Chapter 115: Raw Domination
The heavy, velvet silence shattered as Dante moved. One moment, Adam lay sprawled on his back, chest heaving, the taste of blood and sweat thick on his tongue. The next, powerful hands seized him like a ragdoll. Dante flipped him onto his stomach with brutal efficiency, the silk sheets bunching beneath him. Adam gasped, the air leaving his lungs in a rush. Before he could even register the position, Dante yanked his hips up, forcing Adam onto his knees, ass high in the air, face pressed into the sweat-damp silk. Dante’s knee pressed firmly between Adam’s shoulder blades, pinning him, rendering him helpless.
A low, possessive growl rumbled from Dante’s chest, vibrating through the air. Adam felt the heat of Dante’s breath first, a warm wash against his exposed hole, already stretched and slick from their earlier brutal fucking. Then came the wet, flat stroke of Dante’s tongue. A long, filthy lick from perineum to tailbone. Adam jerked, a choked groan escaping him. The sensation was electric, degrading, and intensely arousing.
"Fuck," Dante snarled, his voice thick with need. His hands tightened on Adam’s hips, claws pricking the skin just shy of drawing blood. He repeated the broad, wet lick. Then again. And again. Teasing. Tantalizing. Adam squirmed, pushing back instinctively, seeking more, seeking pressure.
Dante answered with sharp, pointed flicks. His tongue traced the tight, fluttering rim, probing, demanding entry. Adam whimpered, pressing his face harder into the mattress, his own cock already painfully hard again, trapped beneath him. He could feel Dante’s hot breath, the slickness, the maddening pressure just shy of penetration. "Dante... please..."
"Shut up," Dante commanded, low and dangerous. "You begged for ruined. Now fucking take it."
With that, Dante’s tongue speared inside. Not gently, not teasingly. Hard. Deep. A hot, wet invasion that made Adam cry out, his back arching involuntarily against Dante’s hold. Dante’s tongue worked relentlessly – plunging in, swirling, fucking Adam’s hole with obscene intensity. The wet, squelching sounds filled the chamber, loud in the oppressive quiet. Dante groaned against Adam’s skin, the vibration sending jolts of pleasure-pain straight up Adam’s spine. "Fuck, you taste good," Dante snarled, his voice muffled against Adam’s ass. "Taste like sweat and my fucking cum." He drove his tongue in deeper, lapping at the sensitive inner walls. "Taste like mine."
Adam was trembling, reduced to incoherent whimpers and gasps. The dual sensations – the sharp sting of Dante’s claws digging deeper into his hips, drawing pinpricks of blood, and the overwhelming, degrading pleasure of that tongue fucking him raw – pushed him towards the edge again. His cock throbbed, leaking freely onto the sheets. "Dante... fuck... gonna..."
Dante pulled his tongue out with an audible pop. Before Adam could even register the sudden emptiness, the cool air hitting his wet, stretched hole, Dante was moving. The broad, slick head of Dante’s cock pressed against him. Not asking. Demanding. Adam braced, but nothing could prepare him.
Dante slammed home in one brutal, unrelenting thrust. No easing in. No mercy. Just pure, shattering penetration, burying himself to the hilt in Adam’s tight, yielding channel.
"UNNNGGHHH!" Adam's scream was primal, ripped from his very core. The stretch was agonizing, exquisite. Dante was thick, impossibly deep, filling him, splitting him open. Dante didn't pause. He pulled back almost entirely, only to drive forward again with punishing force, setting a devastating rhythm immediately. His claws sank deeper into Adam's hips, anchoring him, using him.
"Fuck! Yes!" Adam gasped, the pain blurring into blinding pleasure. "Harder! Fucking own me, Prince!" He pushed back, meeting Dante’s thrusts, desperate for more of that burning fullness.
Dante snarled, a sound ripped from an animal’s throat. His hips pistoned, a relentless machine driving into Adam’s ass. The wet slap of flesh on flesh was obscenely loud, punctuated by Adam’s ragged cries and Dante’s guttural grunts. Sweat dripped from Dante’s brow onto Adam’s back, tracing paths through the tension in his muscles. The great, leathery wings Dante usually kept folded flared slightly, a dark canopy vibrating with the force of his movements.
"Your hole," Dante ground out between thrusts, his voice ragged but laced with dark possession, "is fucking perfect. Clenching my cock. Taking every fucking inch." He angled his hips, driving the thick head relentlessly against Adam’s prostate. Adam howled, the pleasure blinding, his vision spotting. "Tell me," Dante demanded, slamming in deep and grinding. "Tell me who owns this tight fucking hole."
"Y-you!" Adam choked out, tears pricking his eyes again. "You do!"
"Louder!" Dante roared, delivering another punishing thrust that shook the bed frame. His claws drew blood now, crimson beads welling where they pierced Adam's skin.
"YOU DO, DANTE!" Adam screamed, the words torn from him. "YOUR HOLE! YOURS! FUCKING RUIN IT! PLEASE!"
The raw submission, the desperate plea amidst the pain, ignited Dante further. His thrusts became shorter, faster, brutal jabs aimed solely at Adam’s core. He leaned forward, his chest pressing against Adam’s sweat-slicked back, one arm wrapping around Adam’s chest to haul him up, holding him impossibly tighter against his body. Dante’s mouth found the juncture of Adam’s neck and shoulder. He bit down. Not a love bite. A hard, possessive clamp of teeth that drew a sharp cry from Adam. Dante sucked the skin, marking him with a bruise that would bloom deep purple.
"Gonna fill you," Dante growled against Adam’s skin, his thrusts losing rhythm, becoming erratic, desperate. "Fill this greedy fucking hole. Mark you inside." He slammed deep once, twice, held himself buried, grinding hard, his cock pulsing violently. A guttural roar tore from Dante’s throat as he came, hot pulses of cum flooding Adam’s passage, coating his inner walls. The feeling of being claimed so deeply, so completely, coupled with the relentless pressure on his prostate, pushed Adam over the edge instantly. He came untouched, with a choked sob, his own release spurting onto the rumpled sheets beneath him, his body convulsing around Dante’s still-spurting cock.
Dante collapsed forward, his weight pressing Adam down into the mattress. He remained buried deep, his body shuddering with the aftershocks, his breath coming in ragged gasps against Adam’s neck. Adam could feel the hot rush inside him, the possessive grip around his chest, the sting of the bites and claw marks. He was utterly spent, utterly claimed. A trembling hand, his own, reached back, fingers weakly tangling in Dante’s sweat-damp hair.
For long moments, the only sounds were their harsh breathing and the crackle of the eternal flame in the fireplace. Dante finally shifted, softening cock slipping free with a wet sound that made Adam shiver. Dante rolled onto his back beside him, one arm flung over his eyes. The air hung thick with the scent of sex, sweat, blood, and sulfur. Adam curled on his side, facing Dante, the pain radiating from his ass, his hips, his neck, a brutal counterpoint to the deep, sated exhaustion. He reached out, his fingers lightly tracing the edge of one dark wing where it lay folded against the mattress. Dante didn’t move his arm, but a faint tremor ran through the wing at the touch.
Outside the gothic windows, the perpetual twilight of Hell deepened. Somewhere, deep within the bowels of the mansion, the thing Lute had forced into being pulsed with its own unnatural life. The throne room sat empty, awaiting its reluctant King. But here, in the wreckage of silk sheets and shared brutality, lay a fragile, temporary peace. Adam watched the subtle rise and fall of Dante’s chest, the tension slowly easing from the Prince’s powerful frame. The silence stretched, heavy and profound, broken only by the settling embers in the hearth. Adam closed his eyes, the sharp aches a grounding reminder. Dante was here. For now. The storm was held at bay. He pressed his forehead lightly against Dante’s sweat-cooled shoulder, breathing him in, anchoring himself in the aftermath of the ruin.
He pressed his forehead lightly against Dante’s sweat-cooled shoulder, breathing him in, anchoring himself in the aftermath of the ruin. The deep ache radiating from his ass, hips, and neck was a brutal counterpoint to the profound exhaustion settling into his bones. Outside the gothic windows, the perpetual twilight deepened, a silent reminder of the throne sitting empty and the monstrous thing growing deep below. Adam drifted, lulled by Dante’s slowing breaths and the faint crackle of the eternal flame, clinging to the fragile peace.
Dante surfaced from sleep like breaching dark water. Consciousness returned slowly, the heavy warmth of Adam draped partially over him, face pressed into the crook of his neck, breath soft and even. Amethyst eyes scanned the gloom, taking in the tangled sheets, the faint neon bleed under the door, the scent of sex, sweat, sulfur, and Adam thick in the air. The weight of Hell pressed in immediately, a suffocating cloak replacing the temporary peace. Lute. The throne. The thing. He needed space. Needed silence.
Carefully, with serpentine grace, Dante disentangled himself. Adam murmured softly, brow furrowing, but didn’t wake, sinking deeper into the mattress as Dante slid free. Dante stood naked beside the massive bed, watching Adam’s sleeping form for a moment – the powerful lines softened, the possessive sprawl now vulnerable. The claw marks on Adam’s hips stood out starkly, darkening bruises Dante knew mirrored the bite on his neck. A flicker of something complex – possessiveness, regret, exhaustion – crossed Dante’s face before he turned silently towards the adjoining bathing chamber.
The room was cavernous, dominated by a sunken bath carved from obsidian, easily large enough for four. Dante moved with quiet purpose. Heavy brass taps groaned open, unleashing steaming water that quickly filled the vast basin. He reached for a jar on a shelf, fingers dipping into dark, viscous salts that smelled of ozone, burnt herbs, and deep earth – witchy shit, potent for grounding fractured power. He dumped a generous amount into the swirling water, the scent intensifying, sharp and medicinal beneath the steam. Stripping was unnecessary; he was already bare. He stepped over the obsidian rim and sank down into the scalding embrace.
"Fuck," Dante hissed, the sound escaping him involuntarily. It wasn't pain. It was profound, bone-deep relief. The heat seared through muscle tension, the salts stinging faintly against the claw marks Adam had left on his back earlier. He leaned his head back against the cool stone rim, horns scraping lightly, wings submerged and heavy in the water. A sigh, long and ragged, tore from his chest. It echoed slightly in the tiled chamber. He closed his eyes, letting the heat and the sharp scent envelop him, trying to drown the churning thoughts of Lute’s violation, the abomination she’d forced into existence, the crushing inevitability of his crown. The water lapped at his collarbones. Minutes bled into each other, the only sound the soft lap of water and his own slow breaths. Deep thought wasn't contemplation; it was a battlefield littered with horrors.
A sharp rap on the heavy oak door shattered the fragile quiet. Dante didn't open his eyes. "What?" His voice was rough, scraped raw from sleep and roaring.
The door creaked open. Adam stood silhouetted against the dim bedroom light, naked, hair sleep-tousled, eyes barely open. He looked wrecked, the bruises and bites vivid on his skin, moving with the stiff-legged gait of someone profoundly sore. He closed the door softly behind him. "Just makin' sure you were good," he mumbled, voice thick with sleep. He shuffled past the tub towards the ornate commode tucked in an alcove.
Dante watched him through slitted eyes, the pink glow faintly visible beneath his lashes. Adam pissed noisily into the bowl, the sound echoing off the tiles. "I'm good," Dante replied flatly, watching Adam’s back muscles shift as he finished, flushed the mechanism, then turned to the basin to wash his hands. Adam moved slowly, deliberately, rinsing soap away, drying his hands on a towel. He didn't look at Dante again until he approached the tub.
Adam knelt on the cool stone floor beside the obsidian rim, water droplets from his hands spotting the dark surface. He reached out, his movements surprisingly gentle despite his own stiffness. Calloused fingers slid under Dante’s jaw, lifting his face from its resting position against the rim. Dante allowed it, his head tilting back, eyes opening fully.
Adam’s breath hitched audibly. Dante’s eyes weren't their usual deep amethyst. They glowed with an intense, unnatural pink light, swirling like captured nebulas. The raw power, the barely contained fury and anguish radiating from them, was palpable. Adam didn't flinch. Didn't ask. He simply leaned forward, bridging the gap between steam and sleep, and pressed his lips firmly against Dante’s.
Dante’s reaction was instantaneous, instinctive. His hand shot out of the water, dripping, and clamped onto the back of Adam’s neck, fingers tangling in his damp hair. He pulled Adam deeper into the kiss, not gently. It was a claiming, a desperate anchor thrown into a storm. Their mouths opened, tongues clashing with a hunger that spoke of shared ruin and the need for oblivion. Steam rose around them. When Adam finally pulled back, gasping, Dante’s eyes still burned that unsettling, vibrant pink.
Adam didn't hesitate. He stood, stepped over the high rim, and lowered himself into the steaming, herb-scented water facing Dante. Dante didn't protest, didn't speak. He just watched, the pink light reflecting in the water’s dark surface. Adam settled, the hot water rising to his chest, wincing slightly as it hit his own bruises and the stretched ache between his legs. He shifted closer through the water, the movement sending ripples across the surface. Dante lifted his arm from the water, dripping, and draped it heavily over Adam’s shoulders, pulling him in. Adam went willingly, leaning his weight against Dante’s solid chest.
Their lips met again. This kiss was different. Deeper. Slower. Passionate, yes, but layered with a profound, wordless understanding that bypassed speech. It was a communion forged in shared violence and desperate comfort. Adam’s hand slid up Dante’s wet chest, fingers tracing the intricate tattoos over his pectoral. Dante’s hand on Adam’s shoulder slid down his slick back, tracing the ridges of muscle, dipping lower. Their tongues moved together, a slow, sensual dance in the steamy heat. Minutes dissolved. The kiss deepened further, becoming consuming. Adam’s hand drifted lower, skimming Dante’s submerged stomach, fingers brushing through coarse hair before finding Dante’s cock, already thickening against his hip beneath the water. Adam wrapped his wet fingers around it, giving a slow, firm stroke.
Dante groaned into Adam’s mouth, hips lifting slightly off the tub floor. Adam broke the kiss only enough to shift his weight. He pushed himself up slightly, knees finding purchase on the smooth obsidian beneath them, water sloshing. He moved forward, straddling Dante’s thighs, then higher, until he was kneeling over Dante’s lap. Their lips crashed together again, hungry, wet. Adam ground down slowly, deliberately, the hard length of Dante’s cock sliding against his slick perineum and the stretched, sensitive entrance beneath. The hot water made everything slippery, amplifying the sensations. Dante moaned, a low, resonant sound vibrating against Adam’s lips, his hands gripping Adam’s hips beneath the surface.
Adam pulled back just a fraction, lips brushing Dante’s as he spoke, his voice husky, wrecked. "You want me to ride you, Prince?"
Dante’s pink eyes blazed, locked onto Adam’s. His grip tightened on Adam’s hips. "Fuck yes," he growled, the command raw and immediate.
Adam kissed him again, hard, swallowing Dante’s groan. He reached behind himself under the water, fingers finding Dante’s thick cock, slick with water and pre-come. He guided it, the broad head pressing insistently against his loosened, aching hole. Adam didn't hesitate. He sank down slowly, taking the thick invasion inch by agonizing, exquisite inch, the hot water easing the way but doing nothing to diminish the overwhelming stretch. A sharp gasp escaped him as he seated himself fully, Dante buried deep inside him to the hilt. Water surged around them.
Adam’s hands shot up, breaking the surface, water streaming down his arms. They locked onto the base of Dante’s obsidian horns, fingers curling possessively around the cool, hard ridges. Dante’s head tipped back slightly, a deep, guttural groan tearing from his throat. Pure, unadulterated pleasure flashed across his face. He loved it. Adam began to move. He rose slowly, water sluicing off his torso, then sank back down, taking Dante deep. He set a deliberate, rolling rhythm, riding Dante with controlled intensity, his eyes locked on Dante’s glowing pink gaze. He leaned down, capturing Dante’s lips again, kissing him deeply as he moved, the water rocking with their motion. Up. Down. Slow. Deep. The wet sounds of their joining mingled with gasps and the soft lap of water against stone. Adam’s grip on Dante’s horns tightened slightly as he ground down, seeking that perfect angle, wanting Dante to feel every inch of him, claiming him back in the steamy, witch-scented dark.
Adam’s grip on Dante’s horns tightened, leverage as he ground down hard, dragging that thick cock against his deepest spot. Dante’s head slammed back against the obsidian, a deep, guttural roar ripping free, his pink-glowing eyes blazing like molten neon. "Fuck! Adam! Right fucking there!" Water sloshed violently over the rim, soaking the stone floor as Adam rode him with ruthless precision, rising high until just the head remained inside, then slamming back down, taking him balls-deep every time.
"Feel that, Prince?" Adam panted, sweat and steam mixing on his brow, fingers digging into the cool ridges of horn. He leaned forward, teeth grazing Dante’s earlobe. "Feel how your cock stretches me wide? How fucking greedy my hole is for it?" He punctuated the filthy words with another brutal descent, water surging around their chests.
Dante snarled, primal, his hands finding Adam’s hips beneath the surface, claws pricking the bruised flesh there. "Yeah," he hissed, hips bucking up to meet Adam’s downward thrust. "Feels like fucking heaven wrapped 'round me. Ride it harder, you greedy slut. Milk my fucking cock dry." Adam obeyed, pistoning faster, chasing the burn, the overwhelming fullness, the way Dante’s cockhead hammered his prostate relentlessly with every plunge. The wet, rhythmic slap of Adam’s ass meeting Dante’s thighs echoed off the tiles, mixing with their harsh gasps and groans. The air thickened with steam, salt, and the raw musk of sex.
Adam’s rhythm faltered, overwhelmed. Dante seized control. His powerful legs drove up from the tub floor, thrusting into Adam with savage force while his hands on Adam’s hips held him steady, impaled. "Take it!" Dante commanded, his voice raw, water sluicing off his shoulders. "Take every fucking inch! Your hole’s mine, clenching so goddamn good!" Adam cried out, head thrown back, throat working, his cock jerking violently beneath the water’s surface, untouched and achingly hard. He was reduced to wordless pleas, whimpers torn from him with each brutal upward surge. "Gonna fill you," Dante growled, the pink light in his eyes flaring brighter, casting eerie reflections on the churning water. "Mark you inside all over again. Claim what’s fucking mine."
The filthy promise, the sheer possessive force of Dante’s thrusts, shattered Adam’s control. He came with a strangled shout, body locking rigid, back arching obscenely. Hot seed pulsed into the swirling water, unseen but felt in the violent tremors wracking him. The intense convulsions of Adam’s ass clamping down triggered Dante instantly. He roared, surging up one final time, burying himself impossibly deep as his cock throbbed, pumping thick ropes of cum deep into Adam’s core. Adam collapsed forward onto Dante’s chest, gasping, shaking, as Dante held him buried, grinding lightly, emptying himself completely.
Spent, they slumped in the scalding water, Dante’s softening cock still nestled inside Adam, his arms a heavy, loose band around him. Their harsh breaths were the only sound besides the water’s quiet lap. Adam felt limp, boneless, the deep ache profound, the possessive grip grounding. He nuzzled into the sweat-damp hollow of Dante’s neck, where his bite mark throbbed faintly. Dante’s chin rested on top of Adam’s head, his breathing slowly easing. The pink glow had faded from his eyes, leaving only profound exhaustion in the deep amethyst. For a long moment, the only reality was the heat, the shared weight, the silent aftermath.
Then, heavy bootsteps thudded outside the bathing chamber door. A sharp, impatient rap. "Dante?" It was Dabi’s voice, tight, strained. "Need you downstairs. Now. It’s the thing… it’s fucking moving." The fragile peace shattered like glass. Dante’s body tensed instantly beneath Adam, every muscle coiling. Adam felt the shift, the sudden thrum of dark energy radiating from the Prince like heat waves. The water seemed to chill around them. Dante didn’t speak. He just slowly, deliberately, lifted Adam off him, the wet sound of separation loud in the sudden silence. His eyes, when they met Adam’s, held nothing but cold, grim resolve. He rose from the water, steam swirling off his powerful frame, the bruises on his back stark against his lavender skin. He stepped out, dripping, reaching for a black silk robe without a word. The bathwater felt suddenly cold against Adam’s skin, the witch salts stinging his fresh bruises and the deep, tender ache between his legs. The sanctuary was gone. Hell’s cold stone pressed in.