I dunno -- that might be one I'd be fine ... with losing.

[ Dante almost growls the words out, though, his pupils dark and wide as he watches V back for his hand, resisting the urge to squeeze too-tight -- he doesn't want V to get off that easily. literally.

abruptly, his hands leave V entirely, the only thing keeping him on the desk now being the cane sword in his palm; Dante's hands are moving to his own pants, the denim feeling too-restrictive as hard as he is. ]