Chapter 11: Claiming the Brat
Dabi swam upwards through layers of thick, velvet sleep. Consciousness returned not with a jolt, but with a slow, pervasive ache. It radiated from deep within his core, a delicious, throbbing soreness that mapped Dante’s possession from the night before onto every muscle and nerve ending. He stretched, a low groan escaping his lips as the movement pulled at tender places, igniting sparks of remembered friction deep inside him. The sting between his thighs was sharp, welcome proof.
Moonlight still streamed through the vast windows, painting silver stripes across the rumpled silk sheets. The relentless thump of bass from the Inferno below was a distant, familiar heartbeat. He was alone in the center of the enormous bed. For a fleeting second, the memory of cold chains and Damien’s leering face flashed behind his eyelids. He tensed.
"Morning, firecracker."
The voice, rough with sleep and thick with Detroit grit, came from the shadows near the window. Dante leaned against the ornate frame, silhouetted against the city lights. He wore only low-slung black sweatpants, the intricate tattoos swirling over his chest and arms seeming to shift in the dim light. His horns were visible, dark spirals against the pale glow, and his crimson eyes burned with an unnerving intensity, fixed solely on Dabi. A slow, predatory smirk touched his lips.
Dabi met that gaze, the lingering phantom fear dissolving instantly under its heat. "Morning," he rasped, his own voice rough. He pushed himself up onto his elbows, the sheets pooling around his waist, exposing the faint bruises Dante’s claws had left on his hips – marks that hadn’t been healed by Hela’s magic, deliberate trophies.
Dante pushed off the window frame. He moved with that effortless, predatory grace, crossing the expanse of cool marble floor towards the bed. The air crackled, thick with the scent of oud wood, smoke, and the lingering musk of sex. "Still sore?" Dante purred, the smirk deepening. It wasn't really a question.
Dabi held his gaze, a flicker of defiance sparking despite the deep-seated ache. "Feels like I got hit by a truck," he admitted, a ghost of a smirk touching his own lips. "A really horny, demonic truck."
A low chuckle rumbled in Dante’s chest. He reached the edge of the bed, his crimson eyes raking over Dabi’s exposed torso, lingering on the claw marks, the fading bruises, the way the moonlight caught the lean lines of his stomach. "Good." In one fluid motion, Dante gripped Dabi’s hips and hauled him bodily across the silk sheets. Dabi gasped as he was pulled into Dante’s lap, straddling his thighs. Bare skin met bare skin – Dabi’s back pressed flush against Dante’s sculpted chest, Dante’s arms banding around him like iron.
The heat was instantaneous, volcanic. Dante’s skin burned against his back, hotter than any human. Dabi could feel the hard ridge of Dante’s cock already pressing insistently against the cleft of his ass through the thin sweatpants fabric. Dante buried his face in the crook of Dabi’s neck, inhaling deeply, a possessive growl vibrating against his skin. "Fuck, you smell like me," Dante murmured, his breath hot. "Like sweat, and come, and mine."
The words, the heat, the sheer overwhelming presence ignited Dabi’s blood. He tilted his head back, baring his throat, a silent invitation. Dante didn’t hesitate. His mouth crashed down onto Dabi’s, not gentle, not seeking, but claiming. It was a messy, biting collision of lips and teeth and tongues. Dante tasted like ash and expensive whiskey, an intoxicating inferno. Dabi met the assault with equal ferocity, biting Dante’s lower lip hard enough to draw a bead of coppery blood. Dante groaned, the sound swallowed by their kiss, his claws digging possessively into Dabi’s hips, sharp points pricking the skin, anchoring him.
Dabi ground his ass back against the hard length trapped beneath Dante’s sweats, earning another guttural sound. Dante’s hands slid down from his hips, claws tracing the sensitive skin of his inner thighs before gripping his ass cheeks, spreading them roughly. Dante broke the kiss, panting, his crimson eyes blazing inches from Dabi’s. "Still loose from last night," he growled, his voice thick with lust. He pressed a clawed thumb against Dabi’s hole, still tender and slightly open. Dabi hissed at the contact, the sting a sharp counterpoint to the molten heat pooling in his groin. "Still wet with me."
"Fuck you," Dabi breathed, pushing back against the intrusive thumb, his own cock rock-hard and leaking against his stomach.
Dante’s grin was feral. "That's the plan, pretty boy." With brutal efficiency, he shoved Dabi forward onto his hands and knees on the silk sheets. Dante yanked his sweatpants down just enough to free his cock – already fully erect, thick, flushed dark, and glistening with pre-come at the tip. The sheer size of it, even after the night before, sent a fresh wave of heat and apprehension through Dabi.
Dante didn’t ask. He didn’t prepare. He spat thickly onto his palm, slicked his cock roughly, the sound obscenely loud in the moonlit room. One large, clawed hand gripped Dabi’s hip bone, holding him in place. The other guided the broad, slick head of his cock to Dabi’s stretched, tender entrance.
"Remember," Dante growled, leaning over him, his horns grazing Dabi’s shoulder blades, his breath hot on his neck. "Who you belong to."
He pushed forward. Not the brutal, single thrust of the night before, but a relentless, slow invasion. Dabi cried out, fingers twisting in the silk as the massive head breached him, stretching the sore, sensitive ring of muscle impossibly wide. Dante kept pushing, inch by agonizing inch, the thick shaft burning its way deep inside. Dabi felt every ridge, every vein, the overwhelming fullness stealing his breath. Dante bottomed out, his hips flush against Dabi’s ass, balls heavy against his taint. He held there, buried to the hilt, a low, satisfied groan rumbling through him.
"Christ," Dabi gasped, forehead pressed to the cool silk, his body trembling with the stretch, the sting, the overwhelming sensation of being utterly filled. "Fuckin'… monster."
Dante chuckled darkly, grinding his hips in a slow circle, making Dabi whimper as the cockhead dragged against his deepest, most sensitive spots. "Your monster," Dante corrected, his voice a rough purr. He withdrew slowly, dragging his cock almost entirely out, leaving Dabi clenching around emptiness, before slamming back in with a sharp, powerful thrust that rocked Dabi forward.
He set a punishing pace. Deep, hard strokes that punched the air from Dabi’s lungs. No finesse, just raw, possessive fucking. Dante’s claws dug into Dabi’s hips, surely drawing fresh blood, marking him anew. His wings unfurled slightly behind him, casting vast, shifting shadows that danced across the walls like living darkness. Each powerful thrust drove Dabi’s knees wider apart on the silk, the friction burning, the pressure against his prostate relentless, building pleasure like a storm surge beneath the ache.
"Take it," Dante commanded, his voice strained with his own building need. He leaned down, biting the juncture of Dabi’s neck and shoulder, sharp teeth breaking skin. The sharp pain fused with the deep, internal pounding, pushing Dabi closer to the edge. "Take my cock, Dabi. Fucking milk it."
Dabi pushed back against each thrust, meeting Dante’s power with desperate need. The soreness was still there, a constant throb, but it was being consumed by the inferno Dante stoked inside him. He reached beneath himself, fisting his own leaking cock in time with Dante’s brutal rhythm. The rough friction was almost too much, pushing him dangerously close.
"Gonna come," Dabi gasped, his voice ragged. "Fuck, Dante… gonna…"
"Not yet," Dante snarled, his thrusts becoming erratic, harder, deeper. He wrapped a clawed hand around Dabi’s throat, not choking, but holding, claiming. "Wait for me. Feel me fill you up."
The command, the pressure on his throat, the relentless hammering against his prostate shattered Dabi’s control. His vision whited out as his orgasm ripped through him, untouched cock pulsing thick ropes of come onto the rumpled silk beneath him. His inner muscles clamped down viscously around Dante’s buried cock, spasming uncontrollably.
Dante roared, a sound more beast than man. He slammed home one final, devastating time, hilting himself deep as his own release surged. Dabi felt the hot, liquid pulse deep inside him, jet after jet filling him, marking him internally. Dante ground his hips hard against Dabi’s ass, milking every last drop, his claws tightening possessively on Dabi’s hip and throat.
They collapsed together onto the soaked silk, Dante’s weight heavy and hot on Dabi’s back, his softening cock still buried deep. Dante’s breath was ragged against Dabi’s neck, his wings slowly furling. The only sounds were their harsh breathing and the distant, persistent thump of the bass below. Dante nuzzled the bite mark on Dabi’s shoulder, a low rumble vibrating in his chest. Possession. Satisfaction. Mine. The word hung unspoken in the air, thick as the scent of sex and blood and infernal power. Outside, the city lights blurred into the first grey hints of dawn, indifferent to the claiming that had just transpired in the penthouse above the Inferno.
Dawn bled grey light across the rumpled silk, staining the evidence of their violent coupling. Dante’s weight, heavy and possessive, pinned Dabi to the mattress, the demon’s softening cock still a thick intrusion inside him. Dante’s breath, hot and damp against Dabi’s nape, held the satisfied rumble of a predator claiming its kill. Mine.
Dabi lay utterly still beneath him, muscles trembling with exhaustion, his own release cooling in sticky streaks on his stomach. The delicious, deep ache warred with something new: a spark of defiance fanned by the memory of Dante’s brutal possession. He’d been taken, claimed, marked. Again. Like Damien had tried to. Dante’s voice echoed, possessive, final: He’s MINE. Dabi’s jaw clenched. He needed to shift the scales. Just once.
He waited. Waited until Dante’s breathing deepened, the rumble smoothing into something closer to sleep, the iron bands of his arms loosening slightly. Waited until the oppressive heat radiating from the demon’s skin mellowed. Then, with painstaking slowness, Dabi began to move. He twisted, not pulling away from the cock still lodged inside him, but shifting his weight, sliding an arm free from beneath Dante’s heavy bicep. The movement forced a low grunt from Dante, a soft puff of sulfur-scented breath against Dabi’s hair.
Dabi froze. Dante shifted, nuzzled the fresh bite mark on his shoulder, then stilled again, his breathing resuming its slow rhythm. Dabi held his breath, counting the thumps of his own frantic heart against Dante’s solid chest. Slowly, he lifted Dante’s other arm, the one draped heavily over his waist. Dante didn’t stir. Inch by agonizing inch, Dabi eased himself out from under Dante’s immense frame and off the softening cock. He winced at the sudden emptiness, the cool air hitting his wet, stretched hole. He stood on shaky legs beside the bed, the marble floor icy under his bare feet, looking down at the King of Hell sprawled naked in post-coital oblivion.
Moonlight caught the intricate tattoos swirling over Dante’s powerful back, the ridges of muscle, the dark spirals of his horns. He looked terrifyingly beautiful, lethally relaxed. Dabi’s gaze darted around the opulent bedroom, landing on the heavy velvet drapes framing the windows. Thick, luxurious cords held them back. Perfect.
He moved silently, untying one heavy cord, then another. The velvet was cool and dense in his hands. He returned to the bed, his heart pounding like a war drum. Dante remained deeply asleep, oblivious. Dabi positioned himself first at Dante’s left wrist. He looped the cord around the thick wrist bone, pulled it tight, then knotted it securely to the intricate wrought-iron headboard. The iron felt cool and unyielding. Dante’s hand twitched slightly in the bindings, a low murmur escaping his lips, but his eyes stayed closed.
Dabi did the same to the right wrist, securing it firmly. The knots were crude but effective. He repeated the process with the second cord, binding Dante's ankles to the footboard, spreading his legs apart. The demon lay sprawled and vulnerable, a magnificent beast trussed for slaughter. A thrill shot through Dabi, sharp and dangerous.
He climbed back onto the bed, straddling Dante’s thick thighs just below his bound knees. The demon stirred then, crimson eyes slitting open, confusion flickering in their depths. He tested the bindings. His brow furrowed. "Firecracker?" The Detroit grit was thick with sleep. "The fuck you doin'?"
Dabi leaned forward, planting his hands on Dante’s broad chest, feeling the powerful heartbeat beneath his palms. He smirked, a slow, deliberate curve of his lips. "Just evening the score, Your Majesty." He shifted his weight, grinding his ass deliberately against Dante’s thigh, feeling the heat, the sheer power contained there. "You’ve had your fun wrecking me. Twice. Figured it’s my turn to play."
Dante’s eyes narrowed, the confusion evaporating, replaced by a slow-burning intensity. He strained against the velvet cords. They held. A muscle jumped in his jaw. "Untie me. Now." It was a low command, vibrating with warning.
"Or what?" Dabi taunted, dipping his head to flick his tongue over one of Dante’s dark nipples. He felt the demon’s abdominal muscles clench beneath him. "Gonna tear me apart limb from limb too? Like your brother?" He scraped his teeth lightly over the pebbled nub, earning a sharp hiss. "Thought you said I was yours. You don’t break your own toys, do you?"
He deliberately avoided Dante’s thickening cock, resting hard and heavy against his lower belly. Instead, Dabi slid down Dante’s body, his own aching cock leaving a sticky trail on the demon’s skin. He paused just above Dante’s groin, his breath ghosting over the flushed, rigid length. He watched the thick vein pulse. So close.
"Fuck, Dabi," Dante growled, arching his back, trying to thrust upwards into the near-touch. The headboard groaned softly. "Don’t fuckin’ tease."
"Oh, I’m gonna tease," Dabi whispered, his voice dropping to a husky murmur. He leaned down, not touching Dante’s cock, but breathing hot and slow along its length, from the base to the swollen, leaking tip. He saw Dante’s fists clench, the cords biting into his wrists. "I’m gonna tease you until you’re fucking shaking." He flicked his tongue out, a feather-light lick just beneath the head, gathering a bead of pre-come. Salty. Musky. Dante bucked violently, a guttural snarl ripping from his throat. The bed frame shuddered.
Dabi pulled back, licking his lips slowly, deliberately. "Tastes like you want it," he murmured, his eyes locked on Dante’s burning crimson gaze. "Bet you wanna shove that monster cock down my throat. Bet you wanna fuck my face until I choke." He trailed his fingers along Dante’s inner thigh, avoiding the straining cock entirely, digging his nails lightly into the sensitive skin. Dante jerked.
"Get. It." Dante’s voice was a strained rasp, the demonic resonance vibrating the air. Sweat beaded on his temples, his horns seeming darker, more pronounced against the pale silk. The air grew hotter, thick with sulfur and raw, unspent need. The cords strained.
"Make me," Dabi breathed, a reckless challenge. He shifted position, swinging one leg over Dante’s hips, positioning himself directly above Dante’s cock. He hovered there, his own hole, still damp and loose from their earlier fucking, mere inches above the swollen, weeping head. He could feel the scorching heat radiating from it. He lowered himself a fraction, letting the broad tip just barely nudge against his entrance. A shiver ran through him at the contact, the residual soreness flaring deliciously.
Dante’s entire body went rigid, a low, continuous growl building in his chest like distant thunder. His crimson eyes were pure infernos, locked on where their bodies almost joined. "Dabi…" It was a warning and a plea.
Dabi grinned, a feral baring of teeth. He lifted himself up, denying Dante the contact. Then lowered again, just the barest, torturous press. Up. Down. Teasing the stretched rim. "Want it, big guy?" he taunted, grinding his ass in tiny circles, letting the slick head smear pre-come against his hole without penetrating. "Want to bury this fucking tree trunk inside me again? Make me scream?" He lowered once more, letting the tip catch, just breaching the first tight ring of muscle, stretching it obscenely wide for a second before lifting completely off. "Too bad you’re all tied up."
Dante roared. It wasn’t human. It was the sound of mountains breaking. The sound shook the mirrors on the walls. His muscles exploded with impossible power. Tendons stood out like cables on his neck and arms. The heavy velvet cords, woven for decoration, not restraint, snapped with sharp cracks like gunshots. The thick wrought iron headboard groaned, buckled, then tore free from its moorings with a shriek of tortured metal.
Dabi barely had time to register the sound before Dante was moving. Not rising, but surging upwards like a launched missile, his freed hands shooting out. One massive fist tangled in Dabi’s hair, yanking his head back brutally. The other clamped like a steel vice around his throat, cutting off his gasp of surprise. Dante flipped them both with terrifying ease, slamming Dabi down onto his back on the ruined bed so hard the remaining headboard rattled.
Dante’s freed knees slammed Dabi’s thighs wide apart, pinning him. There was no tease now. No control. Only raw, unleashed fury and hunger. Dante spat thickly onto his own palm, slicked his cock once in a brutal stroke, not breaking eye contact. His crimson gaze promised annihilation. "You wanted me to snap?" he snarled, the Detroit accent buried under hellfire. "Hope you can fucking take it."
He drove forward. Not a thrust. A rampage. The massive cock speared into Dabi with brutal, unforgiving force, tearing through any lingering resistance, burying itself to the hilt in one devastating plunge. Dabi screamed, the sound ripped from his lungs, his back arching off the bed, fingers scrabbling uselessly at Dante’s corded forearms. The stretch was blinding, a white-hot agony of being split impossibly wide, deeper than before, rearranging him from the inside out. Dante didn’t pause. Didn’t let him breathe. He pulled back almost completely, the thick shaft dragging against ravaged nerves, and slammed home again with equal, shattering force. The ruined bed frame shrieked in protest. The rhythm was feral, punishing. Deep, jackhammer strokes that hammered into Dabi’s core, jolting his body with each impact. Dante’s claws dug into Dabi’s hips, drawing fresh blood, his other hand tightening marginally on Dabi’s throat, just shy of crushing, a constant, terrifying pressure. Drool glistened at the corner of Dante’s snarling mouth. His wings, fully unfurled now, blotted out the dawn light, casting the room into shadow. "MINE!" he roared with each piston-like thrust, the word a physical blow. "YOU’RE FUCKING MINE!"