Chapter 36: Horned Possession
The first sensation was violation. Deep, insistent, stretching him open. Dabi surfaced from sleep with a choked gasp, disoriented, body arching instinctively away from the intrusion. Cool silk beneath him, crushing weight above him. Dante’s teeth scraped the sensitive cord of muscle in his neck, a sharp sting followed by the hot wetness of his tongue. The thick invasion inside him pushed deeper, impossibly slow, deliberate, filling him to the hilt with burning pressure.
“‘Morning, pretty boy,” Dante growled against his skin, the Detroit rasp thick with sleep and lust. His voice vibrated through Dabi’s bones. Dante’s hips pressed flush against Dabi’s ass, grinding slightly, ensuring every inch of his cock was buried deep. The sheer possessiveness of it stole Dabi’s breath. Dante’s claws pricked Dabi’s hips, sharp points anchoring him, drawing faint beads of blood. Pain flared, sharp and bright, mingling instantly with the molten heat pooling low in Dabi’s belly.
Before Dabi could form a coherent thought, Dante’s free hand fisted violently in his hair, wrenching his head back on the pillows. Dabi cried out, his spine bowing, his throat stretched taut and exposed. Dante’s breath scorched the vulnerable skin. He didn’t bite. Not yet. He held Dabi there, pinned and helpless beneath him, penetrated completely, hair knotted painfully in his demon’s grip.
“Fuck… Dante…” Dabi gasped, his hands scrabbling for purchase. They found Dante’s shoulders, the shifting muscle beneath warm skin and intricate ink. Then, instinctively, desperately, his fingers slid higher, tangling in the base of the obsidian horns that had manifested during the night. They were cool, ridged, humming with barely contained power.
A dark, rumbling chuckle vibrated against Dabi’s throat. Dante’s hips flexed, withdrawing just enough to make Dabi whimper at the sudden emptiness. “Holding my horns, baby?” Dante’s voice was a low purr, darkly amused and laced with danger. “That a yes?”
He slammed back in.
The force was brutal. It tore a ragged scream from Dabi’s throat. Dante didn’t hold back. He set a devastating rhythm from the first thrust – hard, deep, piston-drive strokes that hammered into Dabi’s core, driving him up the silk sheets with each impact. The heavy bed frame groaned in protest. The slap of skin on skin, slick with sweat and the remnants of last night’s release, echoed like a drumbeat in the cavernous room. Dante kept Dabi’s head wrenched back, exposing his throat like an offering, his claws digging deeper crescents into Dabi’s hips as he used them for leverage, pounding deeper, harder.
“Still… so… fucking… tight…” Dante grunted, each word punctuated by a thrust that knocked the air from Dabi’s lungs. He leaned down, teeth grazing Dabi’s exposed throat, just shy of breaking skin. “Even after taking me all night. Like your greedy hole memorized my cock, huh?” He snapped his hips viciously, forcing a choked sob from Dabi. “Begging for it first fucking thing.”
Dabi was beyond words. Pleasure and pain coiled together, a white-hot wire tightening with every deep, punishing stroke. He clung to Dante’s horns, not to push him away, but to anchor himself against the relentless assault. His body arched, pushing back, meeting each brutal thrust, his cock achingly hard and trapped between his stomach and the mattress, leaking precum onto the silk. Dante’s angle was merciless, the thick head of his cock grinding over Dabi’s prostate with unerring accuracy on every inward plunge, sending electric shocks radiating through his nerves.
“Fuck! Right there!” Dabi babbled, his voice shredded. “Christ, Dante… don’t stop! Please! Harder!” The plea was torn from him, raw and desperate. He needed the oblivion, the complete shattering Dante delivered.
Dante growled, a predatory sound that vibrated through Dabi’s chest. He released Dabi’s hair, his hand instead sliding beneath Dabi’s heaving chest, finding his neglected cock. Dante’s calloused fingers wrapped around him, squeezing brutally tight, stroking in rough counterpoint to his pounding thrusts. The rough friction, combined with the deep, internal battering, was overwhelming.
“Gonna come?” Dante snarled in Dabi’s ear, his breath scalding hot. “Gonna scream for me? Paint this fucking silk with your load while my cock’s buried in your ass?” He increased the pace, his hips a blur, the bed shaking violently. His hand on Dabi’s cock worked him ruthlessly. “Do it. Come for me, pretty boy. Show me who owns this fucking hole.”
The command, the sheer force of Dante’s possession, tipped Dabi over the edge. He came with a ragged, animalistic cry that ripped from his throat, his body convulsing violently. Thick pulses of cum spurted onto the silk sheets beneath him, onto Dante’s fist. His inner muscles clamped down with vicious strength around Dante’s invading length, milking him frantically.
Dante roared, a sound that seemed to make the very stones of the mansion tremble. He slammed deep, burying himself to the root, holding Dabi impaled as the fierce contractions triggered his own release. Scalding jets of cum flooded Dabi’s depths, hot and thick, pulse after pulse, branding him internally as thoroughly as Dante’s teeth marked his skin. Dante ground hard against him, shuddering, emptying himself completely into Dabi’s clenching heat.
They collapsed, Dante’s weight crushing Dabi into the soaked silk, his softening cock still buried deep. Dante’s forehead pressed against Dabi’s shoulder, his breathing ragged. Dabi trembled beneath him, utterly spent, his mind blissfully blank, filled only with the heavy presence of the demon inside him and the scent of sex and sulfur.
Dante stirred after a few moments. He withdrew slowly, the drag eliciting a faint whimper from Dabi. Dante didn’t move far. He rolled onto his back, pulling Dabi with him, arranging his boneless body half across his chest. One large hand idly traced the fresh claw marks on Dabi’s hip, the other stroked through his sweat-damp hair, surprisingly gentle.
Silence stretched, broken only by their slowing breaths and the crackle of the eternal fire. Dabi drifted, anchored by Dante’s heat and the possessive weight of his arm. The intensity receded, leaving a strange, almost fragile sense of peace.
Dante’s fingers drifted down Dabi’s spine. “Piano,” he murmured, the rasp softened.
Dabi lifted his head slightly, meeting Dante’s molten gaze. It held an unfamiliar softness. “Huh?”
“Play for me,” Dante said, a statement, not a request. He nudged Dabi off him, sitting up. Naked, powerful, tattoos stark against his skin, he was a breathtaking vision of dark grace. He stood, offering a hand.
Dabi took it, letting Dante pull him to his feet. His legs trembled. Dante steadied him, a fleeting smirk touching his lips. He guided Dabi to the grand piano near the window, its polished ebony gleaming in the low light filtering through the heavy velvet. Dante sat on the plush bench, pulling Dabi down between his spread legs, Dabi’s back against Dante’s chest. Dante’s arms encircled him, large hands covering Dabi’s smaller ones on the cool ivory keys.
“Play,” Dante whispered, his lips brushing Dabi’s ear. His hands guided Dabi’s fingers, pressing them onto the keys. A haunting, discordant chord resonated through the room. Dante’s hands moved Dabi’s, not composing a melody, but drawing raw, resonant notes from the instrument, deep and strangely melancholic, echoing the thrum of Dante’s own power. It vibrated through Dabi’s bones, through the hands Dante controlled. It felt like Dante was playing him, drawing something wordless from his soul.
Dabi leaned back against Dante’s solid chest, closing his eyes, letting the dark, resonant sound wash over him. Dante’s chin rested on his shoulder, his breath warm on Dabi’s neck. For a few suspended moments, there was only the shared warmth, the vibration of the piano strings, and the profound, unsettling connection.
Then Dante’s hand slid down from Dabi’s, trailing over his inner thigh. His touch ignited sparks. The dark melody faltered. Dante’s other hand abandoned the keys entirely, finding Dabi’s cock, already stirring again despite his exhaustion. Dante palmed him, stroking slowly, deliberately, his lips grazing the shell of Dabi’s ear.
“Can’t help myself,” Dante murmured, his voice dropping to that low, dangerous rasp. “Need to feel this tight heat squeezing me again.” His fingers probed lower, finding Dabi’s slick, tender entrance, still stretched from their earlier joining. He pushed two fingers in without preamble. Dabi gasped, arching back against Dante, impaling himself deeper on the invading fingers. “Still wet. Still open for me. Perfect.”
Dante leaned forward, pressing Dabi’s torso down onto the smooth, cool piano lid. The polished wood chilled Dabi’s heated skin. Dante shifted behind him. Dabi heard the slick sound of Dante stroking his own cock, already hard again. The blunt, hot head pressed against his entrance. Dante’s hand gripped Dabi’s hip, claws dimpling the skin. No slow entry this time. Dante slammed into him in one brutal thrust, filling him instantly, stretching him to the limit. The force drove Dabi’s chest harder onto the piano lid, knocking the breath from him. Discordant notes clashed as his fingers splayed helplessly on the keys.
“Fuck!” Dabi cried out, the sound muffled against the wood. Dante grabbed his hair again, yanking his head back, arching his spine painfully. He began to fuck him in hard, short, savage strokes, pounding into him with relentless force right there on the piano bench. The instrument shook, keys jangling with every thrust. Dante’s hips slapped against Dabi’s bruised ass, a wet, rhythmic smacking counterpoint to the dissonant chords jarring from the piano.
“My piano,” Dante growled, his voice thick with exertion and lust, punctuated by the brutal snap of his hips. “My sheets. My bed.” He slammed deep, grinding hard. “My fucking ass.” He punctuated each possessive declaration with a thrust that drove Dabi’s body into the unforgiving wood. “Say it!” he demanded, his claws digging into Dabi’s scalp.
“Yours!” Dabi gasped, pushing back desperately into the punishing rhythm. “All yours, Dante! Fuck! Your ass! Only yours!” The words were wrenched from him, raw and true.
Dante roared his triumph, pounding into Dabi with renewed ferocity. His hand released Dabi’s hair, finding his cock trapped between his body and the piano lid. He jerked him roughly in time with his thrusts. The dual stimulation, the public violation on the beautiful instrument, the sheer animalistic force of Dante’s claiming – it overwhelmed Dabi instantly. He came with a strangled cry, his climax splattering across the polished ebony, his body convulsing around Dante’s pounding cock.
Dante followed seconds later, driving deep one last time, holding himself buried as he emptied another scalding load deep inside Dabi, marking him internally on the piano bench. He slumped over Dabi, his broad chest heaving against Dabi’s back, his breath hot and ragged on Dabi’s shoulder.
They stayed like that, tangled and panting, Dabi’s cheek pressed against the cool wood, his cum smeared beneath him, Dante’s softening cock still lodged inside him. The silence was heavy, broken only by their breathing and the faint, dissonant hum from the piano strings.
Dante eventually stirred, withdrawing slowly. He pulled Dabi upright, turning him on the bench to face him. Dante’s gaze was intense, the molten grey burning into him, possessive, satisfied, yet holding a depth Dabi couldn’t name. He leaned in, capturing Dabi’s lips in a deep, claiming kiss that tasted of sweat and salt and something darker. He pulled back, his thumb tracing the bite mark on Dabi’s neck.
“Coffee,” Dante stated, his voice rough but calm. He stood, pulling Dabi to his feet again. He guided him towards the heavy oak door leading out of the bedroom suite. As they passed a large gilded mirror, Dabi caught their reflection: Dante, powerful and naked, radiating dark command; himself, marked, bruised, hair wild, Dante’s cum dripping down his inner thigh. Owned.
Dante noticed his gaze in the mirror. A slow, dangerous smile spread across his lips. He pulled Dabi closer, his voice a low, possessive rumble directly in his ear. “Get used to the view, pretty boy. This is forever.” He nipped Dabi’s earlobe, then nudged him towards the door. “Now move. Before I decide breakfast needs fucking too.” The threat was casual, laced with dark promise, as Dante’s hand landed possessively on the small of Dabi’s back, guiding him, marked and claimed, into the shadowed hallway.
Dabi’s back hit the cold marble of the kitchen counter, the sharp edge digging into his skin as Dante’s hands gripped his thighs, spreading him wide. “You’ve been a fucking tease all night,” Dante growled, his voice low and dripping with menace, his breath hot against Dabi’s ear. His teeth grazed the curve of Dabi’s neck, and the younger man shuddered, his hands clawing at Dante’s shoulders for balance.
“Thought you liked it when I play hard to get,” Dabi shot back, his voice shaky but defiant, a smirk tugging at his lips even as Dante’s fingers dug into his hips hard enough to bruise. Dante’s laugh was dark, a rumble that vibrated through Dabi’s chest as he leaned in, his lips brushing against Dabi’s in a mockery of a kiss. “Hard to get’s one thing,” Dante murmured, his voice rough. “But you’re testing my fucking patience.”
Dante’s hand slid between them, fingers wrapping around his own cock, already hard and leaking, and Dabi’s breath hitched as he felt the blunt head press against him. “Fuck,” Dabi hissed, his nails scraping down Dante’s back as the demon prince pushed in with one brutal thrust, burying himself to the hilt. Dante’s groan was guttural, his hands tightening on Dabi’s hips as he held him still, letting him feel every inch.
“You’re so fucking tight,” Dante growled, his voice strained as he pulled back slightly, only to slam back in, the force of it pushing Dabi further up the counter. Dabi’s head fell back, a strangled moan escaping his lips as Dante set a punishing pace, each thrust driving the air from his lungs. “You want it rough, don’t you?” Dante’s voice was a taunt, his lips brushing against Dabi’s ear as his hips snapped forward again, the sound of skin against skin echoing in the cavernous kitchen.
“Shut the fuck up,” Dabi gasped, his voice breaking as Dante’s cock hit that spot inside him, sending sparks of pleasure shooting up his spine. Dante chuckled, the sound dark and possessive, and he leaned in, his teeth sinking into the juncture of Dabi’s neck and shoulder. Dabi cried out, his hands tangling in Dante’s hair as the pain and pleasure blurred together, his body arching into the demon’s relentless thrusts.
“You’re mine,” Dante growled, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver through Dabi’s body. “Say it.” Dabi shook his head, his breath coming in ragged gasps as Dante’s pace slowed, each thrust deeper, harder, driving him closer to the edge. “Fuck you,” Dabi managed, his voice trembling, but Dante just smirked, his hand sliding between them to wrap around Dabi’s cock, stroking him in time with his thrusts.
“Say it,” Dante repeated, his voice a command, and Dabi’s resolve shattered, his body tightening around Dante as pleasure coiled in his gut. “Yours,” Dabi gasped, the word torn from his lips as Dante’s hand tightened, his thrusts becoming erratic. Dante’s groan was deep, his hips stuttering as he came, his cock pulsing inside Dabi as he spilled himself, his grip on Dabi’s cock tightening until the younger man followed, his release painting his stomach as he cried out.
For a moment, the only sound in the kitchen was their ragged breathing, the air thick with the scent of sweat and sex. Dante leaned in, his forehead resting against Dabi’s, his breath warm against the younger man’s lips. “Mine,” he murmured again, his voice softer now, almost tender, and Dabi’s lips curved into a smirk, his fingers tracing the lines of Dante’s tattoos.
“Yeah, yeah,” Dabi muttered, his voice hoarse but amused. “Now get off me before I lose feeling in my legs.” Dante laughed, the sound low and rich, and he stepped back, pulling Dabi with him as he slid off the counter, his legs trembling. “You’re a fucking menace,” Dabi grumbled, but there was no heat in his words, just a tired affection that made Dante’s smirk soften into something almost genuine.
“You love it,” Dante shot back, his voice teasing as he reached for a towel, tossing it to Dabi before grabbing one for himself. Dabi rolled his eyes, but there was a flicker of something in his gaze, something that made Dante pause, his smirk fading into something more serious. “You good?” Dante asked, his voice quieter now, and Dabi nodded, his smirk returning as he wiped himself off.
“Better than good,” Dabi replied, his voice steady now, and Dante nodded, his eyes lingering on Dabi for a moment longer before he turned away, heading for the fridge. “You’re not gonna make me clean this up, are you?” Dabi called after him, and Dante’s laugh echoed through the kitchen, the sound warm and familiar.
“Fuck no,” Dante replied, his voice light now, the tension from earlier gone. “That’s what the staff’s for.” Dabi snorted, shaking his head as he leaned back against the counter, his body still humming with the aftershocks of pleasure. “Asshole,” he muttered, but there was no malice in it, just a quiet contentment that settled over him like a warm blanket.
Dabi drifted, limbs heavy as wet sand, the scent of sex and Dante’s smoky cologne clinging to his skin. The deep, rhythmic rise and fall of Dante’s chest beneath his cheek was a lullaby. Exhaustion pulled him under, the frantic energy of the piano bench, the kitchen counter, dissolving into warm, dark oblivion. He didn’t stir when Dante carefully disentangled himself, the mattress shifting subtly. Cool air brushed Dabi’s skin where Dante’s heat had been, replaced by the heavy silk sheet Dante draped over him. A final, possessive brush of Dante’s thumb over the fresh bite mark on his shoulder, then silence. Only the crackle of the eternal fire remained.
The Inferno Club pulsed like a diseased heart. Bass thrummed through the polished obsidian floors, vibrating Dante’s boots as he navigated the writhing crowd. Neon blues and bloody reds strobed, illuminating sweat-slicked skin, dilated pupils, and desperate touches. He moved with predatory grace, a dark current parting the sea of sin. His destination: the VIP mezzanine overlooking the main floor. Azalea waited, draped in shimmering indigo silk that seemed to drink the light, her obsidian horns elegantly curved, eyes like polished onyx reflecting the chaos below. She sipped something viscous and crimson from a crystal coupe.
“Prince,” she purred, her voice a melody that slithered beneath the pounding music. Her gaze flickered over him, assessing. “You smell of… exertion. And him.” A knowing smirk touched her lips. “The pretty little wildfire.”
Dante leaned against the railing beside her, his gaze scanning the throng below. “He burns hot,” Dante acknowledged, a flicker of something possessive in his molten grey eyes. “Needs careful tending.”
“Or letting loose,” Azalea countered, swirling her drink. “Wildfires cleanse, eventually.” Before Dante could retort, a presence intruded. Hawks materialized from the press of bodies near the velvet rope guarding the stairs. His golden eyes fixed on Dante, sharp, calculating, ignoring Azalea completely. Dante’s expression didn’t flicker, but the air around him cooled perceptibly.
“Morningstar,” Hawks called, his voice cutting through the bass thump. He stepped past the bouncer who hesitated, then yielded under Dante’s minute nod. “Need a word.”
Dante didn’t turn. He kept his gaze on the dancers below, his posture deceptively relaxed. “We don’t have shit to talk about, Hawks.” His Detroit rasp was low, cold steel wrapped in velvet.
Hawks moved closer, invading Dante’s space. Azalea watched, utterly still, a faint scent of ozone rising from her skin. “It’s about Dabi,” Hawks pressed, his voice dropping, urgent. “Important.”
That name, spoken by him, was the spark. Dante’s head snapped around. His eyes weren't grey anymore. They were molten gold, ancient and terrifying, burning with a sudden, contained inferno. In the strobing light, it was a flash, gone almost instantly, replaced by chilling fury. His hand shot out, fingers clamping like iron manacles around Hawks’ forearm. The world lurched, sound vanished, replaced by a pressure drop that popped ears.
They reappeared in Dante’s office. Soundproofed mahogany walls absorbed the club’s thrum instantly. Dante released Hawks’ arm with a shove that sent him stumbling back against a heavy bookshelf. Ancient tomes rattled. Dante stood before his massive obsidian desk, radiating controlled violence. “What?” The single word cracked like a whip. “What the fuck do you want?”
Hawks straightened his jacket, trying to regain composure, but his eyes betrayed a flicker of unease. “Dabi,” he started again, forcing confidence. “He’s… fragile, Dante. Playing with fire you don’t understand. He needs stability, not… whatever twisted game you’re running.” He gestured vaguely, encompassing Dante’s entire being. “He told me things. After… us.”
A muscle ticked in Dante’s jaw. The air grew thick, tasting faintly of brimstone. “Did he now?” Dante’s voice was dangerously soft. He took a slow step forward. “Tell me, Hawks. Did he tell you how you couldn’t fucking shut up about me while you were rutting between his legs?” Hawks’ eyes widened fractionally. “Did he mention how you kept fucking saying shit? How it was nice I warmed him up for you? How you couldn’t wait to smell me on him when he supposedly came crawling back?” Dante’s lip curled in disgust. “Did you bring a fucking bell? Ring it every time you thought of me while you fucked him?”
Hawks paled. He swallowed hard, the Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. “I… I don’t know what you’re talking about.” The denial was weak, brittle. He shifted his weight, unable to meet Dante’s burning gaze. “Dabi’s confused, he twists things–”
“Twists things?” Dante’s laugh was a harsh bark devoid of humor. He closed the distance in one stride, looming over Hawks. “You think I wouldn’t know? You think I don’t own every fucking sigh, every gasp, every filthy word whispered into his skin?” Dante’s finger jabbed hard against Hawks’ chest. “The only thing that got your pathetic cock hard was imagining me fucking him. Imagining the things I did to him that you couldn’t. Isn’t that right?” Dante leaned in, his voice dropping to a venomous whisper. “You got off on picturing my hands on him, my cock stretching him wide, knowing you’d never make him scream like I do. Knowing you’d never own him like I do.”
Hawks flinched, genuine fear flashing in his golden eyes now. He pressed back harder against the bookshelf, cornered. “It wasn’t like that–”
“Shut your fucking mouth,” Dante snarled. The gold flashed again in his eyes, brighter this time. The faint scent of sulfur intensified. “You’re lucky, Hawks. So fucking lucky I don’t drag your miserable soul down to the Inferno right now and spend the next century peeling the skin from your bones for the shit you whispered in his ear while you pretended to fuck him.” Dante’s hand shot out again, not grabbing, but pressing flat against Hawks’ chest, pinning him. The heat radiating from Dante’s palm was unnatural, scorching even through Hawks’ shirt. “You used him to get to me. A pathetic, jealous little game.”
Hawks gasped, struggling against the invisible force holding him. Sweat beaded on his forehead. “Dante, please–”