Chapter 83: Primordial Hunger
The heavy oak door to Dante’s study groaned open without a knock. Dabi stood framed in the doorway, the muted thump of the Inferno’s bassline a distant pulse behind him. Inside, Dante leaned back in his high-backed leather chair behind the massive, scarred desk, fingers steepled under his chin. An ancient ledger lay open before him, illuminated by the flickering, unnatural flames in the grand fireplace. The air hung thick with the scent of old paper, expensive leather, and that faint, ever-present tang of sulfur.
Dante glanced up, a lazy, welcoming smile touching his lips. "Dabi. Didn't expect—"
Dabi slammed the door shut. The sound echoed sharply in the cavernous room. He didn't pause, didn't hesitate. Adam’s voice echoed in his skull, cold and commanding: Take it. Force the issue. Show no fucking hesitation. He strode across the Persian rug, his boots silent on the thick weave, eyes locked on Dante’s.
Dante’s smile faltered, replaced by a flicker of surprise, then wary assessment. He started to rise, pushing his chair back. "What's—"
Dabi was on him. Fast. Brutal. He lunged across the desk, scattering papers and sending the heavy ledger crashing to the floor. His hand shot out, fisting violently in the front of Dante’s silk shirt. He hauled Dante bodily over the polished wood surface. Dante gasped, shock widening his dark eyes. Dabi didn’t give him a second. He spun Dante around, shoving him face-first against the cold, dark wood of the desk, pinning him with his own weight. Dante’s breath hitched, his body tensing beneath Dabi’s grip.
"Hands flat," Dabi growled, his voice rough, unfamiliar even to himself. He pressed Dante’s wrists down hard against the desk surface. "Don’t fucking move."
Dante froze. The surprise was still there, sharp in his eyes, but beneath it, Dabi saw something else flicker – a spark of recognition, a dawning, almost startled understanding. He didn’t struggle. He obeyed, spreading his palms flat against the wood, fingers splayed. His breathing was rapid, shallow. Dabi leaned in close, his lips brushing the shell of Dante’s ear, smelling the expensive cologne mixed with the ancient scent of the room.
"Remember Sukuna?" Dabi hissed, the name a venomous whisper. "Remember how he made you kneel? Made you choke?" He ground his hips forward, his own hardening cock pressing against Dante’s ass through the thin silk pants. Dante shuddered, a low groan escaping him. "You liked that, didn't you?" Dabi’s hand slid down Dante’s spine, rough and possessive. "Being owned? Being forced?"
Dante’s head dropped forward, his forehead resting on the cool wood. "Fuck you," he rasped, but the defiance was weak, breathless. There was no real fight in it. Only anticipation.
"Not yet," Dabi snarled. He released Dante’s wrists only long enough to grab the waistband of his silk pants and underwear. He yanked them down in one brutal motion, exposing Dante’s ass, pale and perfect in the firelight. Dante hissed as the cool air hit his skin. Dabi shoved Dante’s legs apart with his knee, spreading him wide against the desk. He palmed Dante’s ass cheeks, squeezing hard, fingers digging into the firm muscle. "Spread wider," he commanded, grinding his clothed erection against Dante’s exposed cleft.
Dante pushed his hips back, arching his spine, presenting himself. A choked sound escaped him – part surrender, part desperate need. Dabi’s hand cracked down hard on Dante’s right ass cheek. The sharp slap echoed off the bookshelves. Dante cried out, his body jerking against the desk.
"Quiet," Dabi ordered. He landed another stinging slap on the other cheek, then another, painting pale skin a furious red. Dante gasped, his knuckles white where he gripped the desk edge, his cock visibly hard and leaking against the polished wood. Dabi leaned over him, his breath hot on Dante’s neck. "You take it," he growled, echoing Adam’s words, making them his own. "You take every fucking inch I give you. Understand?"
Dante nodded frantically, his voice a wrecked whisper. "Yes."
Dabi straightened. He didn’t bother with lube, didn’t ask permission. He fumbled with his own jeans, freeing his aching cock, thick and flushed. He spat into his palm, slicking himself roughly. The crude sound was obscene in the scholarly silence. He pressed the swollen head against Dante’s tight, unprepared hole. Dante tensed, a sharp intake of breath.
"Relax," Dabi commanded, not gently. He pushed. Hard. The resistance was fierce, Dante’s body clenching instinctively against the invasion. Dabi leaned his weight forward, grinding relentlessly. "Breathe," he snapped. "Push back. Take it."
Dante obeyed, forcing himself to relax, pushing his hips back against the brutal pressure. With a sickening, wet pop, Dabi breached him, forcing the thick head past the tight ring of muscle. Dante screamed, a raw, ragged sound torn from his throat, his body convulsing against the desk. Tears sprang to his eyes.
"Fuck!" Dante gasped, trembling violently. "Jesus fuck, Dabi—"
"Shut up," Dabi snarled, driving forward another brutal inch. The stretch was agonizing, the burn white-hot. He held himself there, buried deep enough to make Dante feel every millimeter, grinding slowly, letting the pain sear. "This what you wanted?" Dabi hissed, leaning over Dante’s back, his lips against the tattooed skin of Dante’s shoulder blade. "Huh? King of Hell? Brought low? Split open on my cock?" He thrust shallowly, a cruel, testing motion. Dante whimpered, his fingers scrabbling uselessly on the wood. "You think Sukuna fucked you better?" Dabi taunted, pulling back slightly before slamming forward again, deeper this time. Dante cried out, his body arching. "You think he made you feel this fucking owned?"
Dabi didn’t wait for an answer. He gripped Dante’s hips hard enough to bruise and began to fuck him in earnest. Short, savage thrusts at first, brutalizing the tight channel, forcing it to yield. Dante gasped with each penetration, tears streaking his face, his cock drooling pre-come onto the desk. The pain was immense, but beneath it, Dabi could feel Dante’s body responding, reluctantly opening, the clenching muscles starting to flutter around his invading length.
"Fuck, yeah," Dabi groaned, his rhythm deepening, lengthening. He pulled almost all the way out, leaving Dante clenching around emptiness, before slamming back in to the hilt, balls slapping against Dante’s reddened ass. The wet slap of skin on skin filled the study, punctuated by Dante’s choked gasps and Dabi’s ragged breathing. He found Dante’s prostate with unerring, cruel precision, grinding against it with every deep plunge. Dante’s cries shifted, the pain laced with sharp, involuntary bursts of pleasure. "There it is," Dabi growled triumphantly. "You feel that? Feel how deep I fucking own you now?" He pistoned his hips, driving into Dante with relentless force, each thrust aimed directly at that sweet, vulnerable spot. Dante’s moans became continuous, high-pitched, desperate. He pushed back frantically, meeting Dabi’s thrusts, his cock leaking steadily.
Dabi leaned forward, bracing one hand on the desk beside Dante’s head. His other hand snaked around Dante’s hip, fingers wrapping around Dante’s weeping erection. He squeezed the base hard. "Not yet," he commanded, his voice thick with exertion and lust. He stroked Dante once, a brutal twist from root to tip, then squeezed again, denying release. Dante whimpered, hips bucking helplessly. "You come," Dabi panted, fucking him harder, faster, the desk creaking under their combined weight, "when I fuck it out of you." He slammed deep, grinding, his hand tightening on Dante’s cock. "When I say."
Dante’s control shattered. "Please!" he begged, the word ripped from him, raw and broken. "Dabi, fuck, please let me—"
"Now," Dabi snarled. He released the base of Dante’s cock and stroked him furiously, twisting his wrist, thumb grinding the swollen head. At the same time, he drove into Dante with one final, brutal thrust, burying himself to the root and grinding hard against his prostate.
Dante screamed. His spine arched violently, lifting his chest off the desk. His cock pulsed in Dabi’s fist, thick ropes of come erupting, splattering the polished wood, the fallen ledger, Dante’s own trembling stomach. His ass clenched in frantic, rhythmic spasms around Dabi’s buried cock, milking him. The intensity of Dante’s surrender, the raw power of forcing this ancient, dangerous being to break so completely, detonated Dabi’s own control. He roared, burying his face in Dante’s neck, biting down hard on the tattooed skin as his hips jerked erratically. He came deep inside Dante, pulsing hot and thick, filling him, his own release wrenched from him by the violent clenching of Dante’s body.
Dabi slumped forward, panting heavily, his weight pressing Dante harder against the desk. Dante shuddered beneath him, aftershocks wracking his frame, his breathing ragged sobs. The study smelled sharply of sex, sweat, and the faint, acrid tang of sulfur. Slowly, Dabi pulled out, the slick sound obscene in the sudden quiet. Dante whimpered at the loss, his body trembling.
Dabi stepped back, tucking himself away, his own legs unsteady. He looked down at Dante, still bent over the desk, come cooling on his skin and the wood, his ass red and marked, hole glistening. Dante slowly pushed himself up, wincing as he straightened. He turned, leaning back against the ruined desk, facing Dabi. His face was a mess – tear-streaked, flushed, lips swollen from biting back cries. But his dark eyes… they weren’t angry. They weren’t humiliated. They burned with a fierce, stunned wonder. He looked at Dabi like he was seeing him for the first time.
A slow, shaky smile touched Dante’s lips. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, his gaze never leaving Dabi’s. "Well," he breathed, his voice hoarse, wrecked, but carrying an undeniable edge of dark delight. "Fuck me sideways." He pushed off the desk, wincing slightly but standing tall, the King momentarily eclipsed by the man who’d just been thoroughly conquered. He took a step towards Dabi, his eyes raking over him with newfound, intense appraisal. "Adam teach you that?"
Dabi’s breath hitched. He shoved his hands into his pockets, trying for nonchalance, but his shoulders stayed rigid. "Nah," he muttered, avoiding Dante’s piercing gaze, focusing on a scorch mark near the fireplace hearth instead. "Just figured it out." The lie tasted thin, metallic, on his tongue.
Dante’s low chuckle vibrated through the thick air, rich with understanding. He closed the distance between them in two swift strides, the predatory grace back in full force. His hand shot out, fingers tangling brutally in Dabi’s hair, yanking his head back. "Bullshit," Dante breathed, his voice a velvet-wrapped blade. Crimson eyes, ancient and fathomless, locked onto Dabi’s widening blue ones. "Adam showed you exactly how to break me." A cruel smirk touched Dante’s lips. "Taught you how to make the King kneel." He leaned in, his breath hot against Dabi’s ear. "Good lesson."
Before Dabi could snarl a retort, Dante twisted his grip, spinning him with shocking force. Dabi stumbled, crashing face-first onto the cold, polished surface of the massive desk. Ancient parchment crumpled beneath his cheek. Dante’s knee slammed into the back of his thigh, pinning him. One hand kept a vise grip on Dabi’s hair, grinding his face into the wood; the other ripped Dabi’s jeans and boxers down to his knees in one brutal tear of fabric. Cool air hit Dabi’s exposed ass. "My turn," Dante growled, the promise thick and dangerous.
Dabi struggled, a surge of panic igniting his cursed flames along his forearms. "Fuck off, Dante—!" The protest died in a choked gasp as Dante’s palm cracked down hard on his bare ass cheek. The sharp sting bloomed into fiery heat. Another slap landed, then another, painting pale skin an angry red. Dante’s free hand slid between Dabi’s spread legs, calloused fingers roughly tracing the cleft of his ass. "Stay still," Dante commanded, his voice dropping to a guttural rasp. "Or this gets much worse."
The sting of Dante’s palm on Dabi’s ass bloomed hot and sharp. Dabi hissed, bucking instinctively against the desk, the ancient wood digging into his hips. Dante’s grip in his hair tightened, grinding his cheek harder into the scattered parchment. "Fucking bastard!" Dabi snarled, the defiance sparking despite the vulnerable position, the cool air on his exposed skin. He wanted that sting, craved the sharp bite of Dante’s dominance turned up higher, hotter. "That all you got?" he spat, twisting his head to glare back, a reckless smirk twisting his scarred lips. "Thought the fucking King of Hell hit harder."
Dante’s low growl vibrated through the desk. Another slap cracked down, harder, landing on the same tender spot. Dabi gasped, the pain lancing deep, followed instantly by a sickening surge of heat low in his gut. "Shut your fucking mouth," Dante commanded, his voice dangerously calm. His fingers, still tracing Dabi’s cleft, dipped lower, calloused skin brushing against his tight hole. Dabi flinched, a jolt of pure sensation shooting up his spine. "Or," Dante murmured, leaning close, his breath hot on Dabi’s ear, his free hand sliding around to palm Dabi’s already hardening cock, "I will make it worse." He squeezed Dabi’s erection roughly, a cruel promise. "You liked being fucked over this desk? Hmm? Liked making me take it?" Dante’s thumb pressed hard against the leaking slit. "Bet you came fucking hard."
Dabi’s breath hitched. The humiliation, the raw exposure, Dante’s hand on his cock while pinned… it was fucking electric. He wanted Dante angry. Wanted him feral. "Yeah," Dabi rasped, pushing his hips back slightly into Dante’s touch, a deliberate provocation. "Fucking loved it. Loved watching you break." He twisted his head again, meeting Dante’s crimson gaze, letting every ounce of insolence show. "Loved it more than Sukuna ever made you scream."
The air crackled. Dante’s eyes narrowed, pure predatory fury replacing the controlled dominance. "You little shit," he breathed, the velvet gone, replaced by jagged ice. His hand left Dabi’s cock and slammed down hard on his ass again, twice in rapid succession, sharp cracks echoing off the bookshelves. Dabi cried out, the pain sharp and bright, tears pricking his eyes even as his cock throbbed. Before he could recover, Dante’s slicked fingers – Dabi hadn’t even seen him grab the lube – pressed hard against his hole. "Think you’re funny?" Dante growled, shoving one thick finger inside without preamble. The burn was instant, intense. Dabi gasped, arching off the desk. "Think you can just waltz in here, fuck me, and mouth off?"
Dabi clenched around the invading finger, a mix of pain and unwanted pleasure coiling tight. "Fuck you!" he spat, pushing back against the intrusion, forcing Dante’s finger deeper. "Yeah, I did! And I’ll fucking do it again!" He was flying now, the bratty defiance pouring out, desperate to stoke Dante’s fire. "Your fucking throne room smells like cheap cologne and regret!" Another finger breached him, stretching brutally. Dabi yelped, his knuckles white on the desk edge. Dante scissored his fingers hard, deep, finding that spot with cruel precision. Dabi’s cry morphed into a choked moan. "A-Adam fucks me better!" he gasped out, the ultimate taunt, knowing exactly what nerve it struck.
Dante froze. The silence was thicker than the sulfur-laden air. Then, a sound like tearing leather – Dante ripping his own pants open. The blunt, swollen head of his cock pressed against Dabi’s stretched, fluttering hole, slick with lube and Dabi’s own reluctant wetness. "You," Dante stated, his voice terrifyingly flat, devoid of all warmth, "are going to regret that." He didn’t ask. Didn’t warn. He shoved forward with all his strength.
The brutal invasion tore a raw scream from Dabi’s throat. Dante buried himself to the hilt in one savage thrust, splitting Dabi wide open on his thick cock. The pain was blinding, white-hot agony radiating through his hips, his spine. Dante held himself deep, grinding, letting Dabi feel every inch of the impossible stretch, the tearing burn. "Regret it yet?" Dante hissed, his breath ragged against Dabi’s neck. He pulled back slowly, the drag excruciating, then slammed home again, harder. Dabi sobbed, tears streaming freely now, his body convulsing against the desk. "Answer me!"
"N-No!" Dabi choked out, the defiance clinging on by sheer, stupid willpower, even as his body screamed. "F-Fuck you! Adam’s cock is—" Dante’s hand cracked down hard on his already reddened ass, cutting off the taunt. Then Dante started fucking him in earnest. No rhythm, just brutal, punishing drives deep into his body. Each thrust battered Dabi’s prostate with shocking force, sending jolts of agonizing pleasure tearing through him. Dante gripped his hips like vices, fingers digging into scar tissue, holding him open, taking him apart. "Fuck! Dante! Fuck!" Dabi babbled, the pain and overwhelming sensation shredding coherent thought. He pushed back weakly, meeting the thrusts, his cock leaking helplessly onto the wood beneath him.
"Shut up and take it," Dante snarled, pistoning his hips relentlessly. The wet slap of skin, Dabi’s choked cries, Dante’s ragged grunts filled the study. Dante leaned over him, bracing one hand beside Dabi’s head, his other hand snaking around to fist Dabi’s weeping cock. He stroked him brutally, in time with his thrusts, twisting his wrist. "That’s it," Dante growled, his voice thick with exertion and dark approval as Dabi’s hips jerked uncontrollably into his grip. "Take it deep. Good boy." The praise, dropped amidst the violence, hit Dabi like a physical blow. A shudder wracked him, a whimper escaping his swollen lips. He craved that approval, even now.
Dabi’s resistance crumbled. The sharp, bratty defiance dissolved under the relentless assault, replaced by a desperate, aching need for more, for Dante’s complete control. "Please," he gasped, the word mangled, barely audible over the sounds of their bodies. "Please, Dante…" He pushed back harder, meeting each deep, grinding thrust, his body yielding utterly. "Fuck me! Harder! Please!"
Dante’s rhythm shifted instantly. He pulled Dabi’s hips back onto his cock with bruising force, driving into him with long, deep, ruthless strokes aimed unerringly at his prostate. "That’s my good boy," Dante rasped, the praise hotter than the friction on Dabi’s cock. "Taking it so fucking well." He slammed deep, holding himself there, grinding. Dabi cried out, the pleasure-pain overwhelming. Dante’s hand became a blur on Dabi’s shaft, no teasing, just demanding friction. "Gonna come for me?" Dante demanded, fucking into him with relentless precision. "Gonna shoot that load like the good fucking boy you are?"
"Yes!" Dabi screamed, the word ripped from him. "Yes! Dante! Fuck! Please!" The coil inside him snapped. His spine arched violently, lifting his chest off the desk. His cock pulsed wildly in Dante’s fist, thick ropes of come erupting, splattering the wood, his own trembling thighs. His ass clenched in frantic, rhythmic spasms around Dante’s buried cock, milking him. Dante roared, burying his face in Dabi’s neck, biting down hard as his hips jerked erratically. He came deep inside Dabi, pulsing hot and thick, filling him, his release wrenched from him by the violent clenching of Dabi’s surrendered body.
Dabi slumped forward, boneless, trembling violently, pinned between Dante’s weight and the unforgiving desk. Dante stayed buried deep for a long moment, his breath hot and ragged against Dabi’s sweat-slicked skin, his hand still loosely wrapped around Dabi’s spent cock. Slowly, Dante pulled out, the slick, lewd sound echoing in the sudden quiet. Dabi whimpered at the loss, the emptiness, the cooling mess between his legs. Dante straightened, tucking himself away with a rough motion. He looked down at Dabi’s wrecked form – trembling, marked, come cooling on his skin and the desk, his hole glistening and swollen. A slow, satisfied smirk touched Dante’s lips. He reached down, his touch surprisingly gentle now, tracing a finger down the curve of Dabi’s ravaged ass. "Good boy," he murmured, the praise settling deep in Dabi’s bones, warmer than any flame.