Chapter 136: Bring the King Back
The silence in the marble tomb felt heavier than the chains Adam had worn. His ragged sobs echoed against the sterile walls, the only sound besides the sickening drip of blood – Dante’s blood, Zadikiel’s blood – pooling on the cold floor. He cradled Dante’s head against his chest, rocking slightly, whispering desperate, broken pleas into blood-matted hair. "Wake up... please, just fucking wake up..." He didn’t register the subtle shift in the air pressure, the faint scent of brimstone and ozone overlaying the stench of gore. Not until a shadow fell across them.
Adam flinched, curling protectively over Dante’s body, expecting Zadikiel’s return or some new horror. Instead, his blurred vision registered figures materializing silently from the lingering crimson haze Dante had arrived in. Five figures. Lucifer Morningstar stood foremost, his usual aura of effortless, terrifying power replaced by a stillness so profound it seemed to freeze the very air. His obsidian eyes, usually burning with infernal intellect, were wide, fixed on the ruin of his eldest son. Hela, Dante’s mother, stood beside him, her ethereal beauty radiating a shock so deep it momentarily stripped her expression bare, her hand unconsciously reaching out towards the scene, trembling.
Kj, Dante’s brother, materialized closer, his rugged face pale beneath its usual scars, his knuckles white where they gripped the hilt of a sword that hung uselessly at his side. Beside him, Lucian, Dante’s son, now eighteen but seeming painfully young in this moment, stared with wide, horrified eyes, the cocky defiance he usually wore utterly shattered. Sapphire, Dante’s sister, stood slightly apart, her sharp features rigid, lips pressed into a bloodless line, her gaze flickering from her brother’s corpse to Adam’s broken form and back, a tremor running through her folded wings. The silence stretched, thick with disbelief and the raw stench of tragedy.
The silence stretched, thick with disbelief and the raw stench of tragedy. Lucifer’s voice, stripped of its usual imperious cadence, rasped out low and fractured. "Even I can heal..." He paused, his obsidian eyes fixed on Dante’s still form, an unfamiliar vulnerability twisting his features. "I can bring people back… but this," another painful hesitation choked him, "I can’t do anything for him." Hela stared at him, stunned; this raw display of anguish from the King of Hell, her estranged lover whose legendary arrogance had driven them apart, was utterly disorienting, especially given their fraught history with Dante.
Hela’s voice trembled. "There’s nothing I could even do to help him… Had it not been an angelic blade crafted specifically for him and his kind… I might’ve been able—" A sob cut her off, raw and unexpected. Adam remained motionless, fused to Dante’s cooling body, his silent sobs the only sign he hadn’t turned to stone himself. Kj moved slowly, deliberately, sinking onto the blood-slick marble beside Adam. He placed a heavy, gentle arm around Adam’s shuddering shoulders, a wordless anchor in the storm.
Lucien stared, unblinking, disbelief warring with a tidal wave of grief. "Dad?…" The whisper was barely a breath, unheard by anyone else. His vision blurred, tears overflowing, and his breathing hitched into ragged, panicked gasps. He choked out another desperate, silent plea, "Dad?…" before his legs gave way. He dropped heavily to his knees, not dramatically, but as if the weight of the universe finally crushed him, and great, heaving sobs tore from his chest. He braced his hands on the cold stone, forehead nearly touching the gore-streaked marble, his body wracked by uncontrollable weeping.
Hela started towards her grandson, concern flickering through her own shock. Then it happened. With a sickening crack of bone and tearing flesh, thick black horns erupted from Lucien's temples. Leathery wings, dark as midnight, burst from his back, unfurling clumsily. Black claws punched through the skin of his fingertips. Hela froze. Everyone froze, staring at the impossible – Lucien, writhing in agony amidst his first, violent transformation, had never manifested his demonic heritage before. He clawed at his head near the base of the horns, a guttural cry of pure, soul-rending grief ripping from his throat.
As the scream reached its peak, his clawed hands slammed down onto the marble floor. A blinding, searing white light, shot through with veins of crackling crimson energy, erupted from his palms. It snaked across the floor like lightning, striking Dante’s chest with a thunderous crack. Lucien’s tear-filled eyes widened in pure terror. He gasped, looking frantically at Hela, "What did I do?!" Hela just stared, jaw slack, mind reeling. Together, their gazes snapped back to Dante.
Dante’s body jolted violently in Adam’s arms, every muscle seizing taut. Then, with a gasp that sounded like tearing leather, he shot upright. Air, thick and labored, rasped into his lungs. His eyes flew open, blazing molten gold, wide with shock and residual agony. Adam flinched violently, his own eyes huge, a choked sound escaping his raw throat. Dante blinked, disoriented, the fierce light in his eyes flickering wildly as his gaze swept the horrific scene – the carnage, his family frozen in shock, Adam’s tear-streaked face inches from his own. He coughed, a wet, horrible sound, blood flecking his lips. "...the fuck?" he rasped, the sound barely audible.
Adam’s breath hitched. His arms, still locked around Dante, trembled violently. The numbness shattered, replaced by a surge of desperate, disbelieving hope so intense it was painful. His voice, when it finally came, was a raw, shattered whisper, barely recognizable. "Dante?..."
Lucifer sucked in a sharp, audible breath, relief carving lines into his usually impassive face. Hela stared, disbelief warping her features, her gaze snapping between the risen Dante and their trembling, transformed grandson Lucien. Sapphire looked utterly lost, adrift in the carnage. Adam remained kneeling beside Dante, miraculously healed but still coated in Zadikiel’s dried blood and his own tears, his eyes swollen and red-rimmed, a mess of misery and stunned surprise. Lucien looked horrified, frozen under his father’s intense, newly golden gaze. Dante locked onto him, his voice gravelly and weak as his body fought to reintegrate life. “Lucien? Did you do this?”
Lucien flinched, pure terror in his eyes. “I-I didn’t mean to!” he stammered, the words stumbling out. Dante shifted his focus to Hela. “Had he ever transformed before?” Hela shook her head mutely, still processing. Dante gestured weakly for Lucien to come closer. Lucien hesitated, radiating fear – fear of punishment, fear of the monstrous change that had ripped through him. “Thank you…” Dante managed, his gratitude raw. Lucien’s eyes flashed bright, intense yellow – a trait Dante recognized instantly, mirrored from his own intense emotional surges.
“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Dante stated firmly, locking eyes with his son. Lucien swallowed hard, his voice a fragile whisper. “What happened to me?” Dante’s response was blunt, understanding lacing the exhaustion. “Your transformation. It almost always comes from some fucking traumatic bullshit. This… this was apparently yours.” Lucien didn’t speak. He simply closed the distance and wrapped his newly clawed arms around Dante, holding tight for several heartbeats before pulling back slightly. “I’m glad you’re okay,” he murmured, his voice thick. He stepped back then, silent but perceptive, his gaze shifting meaningfully towards Adam – understanding the profound, desperate need simmering there after everything Adam had endured, especially after watching Dante die.
Dante turned back to Adam, who hadn’t moved. He lifted a trembling, blood-smeared hand to Adam’s tear-streaked cheek. “You okay, Halo?” Adam melted into the touch instantly, a fresh flood of tears welling in his exhausted eyes. Dante didn’t hesitate. He pulled Adam fiercely into his arms, crushing him against his still-bloody chest. Adam broke again, great, heaving sobs shaking his frame, his face buried in Dante’s neck. Dante held him, one hand firmly rubbing Adam’s back, the other tangled possessively in his hair, grounding him. He pressed his lips close to Adam’s ear, voice a low, private rumble only Adam could hear. “It’s okay, sweet boy.” Adam melted further into him, clinging desperately. Dante tightened his hold, his breath warm against Adam’s skin. “You’re okay. I’m okay. It’s okay now, baby.”
Dante stood, the motion surprisingly smooth despite his resurrection's raw edges, pulling Adam up with him. "I'm taking him home," he stated, his voice still gravel-scraped but firm, cutting through the lingering tension. Lucifer, his expression unreadable but his obsidian eyes holding a flicker of something complex—perhaps relief mixed with grim exhaustion—nodded once. "I'll be checking on you in a few days." The King of Hell vanished without another word, leaving a scent of ozone and old power. Lucien stepped forward, wrapping his newly clawed arms around Dante again, the gesture tighter this time. "I love you, Dad," he murmured into Dante's shoulder. "Love you too, kid," Dante rasped, returning the embrace briefly before Lucien pulled back and turned to Adam. "Love you, Adam," Lucien said, his voice thick. "Love you too, Lucien," Adam managed, his own voice a hoarse whisper. Sapphire and Kj exchanged glances, the relief palpable. "Glad you're back," Sapphire stated simply. "Yeah," Kj grunted, clapping Dante lightly on the shoulder. They both disappeared in twin flares of crimson smoke.
The sterile, blood-stained marble dissolved instantly, replaced by the familiar, shadowed opulence of Dante’s mansion bedroom. Adam swayed, the teleportation a jarring lurch. Dante swept him up immediately, carrying him effortlessly towards the adjoining bathroom. He set Adam down gently on the cool marble counter, running steaming water into the deep tub, adding soothing oils with a muttered incantation. He helped Adam shed the sweatpants, carefully avoiding lingering on the fading bruises, his touch clinical yet infinitely tender as he lowered him into the fragrant water. Dante washed him with a soft cloth, meticulously cleaning away every trace of blood—Zadikiel’s, his own—and prison grime, rinsing his hair with quiet efficiency. Afterwards, Dante lifted Adam out, wrapping him in a thick, warm towel, drying him with gentle pats before slipping fresh, soft sweatpants onto him. He carried Adam back to the massive bed, tucking the heavy duvet around him. "I'll be back in a minute," Dante murmured, brushing damp hair from Adam's forehead. "Going to shower, then I'll be in bed, okay?" Adam nodded mutely, his eyes huge and haunted in his pale face, the profound sadness a palpable weight in the room. Dante vanished into the bathroom.
The sound of the shower spray echoed briefly. Dante emerged minutes later, skin still damp, clad only in low-slung sleep pants, his torso bare, revealing the stark, angry scars where Zadikiel’s blade had pierced him – wounds that hadn’t fully vanished, grim souvenirs of his death. He slid into bed beside Adam. Adam instantly curled into him, pressing his face against Dante’s chest, seeking the steady thud of his heartbeat, the warmth of his skin, the vital scent of him – smoke and soap and Dante. Dante wrapped his arms around him securely, holding him close, one hand stroking slowly up and down Adam’s back. He felt Adam shift, his head tilting upwards. Dante looked down. Adam’s eyes, still damp and red-rimmed, met his. "I love you," Adam whispered, the words raw with everything unsaid. "Love you too, Halo," Dante replied, his voice a low rumble against Adam’s hair. Adam closed the distance, his lips meeting Dante’s in a kiss that started gentle, almost tentative, then deepened into something slow, deep, and profoundly passionate. Dante responded instantly, his hand sliding into Adam’s hair, anchoring him as their mouths moved together, a desperate reassurance, a claiming, a silent scream of survival. They kissed like that for long moments, the world narrowing to breath and touch.
Adam’s hand began to move, tentative at first, tracing the hard planes of Dante’s chest, fingers skimming over the ridges of scar tissue, then drifting lower across his abdomen, exploring the familiar territory with a shy urgency. Dante mirrored him, his own calloused palm sliding beneath Adam’s t-shirt, tracing the line of his spine, the curve of his hip, relearning the map of his body, his touch conveying possession and protection. The kiss grew hungrier, deeper, tongues sliding together with increasing heat, breath mingling in ragged gasps. Adam pulled back just enough, panting, his eyes dark and wide, pupils blown. "I need you," he breathed, the plea raw and urgent. "Now." Dante searched his face, his thumb tracing Adam’s cheekbone. "Are you sure you're ready?" he asked, his voice thick, the unspoken after what he did to you hanging heavy in the air. "Yes," Adam insisted, surging forward to recapture Dante’s mouth, his kiss fiercer now, demanding. They kissed again, Adam’s hands growing bolder, one sliding down to grip Dante’s hip possessively. Dante rolled them, settling his weight carefully on top of Adam, caging him protectively. He braced himself on his forearms, looking down into Adam’s eyes. "Adam," he said, the single word a final, intense question. Adam nodded, his gaze unwavering, and pulled Dante’s head down for another searing kiss.
Dante obliged, his kiss deepening as his hand slid down Adam’s torso. He deftly hooked his fingers into the waistband of Adam’s sweatpants and briefs, pushing them down over his hips in one smooth motion, freeing his hardening cock. Dante broke the kiss, sliding down Adam’s body, his lips trailing a fiery path down his chest and stomach. He took Adam’s cock into his mouth without preamble, engulfing the hard length with warm, wet suction. He bobbed his head, tongue swirling firmly around the head, sucking hard enough to draw a strangled gasp and a sharp buck from Adam’s hips. He worked him like this for several intense moments, not aiming to make him come but solely to stoke the fire, to make Adam feel the heat, the pressure, the exquisite friction – to remind him of pleasure. Adam moaned, low and desperate, fingers tangling in Dante’s damp hair. Then Dante pulled off with a wet pop, leaving Adam achingly hard, and moved back up his body. He reached over to the nightstand, grabbing the lube, slicking his own cock generously with a few efficient strokes. He positioned himself between Adam’s spread thighs, the thick head of his cock pressing against Adam’s entrance. Dante locked eyes with Adam, his gaze intense, searching – one final, triple-check. "I need to feel you," Adam gasped, his voice ragged with need, his hips lifting slightly in silent invitation. "Inside me. Now."
Dante pressed forward slowly, carefully, the thick head of his cock breaching Adam’s tight ring of muscle. Adam hissed, his back arching off the bed, not in pain but in overwhelming sensation – the stretch, the burn, the profound fullness of being claimed by Dante again, after the violation. Dante held still for a heartbeat, letting Adam adjust, his gaze fixed on Adam’s face, watching for any sign of discomfort beyond the intense stretch. "Fuck, you feel incredible," Dante breathed, his voice rough with restraint. He began to move then, pulling back almost all the way before sliding deep again, establishing a slow, steady rhythm, each thrust measured and deep, burying himself to the hilt, focused on reconnection, on gentleness, despite the urgency thrumming through both of them. He was careful, deliberate, wanting to give Adam what he craved without echoing Zadikiel’s brutality. Adam’s moans were immediate and unguarded, spilling freely into the dimly lit room. "Dante... fuck... harder," Adam panted, his legs wrapping around Dante’s waist, pulling him deeper. "Please. Harder." Dante obeyed, increasing the force and pace of his thrusts, the bedframe groaning softly under them. He shifted his angle subtly, expertly, seeking the spot he knew so well. The next deep drive hit Adam’s prostate dead-on. Adam cried out, sharp and loud, his body jerking, cock leaking pre-come onto his stomach. "There! Oh fuck, Dante, right there!" Dante focused on that angle, driving into him with powerful, controlled strokes that slammed against Adam’s sweet spot relentlessly. "That's it, sweet boy," Dante growled, his own control fraying at the edges as pleasure coiled tight in his gut. "Take it. Fuck, you take me so goddamn well. Perfect." He pistoned his hips, the wet slap of skin on skin filling the room. "My perfect fucking Halo."
Adam gasped, arching off the sheets as Dante slammed deep again, the thick length of his cock stretching Adam’s tight hole impossibly wide. “Fuck! Yes! Like that!” Adam choked out, his fingers digging into Dante’s scarred shoulders, blunt nails scraping skin. Dante growled, low and primal, pistoning his hips relentlessly, the wet slap of flesh echoing off the high ceiling, each powerful thrust jolting Adam’s body up the mattress. Sweat slicked their bodies, mingling with the lingering scent of soap and the sharp, musky tang of sex. Adam’s cock bounced hard against his stomach, leaking steadily, untouched and aching. “Need you… deeper… fuck me harder!” Adam demanded, his voice ragged, hips lifting frantically to meet Dante’s punishing rhythm. Dante obliged, shifting his weight, driving down with brutal force, his balls slapping against Adam’s ass with every deep plunge. The head of Dante’s cock dragged mercilessly over Adam’s prostate, sending electric shocks of pure, blinding pleasure up his spine. Adam screamed, a raw, unfiltered sound torn from his throat, his vision whiting out momentarily. “Found it… fuck… right there!” Adam gasped, trembling uncontrollably. Dante’s thrusts became shorter, harder, focused solely on hammering that sweet spot, his own breath coming in harsh grunts. “Take it… take my cock… all of it… your fucking hole’s mine,” Dante snarled, his voice thick with lust and possession. Adam could feel the thick vein pulsing along Dante’s shaft, rubbing perfectly inside him with every stroke. “Gonna come… Dante… fuck… I’m gonna…” Adam whimpered, the coil in his gut tightening unbearably. Dante leaned down, capturing Adam’s mouth in a fierce, biting kiss, swallowing his cries as he fucked him with relentless, driving power. The bedframe groaned in protest beneath their frantic movements. Adam shattered first, his orgasm ripping through him violently, back bowing off the bed, cock spurting thick ropes of come across his stomach and chest untouched, his ass clamping down hard on Dante’s invading cock. The intense clenching pushed Dante over the edge; with a guttural roar, he buried himself to the hilt, grinding deep as hot pulses of semen flooded Adam’s channel, filling him. They collapsed together, Dante’s weight pressing Adam into the mattress, both breathing raggedly, slick bodies trembling in the aftermath. Dante stayed buried inside, softening slowly, his forehead resting against Adam’s, their breaths mingling. Adam traced the jagged scar on Dante’s neck, left by Zadikiel’s blade. “Still here,” Dante murmured, voice rough but soft. Adam just nodded, pulling him closer, needing the solid, living weight of him.