Chapter 131: Jealous Flames
The thumping bass of Inferno Club vibrated through Dante’s bones, a counterpoint to the molten fury simmering beneath his skin. He stood deep in the shadows near the VIP entrance, a silent sentinel amidst the writhing chaos. His gaze, sharp as obsidian shards, tracked Adam across the crowded main floor. Adam leaned against the polished ebony bar, a tumbler of amber liquid dangling loosely from his fingers. He was talking to a lesser demon – sleek horns, iridescent skin catching the strobing lights, a predatory smile playing on thin lips. Adam laughed, a bright, sharp sound that cut through the din, and Dante saw it: Adam’s fingers brushed deliberately against the demon’s knuckles as he reached for a napkin. The casual intimacy of it sent a jolt of pure, possessive rage through Dante’s core. The intricate tattoos snaking down his arms seemed to writhe, the molten veins beneath his skin pulsing with a fierce, internal light. His jaw clenched hard enough to crack granite. Stay still. The command echoed in his own skull, a desperate mantra against the primal urge to stride over there, rip the demon’s throat out, and drag Adam away by his hair.
“Fuck me sideways,” a familiar gravelly voice muttered beside him. Kj materialized from the deeper gloom, his own dark eyes fixed on the scene at the bar. He mirrored Dante’s posture, leaning against the wall, arms crossed. Kj, younger, sharper-edged, less burdened by millennia of restraint. He took a long drag from a thin cigarette, the ember glowing briefly. “Even if you fucked up first, brother,” Kj said, blowing smoke towards the ceiling, “you’re better than me. I wouldn’t be able to let that shit slide. Not for a fucking second.” He glanced sideways at Dante, a flicker of disbelief in his gaze. “Seriously? You’re just gonna stand here?”
Dante didn’t look away from Adam. The demon leaned closer, whispering something that made Adam’s smile widen, genuine amusement crinkling the corners of his eyes. Another spike of fury lanced through Dante, hot and acidic. He forced his breathing to remain even, forced the molten fire back beneath the surface. “It’s fine,” Dante rasped, the Detroit grit in his voice rougher than usual. He lifted the heavy crystal tumbler in his hand, the expensive bourbon inside catching the crimson light. He drained half of it in one burning swallow, the alcohol doing nothing to quench the inferno inside. “He knows what he’s doing.”
Kj snorted. “Yeah? Looks like he’s about to blow that horned fucker.” He shook his head, taking another drag. “You’re a saint, Dante. Or an idiot. Maybe both.”
They lapsed into silence, watching. Dante tracked every micro-expression on Adam’s face, the way his body angled towards the demon, the easy confidence in his posture. He saw Adam nod towards a shadowed corridor leading away from the main dance floor. The demon grinned, predatory and eager. Adam pushed off the bar, tossing back the rest of his drink. He didn’t glance towards Dante’s shadowed corner. Not once. He just followed the demon, disappearing into the pulsing darkness of the club’s labyrinthine depths.
Kj exhaled a plume of smoke. “Well. There he goes.” He stubbed out the cigarette on the wall. “You good?”
Dante finally tore his gaze from the empty space where Adam had vanished. He looked at Kj, his expression carefully blank, the molten veins dimming to a low, dangerous ember glow beneath his skin. “Peachy,” he said flatly. He finished his bourbon, the glass clinking sharply against the marble ledge beside him. He didn’t move. He didn’t follow. He just stood there, a statue carved from shadow and suppressed rage, letting it happen.
The heavy silence of Dante’s mansion study was a stark contrast to the club’s cacophony. Dante sat behind the obsidian desk, a fresh tumbler of bourbon untouched before him, staring at the faint smear of his own come still visible on the stone surface from days prior. The scent of old parchment, sulfur, and sex lingered. The door clicked open. Dante didn’t look up. He knew the weight of those footsteps on the polished floor.
Adam leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. He looked rumpled, his dark hair messy, his shirt slightly untucked. A faint, unfamiliar scent clung to him – ozone mixed with something vaguely sulfuric, cheap cologne overlaid on sweat. “Nice night?” Adam’s voice was deliberately casual, laced with a sharp edge Dante recognized instantly. Bait.
Dante slowly lifted his head. His single eye met Adam’s, holding his gaze. “Eventful,” Dante replied, his voice low and dangerously calm.
Adam pushed off the doorframe, sauntering into the room. He stopped a few feet from the desk, his hands shoved into his pockets. “Yeah. Met someone interesting at Inferno. Horns. Blue skin. Real… enthusiastic.” He paused, letting the description hang. “Took him back to his place. Bit of a dive, but he made up for it.” A smirk played on his lips. “Fuck, Dante, the things that mouth could do…”
Dante didn’t move. The molten veins beneath his skin flared briefly, casting a faint, hellish light on the underside of his jaw. He pushed his chair back slowly, the legs scraping on stone. He stood up, his movements deliberate, predatory. He rounded the desk, closing the distance between them in three silent strides. He stopped inches from Adam, forcing him to tilt his head back slightly to maintain eye contact. The air crackled, thick with ozone and suppressed violence.
“You can have your fun, halo,” Dante said, his voice a low, vibrating growl, the Detroit accent thickening. He leaned in, his breath ghosting over Adam’s lips. “But don’t come back to me and talk about it like high school bitches swapping notes. It’s fucking pathetic.”
Adam’s smirk widened, defiant. He didn’t flinch. He leaned infinitesimally closer, his own breath mingling with Dante’s. “Pathetic? Or you just don’t wanna know how good it was?” His eyes glittered with challenge. “Jealous, Morningstar?”
Dante’s control snapped. His eyes shifted instantly, the iris dissolving into pools of molten, burning gold. Hellfire flickered deep within. Adam’s breath hitched, a flash of triumph in his stormy grey eyes. Got him.
Adam’s plan – desperate, reckless – had worked. He craved the obliterating force of Dante’s possession, the raw dominance that made him forget everything but the feel of Dante owning him. He wanted the fury from the courtyard, the claiming against the bookshelf. He wanted Dante unleashed.
He was about to get it.
Dante’s hand shot out, lightning-fast. Not to strike. To claim. His fingers wrapped around Adam’s throat, firm, unyielding, pressing just enough to constrict his airway, to dominate, not to kill. Adam gasped, his hands instinctively flying up to grip Dante’s wrist, not to pull away, but to hold on. Dante leaned in, his molten gold eyes inches from Adam’s, radiating ancient, terrifying power.
“It could’ve been good,” Dante hissed, his thumb pressing against Adam’s pulse point, feeling the frantic flutter. “But I doubt he was able to do the shit you really fucking like.” His free hand slid down Adam’s chest, rough and demanding. “The shit he wouldn’t know about.” His fingers hooked into Adam’s belt, yanking him forward. “Like how much you need your ass eaten before you’re loose enough to take my cock.”
Adam moaned, a low, involuntary sound, his defiance crumbling instantly into raw need. Dante shoved him backwards. Adam stumbled, his back hitting the cold obsidian of the desk. Dante pushed him down flat, scattering scrolls. He ripped Adam’s jeans and briefs down his hips in one brutal motion. Before Adam could brace, Dante dropped to his knees behind him.
He didn’t hesitate. He spread Adam’s cheeks roughly and buried his face between them. His tongue, hot and demanding, licked a broad, wet stripe over Adam’s hole. Adam cried out, arching his back, fingers scrambling on the slick stone. Dante ignored him. He pressed his mouth flush against the tight furl, his tongue stiffening, probing insistently. He pushed past the initial resistance, spearing deep inside Adam’s asshole with relentless pressure. Adam gasped, his body jerking. Dante tongue-fucked him ruthlessly, lapping, probing, stretching him open with wet, obscene sounds. He worked Adam’s hole with his tongue until it was slick and yielding, until Adam was panting, writhing, pushing back against Dante’s face, desperate whimpers escaping his throat.
Dante pulled back, saliva and pre-lube glistening on his chin. He spat onto his fingers, then slicked his thick, already straining cock with rough strokes. He lined up, the swollen head pressing against Adam’s loosened entrance. “Remembered this?” Dante growled, his hand still gripping Adam’s hip hard enough to bruise. He didn’t thrust gently. He slammed forward in one brutal, unforgiving stroke, burying himself to the hilt.
Adam screamed, the sound echoing off the high ceiling, his body bowing off the desk. Dante grunted, the tight, hot clench almost painful. He pulled back almost completely, then hammered home again. Thud. His hips cracked against Adam’s ass. He set a savage, unrelenting pace immediately. Deep, hard, piston-like thrusts that drove Adam forward into the unforgiving stone with every snap of Dante’s hips. Skin slapped against skin, wet and loud.
“Fuck!” Adam gasped, his voice ragged. “Oh fuck, Dante!”
Dante leaned over him, his chest pressing against Adam’s back, his hand still gripping Adam’s throat loosely, a constant reminder of dominance. His thrusts didn’t slow. “That demon?” Dante snarled into Adam’s ear, his breath hot. “Could he fuck you like this?” He punctuated the question with another brutal slam. “Huh? Could he pound your ass raw?”
“N-no!” Adam moaned, pushing back desperately. “Fuck, no!”
Dante pistoned harder, driving the air from Adam’s lungs. “Did he know how deep you like it?” He angled his hips, grinding deep on the inward thrust, hitting Adam’s prostate with devastating accuracy. Adam shrieked, his cock trapped and leaking against the cold stone. “Did he make you scream like this?”
“No! Fuck, Dante, no!” Adam panted, the denial mingling with pure ecstasy.
Dante kept the brutal rhythm going, relentless, unforgiving. He dragged it out, each thrust deliberate torture, each withdrawal agonizing. “What about his cock?” Dante demanded, his voice rough with exertion and fury. “Bigger than mine?” He slammed in hard. “Fill you up better?”
“No!” Adam gasped, writhing. “Yours… fuck… yours is bigger! Fills me… oh god!”
“Did he make you feel owned?” Dante growled, his hand tightening fractionally on Adam’s throat. “Like you belonged to him?” He fucked into him harder, deeper. “Like this?”
“No!” Adam cried, the word dissolving into a sob of pleasure. “Only you! Only you own me!”
The filthy questions, the relentless pounding, the sheer overwhelming force of Dante’s possession – it was turning Adam on impossibly more. Each denial, each admission of Dante’s superiority, fueled the fire burning through him. He answered between gasps and moans, always the same desperate truth: No. No one else. Only you.
Dante shifted his angle slightly, grinding his pubic bone against Adam’s ass, driving his cock impossibly deeper. Adam felt the familiar, terrifying pressure building low in his belly. He was close, so close, teetering on the edge. “Dante… please… I’m gonna…”
Dante stilled abruptly, buried deep. He held himself there, pulsing inside Adam. “Not yet,” he commanded, his voice thick with lust. He withdrew slowly, the drag agonizing, leaving Adam empty and clenching violently. Before Adam could protest, Dante shoved him sideways onto the desk. Adam landed on his back, legs dangling over the edge, his cock jutting rigid and flushed against his stomach. Dante dropped to his knees between Adam’s splayed legs.
He didn’t waste time. He took Adam’s leaking cock into his mouth in one smooth motion, swallowing him down to the root. Adam cried out, his head thrashing back against the stone. Dante sucked hard, hollowing his cheeks, his tongue swirling expertly around the sensitive head, massaging the straining vein underneath. He bobbed rapidly, his hand gripping the base of Adam’s shaft, adding pressure. It was too much, too intense after the brutal fucking. Adam’s hips jerked uncontrollably. “Fuck! Dante! I’m gonna…!”
Dante pulled off with a wet pop just as Adam was about to tip over. Adam whimpered, his cock throbbing angrily. Dante looked up at him, his molten gold eyes blazing, saliva glistening on his lips. “Not yet,” he repeated, a feral promise. He surged up, grabbing Adam’s hips, flipping him back onto his stomach with brutal efficiency. He shoved Adam’s legs apart, lined up his slick cock, and slammed back into the tight, wet heat without preamble.
Adam screamed again, the renewed penetration shocking after the brief respite. Dante set another punishing pace, deeper if possible, grinding hard on every inward thrust. He fucked Adam raw, the sound wetter now, slick with spit and pre-come and the remnants of Dante’s release from earlier. He leaned over Adam’s back, his teeth scraping the nape of Adam’s neck. “Nobody has,” Adam moaned, “or ever could,” thud, “fuck me,” thud, “like you do.”
Dante pistoned harder, faster, his own control fraying. Adam was incoherent now, babbling pleas and affirmations. Dante felt Adam’s inner muscles begin to flutter wildly, clamping down in frantic spasms. He was seconds away. Dante slammed into him one final time, burying himself to the hilt, grinding deep. He wrapped a hand around Adam’s cock, slick with pre-come and sweat. Three rough, brutal strokes.
Adam came with a guttural roar that shook the ancient bookshelves. Thick ropes of come splattered across his stomach and chest, pulsing violently. The fierce clenching triggered Dante’s own climax. He roared Adam’s name, emptying himself deep inside Adam’s ass in hot, possessive jets, flooding him, claiming him utterly once more. He collapsed forward, his weight pinning Adam to the cold stone, his forehead pressed between Adam’s shoulder blades, his breath coming in ragged gasps against Adam’s sweat-slicked skin. They stayed locked together, trembling, the only sounds their harsh breathing and the wet drip of fluids onto the priceless obsidian desk. Dante’s hand remained possessively splayed over Adam’s hip, his molten veins slowly fading back to embers beneath his skin. The silence that descended wasn't peaceful; it was the charged quiet after a storm, heavy with exhaustion and the raw, undeniable truth of their violently entwined need.
The charged quiet stretched, thick with the musk of sweat, sex, and cooling release. Dante’s weight remained heavy on Adam’s back, his forehead pressed between Adam’s shoulder blades, his breath hot and ragged against damp skin. Adam lay pinned beneath him, trembling faintly, his own breath shallow gasps, the cold obsidian leaching warmth where his cheek rested. Dante’s hand, still possessively splayed over Adam’s hip, felt the minute tremors running through the muscle beneath his palm. Slowly, Dante pushed himself up, his movements stiff, the ache in his own muscles a dull counterpoint to the fading adrenaline. He withdrew, the slick slide of his softening cock pulling a low, involuntary groan from Adam. The wet sound echoed obscenely in the silence, followed by the immediate, warm trickle of his spend leaking onto Adam’s inner thigh and pooling on the ancient desk beneath him.
Adam didn’t move. He stayed sprawled face down, legs dangling, the mess cooling on his stomach and chest. His shoulders hitched once, a silent shudder. Dante stood over him, looking down at the wrecked expanse of Adam’s back, the fading bruises from their courtyard encounter, the fresh red marks from his own grip. He watched a bead of sweat trace a path down Adam’s spine before vanishing into the waistband of his jeans, still bunched around his thighs. The possessive fury had banked, leaving behind a hollow exhaustion and something sharper, colder. He grabbed a discarded scroll, its parchment brittle, and roughly wiped his own cock clean before tossing it aside. It landed with a soft thud. “Get up,” Dante rasped, his voice scraped raw. He didn’t offer a hand.
Adam flinched at the sound. He pushed himself up onto shaky arms, wincing as his abused muscles protested. He avoided Dante’s gaze, looking instead at the viscous mess smeared across his stomach and the dark stone. He reached down with trembling fingers, pulling his jeans and briefs back up over his hips, the fabric sticking uncomfortably to damp, sticky skin. The movement was clumsy, painful. He finally lifted his head, his stormy grey eyes meeting Dante’s molten gaze. They were bloodshot, exhausted, but held a flicker of that familiar, stubborn defiance. “Satisfied?” Adam’s voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper, yet it cut through the quiet like broken glass.
Dante’s jaw tightened. He saw the tremor in Adam’s hands, the slight hitch in his breathing, the raw vulnerability beneath the bravado. It twisted something inside him, a confusing mix of residual anger and a reluctant, unwanted pang of concern. He remembered Adam slumped on the courtyard bench, drunk and hurting. Remembered the cheap cologne scent clinging to him earlier. Remembered the desperate, almost broken look in Adam’s eyes just before he’d unleashed hell in the study. “Did it work?” Dante countered, his tone flat, devoid of its earlier heat. He gestured vaguely at Adam’s disheveled state, at the desk. “Did pushing me until I ripped you apart make you feel better? Forget the blue fucker?”
Adam’s defiance hardened. He shoved himself fully upright, swaying slightly before finding his balance. He wiped a hand across his mouth, smearing a trace of spit. “Felt something,” he retorted, his voice gaining a brittle edge. “Better than feeling like fucking nothing. Like I don’t matter.” He met Dante’s gaze squarely, a challenge burning in the grey depths. “You gonna tell me I do now? After that?” He gestured sharply towards the desk, towards the physical evidence of Dante’s brutal claiming.
Dante stared at him. The raw need in Adam’s question, buried beneath the anger, was undeniable. It echoed the desperate plea Adam had hurled at him days ago: ‘You don’t get to walk away from this thinking it's done.’ He saw the exhaustion etched deep into Adam’s face, the shadows under his eyes, the way his shoulders slumped despite his effort to stand tall. The possessive fury stirred again, but it was tempered now, tangled with a weary frustration. He’d fucked Adam raw, owned him utterly on that desk, filled him until he screamed Dante’s name… and it still wasn’t enough. The wound was deeper than flesh. Dante took a step closer, invading Adam’s space. He didn’t touch him. “You matter,” Dante growled, the words low and rough, forced out. “Too fucking much. That’s the goddamn problem.” He saw Adam’s breath catch, his eyes widening slightly. “Now get cleaned up,” Dante ordered, turning away abruptly, unable to hold that vulnerable gaze any longer. He strode towards the study door, leaving Adam standing alone amidst the wreckage, the scent of sulfur and sex hanging heavy in the air, the echo of Dante’s admission – raw, grudging, terrifying – ringing louder than any roar. Adam watched him go, the defiance momentarily drowned in stunned silence, the cold reality of Dante’s words settling over him like ash.