Chapter 35: Let’s Try This Again
The scent of brimstone and expensive Egyptian cotton wrapped around Dabi as consciousness seeped back. The bed beneath him was vast, yielding, draped in crimson silk that felt cool against his bare skin. Filtered through heavy velvet curtains, dim morning light cast long shadows across the gothic expanse of Dante’s bedroom. He remembered the crackle of the perpetual fire in the marble hearth, the faint, unsettling hum beneath the silence. Remembered Dante carrying him here, marked and trembling, after the club bathroom, after the raw, claiming violence that had left him aching and hollowed out, yet paradoxically tethered.
Dante lay beside him, a solid line of heat under the silk sheet. His breathing was deep, even. The obsidian horns were gone, the wings vanished back into whatever shadowy dimension they occupied, but the power radiating from him was a tangible pressure against Dabi’s skin. His arm was slung possessively over Dabi’s waist, fingers resting lightly on the bruise blossoming over his hip bone. A stark reminder.
Dabi shifted slightly, the movement pulling a low groan from deep in his chest. Every muscle protested. Deeper aches, too. Dante’s eyes snapped open instantly. Not groggy. Predatory awareness flooded them, molten grey meeting Dabi’s gaze. No softness there yet. Just a watchful intensity.
"Morning," Dante rasped, his Detroit accent thick with sleep and something darker. His thumb traced the edge of the bruise, not gently. "Sleep alright?"
"Like the dead," Dabi muttered, his voice rough. He felt exposed, vulnerable in this opulent cage. Dante’s scrutiny was unnerving.
A low hum vibrated in Dante’s chest. He propped himself up on an elbow, the sheet pooling around his waist, revealing the intricate, swirling tattoos that covered his chest and arms. His gaze traveled over Dabi’s face, lingering on the fading marks on his neck, the split lip he’d acquired… elsewhere. "Looks like hell warmed over, sweetheart."
"Yeah, well, wonder fucking why," Dabi shot back, the familiar defiance sparking, a thin shield against the vulnerability Dante always unearthed.
Dante’s expression hardened. He didn’t rise to the bait immediately. Instead, his hand slid from the bruise to cup Dabi’s jaw, forcing him to hold his gaze. The touch wasn’t tender. It was assessing. Controlling. "That shit with Hawks," Dante said, his voice dropping, losing the rasp, becoming dangerously smooth. Cold. "Him crawling all over you. Flirting. Touching. You letting him." His fingers tightened fractionally. "That doesn't just vanish because I fucked the defiance out of you in a bathroom."
The bluntness hit like a physical blow. Shame, hot and unexpected, twisted in Dabi’s gut alongside the lingering soreness. He’d played a dangerous game, using Hawks to try and provoke a reaction. He hadn’t anticipated the volcanic rage he’d unleashed. "I know," he managed, the words thick. He couldn’t look away from Dante’s piercing eyes. "It was stupid. Pointless."
"Fucking right it was." Dante’s thumb brushed the corner of Dabi’s swollen lip. "He wanted you. Saw you as a prize. A fucking conquest." The possessiveness in Dante’s voice was a physical thing, wrapping around Dabi, squeezing. "And you played along. You let him think he had a shot." A muscle ticked in Dante’s jaw. "That takes time to get past. That pissed-off feeling? It’s gonna stick around for a while. You need to know that."
The raw honesty cut deeper than any accusation. Dante wasn't demanding groveling apologies; he was stating a fact about his own demonic nature. His jealousy was a living thing, a beast that had tasted blood. Dabi understood the price of provoking it now. "I understand," he said, meeting Dante’s gaze steadily, no flinch, no excuse. "Took me time to understand a lot of things."
Something shifted in Dante’s eyes. The molten anger didn’t vanish, but it banked, replaced by a deeper, more complex heat. His grip on Dabi’s jaw softened, becoming almost caressing. He leaned in slowly, deliberately. The air crackled between them. When his lips met Dabi’s, it wasn't the brutal claiming of the club, nor the punishing kisses against the bathroom wall. It was startlingly, devastatingly gentle. A deep, slow exploration. Dante’s lips were soft, insistent, tasting of sleep and the faint, ever-present tang of sulfur. He kissed Dabi like he was rediscovering him, savoring him, his hand sliding back to cradle the nape of Dabi’s neck. It was a kiss that demanded surrender of a different kind.
Dabi melted into it, a low sigh escaping him. His hand found Dante’s bare chest, fingers splaying over the intricate ink, feeling the powerful heartbeat beneath. The defiance, the sharp edges, dissolved under the unexpected tenderness. When Dante finally pulled back, just an inch, their breath mingling, the intensity in his eyes was absolute.
"If you want to," Dante murmured, his voice a low, rough vibration against Dabi’s lips. The Detroit rasp was back, laced with something raw. Vulnerable, almost. "If you want this… I want to try again. With you. But not like before." He searched Dabi’s face. "No fucking around. No games. No Hawks breathing down your neck, no one else’s hands on you. Ever." He paused, the weight of centuries behind his words. "Just us. For each other. Nothing else. Nothing less."
The offer hung in the air, thick with the scent of silk and brimstone. It wasn't just a request; it was a pact. A demand for absolute fidelity from a being who embodied sin. Dabi looked into those ancient, burning eyes, saw the possessive beast barely leashed, but also saw the flicker of something else. Something that resonated deep within his own rebellious, broken core. Dante was offering more than ownership; he was offering exclusivity. Belonging. On terms that felt terrifyingly final.
Dabi didn't hesitate. He surged forward, capturing Dante’s lips again. Not gently this time, but with fierce, desperate hunger. His kiss was his answer, raw and unequivocal. He poured every ounce of defiance, every spark of stubborn need, every flicker of the dark fascination that had drawn him to Dante from the start, into that kiss. He nipped Dante’s bottom lip, drawing a low growl, then plunged his tongue deep, claiming Dante back with his own brand of fire.
He pulled back, panting, eyes blazing with a conviction that mirrored Dante’s own. "Yes," he breathed, the word a vow scraped from his soul. He framed Dante’s face with his hands, thumbs tracing the sharp line of his jaw. "Fuck yes, Dante. That’s all I want. No one else. Nothing else. Just you." He held Dante’s gaze, letting him see the truth, the surrender, the fierce, unwavering possession blooming in his own eyes. "I want nothing more than to spend my life with you."
The words hung between them, sealing the pact. Dante’s eyes flared, the molten grey igniting with possessive triumph, but beneath it, something deeper flashed – a fierce, almost savage satisfaction. A low rumble started in his chest, vibrating through Dabi’s palms. He didn’t speak. He didn’t need to.
He moved with startling speed, rolling Dabi onto his back. The crimson silk slid coolly beneath Dabi’s skin. Dante covered him, his larger frame pinning him effortlessly, a furnace of hard muscle and demonic heat. His kiss returned to demanding possession, but laced now with the ferocity of their mutual vow. His tongue conquered Dabi’s mouth, rough, claiming, tasting his surrender. One hand tangled in Dabi’s hair, holding his head still for the plunder, while the other slid down, over the plane of Dabi’s stomach, fingers digging possessively into the muscle of his hip.
Dabi arched up, a moan ripped from his throat. His hands mapped the landscape of Dante’s back, the shifting muscles, the intricate tattoos, finding purchase on the powerful shoulders. He hooked a leg around Dante’s waist, grinding his hardening cock against Dante’s thigh. "Fuck, Dante…" he gasped against the demon’s lips. "Need you."
Dante growled, a sound that resonated in Dabi’s bones. He broke the kiss, trailing scorching lips down Dabi’s neck, biting the juncture where neck met shoulder hard enough to leave a fresh mark. "Mine," he snarled against the skin, the word vibrating. His hand left Dabi’s hair, sliding down his flank to grip his thigh, hiking his leg higher, exposing him. His other hand found Dabi’s cock, already thick and leaking. Dante’s calloused palm wrapped around him, a rough, perfect stroke that drew a choked cry from Dabi.
"Tell me again," Dante demanded, his voice thick, dark. He pumped Dabi’s cock slowly, deliberately, his thumb swiping over the slick head. His breath was hot on Dabi’s ear. "Tell me who you belong to."
"Fuck! You!" Dabi gasped, his hips bucking helplessly into Dante’s grip. "Yours! Dante, god, yours!" The words spilled out, fueled by the fire Dante ignited in his blood. "Only yours!"
"Good," Dante rasped, triumph lacing the dark promise. He released Dabi’s cock abruptly. Dabi whimpered at the loss, but Dante’s hand was already moving lower, fingers probing between his cheeks. They were slick – Dante must have prepared him while he slept – and slid easily against his entrance. Dante pushed one thick finger inside, the stretch still a familiar burn, a welcome intrusion after the emptiness. "Taking my fingers like you need it," Dante observed, his voice rough with approval, adding a second finger, scissoring them, stretching him open. "Fuck, you’re already open for me, sweetheart. Soaked. Did you dream about this? Dream about my cock filling you up again?"
"Yes," Dabi hissed, arching back onto Dante’s fingers. "Fuck, yes! Please, Dante! Need it!" The need was a physical ache, a desperate pull deep inside him.
Dante withdrew his fingers. The sound of him slicking his own cock, thick and heavy, was obscenely loud in the quiet room. Dabi braced himself, anticipation coiling tight in his gut. Dante positioned himself, the blunt, hot head of his cock pressing insistently against Dabi’s entrance. Dante’s hand gripped Dabi’s hip hard, claws pricking the skin just enough to sting. His other hand fisted in the crimson silk beside Dabi’s head. He looked down, his burning eyes locking with Dabi’s.
"Look at me," he commanded, his voice a guttural scrape.
Dabi held his gaze, panting, every nerve ending alight. Dante pushed. Slowly. Deliberately. An agonizing, perfect stretch that stole Dabi’s breath. He felt himself opening, yielding, accommodating Dante’s thickness inch by burning inch. The fullness was overwhelming, a beautiful agony that pushed against the lingering soreness and banished all thought. Dante bottomed out with a low, satisfied groan, hips flush against Dabi’s ass, buried to the hilt. He held there for a heartbeat, letting Dabi feel the sheer, complete invasion, the brutal intimacy of their joining.
"Christ," Dabi breathed, his voice trembling. "So fucking deep..."
Dante’s lips curled in a feral grin. "All of me," he growled. "Taking every fucking inch." He withdrew slowly, almost completely, the drag exquisite torture, then slammed back in with a brutal snap of his hips.
Dabi cried out, his fingers clawing at Dante’s back. "Fuck! Yes! Again!" Dante didn’t need telling. He set a punishing pace, driving into Dabi with deep, powerful strokes that shook the heavy bed frame. Each thrust was a collision, driving the air from Dabi’s lungs, forcing grunts and cries past his lips. The slap of skin on skin echoed in the cavernous room, punctuated by the crackle of the hellfire and Dabi’s ragged gasps. Dante’s movements were a relentless rhythm, owning the rhythm of Dabi’s body, his pleasure. The angle was perfect, Dante’s cock dragging over his prostate with devastating accuracy on every inward plunge.
"Feel that?" Dante snarled, leaning down, his breath scorching Dabi’s ear as his hips pistoned. "Feel me hitting that spot deep inside you? Making you fucking lose it?" He bit Dabi’s earlobe hard. "My cock owns you, Dabi. Makes you scream. Makes you come. My. Good. Boy." Each word was punctuated by a thrust that drove Dabi further towards the edge.
Dabi was incoherent, babbling pleas and curses, his body a taut bowstring pulled to breaking. Pleasure detonated through him, wave after wave, obliterating everything but the sensation of Dante filling him, owning him, claiming him utterly. He came untouched, a violent, arching spasm, his cock pulsing hot seed onto his own stomach and Dante’s abs as he clenched impossibly tight around the demon’s invading length. "DANTE!"
The fierce clenching of Dabi’s body around him, the raw scream of his name, ripped Dante over the edge. He roared, a sound that shook the ancient stones of the mansion, burying himself to the hilt as his orgasm tore through him. Scalding jets of release flooded Dabi’s depths, pulse after thick pulse, the sensation impossibly intimate, a molten branding from the inside out. Dante ground deep, shuddering, his claws digging deeper into Dabi’s hip as he emptied himself completely.
For long moments, the only sounds were their harsh panting and the crackle of the fire. Dante slumped forward, his forehead pressing against Dabi’s, his breath hot and ragged. Dabi trembled beneath him, utterly spent, filled to overflowing, Dante’s weight a grounding, possessive anchor. Dante’s softening cock remained buried deep inside him, a heavy, claiming presence. Dante lifted his head slightly, his molten grey eyes meeting Dabi’s glazed ones. A slow, dangerous, utterly satisfied smile touched his lips. He leaned in, kissing Dabi deeply, tasting salt, sweat, and the lingering sulfur of his own release. He pulled back just enough to speak, his voice a low, possessive rasp against Dabi’s swollen lips.
"Again."
The single word hung thick in the air, vibrating with primal command and the lingering heat of their shared climax. Dante didn’t move, his softening cock still buried deep inside Dabi, a heavy, possessive anchor pinning him to the crimson silk. His molten grey eyes, hooded but intensely focused, held Dabi’s, demanding silent acquiescence. Dabi felt the aftershocks still trembling through his own limbs, the slick mess cooling on his stomach, the profound ache deep within where Dante had filled him moments before. Yet, beneath the exhaustion, the raw need Dante ignited flared instantly back to life, a dark, addictive current surging through his veins. He didn’t speak. He simply arched his hips, a subtle, yielding push back onto Dante’s length, his gaze answering Dante’s with a fierce, surrendered hunger.
Dante’s low growl vibrated against Dabi’s sweat-slicked chest. He withdrew slowly, agonizingly, letting Dabi feel every inch of the drag, the emptiness a sharp counterpoint to the fullness moments before. Dabi gasped, his fingers digging into Dante’s tattooed shoulders. Before Dabi could protest the loss, Dante flipped him onto his stomach with effortless strength. The cool silk kissed Dabi’s heated skin. Dante’s weight settled over him, pressing him deep into the mattress, a furnace of muscle and demonic intent. One large hand pinned Dabi’s shoulder blade, claws pricking faintly. The other slid down Dabi’s spine, possessive, claiming, before gripping his hip bone hard enough to bruise anew. Dante’s cock, already thickening again with terrifying speed, nudged insistently against Dabi’s slick, used entrance.
"Open up," Dante commanded, his Detroit rasp rough against Dabi’s ear, breath hot and sulfurous. "Take it again. Show me you mean it." He didn’t wait. He pushed. The blunt, thick head breached him, stretching the tender ring of muscle instantly, a sharp, familiar burn that stole Dabi’s breath. Dante drove forward relentlessly, burying himself back to the hilt in one brutal, claiming stroke. Dabi cried out, muffled by the silk, his body instinctively arching, pushing back against the invasion, welcoming the exquisite agony of being filled so completely, so soon. "Fuck, yes," Dante snarled, hips grinding deep, his cock pulsing hotly inside Dabi’s clenching heat. "Still so fucking tight. Still mine."
He began to move. Not the punishing piston-drive of before, but a slower, deeper, more deliberate rhythm. Each withdrawal was almost complete, leaving Dabi achingly empty, yearning. Each thrust was a deep, grinding plunge, burying Dante impossibly deep, his pelvis slamming against Dabi’s ass with heavy, wet slaps. Dante leaned down, his chest pressing flush against Dabi’s back, his lips finding the sensitive juncture of Dabi’s neck and shoulder. He bit down, not gently, claiming flesh already marked, drawing a sharp gasp. "Feel it?" he growled against Dabi’s skin, his hips rolling, grinding deep on every inward stroke, dragging his thick cock directly over Dabi’s prostate with devastating, unerring precision. "Feel me owning you? Filling you? Making you fucking ache for it?"
Dabi could only moan, a broken, desperate sound. Pleasure-pain radiated from his core, a white-hot wire tightening with every deep, grinding thrust. Dante’s hand slid from his hip, fingers digging into the flesh of his ass, spreading him wider, forcing him open, making him take every brutal inch deeper. The other hand remained braced near Dabi’s head, claws scraping faintly on the silk. "Tell me," Dante demanded, his voice thick, dark. "Tell me who makes you feel like this."
"You!" Dabi gasped, pushing back frantically against Dante’s thrusts, seeking more friction, more of that devastating pressure inside him. "Fuck, Dante! Only you! God, don’t stop!" The words tumbled out, raw and unfiltered, fueled by the relentless stimulation and the dark vow they’d sealed only minutes before. Dante’s rhythm intensified, the deep grinds shifting into harder, faster snaps of his hips. The wet slap of flesh, Dabi’s choked cries, Dante’s guttural growls – the sounds filled the grand, shadowed room, louder than the crackling hellfire. Dante’s hand left Dabi’s ass, snaking beneath him, calloused fingers wrapping around Dabi’s neglected, leaking cock. The rough grip, the perfect pressure, combined with the deep, pounding penetration, was too much.
Dabi shattered. His orgasm ripped through him like a detonation, blinding white, tearing a ragged scream from his throat as he convulsed, spilling hot stripes onto the crimson silk beneath him. His inner muscles clamped down viscously around Dante’s buried cock, milking him, triggering Dante’s own climax instantly. Dante roared, a sound that seemed to shake the ancient stone walls, burying himself impossibly deep as scalding pulses of release flooded Dabi’s depths once more. He ground hard, shuddering, emptying himself completely into Dabi’s clenching heat, marking him internally again, branding him anew.