Chapter 67: Fuck You
The Inferno Club’s VIP section felt suddenly cavernous, the plush velvet booths and flickering candlelight doing nothing to dispel the chill that followed Asag’s abrupt manifestation. One moment, the air thrummed with the tension of their failed planning; the next, the ancient demon stood amidst them, radiating contemptuous amusement. His borrowed form – Dante’s powerful frame – seemed to warp subtly, shadows clinging too tightly, eyes burning with an alien, malevolent intelligence.
"Looking for me?" Asag’s voice was Dante’s, yet layered with a grating, ancient rasp that scraped against their nerves. He smirked, a cruel twist of Dante’s lips. "Pathetic. Your whispers echo through the void. Did you truly believe you could conspire against me within his flesh?"
Lucifer stepped forward, his usual sardonic mask replaced by cold fury. The neon glow caught the sharp angles of his face, making his eyes seem like chips of obsidian. "Get out of him, Asag. This ends now."
Asag laughed, a harsh, barking sound devoid of humor. "Ends? For whom, Morningstar? For him?" He gestured dismissively at Dante’s own body. "Or for you? Don’t pretend this noble crusade is about saving the boy. We both know what truly frightens you." He leaned in, his voice dropping to a venomous whisper that somehow cut through the distant thrum of the band. "Your precious kingdoms. Your meticulously ordered Hell. That’s what trembles on the brink. Dante’s power, unleashed without restraint… unleashed by me… would scour your domains clean. You don’t give a solitary fuck about the vessel, only the weapon inside it breaking free."
Lucifer’s jaw tightened. Gold flickered deep within his dark eyes, a dangerous glimmer. "You know nothing of my concerns."
"Don’t I?" Asag sneered. "Let’s test that theory, shall we? Prove how little you truly value the container." With terrifying speed, Asag seized control of Dante’s right arm. Dante’s own hand, fingers tipped with obsidian-black claws that shimmered with latent power, jerked upwards. Before anyone could react, Asag slammed Dante’s clawed fist hard against Dante’s own chest. The sickening thud of impact echoed in the sudden silence. Fabric tore. Skin parted like wet paper beneath the unnatural sharpness of the claws. Blood, dark and viscous, welled instantly.
Dante’s body convulsed, a choked gasp escaping lips Asag controlled into a grotesque smile. The claws dug deeper, seeking purchase against bone. Asag’s eyes, burning with triumph, locked onto Lucifer’s. "See? His heart is right here. One good pull… and your precious weapon is scrap metal. Does it pain you, Lucifer? Does the loss pain you? Or just the waste?"
Lucifer didn’t hesitate. Not for a millisecond.
His eyes flashed, pure, incandescent gold erupting like miniature suns. Not a flicker of doubt, no moment of calculation. Raw, divine wrath, honed through eons, focused into a single, annihilating command.
Dante’s body – Asag’s puppet – dropped like a marionette with severed strings. His knees hit the polished obsidian floor with a crack. A guttural, inhuman shriek tore from Dante’s throat, Asag’s agony manifesting through his vocal cords. Tendrils of oily black smoke hissed from Dante’s mouth, nose, the wound in his chest.
Simultaneously, Sapphire’s hands shot out, palms radiating a fierce, sapphire-blue light that smelled of ozone and deep ocean pressure. KJ’s tattoos ignited, swirling patterns of crimson fire lashing out like whips. Xavier’s voice rose in a complex, guttural chant, weaving threads of binding energy visible as shimmering silver filaments. Vincent simply stared, his gaze becoming bottomless pits of negation, sucking at the edges of Asag’s smoky form.
The combined assault hammered the demonic entity. The black smoke writhed, coalescing briefly into a shrieking, multi-limbed shadow before fragmenting under the onslaught.
Adam moved. Fast. He was behind Dante’s collapsing form before the echo of Lucifer’s command faded. He locked Dante’s thrashing arms against his own torso in a vice-like grip, pinning them tight against the convulsions. Dante’s head lolled back against Adam’s shoulder, eyes rolled white, blood slicking his chest.
"Hold him!" Adam barked, though everyone was already pouring their power into the containment. With his free hand, Adam pressed his palm firmly against Dante’s sweat-slicked forehead. Not gently. Adamantly. Commandingly. His own power, a deep, resonant thrum of primal authority, surged through the contact.
"OUT!" Adam roared, the word vibrating with raw force.
Dante’s body arched violently against Adam’s hold. His mouth gaped wide, wider than humanly possible. And from it erupted a sound that froze the blood: a primal, earth-rending ROAR. It wasn't Dante. It wasn't entirely Asag. It was the sound of an ancient evil being violently evicted, tearing free from the meat and bone that housed it.
A torrent of pure darkness, shot through with streaks of sickly green and violent purple, exploded outward from Dante’s chest wound, his mouth, his pores. It coalesced above him for a split second – a shrieking, hate-filled vortex of Asag’s true essence – before the combined power of Lucifer, the Sins, Sapphire, KJ, Xavier, and Vincent slammed into it. The vortex imploded with a soundless concussion that rattled the glasses on nearby tables. Gone. Banished. For now.
The oppressive weight lifted instantly. Dante went utterly limp in Adam’s arms. The fierce glow faded from everyone’s eyes, replaced by exhaustion and wary relief. Dante’s chest rose and fell in shallow, ragged breaths, the horrific wound already knitting closed with unnatural speed, leaving only a livid scar. Unconscious. Empty. Finally, blessedly empty.
Cool silk. Soft darkness. The distant, muffled thump of the Inferno’s music was a world away. Dante surfaced from the abyss of unconsciousness not with a gasp, but with a slow, deep inhalation. The scent of ozone, blood, and sulfur was gone, replaced by familiar musk, clean linen, and the faint, comforting aroma of Dabi’s skin. He was in his own bed, in his private chambers deep within the club’s labyrinthine structure.
He blinked. The dim light revealed Dabi slumped in an armchair nearby, head resting on his folded arms on the edge of the mattress. Asleep, but the lines of tension were still etched around his eyes. Dante remembered. The tearing pressure inside his own skull. The helplessness as Asag used his hand… his claws… to rip into his own flesh. The cold terror of feeling his own heart thudding against his fingertips. Then the blinding gold, the crushing weight, the roar… and nothing.
A different kind of heat surged through him now, fierce and immediate, burning away the lingering chill of possession. Survival. Need. To feel real, alive, anchored in his own skin. To feel Dabi.
"Dabi," Dante rasped, his voice rough, unused.
Dabi jerked awake, eyes snapping open, instantly alert. "Dante? Fuck, you're awake! How do you feel? Are you—?"
"Come here," Dante interrupted, his voice low but commanding, thick with undisguised hunger. He pushed himself up slightly against the pillows, the sheet pooling around his waist, revealing the stark, still-angry scar on his chest. His gaze locked onto Dabi’s, intense, demanding. "Now."
Dabi hesitated for only a heartbeat, reading the raw need in Dante’s eyes. Relief warred with a flicker of apprehension, then surrendered to a deeper understanding. He stood, shedding his loose shirt in one fluid motion. The dim light caught the lean lines of his torso, the familiar tattoos swirling down his arms. He approached the bed, his own breath catching as he saw the fierce, unblinking focus in Dante’s eyes.
Dante’s hand shot out, surprisingly strong, grabbing Dabi’s wrist and pulling him onto the bed. "I need you," Dante growled, the words vibrating with primal urgency. "Inside me. Now. Fuck the talking. Fuck the waiting. I need to feel you, Dabi. Now."
Dabi didn't argue. The near-loss, the terror of seeing Dante torn apart from within, the sheer relief of having him back… it ignited his own desperate hunger. He climbed over Dante, knees bracketing Dante’s hips. Their eyes held – Dante’s burning with fierce possession, Dabi’s dark with answering need and a flicker of awe. Dante’s hands were already on Dabi’s hips, guiding him, fingers digging in possessively.
Dabi reached down, his own cock thick and hard, fisting it roughly. He spat into his palm, slicking himself once, twice, the sound obscene in the quiet room. No patience for more. He lined himself up, the broad head pressing against Dante’s entrance. Dante arched his back, pushing down, a low groan tearing from his throat.
"Fuck, yes! Give it to me!" Dante demanded, his voice ragged.
Dabi pushed forward. Hard. Dante was tight, impossibly tight after everything, but yielding with a desperate urgency. Dabi sheathed himself in one relentless thrust, burying himself to the hilt. Dante cried out – a sharp, guttural sound of pain mixed with overwhelming relief and pleasure. His head slammed back against the pillows, eyes squeezing shut for a second before flying open again, blazing with intensity.
"Move!" Dante commanded, his hands sliding up Dabi’s sweat-slicked back, urging him on. "Fucking ride me! Hard!"
Dabi obeyed. He planted his hands on Dante’s scarred chest for leverage, fingers brushing the raised flesh, and began to move. Hard, deep strokes, pulling almost all the way out before slamming back in. The wet slap of skin on skin filled the room, rhythmic, urgent. Dante met every thrust, hips pistoning upwards, driving Dabi deeper. Groans, curses, the ragged symphony of their breathing mingled.
"Fuck, Dabi! Yes! Just like that! Take it! Take what's yours!" Dante gasped, his voice thick with praise. As the intensity built, a familiar pressure surged at Dante’s temples. With a soft, tearing sound, the thick, curved horns erupted through his skin, curling wickedly upwards, dark as polished obsidian, glistening faintly in the dim light.
Dabi saw them. A shudder ran through him, part reverence, part pure lust. He leaned forward, changing his angle, grinding deeper on the downstroke, drawing a choked cry from Dante. His hands left Dante’s chest and rose, gripping the bases of Dante’s horns firmly. Not tentatively. Possessively. He used them as handles, pulling Dante’s head forward slightly, controlling the angle, intensifying the penetration as he rode him harder, faster.
Dante’s eyes rolled back. A deep, shuddering moan escaped him. "Fuck! Fuck, yes!" The sensation of Dabi gripping those primal extensions of his power, using them to anchor himself while fucking Dante senseless, sent electric jolts of pure, dark pleasure through him. "God, you feel so fucking good! So fucking tight around me!" Dabi gasped, his own control fraying.
"Don't!" Dante gasped out, his voice strained but commanding, even as his hips bucked wildly beneath Dabi. "Don't you fucking finish yet! Not yet!" His hands slid down to grip Dabi’s ass, fingers digging into the firm muscle, pulling him down onto his cock with bruising force. "You take it! Take every fucking inch! You're mine! Fucking mine! Such a good fucking boy, riding me like this! Taking my cock so deep! Look at you! Fucking perfect!"
The praise, filthy and fervent, poured from Dante. "That's it! Use my horns! Hold them tight! Fuck yourself on me! Yes! Good boy! My perfect fucking good boy!" Each word spurred Dabi on, each affirmation tightening the coil of pleasure in his gut, making the struggle to hold back more agonizingly exquisite. He rode Dante with abandon, sweat dripping from his brow onto Dante’s chest, his own cock aching fiercely, the pressure building relentlessly.
Dante could feel Dabi trembling above him, could see the desperate clench of his jaw, the wild dilation of his pupils. He felt his own climax coiling, a supernova building in his core. "Look at me!" Dante growled.
Dabi’s eyes, glazed with pleasure, snapped down to meet his. The raw connection, the intensity, shattered the last vestiges of control.
"Now!" Dante roared. "Come for me! Fucking come NOW!"
The command unleashed them both. Dabi threw his head back with a ragged scream as his orgasm ripped through him, his body convulsing, his grip on Dante’s horns tightening painfully as hot pulses of cum shot deep inside him. The intense clench of Dabi’s body around him, combined with the searing pain-pleasure of the horn grip and the sheer, overwhelming release, detonated Dante’s own climax. He arched violently off the bed, a guttural roar tearing from his throat as he emptied himself in thick, pulsing jets deep within Dabi, the force of it seeming to shake the very foundations of the room.
They collapsed together, a tangled, sweat-slicked heap of shuddering limbs and gasping breaths. Dabi slumped forward, his forehead resting against Dante’s scarred chest, his hands finally releasing the horns. Dante’s arms wrapped around him, holding him close, possessively, as their hearts hammered against each other, slowing gradually in the sudden, profound quiet. The only sounds were their ragged breathing and the distant, persistent thump of the Inferno’s pulse. Outside the sanctuary of the room, the abyss still yawned, but for this suspended moment, anchored by sweat, heat, and the fading echoes of ecstasy, they were whole.
Cooling sweat glued Dabi’s cheek to Dante’s scar, the raised flesh a stark reminder of the abyss they’d barely clawed back from. Dante’s ragged breathing gradually slowed beneath him, the frantic hammering of his heart settling into a deep, weary rhythm. Dabi shifted slightly, the movement causing a sticky pull where their skin met, a mix of sweat and spend.
"You nearly tore the fucking universe apart," Dabi murmured, his voice raw and thick with spent adrenaline, tracing the edge of the livid scar with a fingertip. He felt the residual tremors still vibrating through Dante’s frame. "Felt like you were being flayed from the inside out. Watching it."
Dante’s arms tightened around him, a possessive reflex. "Felt it," he rasped, the word scraping out. "Like hot fucking hooks in my brain, pulling strings. Using my hands... trying to rip out my own goddamn heart." He shuddered, a full-body spasm of remembered violation. "Saw it. Through his eyes. The planet... just... unmaking." His voice dropped to a haunted whisper. "Screaming. So much screaming. And he laughed."
Silence stretched, thick with the phantom echoes of destruction and the lingering musk of sex. Dabi pressed his lips against the scar, a fierce, wordless counterpoint to the horror. Dante’s hand slid up, tangling in Dabi’s sweat-damp hair, not demanding now, but anchoring.
"I stopped breathing," Dabi admitted into the scar tissue, the confession stark against the darkness. "When you went down. When that... smoke... tore out of you. Thought you were just... gone. Emptied out. A fucking shell." His grip on Dante tightened unconsciously, knuckles white. "Adam barely caught you."
Dante turned his head, his lips finding Dabi’s temple. The rough texture of his stubble scratched skin. "Your voice," he breathed, the heat of his exhalation warming Dabi’s ear. "Cut through the fucking static. Like a knife." He paused, the admission costing him. "Held onto that. When the hooks dug deepest. Your fucking voice. Telling me to hold on. To come back."
He pulled back just enough to look down at Dabi, the dim light catching the lingering inhuman gleam in his dark eyes, though his obsidian horns had begun to subtly retract. The fierce possession of moments before had bled away, replaced by something raw, vulnerable, terrifying in its openness. The usual shield of arrogance, the demonic intensity, was stripped bare. His thumb brushed Dabi’s cheekbone, rough and tender.
"I love you," Dante said. No fanfare. No flourish. Just three words, low and gravelly, ripped straight from the core of him, landing with the weight of a collapsing star. His gaze held Dabi’s, unflinching, demanding nothing, offering everything.
The world narrowed to the scar beneath Dabi’s cheek, the fading throb of exertion in his muscles, and those three impossible words hanging in the air thick with sex and fear. He hadn't expected this. Not now. Not after the claws, the roar, the abyss. Air hitched in his chest, a sharp, involuntary gasp. He saw the truth of it in Dante’s eyes – the exhaustion, the vulnerability, the terrifying absence of any shield. It wasn't gratitude. It was surrender. A different kind of unmasking.
"Fuck," Dabi breathed, the word escaping on a shudder. He pushed himself up onto his elbows, looming over Dante, needing to see him fully, to confirm the impossible depth laid bare. Dante just watched him, waiting, the pulse in his throat beating visibly against the scarred skin. The raw honesty in that stare, after centuries of walls and power plays and near-annihilations, was more disarming than any demonic roar.
"Say it," Dante commanded, voice rough but impossibly soft. "Or don't. But it’s true." His hand slid to the nape of Dabi's neck, fingers tangling in the short hairs there, not demanding, just anchoring. A silent plea beneath the command.
Dabi stared. Saw the lingering shadow of Asag's violation in the tightness around Dante’s eyes, the echo of cosmic power barely contained in the fading gleam. Saw the man beneath the demon king, the one who’d chosen not to blink existence out of being. Who’d fought his way back through hooks and hellfire, holding onto the sound of his voice. The coil of tension in his own chest, the fear that had been a constant companion since Dante first manifested, snapped.
"Love you too, you fucking impossible bastard," Dabi growled, the words tumbling out rough and fierce, laced with disbelief and a sudden, staggering relief. He didn't whisper it. He claimed it. "Since... fuck, probably since you threatened to incinerate me for spilling your bourbon and then poured me another glass." A harsh, breathless laugh escaped him. "Scared the shit out of me then. Scares the shit out of me now. Loving something that could unmake stars."
He didn’t wait for a reply. He crashed his lips down onto Dante’s. Not like before. Not the desperate claiming, the animal need for proof of life. This was different. Slower. Deeper. A searing confirmation, an anchor thrown into the deep. Dante’s mouth opened under his, a low groan vibrating against Dabi’s lips as Dante’s arms locked around him again, hauling him down, crushing their bodies together. The kiss tasted of salt, exhaustion, the faint tang of blood from a split lip neither noticed, and something else, fiercely, terrifyingly new. Dante’s hand fisted in his hair, holding him close, as if Dabi was the only solid thing in a dissolving universe. They kissed until their lungs burned, until the raw edges of terror and relief blurred into a profound, bone-deep exhaustion.
Dabi finally broke the kiss, resting his forehead against Dante’s, their breath mingling in short, shared gasps. "Sleep," he ordered, his own voice thick with fatigue. "Now. Before the next fucking apocalypse knocks."
Dante’s eyes were already drifting shut, the inhuman tension finally draining completely from his frame, leaving utter depletion. He managed a faint, almost imperceptible nod against Dabi’s forehead. His arms loosened slightly but remained draped possessively around Dabi’s back. Dabi shifted, settling his weight beside Dante, not pulling away, tucking his head against Dante’s shoulder. His leg hooked over Dante’s thigh, skin sticking anew as sweat cooled. One hand rested possessively over Dante’s scar, feeling the steady, reassuring thump of his heart beneath the ruined flesh.
The distant pulse of the Inferno’s music was a lullaby now, a reminder of the fragile pocket of peace they inhabited. Outside, the abyss still yawned. Lucifer’s cold fury, Adam’s grim calculations, the fractured Sins, the banished but undefeated Asag – it all waited. But for now, in the profound silence broken only by their slowing breaths, tangled in sweat and the scent of each other and the terrifying, undeniable truth just spoken, they slept. Deeply. Anchored. Whole.