Chapter 54: Reawakening
Pain tore through Dante like shrapnel. Not the dull, bone-deep ache he’d fallen asleep to after Azrael's tender ministrations, but something sharp, invasive, wrong. It felt like his marrow was being replaced with molten lead, his nerves dipped in acid. A choked grunt ripped from his throat, raw and involuntary.
That sound, sharp in the heavy quiet of the room, snapped Dabi upright from where he’d been slumped in a chair beside the bed. His eyes, instantly alert despite sleep’s lingering haze, locked onto Dante. Dante’s face was a mask of agony, sweat beading on his brow, jaw clenched so tight the tendons stood out like cables. "Dante?" Dabi scrambled closer, voice rough with sudden fear. "What is it? What's wrong?"
"Fuck... knows..." Dante managed, the words gritted out between clenched teeth. His body trembled violently under the thin sheet. "Hurts... worse... different..."
Before Dabi could reach out, Dante’s spine arched violently off the mattress. A sickening, wet crunch echoed in the room, followed by the distinct sound of tearing flesh. From Dante’s back, erupting through the bandages and ruined skin, burst two colossal wings. They unfurled with a leathery snap, knocking a glass off the bedside table where it shattered on the floor. They resembled his old ones – massive, obsidian-black membranes stretched over powerful frames – but now, beneath the surface, thin, intricate veins pulsed with an inner light. Not blood, but something hotter, more elemental. Liquid fire, molten lava, flowed within them, casting flickering, hellish patterns of orange and crimson across the dim walls and Dabi’s stunned face.
Dante gasped, sucking in air like a drowning man, his eyes wide with shock and residual pain. He tried to push himself up on trembling arms, gaze fixed on the impossible appendages now shadowing the bed. "What the fu–"
Another convulsion seized him, harder this time. It started in his skull. A pressure built, immense and terrifying, behind his temples. Then, with another sickening crackle, two horns erupted through his dark hair, curling back and sweeping upwards with savage grace. Like the wings, they were familiar in shape, black as volcanic glass, but now etched with the same glowing, lava-filled veins. The hellish light pulsed within them, illuminating Dante’s sweat-slicked face from above, casting deep, dramatic shadows. He exhaled, a single, shuddering word: "Fuck."
Dabi could only stare, frozen mid-reach, his mind struggling to process the impossible metamorphosis happening before him. The air smelled sharply of ozone and singed feathers. The molten veins cast shifting, infernal glows around the room.
The third convulsion hit like a final hammer blow. Dante’s whole body went rigid, every muscle straining against an unseen force. He threw his head back, a silent scream tearing at his throat. The gaping wounds on his chest – the deep, parallel gashes left by Azrael’s claws, the punctures from the stabs – glowed fiercely from within. Flesh visibly writhed, sinews knitting together at impossible speed. The lesser wounds, the bruises and shallow cuts scattered across his torso and arms, sealed shut as if they’d never existed, leaving only faint pink lines. But the deep claw marks and stab wounds… they resisted. The furious glow dimmed, leaving them raw, angry, and weeping crimson amidst the otherwise miraculously healed skin. The convulsion ceased as abruptly as it began. Dante slumped back onto the pillows, utterly spent, breathing in ragged, shallow gasps. The new wings lay heavy and still, the horns still glowing softly.
Silence descended, thick and electric, broken only by Dante’s harsh breathing and the distant thump of bass from the club below. The scent of sulfur, faint before, now hung heavier in the air, mingling with the metallic tang of fresh blood from the unhealed wounds.
Dabi slowly lowered the hand he hadn’t realized he’d raised. His voice, when it finally came, was barely a whisper, laced with awe and terror. "What… the fuck… just happened?"
Dabi’s whisper hung in the sulfur-tinged air, sharp with disbelief. Dante just lay there, panting, sweat plastering dark hair to his temples, the glowing veins in his horns pulsing a low, angry red. The new wings were a heavy, unfamiliar weight on his back, the membranes shifting slightly with each shallow breath, casting eerie, molten shadows across the cheap plaster ceiling. Blood still wept from the claw marks on his chest, stark against his newly sealed skin.
"Feel like I got run over by a fuckin' freight train," Dante finally rasped, his voice raw. He tried a weak smirk, but it faltered into a grimace. "Then backed over. For fun." He shifted slightly, a tremor running through him. "Azrael really left a party favor, huh?"
"Shut up, you dumbass," Dabi breathed, the fear in his eyes finally thawing into fierce relief mixed with lingering horror. He moved then, crossing the scant distance to the bed in two strides. His hands, surprisingly gentle despite the callouses, hovered over Dante’s chest, avoiding the angry wounds but tracing the edges of the miraculously healed skin. His touch was hesitant, almost reverent. "Just... shut the hell up." He leaned down, his forehead pressing softly against Dante’s.
The kiss wasn't planned. It started as pressure, comfort, a desperate anchor in the storm. Dante tilted his head slightly, his cracked lips meeting Dabi's. It was gentle at first, a slow exploration, tasting salt and blood and the lingering metallic tang of whatever hellish transformation had just occurred. Then Dante groaned, low in his throat, a sound of pure need that had nothing to do with pain. His hand, weak but insistent, tangled in the messy hair at the nape of Dabi's neck, pulling him down harder.
The kiss ignited. Gentleness burned away, replaced by a frantic, consuming hunger. Dabi responded instantly, his mouth opening, tongue sliding against Dante's with bruising intensity. He braced one hand beside Dante’s head, careful of the horns, the other sliding down Dante’s side, feeling the powerful muscles tense and shift beneath sweat-slicked skin. Dante arched up, a gasp caught between them as Dabi’s hand drifted lower, skimming the waistband of his threadbare sleep pants, fingers dipping beneath the elastic. "Fuck, Dabi," Dante breathed against his mouth, his hips lifting off the mattress.
Dabi didn't hesitate. He yanked the pants down Dante’s hips in one rough motion, freeing his cock. It was already hard, flushed and leaking, twitching eagerly in the cool air. A low growl escaped Dabi as he wrapped his hand around it. He stroked once, firm and possessive, his thumb rubbing roughly over the slick head. Dante cried out, his back bowing, the new wings flaring wide before settling again with a leathery rustle. "Yeah," Dabi muttered, his own breath coming fast, eyes dark with lust. "Yeah, like that. Gonna take it, Dante?"
"Don't fucking ask," Dante snarled, his voice thick. He reached for Dabi’s belt buckle with clumsy urgency, fumbling the clasp. "Just get your goddamn cock in me. Now."
Dabi didn't need telling twice. He shoved his own pants and briefs down just enough to free his erection, thick and straining. Spitting into his palm, he slicked himself roughly, then shifted Dante’s hips higher with a firm grip. He positioned himself, the blunt head of his cock pressing against Dante’s entrance. Dante hissed, baring his teeth, but his eyes blazed with challenge, not fear. "Do it, pretty boy," he ground out, spreading his legs wider.
With one brutal thrust, Dabi sheathed himself to the hilt. Dante yelled, a raw, guttural sound of pleasure-pain, his body clamping down hard around the sudden, burning intrusion. Dabi froze for a split second, buried deep, savoring the impossible tightness, the heat, the way Dante’s muscles fluttered wildly around him. "Shit," Dabi gasped, his own control fraying. "Fuck, you're tight." He pulled back almost all the way, leaving just the tip stretching that hot ring of muscle, then slammed home again, hard and unforgiving.
The rhythm was brutal from the start – deep, punishing thrusts that rocked the bed frame, the headboard thumping rhythmically against the wall. Dabi gripped Dante’s hips hard enough to bruise, hauling him back onto his cock with every powerful drive. The scent of sweat, sex, blood, and sulfur filled the small room, thick and primal. Dante met every thrust, pushing back, taking him deeper, his groans rising in pitch. His cock bounced against his stomach, leaking profusely with each jarring impact. One of his wings draped heavily over the side of the bed, the molten veins pulsing brighter with his arousal.
"Fuck, yes! Right there!" Dante bellowed, his head thrashing on the pillow. "Harder, Dabi!" His hand scrambled between his legs, fingers wrapping around his own cock, stroking frantically in time with Dabi’s thrusts. Pre-come slicked his fist, the filthy, wet sounds mixing with the slap of skin on skin and their ragged breathing.
Dabi grunted with each deep plunge, his own release coiling tight in his gut. The sight beneath him was obscene, glorious: Dante spread wide, taking everything he gave, sweat gleaming on his heaving chest, horns glowing like embers, wings trembling with the force of the fucking. He leaned forward, bracing one hand near Dante’s head again, the other snaking down to roughly bat Dante’s hand away from his cock. "Mine," Dabi growled, replacing Dante’s hand with his own, fisting him hard and fast, his thrusts becoming erratic, losing rhythm. "Gonna make you come all over yourself."
The double assault, the tight grip on his cock and the relentless pounding deep inside, pushed Dante over the edge instantly. He came with a hoarse shout that echoed off the walls, back arching violently off the bed. Thick ropes of white spurted across his stomach and chest, some splattering the partially healed claw marks. His ass clamped down on Dabi’s cock like a vice, muscles milking him relentlessly.
The vicious squeeze and Dante’s raw cry triggered Dabi’s own climax. He buried himself to the root, hips stuttering as he emptied himself deep inside Dante with a guttural roar, his release pulsing hot and thick. He collapsed forward, bracing himself on trembling arms above Dante, still buried deep, both of them gasping, coated in sweat and come and the faint coppery scent of blood. The molten veins in Dante’s wings flared a brilliant, fiery orange, then slowly faded back to a dim, simmering glow.
The molten veins in Dante’s wings flared a brilliant, fiery orange, then slowly faded back to a dim, simmering glow. Dabi’s weight pressed down, a welcome anchor, his own harsh breaths warm against Dante’s throat. The room stank of sweat, sex, cooling come, and the persistent, sulfurous tang clinging to Dante’s new, impossible appendages. Blood, sticky and dark, still seeped sluggishly from the claw marks Azrael had carved into Dante's chest, stark against skin now mostly unbroken.
Dabi shifted, bracing on one elbow, wincing slightly as he pulled his softening cock free with a slick, wet sound. He looked down the length of Dante’s body, a faint smirk touching his lips despite the lingering shock in his eyes. His gaze snagged, then held, locked lower. "Seriously?" Dabi rasped, his voice wrecked but laced with pure, dark amusement. He gestured with his chin. "Already? Fucking hell, Dante. Even after that?"
Dante followed his gaze. Despite the bone-deep exhaustion, the raw ache in his back where wings had violently erupted, the sharp sting of his unhealed wounds, and the deep, satisfying throb where Dabi had just been buried… his cock was indeed stiffening again, lifting thick and heavy against his sticky stomach. The tip glistened, freshly wet. A slow, defiant grin spread across Dante's face, sharp and reckless, even as he winced at the pull on his chest. "What can I say, pretty boy?" he breathed, the rumble in his chest vibrating through Dabi. "Seeing you look so wrecked does shit to me. Blame yourself."
"Fuck you," Dabi shot back, the words lacking any real heat. His eyes, however, burned with a renewed intensity, fixed on Dante's renewed erection. That challenging grin, the sheer, stubborn vitality radiating from Dante amidst the blood and ruin… it was a drug.
Dante met his stare, unflinching, the molten veins in his horns pulsing a fraction brighter. "Yeah? Prove it."
Dabi didn't hesitate. He moved with sudden, predatory grace. In one fluid motion, he swung a leg over Dante’s hips, straddling him. He spat crudely into his own palm, reached back, and slicked Dante’s cock roughly, his fingers sliding over the swollen head, smearing pre-come down the rigid shaft. Dante hissed, arching, his wings rustling against the bedspread. Without preamble, Dabi lifted himself, positioned Dante’s cockhead at his entrance, and sank down in one hard, smooth plunge.
"Fuck!" Dante roared, hands flying to grip Dabi’s sharp hip bones as he was engulfed in shocking, tight heat. Dabi threw his head back, a choked gasp escaping him as he took Dante to the root, feeling the stretch deep inside. He braced his hands on Dante’s chest, fingers dangerously close to the weeping claw marks. He didn’t wait, didn’t give either of them time to adjust. He rose, almost pulling off, then slammed back down, hard and demanding, setting a brutal, driving rhythm.
The slap of skin, the obscene wet sounds of penetration, filled the room again. Dante’s head thrashed on the pillow, his hands tightening on Dabi’s hips, guiding the punishing descent. "Yes! God, yes, ride it! Take it all, you greedy fuck!" His voice was ragged, thick with lust. Dabi’s eyes were squeezed shut, concentration and raw sensation etching lines on his face. He rode Dante like he was trying to break him, driving down with all his weight, meeting the upward thrusts Dante couldn’t suppress.
As the pace became frenzied, Dabi’s seeking hands, slick with sweat, found Dante’s head. His fingers slid past the damp hair, curling tightly, possessively, around the base of Dante's new, obsidian horns. The moment his calloused palms made contact, Dante groaned, a sound of profound, dark pleasure that vibrated through both of them. The horns were hot, unnervingly solid, vibrating slightly with the inner flow of molten light. Dante bucked his hips harder, driving impossibly deeper. "Fuck, Dabi! Yeah, hold 'em! Hold those fucking horns!"
The grip seemed to electrify Dabi. He leaned forward slightly, using the horns as leverage, gaining more force as he slammed himself down repeatedly onto Dante’s cock. His movements became wilder, more desperate. Dante’s eyes drank him in – the sweat sheening Dabi’s chest, the strain in his neck, the raw need contorting his beautiful face. Pleasure surged, fierce and possessive. "Look at you," Dante growled, his voice dropping to a rough, commanding purr. "Look at my good boy riding my cock so fucking perfect. Taking it so deep."
Dabi whimpered, the sound punched out of him with a particularly hard downward thrust. His rhythm faltered for a split second.
"That’s it," Dante continued, relentless, praising, driving the spike deeper. His thumbs dug into Dabi’s hip bones. "My perfect fucking good boy. Knew you needed this. Needed me filling you up again. Doing so good for me." Each utterance of "good boy" made Dabi shudder violently, his inner muscles clamping down like a vise on Dante’s cock.
"Shut up," Dabi gasped, but it was a plea, not an order. His eyes flew open, blazing with overwhelmed need, locking onto Dante’s. He was close, teetering on the edge, Dante’s filthy praise shredding his control as effectively as the cock pounding his prostate.
"Never," Dante rasped, a feral grin spreading. "Not when my good boy’s fucking himself on me like a desperate slut. Look at you. Perfect." He bucked up hard, grinding deep. "Come on, pretty boy. Show me. Come all over my cock."
The command, the relentless praise, the sheer overwhelming sensation – it shattered Dabi. A raw, broken cry tore from his throat. His body locked, spine arching impossibly as his orgasm ripped through him, untouched cock pulsing, hot stripes of come splattering Dante’s stomach and chest, mixing with the drying evidence of their last climax. His grip on Dante’s horns turned white-knuckled, anchoring him through the violent tremors.
The fierce clenching of Dabi’s body, the desperate cries, the sight of him coming undone – it was too much. Dante roared, the sound primal, echoing off the walls. His own release slammed into him, hot and deep, pumping into Dabi’s convulsing heat. As the climax tore through Dante, his massive wings, which had been trembling with the force of their movements, suddenly snapped wide open. The obsidian membranes stretched taut, then surged forward, enveloping them both in a sudden, warm cocoon of shadow and flickering, molten light. The world outside ceased to exist. Only heat, the ragged symphony of their breathing, the slick slide of their joined bodies, and the pulsing, hellish glow trapped within the wing-curtained darkness.