Chapter 73: Tell Me
The heavy thump of bass from the club below was a distant, muffled pulse now, barely penetrating the thick walls of Dante’s private apartment above the Inferno. Here, the air was still, scented faintly with expensive bourbon, leather, and the lingering ozone-tang of demonic power. Dante blinked awake, the deep, unnatural sleep of his kind receding. The space beside him in the oversized bed was warm, occupied. Dabi lay sprawled on his stomach, one arm flung over Dante’s waist, his breathing slow and even, dark lashes fanned against his cheekbones. Peace looked alien yet captivating on his usually sharp features.
Carefully, Dante disentangled himself, the silk sheets whispering against his skin. He paused, watching Dabi for a moment – the stubborn line of his jaw softened in sleep, the vulnerable curve of his neck. Something unfamiliar, a flicker of protectiveness, tightened in Dante’s ancient chest. He pushed it down, a king unused to such softness. Padding barefoot across the cool stone floor, he pushed open the heavy door to the living area.
The contrast was stark. Gone was the bedroom’s intimate gloom; here, the city’s neon glow bled through floor-to-ceiling windows, painting shifting patterns of crimson and indigo on the polished concrete. Plush, obsidian-black leather furniture absorbed the light. And on the largest couch, a silhouette against the panoramic view of Detroit’s midnight skyline, sat Adam.
He wasn’t sleeping. He was staring out, a half-empty glass of amber liquid dangling loosely from his fingers. The low light caught the hard planes of his face, the familiar set of his shoulders that spoke of contained violence and weary history. He didn’t turn as Dante entered, but Dante felt the shift in the room’s energy, the ancient recognition humming between them.
Dante moved silently, sinking onto the couch beside him, the leather sighing under his weight. The space between them crackled, thick with centuries of shared battles, betrayals, alliances, and the raw, undeniable magnetism that had always drawn them together, even when it burned. The scent of Adam – gunpowder, expensive cologne, and something uniquely, eternally him – filled Dante’s senses.
Minutes stretched, filled only by the city’s distant heartbeat and their synchronized breathing. Finally, Adam spoke, his voice a low rumble that vibrated in the stillness. "How you feelin’ about all this, Dante?" He still didn’t look at him, swirling the liquor in his glass. "This... whatever the fuck this is now. With him." A slight tilt of his head indicated the bedroom. "With us."
Dante leaned back, stretching his arms along the couch back, the intricate tattoos on his forearms shifting like living shadows. He watched the play of light on Adam’s profile. "Good," he said, the single word carrying the weight of millennia. Simple. Final.
Adam took a slow sip, finally turning his head. His eyes, sharp and assessing even in the dimness, locked onto Dante’s. "Yeah? Doesn't bother you? That kid..." He gestured again towards the bedroom door. "...looks at me sometimes like I hung the fucking moon. Gets that stubborn little flush high on his cheeks. Seems like he’s catchin’ feelings. Real ones. For me." There was no mockery in Adam’s tone, just a blunt, almost wary curiosity.
A ghost of Dante’s usual smirk touched his lips, but it lacked its usual edge. "No." He held Adam’s gaze steadily. "Doesn’t bother me." He saw the flicker of surprise, quickly masked, in Adam’s eyes. Dante understood the question behind the question: Does it bother you that he might want me instead of you? Or as well as you?
Adam drained his glass, setting it down on the low table with a soft clink. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, turning fully towards Dante now. The air between them compressed, charged. "So," Adam breathed, the word hanging heavy. "What happens now?"
Dante didn’t answer with words. He held Adam’s intense gaze, the centuries collapsing into this single point of connection. The neon glow reflected in Adam’s pupils, tiny pinpricks of hellfire. Dante saw the echo of battles fought side-by-side, the sting of old wounds inflicted and forgiven (mostly), the raw, unvarnished truth of what they were to each other – rivals, allies, fixtures in each other’s eternal existence. A spark ignited, ancient and undeniable, hotter than any club inferno.
Slowly, deliberately, Dante closed the gap. Not with the rough, claiming aggression that often marked their encounters, nor the calculated seduction he employed on others. This was different. He moved with a deliberate, almost hesitant grace, closing the inches between their faces until their breaths mingled. Then, his lips met Adam’s.
It wasn't rough. It wasn't demanding. It was a deep, searching kiss, passionate yet profoundly gentle. Dante’s hand came up to cradle the side of Adam’s neck, his thumb brushing the pulse point hammering against the skin. Adam froze for a fraction of a second, stunned by the tenderness, before a low groan vibrated in his chest and he surged into it. His hands gripped Dante’s hips, pulling him closer, fingers digging into the lean muscle beneath the thin fabric of Dante’s sleep pants. The kiss deepened, tongues sliding together in a slow, sensual exploration that spoke of familiarity and a depth of feeling rarely acknowledged. It tasted of bourbon, of shared history, of something fragile and new unfurling in the dark.
When they finally broke apart, breathing ragged, Dante’s eyes were dark pools, reflecting the city lights and something infinitely older. His voice was a husky whisper, rough with desire stripped of pretense. "Fuck me, Adam."
No command. A plea. An offering.
Adam’s gaze burned into him. He didn't speak. He stood, pulling Dante up with him in one fluid motion. He walked him backwards, not towards the bedroom where Dabi slept, but towards another expanse of black leather – a wide, low chaise lounge bathed in the shifting neon glow. He pushed Dante down onto it, the leather cool against Dante’s bare back. Adam followed him down, knees bracketing Dante’s hips, his weight settling with deliberate control.
There was no tearing of clothes. Adam’s movements were deliberate, almost reverent. He peeled Dante’s sleep pants down, freeing his cock, already hard and straining. Dante lifted his hips to help, his eyes never leaving Adam’s face. Adam shed his own shirt and pants with efficient grace, his powerful body revealed in the fractured light – scarred muscle, tattoos that told stories Dante knew intimately. His cock jutted thick and heavy, the head glistening.
Adam reached for the small vial of oil Dante kept discreetly tucked beside the chaise – a concession to mortal pleasures. He slicked his fingers, his gaze locked on Dante’s. "Easy," he murmured, the word rough but gentle. He pressed one slick finger against Dante’s entrance, circling slowly, teasingly, before pushing in with infinite care. Dante arched his back, a soft gasp escaping him, not of pain, but of intense sensation. Adam worked him open slowly, meticulously, adding a second finger, scissoring gently, stroking deep inside until Dante was panting, his hips lifting off the leather, seeking more.
"Adam... fuck... please..." Dante breathed, his voice thick.
Adam withdrew his fingers, slicking his own cock with more oil, the sheen catching the neon. He positioned himself, the broad head nudging against Dante’s stretched opening. He leaned down, bracing himself on one forearm beside Dante’s head, his other hand guiding himself. Their eyes locked.
"Look at me," Adam commanded softly.
Dante obeyed. Adam pushed forward. Not a savage thrust, not the brutal claiming of the dungeon. He pushed in with agonizing slowness, sheathing himself inch by excruciating inch, his gaze holding Dante’s captive. Dante felt the incredible stretch, the burning fullness, but it was tempered by the unbearable tenderness in Adam’s eyes, the controlled power of his movements. A low moan tore from Dante’s throat, part relief, part overwhelming sensation.
"Christ, Dante," Adam groaned, fully seated, his hips flush against Dante’s ass. He stayed there, buried to the hilt, letting Dante adjust, letting the intensity thrum between them. He lowered his head, capturing Dante’s lips in another deep, consuming kiss. Dante wrapped his legs around Adam’s waist, pulling him impossibly closer, his arms locking around Adam’s broad shoulders.
Adam began to move. Not pounding. Not wrecking. A deep, rolling rhythm, a slow withdrawal followed by an even slower, deliberate push back in, grinding deep. Each stroke was measured, purposeful, designed to drag pleasure from the deepest core. The slap of skin was a soft, wet counterpoint to their ragged breathing, the city’s hum outside. Dante met each thrust, his body moving in perfect sync with Adam’s, their foreheads pressed together, eyes open, sharing breaths.
"Feel it," Adam rasped, his voice thick with emotion Dante rarely heard. "Feel me... all of me..."
"Always," Dante gasped, arching into him, the sensation building not in a frantic rush, but in a slow, inexorable tide. "Adam... fuck... so good... so deep..." His hands roamed Adam’s back, feeling the flex and play of muscle, tracing familiar scars. This wasn't domination or submission; it was communion. Raw, vulnerable, real.
Adam shifted angle slightly, hitting that spot deep inside Dante with exquisite precision on every slow, grinding thrust. Dante cried out, his fingers digging into Adam’s shoulders. "Right there! Oh fuck, Adam... right fucking there..." Pleasure coiled tighter and tighter, a white-hot wire deep in his belly, drawn out by the relentless, gentle pace.
Adam’s control was fraying. Sweat beaded on his brow, his thrusts gaining a fraction more urgency, though still maintaining that deep, soul-searching rhythm. He buried his face in the crook of Dante’s neck, biting down gently on the tendon. "Gonna come inside you, Dante," he growled against his skin, the vibration sending shivers through Dante’s entire body. "Fill you up... mark you..."
The words, the possessive tenderness, shattered Dante’s last shred of control. The coil snapped. His orgasm ripped through him, silent at first, a blinding wave of pure sensation that locked his muscles, then erupting in a hoarse shout as he spilled hotly between their sweat-slicked stomachs, his body clamping down hard on Adam’s cock buried deep within him.
The intense clenching pulled Adam over the edge instantly. He drove in one last, deep time, grinding hard, a guttural roar tearing from his throat as he pulsed, flooding Dante’s channel with his release. He collapsed onto Dante, his full weight pressing him into the leather, their bodies slick and trembling, hearts hammering against each other’s ribs.
They lay tangled, breathing harshly in the neon-stained quiet. Adam didn't pull out immediately. He stayed buried, his face still pressed against Dante’s neck, his arms wrapped tightly around him. Dante held him just as fiercely, fingers tangled in Adam’s hair. The silence wasn't empty; it thrummed with the aftershocks of profound intimacy, a vulnerability laid bare that was more terrifying, and more precious, than any battle they'd ever fought.
Slowly, reluctantly, Adam softened and slipped free. He rolled slightly to the side, pulling Dante with him, keeping him close, chest to chest on the chaise. Dante rested his head on Adam’s shoulder, listening to the slowing beat of his heart beneath his ear. Adam’s hand traced idle patterns on Dante’s back, over the intricate ink.
No words were needed. The city lights painted shifting patterns on their skin. The muffled thump of the club below was a distant reminder of the world outside this fragile bubble. And in the bedroom, Dabi slept on, oblivious to the quiet storm of history and raw feeling that had just unfolded mere feet away. Dante’s eyes grew heavy, lulled by Adam’s steady heartbeat and the profound exhaustion that followed such complete surrender. He drifted towards sleep, the scent of Adam, sex, and leather filling his senses, the unspoken question of 'what happens now' momentarily suspended in the neon-lit stillness. Adam watched him drift off, his expression unreadable in the dim light, a silent sentinel guarding the king in his unexpected moment of peace.
The muted thump of the Inferno’s bass was a faint tremor underfoot. Dabi blinked awake in Dante’s expansive bed, disoriented by the unfamiliar luxury and the profound emptiness beside him. The sheets still held Dante’s scent – bourbon, leather, something faintly electric – but the space was cold. He pushed himself up, the stubborn set of his jaw returning as he scanned the shadowed room. Alone. Where the fuck was Dante?
He found them in the living room, bathed in the sickly neon glow bleeding through the windows. Dante lay sprawled on the low chaise lounge, asleep or close to it, head pillowed on Adam’s bare thigh. Adam sat rigidly upright, one hand resting possessively on Dante’s shoulder, his gaze fixed on some point in the Detroit night. The air crackled with unspoken history and the thick, musky scent of recent sex – sweat, come, leather polish. Dabi’s stomach clenched, a hot stab of something sharp and complicated slicing through him. Jealousy? Possessiveness? He wasn't sure. He just knew the sight of Adam’s hand on Dante, Dante’s relaxed vulnerability against him, felt like a violation of something private. His something.
He cleared his throat, the sound harsh in the quiet. Adam’s head snapped around, eyes sharp and instantly alert, no trace of sleep in them. Dante stirred, a low murmur escaping his lips as he blinked awake, his gaze unfocused for a second before landing on Dabi. Dante sat up slowly, the silk robe he’d pulled on after Adam left him gaping open, revealing the fresh bruises blooming near his hipbone, stark against his pale skin. He didn’t try to cover them. Adam’s hand fell away, but his posture remained tense, ready. The silence stretched, thick and uncomfortable, charged with the weight of what they’d all done separately and together.
“Morning,” Dabi finally rasped, his voice rough with sleep and something else. He leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms. He kept his eyes on Dante, ignoring Adam for the moment. “Slept well?”
Dante ran a hand through his messy dark hair, stretching, the robe slipping further. “Well enough.” His voice was a low rumble, still thick. He met Dabi’s gaze steadily, but Dabi saw the flicker of wariness, the ancient king assessing the mood. “You?”
“Peachy.” Dabi’s tone was flat. He pushed off the doorframe and walked towards the sleek kitchen area, needing space, needing to move. He grabbed a bottle of water from the sub-zero fridge, the cold shocking his palm. “So.” He cracked the seal, took a long swig, then turned back, leaning against the granite counter. “What the actual fuck is going on here?” His gaze swept from Dante to Adam and back. “This. Him.” He jerked his chin towards Adam. “What are we doing? Playing musical dicks?”
Adam let out a short, humorless bark of laughter. “Kid’s got a way with words.” He shifted on the couch, the leather creaking. His eyes, hard and assessing, locked onto Dabi. “You tell us, pretty boy. You’re the one walkin’ in lookin’ like you caught us fuckin’ on your grandma’s good rug. Which we kinda were.” He gestured vaguely towards the chaise.
“Adam,” Dante’s voice held a quiet warning, a king’s command layered beneath the calm.
“What?” Adam shot back, turning his sharp gaze on Dante. “He asked. Seems fair. You wanna sugarcoat it for him? Pretend last night,” he nodded towards the bedroom door, “and this,” he gestured between himself and Dante on the chaise, “are just friendly handshakes?”
Dabi felt heat rise in his neck. Adam’s bluntness was infuriating, but it cut through the bullshit. “No sugarcoating,” he stated, pushing away from the counter. He walked closer, stopping a few feet from the chaise. He looked directly at Dante. “I need to know what this is. Because… fuck.” He dragged a hand through his own dark hair. “It’s getting messy in my head. Feelings I didn’t sign up for.” He couldn’t bring himself to look at Adam as he said it, the admission scraping his throat raw.
Dante stood. The movement was fluid, powerful, the robe settling around him like a king’s mantle despite the casual disarray. The neon light caught the silver in his stretched earlobes, the hard planes of his face. “Messy,” he echoed quietly. He looked from Dabi to Adam, his expression unreadable but intense. “Yeah. It is.” He took a breath. “Dabi. Come with me.” It wasn’t a request. He turned and walked towards the bedroom without looking back, trusting Dabi would follow.
Dabi hesitated for only a second, ignoring the weight of Adam’s stare burning into his back. He followed Dante into the dimness of the bedroom. Dante closed the door softly behind them, the thump of the club below reduced to a faint vibration. He leaned back against the heavy wood, arms crossed. The scent of their shared sleep, Dante’s unique spice, and the lingering ozone filled the space between them.
“Talk,” Dante said. Simple. Direct.
Dabi paced the length of the bed, restless energy crackling off him. “What do you want me to say? That seeing him with you… like that… fucking sucked?” He stopped, facing Dante. “It did. But it also… fuck, Dante.” He ran a hand over his face. “I don’t just want you. Or him. It’s… both. Is that insane?”
Dante watched him, his dark eyes absorbing every flicker of emotion on Dabi’s face – the frustration, the confusion, the raw, unvarnished want. “No,” Dante murmured. “Not insane.” He pushed off the door and closed the distance between them. He didn’t touch him, just stood close, his presence immense. “He’s… part of something ancient. Something tied to me. You know that, even if you don’t know what.”
“I know he looks at you like you’re his whole fucking world sometimes,” Dabi countered, his voice tight. “And sometimes like he wants to put a bullet between your eyes. And I know… seeing him touch you…” He trailed off, unable to articulate the confusing blend of arousal and sharp jealousy.
“And seeing you with him?” Dante asked, his voice dropping lower, rougher. He reached out, a single finger tracing the stubborn line of Dabi’s jaw. “In the dungeon. Watching him fuck me while you stroked yourself… wanting in.”
Dabi shivered at the touch, at the memory deliberately invoked. “Yeah,” he breathed. “That too. It’s fucking confusing. But… hot as hell.” He met Dante’s gaze, his own stubborn. “So what are we, Dante? Just you and me? Or is he… part of this fucked-up equation now? Permanently?”
Dante was silent for a long moment. The muffled city sounds, the faint bass, filled the room. He looked at Dabi – the fierce independence, the unexpected vulnerability, the raw magnetism that had drawn him in from the start. He thought of Adam – centuries of shared violence and complicated loyalty, the brutal tenderness of hours ago. Both were forces of nature. Both pulled at him. The idea of choosing felt… insufficient. Hellish, even.
“Yes,” Dante said finally, the single word decisive. “He’s part of it. If you want him to be part of… us.” He clarified. “This isn’t just me deciding. It’s you and me. Together. Are you saying yes to him? To this… arrangement?”
Dabi held his gaze, searching the ancient depths. He saw no hesitation, only stark acceptance. A challenge. He thought of Adam’s raw power, the surprising gentleness he’d glimpsed, the way Dante responded to him. He thought of the searing heat of watching them together. His own cock stirred at the memory, at the potential. The messiness felt less like a problem and more like an inevitable, thrilling chaos.
“Yes,” Dabi said, the word firm, cutting through his own uncertainty. “Fuck yes. I want him in. On whatever fucked-up terms this is.” A reckless grin touched his lips. “He’s an asshole, but… he fits.”
A slow, genuine smile spread across Dante’s face, transforming his usual cool detachment into something warmer, predatory, triumphant. He cupped Dabi’s face, his thumb brushing Dabi’s lower lip. “Good.” He leaned in, capturing Dabi’s mouth in a deep, claiming kiss that tasted of shared secrets and impending fire. When he pulled back, his eyes were alight. “Let’s tell the asshole.”
They walked back into the living room, hand-in-hand. Adam was still on the couch, now nursing a fresh bourbon, his gaze sharp and waiting. He took in their joined hands, the resolved set of Dante’s shoulders, the defiant, slightly flushed look on Dabi’s face. He raised an eyebrow, a silent question hanging in the air thick with ozone, bourbon, and unresolved tension.
Dante stopped before him, Dabi at his side. “We talked.” Dante’s voice was calm, regal. “He stays.” He squeezed Dabi’s hand. “We want you in. Part of this. Whatever it becomes.” Dabi nodded, meeting Adam’s intense stare head-on, a challenge and an invitation in his eyes.
Adam stared at them, the glass frozen halfway to his lips. He looked from Dante’s resolute expression to Dabi’s flushed defiance. A slow, dangerous grin spread across his face, revealing sharp teeth. He set the glass down with deliberate care on the low table. The click echoed. “Is that right?” He stood, unfolding his powerful frame, closing the distance in two strides. His gaze was locked on Dabi, predatory, hungry. “You sure about that, kid? You sure you can handle both of us?” His hand shot out, surprisingly fast, gripping the back of Dabi’s neck, pulling him forward roughly. Dabi gasped, stumbling into Adam’s solid chest. Before Dabi could react, Adam’s mouth crashed down on his – not gentle, not testing, but claiming, demanding, a brutal invasion of tongue and teeth that stole Dabi’s breath and sent a jolt of pure, electric lust straight to his cock. Dabi moaned into it, hands flying up to grip Adam’s shoulders, not pushing away but holding on as the kiss turned filthy, wet, and punishing.
Dante watched, a dark fire igniting in his own eyes. He moved behind Dabi, pressing his hard body flush against the younger man’s back. His hands slid around Dabi’s waist, under his thin t-shirt, fingers splaying possessively over the flat planes of his stomach, feeling the rapid flutter of his breath. Dante’s lips found the sensitive spot below Dabi’s ear, biting down just hard enough to make him whimper against Adam’s mouth. “He wants it, Adam,” Dante murmured, his voice a dark caress. “Look at him. Soaking through his pants already.”
Adam broke the kiss with a wet sound, pulling back just enough to see Dabi’s face – lips swollen and red, eyes wide and dark with lust, breath coming in ragged gasps. Adam’s grin widened, feral. He shoved a hand down the front of Dabi’s sweatpants, his rough fingers wrapping around the hard, leaking length of Dabi’s cock without preamble. Dabi cried out, arching back into Dante, his hips jerking instinctively into Adam’s tight grip. “Fuck! Adam!”
“That’s the idea, sweetheart,” Adam growled, his thumb swiping roughly over the slick head, spreading pre-come. He started pumping, a hard, fast rhythm that had Dabi trembling, his head falling back onto Dante’s shoulder. Dante held him upright, one hand sliding up under Dabi’s shirt to pinch and roll a nipple, the other unfastening his own robe, letting it pool at his feet, revealing his own hard cock jutting against Dabi’s ass.
Adam’s gaze dropped to Dante’s cock pressing against the thin fabric of Dabi’s sweats. His free hand reached out, shoving the waistband down roughly, exposing Dabi’s ass. Adam’s fingers, still slick with Dabi’s pre-come, didn’t hesitate. He pushed two thick fingers past Dabi’s tight ring without warning. Dabi shouted, his body seizing, his back arching violently off Dante’s chest. “Oh GOD! Fuck!”
“Relax, kid,” Adam commanded, but there was no softness in it, only raw intent. He worked his fingers ruthlessly, scissoring, stretching, the obscene sound loud in the room. Dante held Dabi tight, murmuring filthy encouragements in his ear, his own cock grinding against the cleft of Dabi’s ass, feeling the tremors wracking his body. “That’s it… take it… gonna feel so good when he fucks you…”
Adam withdrew his fingers, slick and glistening. He didn’t reach for oil. He spat thickly into his palm, slicking his own massive cock, the head flushed deep purple and leaking. He lined himself up, the blunt pressure against Dabi’s stretched, quivering hole undeniable. Adam locked eyes with Dante over Dabi’s shoulder, a silent understanding passing between them. He gripped Dabi’s hips hard enough to bruise.
“Hold him,” Adam rasped.
Dante’s arms became iron bands around Dabi’s chest. Adam pushed forward, not slowly, not gently. One brutal, driving thrust sheathed him balls-deep in Dabi’s ass in one vicious motion. Dabi screamed, a raw, ragged sound torn from his throat, his body bowing between the two powerful men, impaled and overwhelmed. The brutal stretch burned, a white-hot brand of possession. Adam didn’t pause. He pulled back almost to the tip, then slammed home again with devastating force, setting a punishing rhythm immediately, each deep, savage thrust punching the air from Dabi’s lungs.
“FUCK! ADAM! Oh GOD!” Dabi babbled, tears springing to his eyes from the intense, brutal fullness, pain and pleasure blurring into a single, overwhelming sensation. He was pinned between Dante’s hard chest and Adam’s relentless hips, a puppet caught in a storm. Dante’s hand snaked down between their bodies, finding Dabi’s cock again, trapped and throbbing against his own stomach. Dante’s grip was firm, matching the brutal pace Adam set, jerking Dabi’s cock in time with the deep, wrecking thrusts.
Adam fucked like a man possessed, each powerful drive of his hips slamming Dabi back into Dante, the wet slap of flesh on flesh echoing off the hard surfaces of the room, mingling with Dabi’s choked cries and Adam’s guttural grunts. Sweat gleamed on Adam’s chest, his muscles coiling and releasing with brutal efficiency. He leaned forward, biting down on the junction of Dabi’s neck and shoulder, drawing another sharp cry. “That’s it, take it,” Adam snarled against his skin, his breath hot and ragged. “Take all that fuckin’ cock, you greedy little slut. Dante feelin’ this? Feel how fuckin’ deep I’m in him?”
Dante’s response was to grind his own hard length harder against Dabi’s ass, his cockhead catching on the stretched rim with each powerful thrust Adam delivered, sending sparks through all three of them. “Feel it,” Dante growled, his voice thick with lust, his hand working Dabi’s cock faster, twisting on the upstroke. “Feel him wrecking you, filling you up.” He licked a stripe up Dabi’s neck. “Gonna come all over my hand while he splits you open?”
The dual assault shattered Dabi. The rough hand on his cock, the iron-hard cock pistoning deep into his ass, Dante’s body and filthy words surrounding him – it was too much. The coil snapped. His orgasm detonated, a silent scream locking his throat before erupting in a raw, guttural roar. His cock pulsed violently in Dante’s fist, thick ropes of come spurting hotly over Dante’s fingers and his own stomach, his ass clamping down like a vice on Adam’s buried cock.
The intense, rhythmic clenching pulled Adam over the edge instantly. He roared, a sound like tearing metal, and drove in one final, brutal thrust, grinding his hips hard against D