Chapter 76: Possessive Flame
The penthouse kitchen was a study in cool, sterile luxury. Polished black granite countertops reflected the dim under-cabinet lighting. Sleek appliances hummed faintly. The air hung thick with the peppery aroma of a hundred-dollar bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon left open on the island. Dabi leaned against the sink, arms crossed, his silhouette sharp against the city lights bleeding through the floor-to-ceiling windows. He took a deliberate sip directly from the bottle, his eyes fixed somewhere past Dante’s shoulder, towards the hallway leading to the bedrooms. To where Sukuna slept.
Dante watched him, leaning back against the island opposite, swirling his own glass. The cheap, defiant gesture – drinking straight from the bottle – was pure Dabi. So was the tension radiating off him, a storm cloud crackling with unspoken resentment. The faint bruises Sukuna had left on Dante’s neck and shoulder felt suddenly conspicuous beneath his loose black t-shirt. He knew that look. He’d provoked it enough times.
"Wine going down smooth, kid?" Dante asked, his Detroit rasp deliberately casual, slicing through the brittle silence.
Dabi’s gaze snapped to him, blue eyes flashing with a heat that had nothing to do with the alcohol. "Smooth enough," he shot back, his voice tight. He set the bottle down with a little too much force. "Your place. Your booze. Figured I’d help myself, since you were… occupied." The pause before 'occupied' was heavy, laced with acid.
Dante took a slow sip, letting the rich wine linger on his tongue. He let the silence stretch, watching the muscle jump in Dabi’s jaw. "Occupied," he echoed, a low rumble starting in his chest. "Seems my occupations are your business all of a sudden."
Dabi shoved off the sink, turning fully towards him. The rebellion was a familiar shield, but the edge beneath it was sharper tonight. Raw. "Not my business who the King of Hell fucks," he retorted, the title spat out like a curse. "Just surprised is all. Didn't take you for the type to get tossed around like a cheap whore." He gestured vaguely towards Dante’s neck, where the edge of Sukuna’s bite mark was visible above the t-shirt collar. "Adam has taste, at least."
Dante’s grin was slow, dangerous, revealing a flash of sharp canine. He set his glass down with deliberate precision. The air in the kitchen seemed to thicken, charged with ozone and the faint, metallic scent of Dabi’s simmering anger. Dante pushed off the island, closing the distance in two predatory strides. Dabi didn’t back down, but Dante saw the subtle tightening of his shoulders, the instinctive bracing.
"You can share me with Adam," Dante murmured, his voice dropping to a gravelly purr that vibrated in the quiet space between them. He stopped inches from Dabi, forcing the younger man to tilt his head back slightly to meet his gaze. Dante’s eyes, usually shadowed amusement, held a molten intensity now. "No problem. Fuck, you practically hand him the lube sometimes. But Sukuna…" He leaned in, his breath hot on Dabi’s cheek. "Sukuna ain't sitting right with you. Is he, pretty boy?"
Dabi flinched, a flicker of vulnerability beneath the defiance. "Fuck you," he hissed, shoving weakly at Dante’s chest. It was like pushing against a stone wall. "I don't give a shit who you fuck." The lie was brittle, transparent.
Dante chuckled, a dark, knowing sound. He caught Dabi’s wrist effortlessly before the shove could land again. His grip was like heated steel. "Bullshit," he breathed. "It’s eating you alive." He leaned even closer, his free hand snapping up to grip Dabi’s chin, forcing his head back further, exposing the long line of his throat. Dante saw the pulse hammering wildly beneath pale skin. "That jealous fire?" Dante growled, his thumb stroking the hinge of Dabi’s jaw almost tenderly for a second before his grip tightened, bruising. "Fuck, it looks good on you."
Before Dabi could retort, Dante struck. Not with his fist, but with his mouth. He buried his teeth into the tender flesh where Dabi’s neck met his shoulder. It wasn’t a love bite. It was a savage claim. Sharp canines broke skin. Dabi cried out, a strangled sound of shock and sudden, blinding pain mixed with a jolt of illicit heat. Blood bloomed, metallic and bright against Dante’s tongue.
At the same moment, Dante’s other hand wasn’t idle. It ripped downwards, tearing open the button and fly of Dabi’s worn jeans with brutal efficiency. The zipper snarled and gave way. Dante’s hand plunged inside, past the waistband of Dabi’s briefs, seeking and finding. His fingers wrapped around Dabi’s cock. It was already half-hard, betraying the young man’s body despite his furious protests. Dante squeezed, hard enough to make Dabi gasp again, arching involuntarily against the granite countertop digging into his back.
"Look at you," Dante snarled against his neck, licking a stripe through the blood welling from the bite. He worked Dabi’s cock with ruthless expertise, his grip tightening and twisting on the upstroke, thumb digging into the leaking slit. "Hard as fucking stone just 'cause I put my teeth in you. Just 'cause you saw someone else mark me first." He pulled back slightly, meeting Dabi’s wide, pain- and lust-glazed eyes. "Pathetic little slut. You want it this rough? Want me to remind you who owns this tight ass?"
Dabi’s breath hitched. He tried to shake his head, denial warring with the brutal stimulation tearing through him. "N-no..."
"Don't lie to me," Dante commanded, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. He released Dabi’s chin only to grab a handful of his hair, yanking his head back painfully. With his other hand still working Dabi’s cock like a piston, Dante shoved Dabi’s jeans and briefs down his hips roughly, past his ass, letting them pool around his thighs. He kicked Dabi’s legs wider apart, trapping him utterly against the cold granite. "Look at you," Dante repeated, his gaze raking over Dabi’s exposed body pinned against the dark stone, cock leaking steadily in his grip. "Always playing hard to get. But your cock betrays you every fucking time." He spat deliberately onto his free hand, the sound obscene. The saliva glistened in the low light before he reached down and roughly slicked his own straining erection, freed from his jeans with a single, impatient shove. "This what gets you wet? Getting pinned down? Seeing me marked by someone stronger?"
He didn’t wait for an answer. He positioned himself, the thick, blunt head of his cock pressing against Dabi’s tight, unprepared hole. Dabi tensed, a whimper escaping him. "Dante—"
"Shut up," Dante growled, his grip tightening in Dabi’s hair. "Take it." He shoved forward, burying himself to the hilt in one brutal, tearing thrust.
Dabi screamed. The sound ricocheted off the stainless steel appliances. The stretch was agony, immediate and burning. Dante felt the incredible tightness, felt the way Dabi’s body convulsed around him, trying to expel the sudden, massive invasion. He held still, buried deep, grinding his hips against Dabi’s ass, savoring the tremors wracking the younger man’s frame. Dabi’s cock pulsed violently in Dante’s fist, leaking copiously.
"Fuck, you’re tight," Dante groaned, his own control fraying at the searing heat clamping down on him. He pulled back slowly, the drag exquisite torture, then slammed home again. Hard. "Like a fucking vice." He set a punishing rhythm, each powerful thrust driving Dabi back against the unforgiving counter, his hips meeting granite with bruising force. "That’s it," Dante rasped, his breath hot against Dabi’s ear. "Scream for me, princess. Let the whole fucking penthouse know who’s fucking you raw against the kitchen counter."
He fucked him with relentless power, the wet slap of skin, Dabi’s choked cries, and Dante’s own harsh grunts the only sounds beyond the low hum of the appliances. Dante kept his grip firm on Dabi’s cock, jerking him roughly in time with his thrusts. He could feel the tremors building in Dabi’s thighs, the desperate clenching around his cock signaling the younger man was hurtling towards the edge despite the pain, driven by the sheer, brutal dominance.
"Good boy," Dante breathed, biting Dabi’s earlobe. "Such a good fucking slut, taking my cock like you were made for it." He shifted his angle slightly. The next thrust hammered Dabi’s prostate dead-on. Dabi’s scream shattered into a broken sob, his back arching violently. "THERE! FUCK! DANTE!"
"Come," Dante commanded, his voice rough with his own mounting need. He squeezed Dabi’s cock brutally, twisting his fist. "Spill it, pretty boy. Milk my cock with that tight little hole." He pistoned into him, relentlessly hitting that bundle of nerves.
Dabi shattered. His body locked up, a strangled cry tearing from his throat as his cock erupted in Dante’s punishing grip. Ropes of hot come splattered across Dante’s knuckles, Dabi’s stomach, and the dark granite countertop. His ass clamped down with frantic, fluttering spasms around Dante’s buried length, triggering the King of Hell’s own climax. Dante snarled, driving deep one final, grinding time, pinning Dabi completely to the counter as he emptied himself in thick, pulsing jets deep inside the trembling young man.
Dante held him there for a long moment, both breathing raggedly, the heat of their bodies pressed together against the cold stone. Dante slowly pulled out, the drag making Dabi whimper softly. He released Dabi’s hair, letting his head drop forward. Dabi slumped against the counter, trembling, eyes unfocused, come smeared on his stomach, jeans tangled around his ankles, Dante’s spend already leaking from his well-used hole onto the granite.
Dante stepped back, tucking himself away. He grabbed a clean dish towel, running it under the cold tap. He approached Dabi, who flinched slightly. Dante ignored it. With a surprising, almost clinical gentleness, he wiped the cooling come from Dabi’s stomach and thighs. He didn’t clean the bite mark on his neck; the blood was already drying. He tossed the towel aside.
"Get cleaned up," Dante ordered, his voice back to its usual rasp, though still thick with satisfaction. He turned towards the hallway, not looking back. "And next time, use a fucking glass."
As Dante walked towards the dim hallway, a figure stirred in the deeper shadows near the bedrooms. Sukuna leaned against the doorframe, arms folded, watching Dante approach. He didn't speak. He didn't need to. The faint, predatory curve of his lips said it all. Dante met his crimson gaze steadily, the smell of Dabi's blood and sex still clinging to him. The silence between them crackled, heavier than any words, a challenge laid bare in the aftermath.
The silence between Dante and Sukuna crackled, heavier than any words, a challenge laid bare in the aftermath. Dante didn’t break eye contact with the King of Curses. He just brushed past him, heading deeper into the penthouse’s shadowed hallway towards the master suite. Sukuna’s low chuckle followed him, a rumble of dark amusement that faded as the bedroom door clicked shut behind them.
Dabi remained slumped against the cold granite countertop. The bite on his neck throbbed sharply. Dante’s spend leaked stickily down his inner thigh, pooling where his jeans still tangled around his ankles. He felt hollowed out, used, the brutal claiming leaving him trembling and raw. Shame warred with a confusing residue of heat low in his belly. He stared blankly at the smear of his own come drying on the dark stone.
The soft pad of bare feet on polished concrete broke the kitchen’s heavy quiet. Adam leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, his sharp gaze taking in the scene: Dabi’s disheveled state, the drying fluids, the unmistakable marks of possession. His eyes lingered on the fresh bite mark blooming purple and red on Dabi’s neck, then flicked towards the hallway where Dante had vanished with Sukuna.
Adam pushed off the frame and sauntered closer. He stopped a few feet from Dabi, his expression unreadable. "Rough night?" he asked, his voice surprisingly devoid of its usual mocking edge.
Dabi flinched, pulling his torn jeans up with clumsy hands, wincing as the fabric brushed his tender hole. He wouldn’t meet Adam’s eyes. "Fuck off," he muttered, the defiance weak.
Adam ignored the dismissal. He tilted his head, studying Dabi’s profile – the tight jaw, the flicker of something wounded and furious in his blue eyes. "That look on your face," Adam observed softly. "When Dante walked off with him." He paused. "Why?"
Dabi stiffened. "What look?" he snapped, finally glaring at Adam. "There wasn't a look."
Adam raised an eyebrow, a ghost of his usual smirk touching his lips. "Bullshit. Pure, unadulterated jealousy, princess. Radiating off you like cheap cologne." He took a step closer, his voice dropping lower. "Why does Sukuna bother you? Huh? Dante fucks me. You fuck Dante. Sometimes we all fuck together. What’s different about him?"
Dabi looked away again, his throat working. He scrubbed a hand over his face, smearing a faint trace of blood from Dante’s bite. "I don’t know," he admitted, the words forced out, rough with frustration. "I just... don’t know."
Adam watched him, the smirk fading into something more thoughtful. "It’s not any different," he stated calmly. "Me. Him. Same fucking thing. Sharing Dante’s bed, sharing his cock." He gestured vaguely towards Dabi’s bruised neck. "Sharing his teeth."
"I know that!" Dabi burst out, shoving away from the counter, his movements jerky. Pain flared from his ass, making him gasp. "Fuck, Adam, I know! Okay? It’s stupid. It’s irrational. But seeing him with that... that fucking monster..." He trailed off, shaking his head, unable to articulate the visceral, possessive fury Sukuna ignited in him. "He looks at Dante like... like Dante’s his. Like Dante belongs to him."
Adam was silent for a moment. The hum of the refrigerator filled the space. Then, quietly, he said, "It’s okay."
Two simple words. Unexpected. Gentle. They landed like a physical blow. Dabi froze, staring at Adam. Not mockery. Not cruelty. Acceptance. Understanding, even. Something fractured inside Dabi. The raw, jealous anger, the humiliation, the confusing arousal still simmering beneath the pain – it all coalesced into a sudden, desperate surge of need. Not for violence. Not for degradation. For this. For the unexpected softness in Adam’s eyes.
He moved fast. Before Adam could react, Dabi grabbed his wrist. His grip was fierce, almost painful. Adam’s eyes widened slightly in surprise. Dabi didn’t speak. He just turned and dragged Adam bodily out of the kitchen, down a different hallway lined with closed doors. He shoved open the nearest one – a guest room, opulent but impersonal – and pulled Adam inside, kicking the door shut behind them.
Adam stumbled slightly, catching his balance against the wall. "Whoa, firecracker—"
Dabi didn’t let him finish. He spun Adam around, pressing him back against the cool, textured wallpaper. His hands flew to Adam’s belt buckle, fingers fumbling but determined. "Shut up," Dabi breathed, his voice thick with urgency. He ripped Adam’s belt open, tore at his zipper, shoving trousers and briefs down Adam’s hips in one frantic motion. Adam’s cock sprang free, already thickening rapidly under Dabi’s frantic assault.
Adam watched him, stunned, a low groan escaping him as Dabi’s cool fingers wrapped around his shaft. "Fuck, Dabi—"
"Shut. Up," Dabi repeated, his eyes blazing. He didn’t bother with foreplay, didn’t care about preparation. He needed now. He spat roughly into his own palm, slicked himself with clumsy haste, then grabbed Adam’s cock, guiding the thick head to his still-loosened, aching entrance. Dante’s spend eased the way, a slick, humiliating reminder. He braced one hand on Adam’s shoulder, met Adam’s dark, startled gaze, and sank down.
"Ahh! Fuck!" Adam gasped, his head thudding back against the wall. Dabi’s hole was hot, impossibly tight despite the recent brutal use, clenching fiercely around him. The descent was fast, brutal, Dabi impaling himself on Adam’s length with a choked cry, taking him deep in one punishing slide. He bottomed out, Adam’s cock buried to the hilt inside him, the stretch agonizingly familiar yet utterly different.
Dabi didn’t pause. He planted his hands firmly on Adam’s shoulders, fingers digging in, and began to move. He rode Adam hard, lifting himself almost entirely off before slamming back down, driving Adam’s cock impossibly deep. Each downward plunge jolted through him, hitting bruised nerves, making him gasp and whimper. Tears pricked his eyes, but he didn’t stop. He set a frantic, punishing rhythm, fucking himself on Adam’s cock with desperate abandon. The wet slap of skin filled the room, mingling with Dabi’s ragged breaths and Adam’s low groans.
Adam’s hands found Dabi’s hips, not to guide or control, but to steady him, to feel the powerful muscles working beneath his skin. He watched Dabi’s face – the pain etched there, the fierce concentration, the wild, almost feral need. This wasn’t submission. This was Dabi taking, demanding, using Adam’s body for his own release. It was raw, messy, and utterly captivating.
"Jesus Christ," Adam breathed, his voice rough with awe. His usual smirk was gone, replaced by genuine shock and a dawning, intense heat. He thrust upwards instinctively, meeting Dabi’s downward plunge, driving deeper. "Look at you," he murmured, his grip tightening. "Fucking look at you."
Dabi’s rhythm faltered for a second, his eyes snapping to Adam’s. Expecting mockery. Expecting cruelty. Finding neither.
"You’re fucking breathtaking," Adam said, the words low, sincere, cutting through the haze of Dabi’s desperation. His thumbs stroked the sharp angles of Dabi’s hipbones. "Riding me like you own me. Like a fucking god." He bucked his hips, lifting Dabi slightly before pulling him down hard. "So strong. So fucking beautiful like this."
Praise. Real praise. Not the usual degrading filth Adam spat during sex. It hit Dabi like a physical blow, shattering his frantic rhythm. A choked sob escaped him. His hips stuttered. Adam’s words, the unexpected tenderness in his touch, the sheer intensity of his gaze – it flooded Dabi’s system, overwhelming the pain, the jealousy, the confusion.
"Adam—" Dabi gasped, his voice breaking.
"Take it," Adam urged, his voice thick with his own rising need. He thrust up harder, deeper, nailing Dabi’s prostate with unerring accuracy. "Take what you need, gorgeous. Fuck yourself on my cock. Show me how good you can be." His hands slid up Dabi’s sides, tracing the lines of his ribs, coming to rest on his chest, fingers brushing over a peaked nipple. "You feel incredible. So fucking tight. So hot."
The praise, the raw admiration, the unexpected gentleness mixed with the relentless penetration – it detonated Dabi’s control. He cried out, a raw, shattered sound, as his orgasm ripped through him. His body convulsed, back arching violently, cock pulsing untouched, spraying thick ropes of come across Adam’s stomach and chest. His ass clamped down with desperate, fluttering spasms around Adam’s buried cock, milking it fiercely.
Adam roared, his own climax torn from him by the fierce, rhythmic clenching. He slammed Dabi down hard one final time, grinding deep, and emptied himself. Hot pulses flooded Dabi’s channel as Adam pulsed inside him, his roar echoing Dabi’s cry, his hands gripping Dabi’s hips bruisingly tight. He held Dabi impaled, both shuddering through the aftershocks, Dabi slumped against him, trembling violently, Adam’s praise still ringing in his ears like a siren song.
Adam slowly lowered Dabi’s trembling legs, letting his feet touch the floor but keeping him pinned against the wall, still buried deep inside him. Dabi’s head rested on Adam’s shoulder, his breathing ragged, tears mixing with sweat on his cheeks. Adam pressed a kiss, startlingly soft, against Dabi’s temple. "Fucking hell, Dabi," he murmured, his voice rough with spent passion and lingering awe. "Where did that come from?"