Chapter 9: Reclaiming
The heavy oak door of Dante’s study groaned open without a knock. Dabi stood silhouetted in the hallway’s dim light, chest heaving slightly, the ozone scent of his raw power crackling around him like static before a storm. His scarred face was a mask of fury, eyes blazing cobalt blue in the soft glow of the fireplace. Dante, seated behind the obsidian desk, swirling amber liquid in a crystal tumbler, didn’t look up immediately. The obsidian raven perched on a bust nearby ruffled its feathers, a low warning.
“You fucking bastard,” Dabi spat, the words raw, scraping against the room’s luxurious silence. He stalked further in, the rich Persian carpet muffling none of his anger. “That was… what the fuck was that? Huh? In front of me?”
Dante took a slow sip, the firelight catching the silver rings in his lip and brows, casting flickering shadows on the intricate ink covering his bare forearms. He finally lifted his gaze, molten gold meeting furious blue. “What was what?” His voice was deceptively calm, a low thrum beneath the surface tension.
“Don’t play dumb!” Dabi slammed a fist onto the polished desk surface, making the raven hop sideways. “The guy! At the club! You fucking him raw like that against the door! Like some… some desperate whore! You knew I was there!”
A slow, dangerous smile touched Dante’s lips. It didn’t reach his eyes. “Did I?” He set the tumbler down with a precise click. “And why, pray tell, does that concern you? You seemed… occupied earlier yourself. Flirting with that feathered annoyance.”
Dabi froze. The fire in his eyes flickered, replaced for a split second by confusion. “What?”
“Hawks.” Dante leaned forward slightly, the predator finally revealing its focus. The air chilled perceptibly. “Your little pre-club rendezvous. Tell me, did his wings get in the way? Or was he careful?”
Dabi’s face drained of color, stark white against the angry red of his scars. His mouth opened, then closed. “Hawks? We didn’t… it wasn’t like that.” The defiance was brittle.
Dante’s smile vanished. Cold fury radiated from him, palpable, making the flames in the hearth gutter. “Don’t lie to me, little firefly.” He was out of his chair in a blur of motion, crossing the distance before Dabi could react. Dante’s hand shot out, fingers cold as grave dirt, clamping onto Dabi’s forehead before he could flinch. “Show me.”
Dabi gasped, a strangled sound. His eyes rolled back, pupils vanishing under fluttering lids. A jolt passed through Dante, his own eyes flashing pure, blinding white for an instant as he breached Dabi’s mind. Images flooded their shared perception, sharp, visceral, undeniable:
The gritty back alley behind Inferno, hours before the club pulsed to life. Hawks’ golden eyes predatory, pinning Dabi against the brick wall. Kissing him, rough, possessive. Hands fumbling, Hawks shoving Dabi’s jeans down past his hips. Dabi’s head hitting the wall, a choked moan escaping his lips as Hawks, wings spread wide for privacy, thrust into him without preamble. The rough, rhythmic slap of skin. Dabi’s fingers digging into Hawks’ feathers, his own cock hard and straining, forgotten. Hawks groaning, “Fuck, you’re tight,” before biting Dabi’s scarred shoulder. The raw, undeniable reality of it.
Dante ripped his hand away as if burned. His eyes blazed crimson, not gold, infernos of rage swirling in their depths. Dabi staggered back, gasping, his own eyes wide with horror and shame.
“Why lie?” Dante’s voice was a guttural snarl, echoing unnaturally in the suddenly cavernous-feeling room. Shadows writhed on the walls. “We weren’t exclusive. We were fucking. Just like you and him. So why the fuck,” he took a step closer, forcing Dabi further back towards the heavy damask curtains covering a floor-to-ceiling window, “are you standing here, acting like a jilted lover, furious that I fucked some random hole?” He spat the last words. “If you can spread your legs for that winged fucker, why the hell shouldn’t I find my own momentary distraction?”
The shame curdled into defensive rage in Dabi’s eyes. “It’s not the same!” he shouted, the ozone smell intensifying, blue sparks flickering at his fingertips. “You… you fucking parade it! Like you wanted to rub my face in it! Like I’m just another piece of ass you can discard whenever you get bored!” He glared, the vulnerability beneath the fury raw and exposed. “You don’t fuck people, Dante. You use them. Like fucking toys. Just another hole to dump your goddamn come in. A different one every night.”
The room temperature plummeted. The air crackled with static and something far darker, far older. Dante’s perfectly controlled facade shattered. The crimson in his eyes deepened to arterial blood. A low, inhuman growl vibrated in his chest, shaking the crystals in the chandelier. The shadows behind him moved, coalescing, stretching.
“You forget who you’re talking to,” Dante’s voice was layered, deeper, resonating with power that made the floor tremble. “You forget what flows in my veins.”
It happened fast. Leathery darkness unfurled behind Dante – vast, membranous wings, the color of midnight oil, scraping the high ceiling. Jagged horns, dark as obsidian, curled from his temples, piercing through his dark hair. His fingers elongated, ending in wickedly sharp, obsidian-black claws. His canines lengthened into cruel fangs, glinting in the firelight. The tattoos across his skin seemed to writhe like living serpents. He was still Dante, but more. Ancient. Terrible. Primal.
Dabi’s eyes widened, not just in fear, but in a sudden, terrifying arousal that flooded his system, warring with the fear. His breath hitched, the blue sparks dying at his fingertips. The defiance remained, but it was tinged with a desperate, fascinated hunger.
Dante moved. One moment he was across the room, the next his clawed hand was wrapped around Dabi’s throat, slamming him hard against the cold glass of the window. The impact rattled the pane. Dabi choked, scrabbling at the iron grip with human hands, his legs kicking uselessly. Dante’s other claw raked down the front of Dabi’s shirt, shredding the fabric like paper, exposing his scarred chest and abdomen. The cold claws scraped over sensitive skin, leaving thin, stinging lines.
“You want to see me use someone?” Dante’s voice was a dark purr, thick with demonic resonance, his fangs inches from Dabi’s face. His breath smelled of ozone and brimstone. “Let’s see how well you take it when it’s your hole getting used.” His free hand tore at Dabi’s jeans, the heavy denim and boxers ripping apart under the demonic strength, baring him completely. Dante didn’t bother with prep, didn’t care about tenderness. His own clothing seemed to melt away into shadow, revealing his thick cock, already fully erect, flushed an angry red, pulsing with the same dark energy that radiated from him. He spat thickly onto his palm, the sound obscenely loud, then slicked his length roughly, the fluid sizzling slightly against the overheated skin.
Dabi struggled weakly, pinned like a butterfly. “Dante… fuck… don’t…” The protest was breathless, swallowed by the sheer terror and overwhelming, unwanted arousal coursing through him. He felt the thick, blunt head of Dante’s cock press against his tight entrance. Dry. Unprepared.
“Too late for ‘don’t’,” Dante growled. He thrust forward, brutal and unforgiving. Dabi screamed, a raw, tearing sound of pain as he was breached violently, the tight ring of muscle forced open by the thick invasion. Dante shoved deep in one relentless push, burying himself to the hilt inside the scorching, clenching heat. He held there for a second, grinding his hips, feeling Dabi’s internal muscles spasm in shock and agony around him. He leaned in, his horns scraping the glass above Dabi’s head, fangs grazing the shell of his ear. “Is this what you wanted to see, little firefly? Is this real enough for you? Or do I need to fuck you harder?”
He didn’t wait for an answer. He started moving. Short, hard, punishing thrusts that hammered Dabi against the cold glass with each snap of his hips. The wet, obscene sound of forced entry filled the room, punctuated by Dabi’s ragged gasps and choked whimpers. Pain radiated from his stretched hole, sharp and bright, but beneath it, buried deep, was a treacherous coil of heat. The sheer force of Dante’s possession, the raw display of power, the danger of him in this half-demon form… it stoked a fire in Dabi’s gut he couldn’t extinguish. His own cock, trapped between their bodies, was hard and leaking against Dante’s abdomen.
Dante snarled, his claws digging into Dabi’s hips hard enough to draw beads of blood, anchoring him for deeper penetration. He pistoned into him, the rhythm savage, unrelenting. The windowpane rattled violently with every thrust. He could feel the conflicting sensations warring in Dabi – the searing pain, the crushing humiliation, and beneath it, the undeniable, shameful arousal, the body’s treacherous betrayal. He leaned in again, biting Dabi’s scarred shoulder hard enough to break the skin. Dabi cried out, a sound that morphed into a broken moan.
“You like it,” Dante breathed against the bleeding bite, his voice thick with dark triumph. He slammed in particularly deep, grinding against Dabi’s prostate with deliberate cruelty. “Don’t you? You like being fucked like a cheap slut by the Devil’s son. Like being claimed. Owned.” He punctuated each word with a brutal thrust. “Admit it. Tell me how much you fucking love my cock wrecking this tight little ass.”
Tears streamed down Dabi’s face, mingling with sweat. The pain was intense, dizzying. But the sensation of being utterly dominated, pinned and used by this terrifying, magnificent creature… it was overwhelming. His body clenched tighter around the invading thickness, a traitorous spasm of pleasure ripping through him despite the agony. His cock throbbed, neglected but achingly hard. A sob escaped him, ragged and broken. He couldn’t fight it. Couldn’t fight him.
“Y-yes…” Dabi gasped, the word torn from him, raw and desperate. “Fuck… Dante… yes…”
The raw, ragged admission ripped through Dabi’s throat like broken glass. “Y-yes…” He gasped, the word torn from him, raw and desperate. “Fuck… Dante… yes…” It was surrender and defiance twisted together, shame warring violently with the undeniable, molten surge of pleasure Dante’s brutal grind ignited deep inside him. His body arched involuntarily against the unyielding glass, seeking more of that devastating friction even as tears blurred his vision.
Dante’s answering growl vibrated through Dabi’s bones, a sound of pure, dark triumph. The demon prince shifted his grip, obsidian claws digging deeper into Dabi’s scarred hips, drawing thin, stinging lines of blood that welled crimson against pale skin. He withdrew almost completely, the thick, ridged length of his cock slick with the forced entry and Dabi’s own traitorous slickness. Then he slammed back in, harder, driving the breath from Dabi’s lungs with a choked cry. “Louder, slut,” Dante snarled, his breath hot and sulfurous against Dabi’s neck. The massive wings mantled behind him, blotting out the room, encasing them in leathery shadow. “Scream it so the whole fucking house knows whose cock owns this ass now.”
He fucked with relentless, piston-like force. Each brutal thrust hammered Dabi against the cold windowpane, the glass groaning under the impact. The wet slap of skin on skin, the slick squelch of his cock plunging deep into the tight, protesting channel, filled the opulent study. Dante’s knotty shaft stretched Dabi obscenely wide, the thick head battering his prostate with ruthless precision, sending jolts of white-hot electricity up Dabi’s spine that short-circuited coherent thought. Pain flared bright and sharp, a counterpoint to the sickening pleasure coiling tighter and tighter in his gut. “Fuck! Oh god, Dante!” Dabi babbled, his fingers scrabbling uselessly against the smooth glass, smearing condensation and tears. His neglected cock, trapped and leaking desperately against Dante’s abdomen, throbbed with every punishing invasion.
“God’s not here, firefly,” Dante breathed, his fangs scraping Dabi’s earlobe, drawing a bead of blood he licked away with a rough swipe of his tongue. “Just me. And this.” He punctuated the word with a particularly vicious thrust that made Dabi’s vision swim. “Your pretty winged distraction wouldn’t fuck you like this, would he?” Dante’s voice was a dark purr, laced with venomous satisfaction. “Couldn’t make you feel this… couldn’t split you open, make you need it…” His claws raked downwards, scoring thin lines across Dabi’s stomach, just shy of drawing serious blood, a dark promise. The possessive fury that had ignited in the club, seeing Hawks touch what was his, now fueled every brutal snap of his hips.
The duality was tearing Dabi apart. The humiliation was scalding, the reminder of Hawks a fresh wound salted by Dante’s taunts. Yet, the sheer, overwhelming force of Dante’s possession, the raw, terrifying power of him in this primal form, the way his cock filled him to bursting, rubbing that spot inside with bruising insistence… it was obliterating. His body writhed, no longer just resisting but moving, fucking himself back onto the invading thickness with desperate, involuntary jerks of his hips. A broken sob escaped him, mingled with a guttural moan. “Yours… fuck… yours…” The words spilled out, raw and wrecked, the defiance finally crumbling under the relentless assault on his body and pride. His cock pulsed, untouched, pre-come slicking Dante’s lower abdomen.
Dante felt the shift, the final yielding, the body beneath his claws no longer just enduring but participating, hungry for the ruin he wrought. It stoked the inferno within him. He tightened his grip on Dabi’s hips, fingers sinking into flesh like steel bands, holding him immobile for deeper penetration. He drove in with even greater force, the rhythm becoming frenzied, the windowpane rattling violently in its frame. The slick sounds grew wetter, messier. “That’s it,” he growled, breath ragged now, the dark energy surging through him. “Take it. Take every fucking inch. Greedy little cunt, swallowing me whole…” He leaned down, biting the junction of Dabi’s neck and shoulder, not gentle, a claiming mark that burned.
Dabi’s body tightened like a coiled spring, every muscle locking. The dam broke. A raw, wordless scream tore from his throat as his orgasm ripped through him, violent and blinding. His cock jerked, spilling thick ropes of come onto Dante’s stomach and his own scarred skin, the heat searing. His inner muscles clenched desperately, rhythmically, around Dante’s shaft, milking it, pulling him deeper into the convulsing heat.
The fierce clenching, the desperate pulsing around his cock, tore Dante’s climax from him. A guttural roar, more beast than man, erupted from his chest as he slammed home one final time, burying himself to the hilt. He held Dabi pinned, grinding deep, as thick, hot pulses of his release flooded Dabi’s depths. It felt like liquid fire, branding him from the inside, the sheer volume forced into him making Dabi whimper weakly against the glass. Dante shuddered, his wings flaring, the obsidian claws leaving deep impressions in Dabi’s hips as he emptied himself completely.
Silence fell, heavy and thick, broken only by their ragged breathing and the frantic hammering of Dabi’s heart against Dante’s chest. Dante remained buried deep for a long moment, his breath hot on Dabi’s sweat-slicked neck. Slowly, the terrifying demonic features began to recede. The horns shrank, the wings folded and dissolved into shadow, the claws retracted, the crimson fire in his eyes cooling back to molten gold. The tattoos settled into stillness on his skin.
He pulled out slowly, the separation slick and obscene. Dabi slumped forward, barely held up by Dante’s hands still gripping his hips. He trembled violently, a mess of tears, blood, sweat, and come. Dante turned him roughly, pressing his back against the cold glass. Dabi’s eyes, wide and bruised-looking, met his, filled with shattered pride, lingering humiliation, and the dazed, unmistakable haze of intense, unwanted satisfaction.
Dante’s gaze raked over him, taking in the ruined clothes, the fresh claw marks and bite blooming on his skin, the slick mess between his legs leaking Dante’s spend down his thighs. A cold, possessive satisfaction settled over Dante’s features. He leaned in, his lips brushing Dabi’s ear, his voice a low, satisfied whisper that vibrated through the shattered silence.
"Mine."