Chapter 60: The First Man
The air in the Inferno Club’s VIP lounge hung thick and syrupy, a potent cocktail of expensive bourbon, cloying perfume, and the ever-present, faintly metallic tang of sulfur that clung to the stone walls. Plush velvet banquettes the color of dried blood cradled two distinct groups. On one side, Dabi slouched, nursing a whiskey neat, the smoky burn a grounding counterpoint to the phantom tingling still humming beneath his skin. Shigaraki picked absently at the stitching on his glove beside him, while Toga giggled, twirling a lock of blonde hair as she leaned conspiratorially towards Shoto. Across the low obsidian table, Bakugo scowled into his drink, radiating barely contained irritation, while Deku watched the writhing dance floor below with wide, fascinated eyes.
Opposite them, radiating a different kind of energy, Dante sprawled like a king on his own banquette. His siblings formed a protective, familiar orbit: KJ, sharp-eyed and watchful, swirling a glass of something dark; Sapphire, elegant and coolly observant; Vincent, broodingly silent; Xavier, fingers drumming a restless rhythm on his knee. Dante’s gaze kept drifting towards Dabi, a possessive heat simmering beneath the casual facade. He’d seen the blue fire. Felt its raw, untamed power. The memory was a brand hotter than his own hellfire.
Suddenly, Vincent flinched. His head snapped up, eyes wide. At the exact same instant, Dante jerked upright. Both pairs of eyes – Vincent's dark brown, Dante's obsidian black – flashed a blinding, incandescent white. Pure, cold light, utterly alien in the lounge’s crimson gloom. It lasted less than a heartbeat, vanishing as abruptly as it appeared.
Silence crashed down. The thumping bass from below seemed muffled, distant.
Sapphire leaned forward, her voice cutting through the sudden tension. "What the hell was that?" She looked sharply between her brothers. "Vincent? Dante?"
Vincent blinked, rubbing his temples. "Dunno," he muttered, his voice rough. "Sudden spike. Warning system kicked in."
Dante frowned, his brow furrowed. He flexed his fingers, feeling nothing but the usual thrum of his own power. "Same here. Felt like… static. But wrong." He shook his head, genuinely perplexed. "Usually tells us what it’s warning about. Not this time. Just… white noise."
Before anyone could respond, Dante gasped. His eyes flashed white again, brighter, sharper this time. A jolt went through him, rattling the ice in his untouched glass. He hissed, pressing the heels of his hands against his temples. "Fuck!" he snarled under his breath, the Detroit rasp thick with pain and disbelief. "Oh, fuck me."
KJ was instantly alert. “What is it?" Xavier stopped drumming, his posture rigid. Sapphire’s cool composure cracked, revealing sharp concern. "Dante? Talk to us!"
Dabi watched intently, his own drink forgotten. He saw the genuine confusion, the flicker of something akin to alarm on Dante’s face – an expression he rarely wore. The blue fire beneath Dabi’s skin prickled in response to the sudden, charged atmosphere.
Dante lowered his hands, his eyes dark again but shadowed. "Nothing," he ground out, though the tension radiating from him screamed otherwise. "Just… stronger. Still no fucking clue." He forced a smirk that didn't reach his eyes. "Probably just Dad fucking with the wiring again."
A sharp rap echoed on the heavy oak door of the lounge. It swung open before anyone could answer, revealing one of Dante’s human attendants, pale-faced and sweating despite the lounge’s cool air. "Mr. Morningstar," the man stammered, bowing slightly. "Apologies for the interruption, sir. There’s… there’s a visitor. Demanding to see you. He just… walked past security."
Dante’s gaze snapped to the doorway, his expression hardening into cold fury. "Who the fuck—"
The attendant didn’t get to finish. A figure stepped smoothly past him, filling the doorway. He was tall, broad-shouldered, draped in impeccably tailored linen the color of desert sand. His features were timelessly handsome, carved with an ageless strength, framed by dark, slightly unruly hair. His eyes, a startlingly clear, piercing blue, swept the room with unnerving calm before locking onto Dante. A faint, knowing smile touched his lips.
"Demanding?" the newcomer echoed, his voice deep, resonant, carrying an ancient weight that seemed to vibrate the very air. It held a hint of dry amusement. "Merely announcing my presence, Dante. It’s been… an age."
Recognition slammed into Dante like a physical blow. He froze, every muscle taut. The possessive heat he’d felt looking at Dabi evaporated, replaced by a cold, complex rush – shock, irritation, and a deeply buried, visceral memory of tangled limbs and desperate friction.
Sapphire inhaled sharply. Vincent’s hand clenched into a fist on his knee. KJ’s eyes narrowed to slits.
Dabi felt the shift instantly. The air crackled, thick with unspoken history and sudden, dangerous tension. He saw the way Dante’s jaw tightened, the way his knuckles whitened where they gripped the edge of the banquette. This wasn't just a visitor. This was something… primal.
Adam. The First Man. And the look passing between him and Dante wasn't just recognition. It was the raw, unspoken echo of countless encounters, a history written not in love, but in sweat, grunts, and the frantic, powerful release of two ancient beings colliding. Friends? Hardly. Benefits? Undeniably. The air between them sizzled with the ghost of rough hands, bitten skin, and the deep, guttural sounds Dante usually reserved for Dabi in the dungeon’s dark. Dabi’s own fire sparked hot and jealous beneath his ribs. Who the fuck was this?
The silence stretched, thick as the club’s sulfurous air. Adam’s piercing blue eyes held Dante’s obsidian gaze, a millennia of unspoken history crackling between them. Dante finally moved, pushing himself off the banquette with deliberate slowness, his movements radiating controlled tension. "Yeah," he rasped, the Detroit edge sharp. "Got a minute." He didn’t look back at Dabi, didn’t glance at his siblings. He just walked towards Adam, the crowd parting instinctively before him. Adam stepped aside, gesturing smoothly towards the hallway. The heavy oak door swung shut behind them, muffling the bass, sealing the lounge in stunned silence.
Shigaraki elbowed Sapphire sharply in the ribs, his cracked lips twisting. "The fuck was that?" he hissed, red eyes narrowed. "Dude walks in like he owns the place. Dante looked ready to rip his throat out... or fuck him." Toga leaned in, practically vibrating with curiosity, while Shoto watched the closed door with detached interest. Bakugo snorted, muttering something about "pompous assholes," but Deku’s gaze flickered nervously between the Morningstar siblings.
Vincent took a slow sip of his whiskey, his expression grim. "Adam," he stated flatly, the word dropping like a stone. "Like the actual First Man Adam." A collective intake of breath echoed around the table. Shigaraki blinked. Toga gasped, clapping a hand over her mouth. Bakugo’s scowl deepened into disbelief. Deku’s eyes widened impossibly further.
Sapphire sighed, swirling the ice in her glass. "Him and Dante used to fuckin’ loathe each other," she explained, her voice cool but carrying clearly. "Centuries of pure, undiluted animosity. Kinda had this... hate fucking thing going for a while. Brutal. Then, poof. Nothing. Radio silence for ages." She shrugged elegantly. "Guess the silence just broke."
Dabi didn’t react. He lifted his whiskey glass, the amber liquid catching the low crimson light. He took a slow, deliberate sip, the smoky burn familiar on his tongue. His face was a mask of bored indifference, gaze fixed somewhere on the writhing mass of dancers visible beyond the lounge’s glass partition. Inside, though, it was chaos. White-hot jealousy, sharp as Dante’s claws, tore through his gut. The phantom sting of Dante’s bite mark on his neck flared. The memory of Dante’s possessive growl – "Mine" – clashed violently with the raw, ancient tension he’d just witnessed crackle between Dante and Adam. He felt the blue fire beneath his skin prickle, threatening to spark in response to the turmoil. He forced it down, swallowed another burning mouthful, and kept staring blankly ahead. Calm as stone. Crashing inside.
The hallway outside the VIP lounge was a dimly lit artery, thick carpet swallowing sound, the distant thump of the club’s bass a muffled heartbeat. The air felt cooler, charged with a different kind of electricity. Dante leaned against the dark wood paneling, arms crossed, radiating impatience. Adam stood a few feet away, his ancient gaze appraising Dante with unnerving calm. The scent of desert wind and sun-baked stone clung faintly to him, alien in the club’s atmosphere of decadence and decay.
"You look... occupied," Adam remarked, his deep voice devoid of inflection. His eyes flickered towards the closed lounge door, a subtle acknowledgment of Dabi.
"Occupied is one word," Dante shot back, his Detroit rasp sharp. "What do you want, Adam? Didn't peg you for the clubbing type. Bit beneath the First Man, isn't it? Or did you finally develop a taste for sin?" He pushed off the wall, stepping closer, invading Adam’s space deliberately. The proximity was charged, thick with the unspoken memory of violent hands, bitten flesh, desperate, furious couplings where hatred and lust were indistinguishable. Dante’s molten veins pulsed faintly beneath his shirt sleeves.
Adam didn’t flinch. He met Dante’s glare head-on, a ghost of that old, challenging spark in his blue eyes. "Sin is relative, Morningstar," he countered smoothly. "And my tastes are my own. But no, I didn't come for the ambiance." He paused, the weight of ages settling around them. "Something’s stirring. Something old. Something that makes even your domain feel... unsettled." His gaze intensified. "You felt it too. The white light. Twice."
Dante’s jaw tightened. The inexplicable flashes, the warning system screaming static – Adam knew. Of course he fucking knew. "So?" Dante growled, refusing to concede anything. "Dad’s wiring’s always been shit. Probably just another cosmic tantrum."
Adam’s smile was thin, humorless. "Don't play the fool, Dante. It doesn't suit you. Not anymore." He took a half-step closer, closing the remaining distance. Dante could smell the ancient dust on him, feel the immense, contained power radiating from his frame. It was different from Hell’s fire – older, deeper, rooted in the primal clay of creation itself. A familiar, antagonistic heat stirred low in Dante’s belly, unwanted but undeniable. "That wasn't Lucifer," Adam stated, his voice dropping to a low, resonant murmur that vibrated in Dante’s bones. "It was older. Hungrier. And it’s waking up." He searched Dante’s face. "Your little display downstairs... the blue fire. It’s connected. Deeply."
Dante froze. The blue fire. Dabi’s raw, untamed power. Adam knew about that too. How? Rage, cold and protective, surged through him, momentarily eclipsing the unwanted heat Adam’s proximity evoked. "You stay the fuck away from him," Dante snarled, his voice layered with a demonic growl. His obsidian eyes flashed dangerously.
Adam merely raised an eyebrow, unfazed. "Your possessive streak remains... impressive," he observed dryly. "And entirely misplaced. I’m not here for your pet pyromancer." He leaned in fractionally, his breath warm against Dante’s cheek. The scent of him, ancient and clean, was a jarring counterpoint to the club’s musk. "I’m here because whatever is waking, Dante, it threatens everything. Above. Below. The spaces in between." His piercing blue eyes held Dante’s, stripping away pretense. "Your father’s kingdom. My Father’s garden. Dust. We need to talk. Properly." He paused, letting the gravity sink in. "Before the light consumes more than just our warning systems."
Dante stared at him, the club’s muffled pulse fading into the background. The white flashes. Dabi’s inexplicable fire. Adam’s ancient, grim certainty. The pieces slammed together with terrifying force. This wasn't a social call. This was an alarm bell ringing from the dawn of time. He swallowed hard, the taste of his own whiskey suddenly sour. "Fuck," he breathed, the word heavy with dawning dread. "Talk."
The muffled bass from the club below thumped like a dying heart against the thick walls of the hallway. Adam’s piercing blue eyes held Dante’s, stripping away centuries of practiced indifference. "Talk," Dante had conceded, the word tasting like ash. Adam nodded, a flicker of something ancient and weary in his gaze. "The Void Eaters," he stated, the name dropping into the silence like a stone into still water. "Sealed before Time had teeth. Stirring now." He leaned closer, the scent of sun-baked stone and ozone intensifying. "Your father’s little rebellions? My Father’s... distractions? They weakened the wards. Thin places." His hand gestured vaguely upwards, encompassing Heaven, Earth, everything. "Your pet’s little light show downstairs?" Adam’s lips curved into a knowing, almost predatory smile. "That wasn't just pretty sparks, Dante. That was a beacon. Raw, untethered primordial energy. Exactly what those things crave. Like blood in the water."
Dante’s molten veins flared beneath his skin, casting faint, angry shadows across Adam’s timeless face. Protective fury warred with dawning horror. Dabi. His Dabi. A fucking beacon? "Bullshit," Dante snarled, but the conviction wavered. He’d felt the power in Dabi’s fire, its alien, terrifying purity. Adam’s smile widened, devoid of warmth. "Is it? You felt the white light. Twice. That’s them testing the locks. Probing." He took another half-step, invading Dante’s space completely. The air crackled with millennia of antagonism and raw, unresolved tension. Adam’s gaze dropped to Dante’s mouth, lingering. "Always did love watching you get riled up, Morningstar," he murmured, his deep voice dropping to an intimate rasp that vibrated down Dante’s spine, stirring unwanted memories of sweat-slicked skin and furious, bruising kisses. "That righteous fury looks good on you." Before Dante could react, Adam closed the final distance. His hand shot out, not to strike, but to cup the back of Dante’s neck with startling familiarity. His lips crashed against Dante’s – a hard, claiming kiss that tasted of desert wind and ancient power.
Dante froze for a split second, the shock of contact momentarily paralyzing. Then instinct roared. He shoved Adam back violently, breaking the contact with a wet sound. "Get the FUCK off me!" Dante snarled, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, his obsidian eyes blazing with genuine fury and disgust. The molten lines beneath his skin pulsed like live wires. "We are NOT doing this shit, Adam! Not now, not fucking ever again!" His Detroit rasp was sharp enough to cut glass. Adam stumbled back a step, regaining his balance with inhuman grace. He chuckled, a low, dark sound that held no amusement, only a chilling satisfaction. He touched his own lips, his piercing blue eyes flicking past Dante towards the closed VIP door. "Huh," Adam breathed, the knowing smirk returning full force. "Touchy. You must really love that lil' fire starter." The deliberate emphasis on 'love' was a barb aimed straight at Dante’s core.
White-hot rage, pure and infernal, exploded behind Dante’s eyes. The hallway lights flickered violently. "Get. Out." The command wasn’t loud. It was a low, guttural vibration that shook the floorboards, layered with the unmistakable timbre of Hell’s royalty. Adam held his gaze for a heartbeat longer, the ancient challenge still simmering, then inclined his head with mocking deference. "We’ll talk again soon, Prince. When the lights go out." He turned, his linen coat swirling, and vanished down the shadowed corridor as silently as he’d arrived, leaving Dante alone, trembling with fury and the chilling weight of prophecy.
Dante slammed his fist into the wood paneling. Splinters flew. The lingering taste of Adam – ozone and dust and unwanted memory – burned his tongue. Adam’s words echoed: Beacon. Void Eaters. Love. The possessive fury Adam had ignited now had a singular, burning focus. Dabi. He needed Dabi. Now. Not for answers. Not for talk. To claim. To dominate. To erase the feel of Adam’s lips and the terrifying implications with sweat, pain, and the only fire that mattered. He stormed back into the VIP lounge, the door crashing against the wall. The chatter died instantly. Every eye locked onto him – his siblings wary, Dabi’s friends startled. Dante ignored them all. His obsidian gaze pinned Dabi where he sat. "You," Dante growled, the single word thick with command and barely leashed violence. "With me. Now." He didn’t wait. He turned and strode back out, knowing Dabi would follow. He always did.
Dabi didn't hesitate. He shoved his untouched drink away, the glass scraping harshly on the obsidian table, and was moving before Dante even cleared the doorway. The possessive fury radiating off Dante was a physical wave, crashing over the stunned silence of the lounge. Shigaraki’s muttered "What the fuck now?" and Toga’s excited squeal faded behind him as Dabi pushed through the heavy door into the cooler hallway. Dante was already halfway down the dim corridor, his broad back rigid, molten veins visible beneath his shirt like cracks in cooling rock, pulsing with sullen crimson light. The air tasted like ozone and barely contained violence.
He followed the retreating figure, the thick carpet swallowing his steps. Dante didn’t look back, didn’t slow. He turned sharply, not towards the main club or the grand staircase leading upwards, but down a narrower service corridor lined with unmarked doors. The thumping bass became distant, replaced by the harsh echo of Dante’s boots on concrete. He stopped before a reinforced steel door, whipping out a heavy key. The lock clunked open with a sound like a gunshot in the sudden quiet. Dante shoved the door inward, revealing not an office, but a stark, windowless room: concrete floor, bare metal shelves holding industrial cleaning supplies, a single hanging bulb casting harsh shadows. Storage. Isolated. Perfect.
Dante stepped inside and turned, his obsidian eyes locking onto Dabi the moment he crossed the threshold. He slammed the door shut behind them with a finality that vibrated the walls. The lock engaged with a heavy thunk. The air grew instantly thick, heated by Dante’s simmering rage and Dabi’s own rising anticipation. The scent of bleach and dust couldn't mask the raw electricity crackling between them. Dante leaned back against the closed door, arms crossed, his gaze burning into Dabi. "Close."
Dabi met the stare, chin lifted, the phantom sting of the bite mark on his neck flaring. "Looked cosy out there. Old friend drop by?" he drawled, the forced nonchalance barely hiding the jealousy clawing at his insides. He took a step closer, drawn to the inferno Dante radiated. "Adam, right? Like the fuckin' garden guy? Seemed real... familiar." The blue fire prickled just beneath his skin, reacting to the tension, to the memory of Adam's ancient power brushing against Dante's.
Dante pushed off the door in one fluid, predatory motion. He closed the distance in two strides, invading Dabi’s space completely. His hand shot out, fingers tangling viciously in Dabi’s hair, wrenching his head back. "Shut up," Dante snarled, his Detroit rasp layered with a guttural growl that wasn’t entirely human. His obsidian eyes blazed inches from Dabi’s. "You think you know shit?" The molten veins flared brighter, illuminating the hard planes of his face, the fury twisting his handsome features. "He’s poison. Old, sticky poison. And he fucking touched you." Dante’s other hand clamped onto Dabi’s hip, fingers digging in hard enough to bruise bone, pulling him flush against Dante’s hard body. "With his eyes. With his fuckin' words. Said you were a beacon."
The accusation, the raw possessiveness in Dante’s voice, sent a jolt straight to Dabi’s cock. The blue fire sparked, tiny cerulean flares dancing across his knuckles where they gripped Dante’s forearm. "Yeah?" Dabi gasped, pain and dark thrill mixing. He pushed forward, grinding his hardening length against Dante’s thigh. "Jealous, Morningstar? Worried your lil’ human’s gonna get stolen by the first asshole?" He bared his teeth in a defiant grin. "Maybe I liked the way he looked at me."
A bestial snarl ripped from Dante’s throat. The hand in Dabi’s hair tightened brutally, yanking his head sideways, exposing the vulnerable line of his throat – and the bite mark Dante had left days before. "Mine," Dante ground out, the word vibrating with infernal power. He slammed Dabi backwards. Dabi’s back hit the cold concrete wall hard, knocking the breath from his lungs. Before he could recover, Dante dropped to his knees with jarring speed. His hands tore at Dabi’s belt buckle, the leather rasping, the metal clinking. Buttons ripped from Dabi’s jeans as Dante yanked them and his boxers down to his thighs in one brutal motion. Dabi’s cock sprang free, already fully hard, flushed and leaking. Dante didn’t pause. He leaned forward, his hot breath ghosting over the swollen head, his molten veins casting an eerie glow on Dabi’s bare skin.
Then Dante’s mouth engulfed him. Not a slow tease, not a lick. He took Dabi’s entire length down his throat in one deep, claiming swallow, gagging slightly on the sudden intrusion before relaxing his throat with demonic control. His head bobbed with savage intensity, suction fierce, tongue working ruthlessly along the thick vein underneath. Wet, obscene sounds filled the concrete cell. "FUCK! Dante!" Dabi cried out, his head slamming back against the wall, fingers scrabbling against the rough concrete. The dual sensations – the brutal suction, the scrape of Dante’s stubble on his inner thighs, the overwhelming possessiveness radiating from the demon prince – were too much. The blue fire roared to life, not just sparks but full licks of cerulean flame racing up Dabi’s chest, his arms, illuminating the storage room in cold, unnatural light. Dante groaned around Dabi’s cock, the vibration sending shockwaves of pleasure-pain through him. Dante pulled off with a wet pop, his lips glistening, gaze locked on the blue flames dancing across Dabi’s skin. "That’s it," Dante rasped, his voice thick with lust and dark approval. He spat onto his palm, the glob landing on Dabi’s exposed hole. "Show me that fuckin’ fire, pretty boy."
Before Dabi could process the sudden shift, before he could brace himself, Dante’s spit-slicked thumb was pressing inside him. No prep. No gentleness. Just brutal, blunt intrusion, forcing the tight ring of muscle. "AH! Shit! Dante—!" Dabi gasped, arching off the wall, the blue fire flaring brighter in response to the sharp sting. Dante ignored him. He withdrew his thumb only to replace it instantly with two thick fingers, scissoring roughly, stretching him open with ruthless efficiency. The burn was intense, a white-hot counterpoint to the lingering pleasure from his mouth. Dante’s eyes were fixed on Dabi’s face, watching the pain and ecstasy war there, watching the blue flames pulse with each ragged breath. "Takin’ it," Dante growled, curling his fingers, seeking, finding the bundle of nerves deep inside. He pressed hard.
Dabi screamed, a raw, broken sound. His body convulsed, his cock jerking violently, untouched. Blue fire erupted from his skin in a blinding wave, engulfing both of them, washing over Dante’s kneeling form. Dante roared into the inferno, not in pain, but in triumph. The flames licked at him, worshipped him, making his own molten blood glow like lava beneath his skin. He withdrew his fingers, leaving Dabi gasping, trembling, suspended on the edge by the relentless stimulation. Dante surged to his feet, fumbling with his own fly, shoving his pants and briefs down just enough to free his thick, heavy cock. It jutted out, flushed and glistening at the tip with pre-come, pulsing with the same hellish light as his veins. He spat into his palm again, slicking himself roughly, his gaze never leaving Dabi’s flame-wreathed form. "Gonna fuck that fire right into you," Dante snarled. He grabbed Dabi’s hips, yanking him forward off the wall, tilting his pelvis. The blunt, burning head of Dante’s cock pressed against Dabi’s stretched, resisting hole. "Scream for me."
He slammed home. No quarter. No mercy. Dante buried himself to the hilt in one devastating thrust, sheathing his entire length in Dabi’s tight, clenching heat. The force drove Dabi back against the concrete wall, the impact knocking the air from his lungs again. Pain exploded through him – a deep, tearing burn as his body struggled to accommodate the brutal invasion. The blue fire flared blindingly white-hot before snapping back to intense blue, a visible manifestation of the shockwave tearing through him. "GOD! FUCK! DANTE!" Dabi screamed, tears springing to his eyes, his fingers clawing at Dante’s shoulders, feeling the molten heat beneath the fabric. Dante held himself buried deep for a heartbeat, letting Dabi feel every throbbing inch, letting the fire rage around them. His breath came in harsh pants against Dabi’s neck, his claws partially extending, pricking the skin near the bite mark. "Mine," he ground out again, the word guttural, possessive, final. "Say it."
"Yours!" Dabi gasped, the admission ripped from him by the overwhelming fullness, the pain, the terrifying power of the man claiming him. "Fuck, Dante... yours!"
Dante pulled back almost completely, the drag agonizing. Then he drove forward again. Harder. Deeper. The concrete wall scraped Dabi’s back. Each piston-like thrust was a hammer blow, shaking Dabi’s frame, forcing choked cries and ragged gasps from his throat. Dante fucked him with feral intensity, hips snapping, balls slapping against Dabi’s ass, the wet slap of skin echoing obscenely in the small room. His hand tangled back in Dabi’s hair, keeping his head pinned, forcing him to take the assault. The blue fire raged, uncontrolled, licking up the walls, casting their frantic, chained shadows in a mad dance. Dante’s rhythm was punishing, relentless, driven by fury and a primal need to erase Adam’s intrusion, to brand Dabi irrevocably as his possession. He angled his hips, grinding on the inward thrust, the thick head of his cock raking directly over Dabi’s prostate. The shock of intense pleasure amidst the brutal fucking was electric. Dabi’s scream dissolved into a high, keening wail. His cock, trapped between their sweat-slicked bodies, jerked violently against Dante’s stomach.
"Gonna come?" Dante snarled, his thrusts becoming even more savage, hammering that sweet spot with bruising force. His molten veins were blinding now, the heat radiating off him searing. "Gonna spill that pretty come all over yourself while I wreck your ass?" He leaned in, his lips brushing Dabi’s ear, his voice a dark, filthy promise. "Do it. Come like a bitch on my cock. Show me how fuckin' owned you are."
The crude command, the overwhelming sensation, the sheer force of Dante’s possession detonated the coil in Dabi’s gut. His back arched violently off the wall, held only by Dante’s punishing grip. "FUCK! DANTE! I'M—!" His orgasm ripped through him, savage and uncontrolled. Thick ropes of hot come pulsed from his cock, splattering across Dante’s abs, his own stomach, the concrete floor. His inner muscles clenched and spasmed in fierce, rhythmic pulses around Dante’s buried cock, milking him with desperate intensity. The blue fire surged one final, blinding time, consuming the room in a silent, cerulean explosion before collapsing inward, vanishing, leaving only the harsh bulb light and the smell of ozone, sex, and scorched concrete.
Dante roared, a sound torn from the depths of Hell. The brutal clenching around his cock triggered his own release. He slammed forward one final time, burying himself impossibly deep, and came. Scalding jets of demonic seed flooded Dabi’s depths, each powerful pulse accompanied by a guttural groan shuddering through Dante’s frame. He held Dabi pinned against the wall, his hips grinding erratically, spurting his come deep inside as the last tremors of Dabi’s climax milked him dry. His claws fully retracted, his molten blood slowly fading to a dull ember glow beneath his skin. He leaned his forehead against the cool concrete beside Dabi’s head, his breath ragged, sweat dripping from his brow onto Dabi’s shoulder.
Dabi slumped, held upright only by Dante’s body and the pressure against the wall. He was boneless, trembling, utterly spent. Dante’s softening cock remained lodged inside him, a heavy, intimate weight. Dante’s come leaked out around the intrusion, warm and sticky down the inside of Dabi’s thighs, mingling with his own cooling release on his stomach. The air hung thick, laden with the stench of sex, sweat, and the faint, lingering tang of ozone and brimstone. Dante straightened slightly, pulling back just enough to look at Dabi. His obsidian eyes were still dark, intense, but the fury had banked, replaced by a smoldering possessiveness. He traced the fresh claw marks near Dabi’s neck with a surprisingly gentle thumb. "Beacon," Dante murmured, the word rough but contemplative now. He leaned in, his lips brushing the shell of Dabi’s ear, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous murmur that vibrated through Dabi’s exhausted bones. "We got shit to discuss."