someone else. Someone whose face seemed so familiar, lost to time and to the illogical rabbit-hole of memories in his brain. Credo only knew it was something he wanted to forget.
The teen’s cerulean eyes met Credo’s. Once again Credo found himself looking away first. Securing his sword on his back, Nero came closer to the edge, whistling.
“Come down from there this instant—“ Credo froze as he narrowly missed slipping in what looked like black blood pooling on the floor.
Nero pulled up a mangled, disfigured body by the head for him to see. It was one of the demons from the gate. How had it gotten this far into the city? Credo’s brows knitted together in concern.
“Is that—?”
“You ought to watch your back more carefully. I’ve been tracking this son of a bitch for a week.” Nero hopped down from the balcony edge, tossing the body over the side. A sickening crack resonated moments later, Credo looking over the edge just in time to see the body disintegrate.
Credo had always found it curiously odd how their bodies did that.
“Looks like these fuckers are getting smarter. Aren’t you glad I’m here?” Nero brushed his nose nonchalantly as he stood beside Credo, his hand on his hips, Red Queen balancing on his broad, lanky shoulder.
Credo grimaced. He’d been so caught up in thought that he was completely unaware of the danger that laid waiting for him in the shadows. Credo’s brows drew together, deep in thought.
He needed to be more careful. But what was more infuriating to the captain now had yet to be addressed. Nero saved him. Twice. And now the fool expected what exactly? Gratitude?
Not god-damn likely.
The thought of it sent his stomach roiling. He was now indebted to him for a second time. His pride couldn’t allow it.
“What, no thank you?” Nero joked, giving a boyish smile.
Credo’s back went rigid at the playful tone. How dare he look so happy?
Credo turned away from the boy, clasping his leather-clad hands behind his back. It was better to play cool, and reign in his emotions before saying another word.
He thanked no one. And he especially owed no one.
Credo’s kid-skin gloves whined as he tightened his hands reflexively. “What’s done is done.”
Nero watched him from behind, his eyes lowering. Credo was not one for praise, much less thanks. The boy knew that all too well. To hear the captain halfway fight himself on this seemed to give him a little amusement.
As if reading the older man’s mind, Nero stifled a laugh. “Anytime, Credo.”
Credo turned around at the sound of his laughter, indignant. “Or shall I retract my statement? Since, you find it so amusing.” Credo sneered.
Nero burst into laughter even more at Credo’s outrage.
“Don’t think for a second, I don’t know what you’re doing. Just because you—“ Credo rambled through Nero's laughter in annoyance.
Credo didn’t have much time to think as Nero closed the space between them, cornering the commander into the marble edge of the balcony. Panic ran through him as he watched Nero, finding no trace of the fumbling innocence he’d seen nights prior.
It was replaced with something far more egregious. It was blatant sexual interest now, Credo surmised quickly. Feeling impossibly cornered, an irrational fear at the implications roiling like a tiding storm in those cerulean eyes, Credo did his best to sound as firm as possible.
“What the hell are you doing?” Credo snapped.
It did very little to stay Nero’s advance. It only seemed to enflame the youth’s advances more.
“You know what I'm doing.” Nero said.
Credo hadn’t counted on him to say that. He had thought of 1000 perfect ways to counter the boy, all of it seeming to flee his mind the moment those eyes met his again. Something akin to guilt, or something close to it, had taken root in Credo.
I have to make it clear. I need to make it clear.
They were far beyond the realm of discomfort. Credo knew he made a mistake the moment he’d let the boy up into the attic. There was only one course of action now.
“Excuse me?” He managed to let out. I will deny the little shrimp until my dying breath! Credo internally screamed.
“I saved your life. You could at least give me this.” Nero whispered as his hands rested on the marble slab, purposefully blocking Credo from escaping easily. Credo was trapped, and the only way around him was if he fell backwards to his death, or he could shove the blasted boy aside and rush to the safety of his office in time to put his impenetrable mask up again.
From the moment Nero was adopted into his family home, Nero had been such a persistent and obstinate child growing up. He was no different now. With all the vigor of boys his age, Nero wasn’t likely to let Credo get away like this again. When the boy set his sights on something, it was always hard to deter him.
Credo envied Nero for his devil-may-care attitude, something he hadn’t developed at such a young age. Nero always wore his heart on his sleeve, unafraid of life, always taking risks… Credo both loved and hated that about him.
They both looked at each other, before Credo decided to push at Nero’s head while moving around him. The commander would take his chances, calling the youth out at his bluff. It was time he played the one card he’d been counting on using. The boy would see sense, hate him even. Things would get back to normal. They would be able to move on and forget this ever happened.
Falling to my death seems to be a chivalrous idea right about now.
“That’s enough, Nero. I mean it. I doubt you and I could ever get that far, boy.” Credo gave a cool and assessing once-over, pleased at the hurt look on Nero's face. He felt satisfaction in knowing his words affected the boy too. Perhaps Nero would see reason, someday.
Nero clearly didn’t like being reminded that he was still young. The boy looked affronted, hurt even. Credo was beyond satisfied with himself at the discovery. Maybe he would now see reason. What he was looking for wouldn’t be found. That line would never be crossed, Credo vowed. It was better this way.
“That’s bullshit, and you know it.” Nero pushed back vehemently, clearly upset by his words. Credo would not have taken him seriously, but upon seeing his reaction he wasn’t so sure anymore. This was uncharted territory now, and Credo had no boat or paddle to swim with. But, with Sparda he would paddle.
Was he ever this pushy at his age? Had he been so hormonally charged to want someone else like that? It seemed forever ago that Credo wasn’t so sure anymore. He wasn’t sure about much, these days. His mind had been so focused on revenge for his parents in his earlier years into adulthood.
He had Sanctus to thank for that.
The thought of Sanctus doing the same things done to him towards Nero made him sick to his stomach. Nero detested the Order already. If anything were to happen—
“Credo?” The boy’s voice brought him back down to Earth again, staring. He was blushing like a little idiot again, giving that insufferable expression of his. Credo could tell the boy's ears were red again.
The boy's willing...
Stop.
“Can I come up, tonight? Please?” He heard from behind him. Credo didn’t turn to look at him, unable to trust himself should he see the face Nero was making at that very moment.
“Nero, the answer is no—“ Credo started, arrested at the unsettling vulnerability in those words. This was not how he wanted the conversation to go. Credo turned on his heel, seeking safety once he reached over the veranda and into the velvety carpeted interior of his office.
“That’s a bad—no.” Credo quickly corrected himself, occupying himself with adjusting his uniform collar to straights.
“Why?” Credo was reminded why he hated teenagers. They asked too many damned questions.
“…Is it… is it because of what I said the other day?” Nero whispered guiltily. Credo was rather surprised at Nero then. The irony of the situation couldn’t have been any more alarming. Was it because the boy was gay? No, not likely.
At that, Credo was tight-lipped, revisiting the feeling he’d once felt in the attic that morning. It was like a slow fire that built in his belly. It was a dangerous feeling, so dangerous that Credo knew one thing: it needed to stop.
From the moment he’d heard Nero confessing things, he knew it would be more than trouble brewing. Sooner or later the boy would misplace his affection and confuse it for something else. Credo much rather it be never. The moment between them was put to an abrupt end as they both heard the door to the private hallway that led to his office opening. Nero jumped off the balcony in time as Credo caught sight of Agnus.
He never did like how well Agnus snuck up on him either.
“Sanctus sent me to run the reports on the Blanco Angelo t-to you.” Agnus gave him a suspicious glance, looking around. It was Agnus’ insensitivity to people’s privacy that Credo hated the most.
“What happened here? Who were you t-t-talking to?” Agnus stuttered; his eyes transfixed on the blood on the veranda behind him.
None of your fucking business.
“Demon attack. Got out alright.” Credo managed a calm response.
They both stood in silence, before Agnus held up a few papers, a strange light in his eyes. Agnus was a man who Credo had considered a rival, for Agnus always had his eye upon the right seat to Sanctus’ side. However useful Agnus was to Sanctus, Credo despised his ambition.
For a change he was relieved to see him, fixing at his uniform coolly.
“I don’t have all e-e—“ Agnus took a breath. “—evening, Credo.”
“Shall we?” Credo responded curtly, brushing past him.
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Nero had stayed up until late to wait for Credo in the loft. He figured he would be one step ahead tonight and encounter the man. Their conversation was left unfinished, and there were more questions left unanswered.
He swiveled in Credo’s favorite chair, wondering when the man would come home.
The room carried the smell of old books and the faint scent of Credo lingering in the atmosphere. It was as if he had just been in this room not two seconds ago. It was comforting to be up here, surrounded by things Credo loved. He loved how studious the man was. It seemed like Credo knew everything there was to know. There wasn’t anything his big brother Credo didn’t know.
Nero sighed to himself with dawning realization, looking at the late hour on the grandfather clock perched at the end of the room. Credo wasn’t going to come home, tonight.
He’d been stood up.
A part of him felt angry at the older man for making him feel stupid enough to believe he could confide in him. A part of Nero also knew he was sure he pushed too hard today, and maybe he’d spooked the older man.
It was all in the spur of the moment, and it had felt so right to do it. Credo had looked so worried and perplexed that Nero wasn’t sure how to go about this. Credo may have been straight, and uncomfortable, and the fact that they were considered brothers made this more complex.
Nero shoved his face in his hands. He wasn’t sure at all if these feelings would ever go away for his brother. It made him want things he’d never wanted before. The thoughts he’d had made him feel ashamed for wanting a man he considered his brother for so long like this. As violating as the thought was, Nero could not escape the growing feelings inside of him.
Nero knocked over a stack of books with his leather-booted foot, a vindictive act, one he knew would absolutely make Credo angry. “You give a shit about these books more than anything else, old man.” Nero muttered aloud to himself.
He leaned back in the chair, staring at the ceiling. As he looked back down, he caught sight of a pair of black kid-skin gloves that looked rather worn stuffed haphazardly into a small desk drawer. They seemed to be an old pair.
Nero reached for them, inspecting the wear and tear at the corner of the thumb. When he would recall this again, he didn’t know why he’d done it, but the gloves were suddenly at his nose. The boy took a long whiff, could detect the scent of cologne Credo loved to wear infused into the worn leather.
Nero leaned back in the chair; eyes shut as he let his imagination run wild. He thought about Credo and all the times he’d seen him slipping those gloves off. His hands would be rough from carrying his sword, veins on the back of his hands protruding like meandering paths beneath his alabaster skin… strong, sure hands that were steady.
Nero could feel the beginnings of arousal, his mind imagining more.
He would always whisper something inaudible, but Nero knew it to be true. They would share a kiss, one so passionate, so meaningful that nothing would matter but how the way his tongue felt against Nero’s. His cock stirred to life at that, and his free hand was slipping into his slacks to touch himself.
Nero would lean up to kiss him, and in that fantasy, Credo would let him.
“Touch me, here…” Nero whispered aloud as if to mirror his little fantasy, arching in the chair as his hand took hold of his aching sex, sighing. In the fantasy Credo would touch him, jerk him off as he was doing now, exchanging kisses.
His inexperience for these things always left blanks as to what could really be done between two guys. And so, his mind often-times created what would happen with things he’d done on his own in experimentation. Nero gasped feverishly, his cock swelling at the sight of Credo’s muscled chest, his chest hair, sinfully tight stomach, the pursing of perfect lips into a scowl. The way Credo reacted to him in his office would be different.
Nero would peel clothes off in desperation, both lying in bed. Their bodies would collide as their cocks would bump and strain, the grinding of hips, a possessive bite to Nero’s outstretched neck, the moan that would erupt and then—
Nero keeled forward, biting his lip to keep his voice down as he felt himself reach his peak, rubbing his forehead into the gloves lying within the palm of his hand. He gasped and shuddered as he came into his hand. He panted, coming down from his lust-driven haze to sit back and stare at his cum-covered digits, suddenly remembering where he was.
Nero didn’t say another word as he pocketed the gloves, standing up.
thought of all the ways he would take down the wall that Credo had worked so hard to build. Nero was determined to tear it down, brick by fucking brick.