Chapter 71: Love Triangle
The air in Inferno’s VIP lounge hung thick, a familiar cocktail of expensive tobacco, spilled liquor, and the cloying sweetness of crushed velvet. Months had bled together, marked by the rhythm of pounding bass from the dance floor below and the increasingly familiar weight of bodies tangled in Dante’s obsidian chamber above. Dabi slumped in a low-slung leather chair, a half-empty glass of bourbon dangling forgotten from his fingers. The ice had long melted. He stared at the swirling amber liquid, not seeing it.
His body remembered. The phantom ache deep inside, the ghost of Dante’s possessive grip on his hips, the raw scrape of Adam’s stubble against his inner thigh. He remembered the power he’d felt driving into Adam, the terrifying surrender when Dante took him from behind. It had become… routine. Intense, brutal, transcendent, but routine. And that scared him more than the fucking.
Because it wasn’t just physical anymore. Not for him. The undeniable, terrifying pull he felt towards Dante – that ancient, magnetic intensity that felt like gravity – that was love. A deep, desperate, fucked-up kind of love, maybe, but love nonetheless. Dante was the dark star he orbited. But Adam… Adam was the unpredictable comet streaking through his system. Rough, vulgar, demanding, yet… there was something else. A grudging respect that had grown from pure antagonism? A twisted camaraderie forged in sweat and come? Or was it just the addictive burn of the sex, the way Adam challenged him, pushed him, made him fight for every inch of pleasure or control?
He didn’t fucking know. And the not-knowing was a live wire in his chest, sparking against the bone-deep certainty of his feelings for Dante. He took a gulp of the tepid bourbon, grimacing as it seared his throat.
The heavy velvet curtain separating the VIP lounge from Dante’s private stairwell whispered aside. Dante stepped through. He moved with the unhurried grace of a predator surveying its territory, the low crimson lights catching the silver in his stretched earlobes, glinting off the rings on his fingers. His gaze, ancient and unnervingly perceptive, swept the room and landed instantly on Dabi. A slow, knowing smile touched Dante’s lips, the kind that acknowledged everything without needing words. He crossed the space silently, the scent of ozone and expensive cologne cutting through the lounge’s haze as he sank into the chair opposite Dabi.
"Brooding looks good on you, firecracker," Dante murmured, his Detroit rasp low and intimate even over the muffled thump of the bass. He poured himself two fingers of the same bourbon Dabi wasn't drinking, swirling the glass. "But it doesn't suit you half as well as that look you get when Adam’s got you pinned."
Dabi flinched, heat rising up his neck. He kept his eyes on his glass. "Fuck off, Dante."
Dante chuckled, a dark, warm sound. "Just stating facts. Saw him prowling downstairs earlier. Looks… restless." He took a slow sip, watching Dabi over the rim. "You two have another fight?"
"No," Dabi said, too quickly. He dragged a hand through his messy hair. "Just… shit. Dunno."
A heavy silence settled, punctuated by the distant pulse of music. Dante didn’t push. He just waited, his presence an anchor in the swirling confusion. Dabi felt the words clawing their way up his throat, dangerous words he hadn't even fully admitted to himself.
"It’s…" he started, then stopped, swallowing hard. He forced his gaze up to meet Dante’s. Those eyes, ancient and impossibly dark, held no judgment, only patient intensity. "You. You know how I feel. About you." Saying it out loud, even vaguely, sent a jolt through him.
Dante’s expression softened infinitesimally. "I know," he said simply. No ego. Just fact.
Dabi looked away again, the velvet pattern on the chair arm suddenly fascinating. "But Adam… Fuck, Dante. It’s getting… messy in my head. When he’s inside me, or… or when I’m inside him…" He trailed off, the memories vivid, visceral. "It’s not just… fucking anymore. Is it? Or am I just getting addicted to the fight? To the way he makes me feel? Even when it hurts?" He finally looked back, desperation cracking his voice. "What the fuck is wrong with me? Loving you… and wanting him?"
He braced himself for anger. Possessiveness. Cold dismissal. Dante sipped his bourbon again, his gaze thoughtful, tracing the lines of tension in Dabi’s face. The silence stretched, thick and expectant. Finally, Dante set his glass down with a soft clink.
"Nothing’s wrong with you, Dabi," he said, his voice calm, resonating with a certainty that felt older than the city outside. "Feelings aren't clean. They don't follow rules, especially not the kind we deal in down here." A ghost of a smile touched his lips. "Adam… he’s a force. Unrefined. Volatile. He challenges you. Lights a different fucking fire." He leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees. "You think this is the first time I've seen tangled desires? Hell, I practically invented tangled desires."
Dabi stared, stunned by the utter lack of threat, the pure acceptance. "So… what? You’re okay with it? If I… if what I feel for him isn’t just lust?"
Dante’s gaze held his, steady and deep as a midnight lake. "If you end up having feelings for him too?" he said, the words deliberate, unfazed. "Then we’ll figure out a way to make this all work." He shrugged, a roll of powerful shoulders under the fine black fabric of his shirt. "He’s part of this now. Part of us, however fucked up that sounds. We navigate it." He reached out, his fingertips brushing the fresh bite mark high on Dabi’s shoulder – Adam’s mark from that morning. The touch sent an electric shiver down Dabi’s spine. "Don't torture yourself over it. Feel what you feel. We'll handle the rest."
Relief, so profound it felt like vertigo, crashed over Dabi. Mixed with a surge of something hotter, needier. Dante’s acceptance wasn’t permission; it was absolution. It stripped away the guilt, leaving only the raw, pulsing want beneath. His breath hitched.
The velvet curtain rustled violently. Adam shouldered his way in, his presence instantly charging the air. He looked wired, eyes scanning the room with predatory intensity before locking onto them. He stalked over, the scent of smoke, leather, and restless energy preceding him. He stopped beside their chairs, looming, his gaze flicking between Dante’s still-outstretched hand on Dabi’s shoulder and Dabi’s flushed face.
"Having a fucking heart-to-heart without me?" Adam sneered, but there was an edge underneath, a tension in his jaw. He’d caught something in the atmosphere. "Planning my fucking funeral?"
Dante withdrew his hand slowly, leaning back, a faint, challenging smile on his lips. "Just discussing the complexities of desire, Adam. Bit above your pay grade."
Adam’s eyes narrowed. He looked at Dabi. Really looked. Saw the remnants of vulnerability, the dazed relief, the newly stoked heat. "What'd he say to you?" Adam demanded, his voice dropping, rough. "You look like you just got fucked stupid without the fucking." He reached down, his calloused fingers unexpectedly rough as they tilted Dabi’s chin up. "Spill it, Pyro."
Dabi looked up into Adam’s fierce, demanding gaze, then over at Dante’s calm, ancient watchfulness. The conflicting currents – Dante’s promise, Adam’s raw demand, the sudden, overwhelming need to connect, to bridge the gap with the only language that felt certain between them – surged through him. He didn’t answer Adam. He acted.
He surged up from the chair, his glass clattering to the thick carpet. He grabbed the front of Adam’s worn leather vest and yanked him down, crashing their mouths together. It wasn't a kiss; it was possession. A claiming. Teeth clashed. Adam grunted in surprise, stiffening for a split second before a low growl vibrated in his chest and he kissed back, just as hard, just as desperate, his hands flying to Dabi’s hips, dragging him flush.
Dabi tore his mouth away, gasping. "Shut the fuck up, Adam," he rasped, his voice thick with need. He shoved hard, catching Adam off balance. Adam stumbled back a step, landing heavily against the plush arm of Dante’s chair. Before Adam could recover, Dabi was on him. He shoved Adam’s shoulders down, forcing him to sit sideways on the wide leather arm. Dabi dropped to his knees between Adam’s spread legs.
Adam stared down, eyes wide with shock and rapidly igniting lust. "What the fuck—"
Dabi didn’t let him finish. He yanked Adam’s belt open, ripped the button and zipper of his jeans down with frantic urgency. He shoved the fabric past Adam’s hips, freeing his already half-hard cock. Adam hissed as the cooler air hit him. Dabi didn’t hesitate. He spat roughly into his palm, slicked Adam’s thickening length, and swallowed him down to the root in one harsh, deep stroke.
"FUCK!" Adam roared, his head slamming back against the high back of Dante’s chair, fingers tangling violently in Dabi’s hair. "Jesus fucking—!" He bucked his hips instinctively, driving his cock deeper into the scorching wet heat of Dabi’s throat.
Dabi gagged, tears springing to his eyes, but he held. He sucked hard, hollowing his cheeks, his tongue pressing up against the thick vein underneath. He pulled back slowly, letting the swollen head pop free, slick and glistening, then plunged down again, taking him deep, forcing his throat to open. The taste of salt and skin, the musky scent of Adam’s arousal, the choked gasps and curses raining down on him – it was grounding. Real. Dante’s words echoed: Feel what you feel.
Adam’s hips began to piston upwards, fucking Dabi’s mouth with short, brutal thrusts. "Yeah, bitch," he gasped, fingers tightening painfully in Dabi’s hair, forcing his head down to take it deeper. "Suck that fucking cock! Take it! Gag on it!"
Dabi took it. He let Adam use his mouth, the violent rhythm, the scrape of teeth, the pressure on his throat. He looked up, meeting Adam’s wild, darkened eyes, seeing the raw hunger, the surprise giving way to pure, feral need. He moaned around Adam’s cock, the vibration making Adam curse again. Dante watched. Motionless in his chair beside them, legs casually spread, one hand idly swirling his forgotten bourbon. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes, fixed on Dabi’s stretched lips around Adam’s girth, burned with a possessive, approving heat.
Adam’s thrusts grew frantic, erratic. "Gonna… fuck… Dabi… gonna—!" He shoved Dabi’s head down hard, holding it impaled as his cock throbbed violently. Hot, salty come erupted into Dabi’s throat. He swallowed convulsively, Adam’s fingers like vices in his hair, holding him there while he pumped pulse after pulse down Dabi’s gullet. Adam groaned long and low, a shudder wracking his frame.
Dabi pulled off with a wet gasp as Adam’s grip finally slackened, come and spit slicking his chin. He panted, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, looking up at Adam, whose head lolled back, chest heaving. Dabi’s own cock was straining against his jeans, painfully hard.
A slow hand clap broke the moment. Dante. He set his glass down and rose from his chair with panther-like grace. He looked down at Dabi, kneeling between Adam’s legs, Adam still sprawled bonelessly against the chair arm, cock softening, glistening wet. Dante’s gaze was molten.
"Passionate declaration, firecracker," Dante murmured, his voice a low thrum that vibrated in Dabi’s bones. He reached down, his large hand cupping Dabi’s jaw, thumb swiping roughly through the mess on his chin. "But I think Adam’s had his turn." His eyes locked with Dabi’s, the ancient power in them undeniable, magnetic. "Get on the couch. On your hands and knees. Now."
The command brooked no argument. A fresh wave of heat, different but just as intense, flooded Dabi. He scrambled up, legs shaky, and stumbled the few steps to the deep, crimson velvet couch that dominated one side of the lounge. He dropped his jeans and briefs, kicking them off, and positioned himself as ordered, presenting his ass. He heard Adam shifting behind him, a low, satisfied chuckle.
Dante didn’t make him wait. He was there instantly, his own fly open, his thick cock jutting out, already fully hard and slick with pre-come. Dante spat onto his palm, slicked himself roughly, then pressed the broad, swollen head against Dabi’s entrance – still loose from Adam’s earlier use, but still tight. Dante gripped Dabi’s hips hard, fingers digging into the tender flesh just above the bite marks.
"Look back," Dante ordered, his voice guttural. "Look at him."
Dabi twisted his head, looking back over his shoulder. Adam had pulled his jeans up but not fastened them. He stood leaning against the chair he’d been pinned on, arms crossed, watching them with a dark, possessive satisfaction, a smirk playing on his lips. Seeing Dabi look, his smirk widened. "Yeah, Pyro," Adam rasped. "Take your King’s cock. Show me how well he fills you up."
Dante shoved forward, hard. Dabi cried out as Dante’s thick cock breached him, stretching him wide, filling the emptiness Adam had left. He sank deep in one relentless drive, seating himself to the hilt. The fullness was immediate, overwhelming, the familiar stretch bordering on pain. Dante held deep for a moment, grinding, letting Dabi feel every inch. Then he pulled back almost all the way and slammed home again. And again. Setting a brutal, driving rhythm from the start, each powerful thrust rocking Dabi forward on the velvet cushions.
"Fuck! Dante!" Dabi gasped, fingers clawing at the fabric. Dante’s cock was a piston, hammering into his prostate with unerring accuracy, each impact sending electric shocks up his spine. Dante’s grip on his hips was iron, holding him in place, controlling every movement. Behind him, Dabi heard Adam’s harsh breathing, felt his gaze like a physical brand.
"Look how he takes it, Adam," Dante growled, his voice thick, strained with effort. He snapped his hips forward, burying himself deep. "Look how his greedy little hole sucks me in. Made for this." He pulled Dabi’s hips back hard, meeting his next thrust with a wet slap. "Tell him."
Dabi moaned, the pleasure cresting, threatening to drown him. "F-feels… so fucking deep!" he gasped, the words ripped from him. "Fills me… oh god, Dante… fills me up…!"
Adam pushed off the chair and walked closer, stopping just beside the couch. He looked down at where Dante’s cock disappeared into Dabi’s ass, at Dabi’s flushed face pressed into the cushions. "Yeah?" Adam asked, his voice rough. He reached out, his fingers tangling roughly in Dabi’s hair again, yanking his head back so he had to look at him. "You like being his fuckhole? His little bitch?"
Dabi met Adam’s intense gaze, Dante pounding into him relentlessly from behind. The dual claim, the raw ownership, the terrifying blend of possession and permission… it was too much. "Y-yes!" he choked out. "Fuck yes! His! Yours! Whatever you want! Just… fuck! Don’t stop!"
Adam’
Dabi’s cry hung raw in the velvet air. "Don’t stop!" Adam’s laughter was a harsh bark, sharp against Dante’s guttural groan. Dante’s hips bucked harder, driving his thick cock relentlessly into Dabi’s clenching heat. The powerful thrusts slammed Dabi forward on the crimson cushions. Each deep, brutal stroke scraped Dabi’s prostate, sending blinding sparks behind his eyelids.
"Fucking hear that, King?" Adam’s voice scraped like gravel. He stepped closer, his shadow falling over Dabi. Rough fingers tangled in Dabi’s hair again, yanking his head back. "Begging for it. Like a bitch in heat." Adam’s other hand slapped Dabi’s ass cheek hard, the sharp crack echoing. The sting bloomed, merging with the deep ache of Dante’s possession. Dante growled, his grip on Dabi’s hips tightening like steel bands, fingers digging into the fading bruises Adam had left earlier. "He’s mine to fuck," Dante rasped, his voice thick with exertion and primal authority. "Watch. Or join. Don’t interfere."
Adam’s smirk was a dark slash. "Join? Fuck yeah." He shoved his loosened jeans down past his hips. His cock, already thick and flushed, slapped against Dabi’s fevered cheek. The hot, heavy weight left a smear of pre-come on Dabi’s skin. "Open up, Pyro," Adam commanded, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. He shoved the head of his cock against Dabi’s lips. "Suck your fucking breakfast back." Dabi whimpered, forced his mouth open. Adam thrust in, cramming his length deep into Dabi’s throat without warning. Dabi gagged violently, tears springing to his eyes, his body convulsing between them.
Dante’s rhythm never faltered. He hammered into Dabi’s ass, the wet, rhythmic slap of flesh-on-flesh a counterpoint to Dabi’s choked gags around Adam’s cock. Adam gripped Dabi’s hair, holding his head steady, fucking his mouth with short, brutal jabs. "Take it, bitch," Adam grunted, his hips pistoning. "Swallow it all. Deep." Dabi’s vision blurred. He was stretched impossibly, filled brutally at both ends. Dante’s thick shaft speared his ass, Adam’s filled his throat, cutting off air. Spit dripped down his chin, mixing with tears.
The dual invasion was overwhelming, agonizing, perfect. Dante’s cock ground against his prostate with every deep plunge, igniting fire in his gut. Adam’s salty taste flooded his mouth, the heavy weight on his tongue a constant, demanding presence. Dante leaned forward, his sweat-slicked chest pressing against Dabi’s back. His teeth scraped Dabi’s shoulder, near the mark Adam had left that morning. "Feel us, firecracker?" Dante breathed against his skin, the Detroit rasp vibrating through bone. "Filling you. Owning you." He punctuated the words with a particularly hard thrust that pushed Dabi further onto Adam’s cock, making him gag again. Adam chuckled darkly, pulling his cock almost free before shoving back in. "Yeah, choke on it. Show your King what a messy slut you are for my dick."
The pressure built, a terrifying wave cresting inside Dabi. The brutal pounding from behind, the suffocating fullness in his throat, the possessive words – it shattered his control. His cock throbbed, untouched, pressed against the plush velvet. A ragged, muffled scream tore from his stuffed throat as his body locked. His ass clenched like a vice around Dante’s driving cock. Hot spurts of come shot from his neglected length, splattering onto the couch fabric beneath him. "Fuck! He’s clamping down!" Dante snarled, his own rhythm stuttering. The intense pressure of Dabi’s orgasmic contraction triggered Dante’s release. He roared, a sound like tearing metal, burying himself to the hilt. His cock pulsed violently, pumping thick, hot jets of come deep into Dabi’s convulsing channel.
Adam felt Dabi’s throat constricted around him, heard the choked, wet sounds. "Fucking finally, bitch!" Adam snarled. He held Dabi’s head impaled, thrusting deep one last time. His cock swelled, throbbing, and he emptied himself down Dabi’s throat in powerful spurts. Dabi swallowed convulsively, the salty flood overwhelming, his body still trembling from his own climax and the sensation of Dante’s seed filling him.
Silence crashed down, thick and heavy. Adam pulled his softening cock free with a wet pop, come slicking Dabi's chin. Dante slowly withdrew, his own release dripping obscenely from Dabi’s stretched, gaping hole. Dabi collapsed forward onto the couch, a trembling, sticky, utterly wrecked mess. He gasped for air, lungs burning, his body humming with aftershocks. Dante stood tall behind him, breathing heavily, a possessive hand resting on Dabi’s lower back, fingers tracing the curve of his spine. Adam stood over them, fastening his jeans, a look of dark, primal satisfaction on his face as he wiped his cock on the edge of the couch.
Dante’s thumb rubbed circles on the sweat-slicked skin of Dabi’s back. His voice, when it came, was low, carrying the immense weight of his years, yet softened by something almost tender. "Messy," he stated, the single word hanging in the air. Adam snorted, a rough sound devoid of malice. "Always is with him." His gaze, sharp and assessing, lingered on Dabi’s prone form, then lifted to meet Dante’s ancient eyes. A silent understanding passed between them, forged in sweat, come, and the trembling body between them. The muffled thump of the bass below seemed louder now, a constant pulse echoing the frantic beat fading in Dabi’s chest. Dante’s hand remained, a steady anchor on Dabi’s back, his touch a silent promise burning into the skin. Adam shifted his weight, the leather of his vest creaking. "So," he rasped, the single word heavy with unspoken questions, a challenge hanging in the thick, perfumed airless air. Dante’s gaze didn’t waver. The flickering candlelight caught the silver in his piercings, glinting like cold stars. His fingers pressed down, just slightly, on Dabi’s spine.