Chapter 7: Morning Ride
Dabi woke to heat. Not the dry, crackling heat of the Inferno club, but a deep, living warmth radiating from the solid mass pressed against his back. Dante. The demon’s arm was still a possessive band around his waist, his breath a steady rhythm against the nape of Dabi’s neck. The heavy, leathery weight of Dante’s wings still draped over them like a cloak, sealing them in a pocket of shadow within the vast canopy bed. The blue-flamed fireplace cast long, dancing fingers of light across the velvet curtains and the stone walls. The deep ache from the bathroom was gone, replaced by a lingering soreness that felt… claimed. Owned. Safe.
He shifted slightly, testing his muscles. Dante’s arm tightened instantly, pulling him closer. A low rumble vibrated against his spine. “Sleep,” Dante murmured, voice thick and sleep-roughened. His fingers flexed against Dabi’s stomach, just beneath the ridge of scar tissue.
“Can’t,” Dabi rasped, his own voice dry. He felt strangely… clear. The exhaustion had been purged, leaving behind a wired alertness. The memory of Dante’s power, the brutal claiming, the terrifying tenderness of the wing-cocoon and the healing touch… it all simmered under his skin. He was naked, pressed against impossible heat, and the phantom sensation of Dante’s cock stretching him open was a ghost that refused to fade. It twitched into a low thrum of desire.
Dante seemed to sense the shift. His hand slid lower, fingertips brushing the sensitive skin just above Dabi’s hip bone, then trailing deliberately downwards, grazing the trail of dark hair leading south. Not demanding, just… acknowledging. “Too much thinking, little firecracker?” His lips brushed Dabi’s shoulder blade.
Dabi shuddered. That nickname, spoken in the demon’s low growl, sent sparks down his spine. He pushed back against Dante’s hips, feeling the unmistakable hardness already forming against his ass. “Too much feeling,” he countered, twisting his head to look back. Dante’s eyes were open now, molten gold in the gloom, fixed on him with that ancient, consuming intensity. The horns cast sharp shadows on the pillow. “Still feel you. Everywhere.”
A slow, predatory smile curved Dante’s lips. “Good.” His hand continued its descent, fingers sliding through the coarse curls at the base of Dabi’s cock, which was rapidly hardening under the attention. “You want that ache back?”
“I want…” Dabi swallowed, the defiance warring with a need that felt primal, terrifying, and utterly undeniable. He pushed himself onto his elbow, turning fully to face Dante within their shadowed cocoon. The demon’s gaze tracked every movement, the gold flaring as he took in Dabi’s naked, scarred torso, his flushed skin, his aching erection. “I want you. Inside. Again.” The words felt raw, torn from him. “But…” He met Dante’s burning eyes. “I want to fucking ride you this time.”
Dante’s breath hitched, the only sign of surprise. His smile widened, sharpening at the edges, revealing the points of his teeth. A low growl built in his chest, pure approval. “Bold,” he murmured, his hand sliding around to grasp Dabi’s hip, thumb digging into the newly healed bruise possessively. “You think you can handle it? After the state I left you in?”
“Try me, Morningstar,” Dabi challenged, the spark of defiance roaring back to life, fanned by the demon’s heat and his own desperate need. “Or are you scared I’ll ruin you for anyone else?” He deliberately rocked his hips, letting his cock drag against Dante’s muscular thigh.
A flash of crimson bled into the gold of Dante’s eyes. “Fucking insolent pup.” In one fluid, powerful motion, Dante rolled onto his back, pulling Dabi roughly with him. Dabi landed straddling Dante’s hips, his knees sinking into the plush silk on either side of Dante’s narrow waist. Dante’s cock, thick and already slick at the tip, stood rigid against his stomach, nestled in dark hair, the only unmarked part of him. Dante’s hands clamped onto Dabi’s thighs, fingers biting into the muscle. “Show me,” he commanded, his voice dropping to a gravelly growl that vibrated through Dabi’s bones. “Show me what that defiance buys you. Ride me.”
Adrenaline surged, sharp and electric. Dabi braced one hand on Dante’s chest, feeling the hard muscle beneath his palm, the intricate tattoos swirling under his touch. The other hand reached down, fingers wrapping around Dante’s thick shaft. Heat pulsed against his palm. He lifted his hips, aligning himself. Dante watched, rapt, his gaze burning, his nostrils flaring. The air crackled.
Dabi lowered himself slowly, agonizingly slowly. The blunt, broad head of Dante’s cock nudged against his entrance, still tender from the night before. He hissed, pausing, muscles clenching instinctively. Dante’s grip on his thighs tightened, not forcing, just holding. Anchoring. Guiding.
“That’s it,” Dante rasped, his voice rough with restraint. “Take it. Claim it.”
The words ignited something in Dabi. He bore down, relaxing the clenched muscles with sheer willpower. A sharp sting ripped through him as the head breached him, stretching the tight ring of muscle. He gasped, head tipping back. Dante’s cock felt impossibly thick, impossibly hot inside him, reigniting the deep ache, but different now. This was his choice. His control.
He sank down another inch, groaning as the thick shaft stretched him wide. “Fuck… so big,” he gritted out, the words ragged.
“Always, pet,” Dante murmured, his thumbs rubbing circles on Dabi’s trembling thighs. His chest rose and fell rapidly, the only sign of his own building tension. “But you can take it. Feel how fucking wet you are for me already?”
He was right. The slide, though tight, was eased by the slickness Dabi’s own body was producing, and the residual slickness Dante seemed to possess. Dabi pushed down further, taking more, the burning stretch turning into a delicious, encompassing pressure. He felt stuffed, impossibly full, every ridge and vein of Dante’s cock mapped against his inner walls as he descended. His own cock jerked, dripping pre-come onto Dante’s stomach.
Finally, his ass met Dante’s hips. He was fully seated, impaled, Dante buried to the hilt inside him. He panted, trembling with the effort and the overwhelming sensation. The fullness was dizzying, a profound occupation that went beyond the physical, touching something primal. Dante’s hands slid up to grip his hips, thumbs pressing into the hollows. His golden eyes were molten, fixed on Dabi’s face, drinking in every twitch, every gasp. His wings rustled, the tips curling slightly around them.
“Fuck,” Dabi breathed, the word a sigh. He could feel Dante’s heartbeat thundering through the cock buried deep inside him. He rolled his hips experimentally, a slow grind. Sensation exploded – the drag against his prostate, the sheer mass inside him shifting, the friction on his rim. A low moan tore from his throat. “Oh, god…”
“No gods here, Dabi,” Dante growled, his own voice strained. “Just me. And you. Riding my cock.” He bucked his hips up, a sharp, shallow thrust that made Dabi cry out. “Now move.”
It was a command Dabi was desperate to obey. He braced himself on Dante’s chest, fingers digging into the hard muscle. He lifted himself, the exquisite drag of Dante’s cock pulling almost out before gravity and need slammed him back down. A choked gasp. Pleasure-pain speared through him, centering on his prostate. He did it again. Lifted, feeling the head stretch him wide open, then slammed down, taking the full length in one hard stroke. A strangled shout this time.
“Yes!” Dante hissed, his hips lifting to meet Dabi’s downward thrust, driving himself impossibly deeper. “Fuck, just like that. Use my cock. Take what you need.”
Dabi found a rhythm. Up, slow, agonizing, feeling every inch slide out until just the thick head remained, stretching him obscenely. Then down, hard and fast, impaling himself, letting gravity and desperation drive Dante’s cock deep into that aching, sensitive spot. Each downward plunge was punctuated by a sharp cry, a gasp, a guttural moan that ripped from his chest. Sweat slicked his skin, gleaming in the firelight, tracing the valleys of his scars. His cock bounced, flushed and dripping, untouched. His thighs burned, his core screamed, but the pleasure was a wildfire consuming everything else.
“Fuck… Dante… fuck!” he chanted, the words dissolving into incoherent sounds. His head lolled, then snapped back as Dante thrust up particularly hard, hitting his prostate dead-on. Sparks danced behind his eyelids. “Right there! Oh, fuck! There!”
Dante’s grip on his hips was bruising, guiding, demanding. His own control was fraying. His breaths came in ragged growls, his gaze locked on where their bodies joined – watching his thick cock disappear again and again into Dabi’s tight, grasping hole, slick and glistening. “Look at you,” he rasped, voice thick with awe and lust. “Look at you fucking take me. Insatiable little slut. Made for this. Made for my cock.” He bucked again, forcing himself even deeper, grinding his pubic bone against Dabi’s ass. “Fucking wreck yourself on me. Come on!”
The filthy words, the possessive praise, the relentless pressure on his prostate shattered Dabi’s last shreds of control. The coil of heat in his groin snapped. He screamed, a raw, broken sound, as his orgasm tore through him. His body locked, convulsing around the thick shaft buried deep inside him. Thick ropes of white come shot from his untouched cock, splashing across Dante’s stomach, his chest, painting the swirling tattoos. The rhythmic clenching of his hole milked Dante relentlessly.
“FUCK!” Dante roared, the sound primal, shaking the air. His wings flared wide, casting massive, flapping shadows on the canopy. His hips slammed up, pistoning into Dabi’s convulsing channel, burying himself impossibly deep. He held Dabi down hard against him as his own release erupted. Dabi felt the hot, thick pulse of it deep inside him, flooding him, marking him internally. Dante came with a guttural snarl, body arching off the bed, his claws pricking Dabi’s skin. The warmth spreading inside Dabi triggered another wave of aftershocks, milking Dante’s cock for every last drop.
Dabi collapsed forward, boneless, his face pressed against Dante’s sweat-slicked chest. He trembled violently, oversensitive and utterly spent, still impaled. Dante’s arms came around him, holding him close, crushing him against the hard plane of his chest. Dante’s heart hammered against Dabi’s cheek, a frantic drumbeat echoing the fading tremors in his own body. Dante’s wings slowly, slowly folded back down around them, heavy and warm. The air reeked of sweat, sex, and the ozone tang of spent power.
For long minutes, the only sounds were their ragged breathing and the crackle of the blue fire. Dante’s hand stroked slowly up and down Dabi’s spine, a possessive, grounding touch. He kissed the top of Dabi’s head, the gesture startlingly tender after the raw intensity.
Dabi managed to raise his head slightly. Dante’s eyes were half-lidded, the gold still molten but softened. A look of profound, almost shocked satisfaction. “Well?” Dabi managed, his voice a wrecked whisper.
Dante’s lips curved in a slow, devastating smile, genuine awe replacing the usual predatory edge. He tightened his arms around Dabi, holding him impossibly closer. His voice, when it came, was low, thick with something deeper than lust. Something that felt perilously close to reverence. “Fucking ruined me.”
Outside the velvet cocoon, high on the stone lintel, the obsidian raven tilted its head. Its jet eyes, reflecting the low blue flames, seemed to gleam with a sharper, more knowing light. A single black feather drifted down silently, landing just outside the pool of firelight.