Chapter 104: Truth Bomb
Dawn bled weakly through the narrow, arched windows of the bedroom, painting grey streaks across the rumpled silk sheets. Dante woke to the unfamiliar sensation of warmth pressed solidly against his back and arms wrapped around him like tempered steel. It took a disoriented second for the events of the previous night to crash over him – the fury in Sukuna’s eyes, the brutal claiming against the library table, the agonizing ecstasy of being taken without mercy. He lay perfectly still, every muscle aching, the deep, internal throb a vivid reminder. Sukuna’s breath was slow and even against the nape of Dante’s neck, his hold possessive even in sleep.
Dante closed his eyes, the ghost of Sukuna’s grip on his throat, the searing stretch of his cock, the roar of possessiveness echoing in his memory. A confusing cocktail of shame, residual arousal, and a deep, unsettling vulnerability churned in his gut. He hadn’t been broken, not truly, but he’d been… mastered. Owned. The King of Hell pinned and claimed like a common concubine. The thought should have ignited fury. Instead, it sent a treacherous pulse of heat through him. He shifted minutely, trying to ease the persistent ache, and froze as the arms around him tightened fractionally.
“Don’t.” Sukuna’s voice was a low rumble, sleep-roughened but utterly alert. He hadn’t been asleep at all.
Dante exhaled, the sound shaky. He didn’t turn. The intimacy of the embrace after the violence felt like walking a knife’s edge. Sukuna’s breath warmed his shoulder blade. The silence stretched, thick with everything unsaid, everything done.
Finally, Sukuna spoke again, his tone flat, pragmatic, cutting through the tension. “You can still see your other little boy toys.” The words were devoid of inflection, but the underlying command was absolute. “Dabi. Whoever else catches your eye down in that fucking club.” He paused, his thumb brushing, almost absently, over the faint, fading bruise on Dante’s hip where his grip had been the night before. “Just don’t do that shit around me.”
Dante swallowed, the dryness in his throat painful. He started to speak, maybe to protest, maybe to question, maybe just to break the suffocating quiet. “Suku—”
Sukuna cut him off instantly. Not with words, but with movement. He shifted, rolling Dante onto his back with effortless strength. Before Dante could process, Sukuna was leaning over him, blocking the weak grey light. His crimson eyes, usually so cold, held an unreadable intensity now – a mix of residual anger, hard-won control, and something else, something raw and possessive that sent a fresh shiver down Dante’s spine. Sukuna didn’t say a word. He simply lowered his head and captured Dante’s lips.
It wasn’t the brutal, punishing kiss Dante might have braced for. It was deep. Gentle. Devastatingly thorough. Sukuna’s lips moved against his with a slow, consuming pressure, his tongue seeking entrance not as an invasion, but as a claiming of a different kind. Dante gasped into it, the unexpected tenderness shattering his defenses. His hands, which had lain frozen at his sides, instinctively came up, fingers tangling in Sukuna’s hair. He kissed back, a desperate, hungry response fueled by confusion, relief, and the embers of last night’s dark fire. The kiss spoke of apology, of boundaries set, of possession reaffirmed without violence. It was a promise and a warning wrapped in velvet.
Sukuna pulled back just enough to look down at him, his breathing slightly uneven. Dante’s lips felt swollen, sensitive. The vulnerability he felt was terrifying, laid bare under Sukuna’s gaze. He saw the flicker of satisfaction in those crimson depths, the unspoken ‘mine’ hanging heavy between them. Then, without a word, Sukuna moved. He pushed Dante’s legs apart with a knee, his calloused hand sliding down Dante’s bare stomach, deliberately avoiding his already hardening cock, tracing the defined lines of muscle. Dante’s breath hitched.
Sukuna’s hand continued its path, fingers trailing over Dante’s inner thigh, igniting sparks. He leaned down again, his lips brushing Dante’s ear. “You take me so well,” he murmured, the words rough silk, echoing Dante’s own praise to Dabi but twisted into something infinitely more personal, more dangerous. “Always have.” His hand finally closed around Dante’s cock, not gently, but not brutally either. A firm, possessive grip that made Dante arch off the bed with a choked groan. Sukuna squeezed, his thumb rubbing roughly over the slick head, smearing pre-come. “Hard already, Prince? Just from a kiss?” There was dark amusement in his voice. “Needy fucking thing.”
He shifted lower, his tongue replacing his thumb for one hot, wet stroke along Dante’s length. Dante cried out, his hips jerking upwards. Sukuna chuckled, a low, dark sound that vibrated against Dante’s cock. Then he opened his mouth and took Dante in, deep, swallowing him to the root in one smooth motion. Dante’s head slammed back against the pillows, a guttural moan tearing from his throat. The contrast was overwhelming – the brutal memory of being taken, the shocking gentleness of the kiss, and now the engulfing, skillful heat of Sukuna’s mouth. It was a different kind of surrender, no less complete.
Sukuna sucked him with deep, deliberate pulls, hollowing his cheeks, his tongue working expertly along the underside, swirling around the head. He used his hand too, fisting the base, twisting slightly on the upward stroke. Dante writhed, fingers tightening painfully in Sukuna’s hair, his breath coming in ragged gasps. “F-fuck… Ry…!” It was a plea, a surrender, a name he hadn’t uttered in the heat of passion since Sukuna returned.
Sukuna hummed around him, the vibration shooting white-hot sparks up Dante’s spine. He pulled off slowly, leaving Dante’s cock glistening and aching. He looked up the length of Dante’s body, his eyes burning. “Look at you,” he growled, crawling back up Dante’s body. He was fully hard himself, his cock a thick, insistent pressure against Dante’s hip. “Desperate for it.” He spat into his own hand, the sound crude, visceral. He slicked his cock roughly, his gaze locked on Dante’s. “Gonna fuck you now, Dante. Gently.” The word ‘gently’ was a low promise, a stark counterpoint to the raw hunger in his eyes.
He didn’t ask. He hooked Dante’s legs over his forearms, lifting his hips. Dante braced, expecting the familiar, brutal stretch. But Sukuna was true to his word. He pressed the thick head of his cock against Dante’s entrance, still loose from the night before but tender. He pushed, slowly, inexorably, watching Dante’s face. There was no tearing agony this time, just a deep, stretching burn, an overwhelming sense of fullness as Sukuna sank inch by thick inch inside him. Dante gasped, his back arching, nails digging into Sukuna’s biceps. It was intense, almost painful, but controlled. Deliberate.
“Fuck,” Dante breathed, his voice wrecked. “So fucking big… Ry…” The name slipped out again, a helpless sound.
Sukuna bottomed out, sheathed fully, his hips flush against Dante’s ass. He held there for a moment, a low groan escaping him as Dante’s body clenched instinctively around him. “Shit,” Sukuna muttered, his control visibly fraying. “So tight… even like this.” Then he began to move. A slow, deep drag out, then a steady, grinding push back in. It was a relentless rhythm, not fast, but profound. Each thrust reached impossibly deep, the angle deliberate, the thick shaft rubbing mercilessly over Dante’s prostate on every inward stroke.
“Oh god!” Dante choked out, the pleasure building with agonizing slowness, a deep, coiling pressure that stole his breath. Sukuna fucked him with a focused intensity, his eyes never leaving Dante’s face, watching the pleasure build, watching him unravel. The slap of skin was a wet, rhythmic counterpoint to their harsh breathing. Dante wrapped his legs tighter around Sukuna’s waist, pulling him deeper, meeting each thrust. “Harder… please… Ry, harder…”
Sukuna’s rhythm faltered. A snarl twisted his lips. “Fucking beggar,” he growled, but he obeyed, driving in with more force, the bedframe creaking in protest. His pace increased, still deep, still measured, but harder, each thrust punching the air from Dante’s lungs, each withdrawal leaving him achingly empty before being filled again. Dante clawed at Sukuna’s back, babbling incoherently, lost in the consuming fire. The pleasure was a physical weight, crushing, inescapable. He felt Sukuna’s control slipping, felt the thrusts becoming slightly erratic, deeper, more urgent.
“Gonna come,” Sukuna ground out, his voice thick. “Gonna fill you up, Dante. Mark you inside again.” He slammed in hard, burying himself to the hilt, and held. His body tensed, a tremor running through him. Dante felt the hot, thick pulse deep within him, the unmistakable surge of Sukuna’s release. It pushed him over the edge. His own orgasm ripped through him, blinding and violent. He came untouched, his cock pulsing hard between their sweat-slicked stomachs, his cry muffled against Sukuna’s shoulder as his body clenched and spasmed around Sukuna’s still-throbbing cock.
Sukuna collapsed onto him, his weight solid, anchoring. They lay tangled, breathing harshly, the only sound in the room the frantic beating of their hearts. Sukuna’s face was buried in the crook of Dante’s neck. Dante could feel the tremors still running through the powerful body pinning him down. The possessive grip remained, Sukuna’s arms locking Dante against him, his softening cock still nestled deep inside.
Minutes passed. The light grew stronger, highlighting the dust motes dancing in the air. The scent of sex, sweat, and Sukuna was overwhelming. Dante felt raw, exposed, utterly claimed. He lifted a trembling hand, his fingers hesitantly tracing the intricate cursed markings on Sukuna’s shoulder blade. Sukuna didn’t move, but his breathing hitched almost imperceptibly.
Eventually, Sukuna shifted, pulling out slowly, the sensation drawing a soft gasp from Dante. Sukuna rolled onto his back beside him, one arm still draped heavily over Dante’s waist, keeping him close. He stared up at the shadowed ceiling, his expression unreadable in the gloom. Dante lay still, staring at the intricate plasterwork, the tenderness a fragile thing after the storm, the echo of Sukuna’s command hanging in the air: Don’t do that shit around me. The compromise felt cold. A gilded cage built on possession and pain.
The gilded cage built on possession and pain felt suffocating in the weak dawn light filtering through the arched windows. Dante stared at the intricate plaster ceiling, Sukuna’s heavy arm a possessive bar across his waist, his spent body throbbing with the deep-set ache of being thoroughly claimed. He closed his eyes, the memory of Sukuna’s brutal control in the library warring with the shocking gentleness of the kiss that followed. Sleep was a thick fog, pulling him under despite the turmoil.
He woke later to a different pressure. Warm. Wet. Enveloping. A low groan rumbled in his chest before he was fully conscious. His cock was engulfed in slick, searing heat. Dante’s eyes flew open. Sukuna lay between his legs, head bobbing slowly, deliberately. Crimson eyes locked onto his, unblinking, watching Dante register the sensation. Sukuna sucked hard, hollowing his cheeks, dragging a ragged gasp from Dante’s throat. Pre-come leaked freely, salty on Sukuna’s tongue.
"Fuck," Dante rasped, hips twitching upwards instinctively. Sukuna immediately pulled off, leaving Dante’s cock glistening and painfully hard in the cool air. He licked a slow, torturous stripe from base to tip, his gaze never leaving Dante’s face. "Tease," Dante accused, voice thick with sleep and burgeoning need.
Sukuna smirked, a dark curve of lips. "Problem?" He blew a cool stream of air over the wet head, making Dante hiss. Then, without warning, he swallowed Dante down again, deep and fast, his throat working. Dante’s back arched, a strangled cry escaping him as pleasure surged hot and electric. Just as quickly, Sukuna pulled back, leaving just the tip in his mouth, tongue flicking relentlessly. Dante bucked, desperate for more depth, more friction. Sukuna held him down with a firm hand on his hip. "Stay still." He took Dante deep once more, maintaining eye contact, sucking with obscene expertise until Dante felt the first dangerous coil tighten low in his belly. "Suku—I’m gonna—"
Sukuna pulled off completely. Dante groaned, the peak snatched away, leaving him achingly hard and desperate. "No," Sukuna stated flatly, his thumb rubbing rough circles below the weeping head. "Not yet. Ask nicely."
Dante glared, frustration warring with the overwhelming need Sukuna had expertly stoked. "Suck me, you fucker. Properly." He tried to thrust up again. Sukuna’s hand clamped down harder. "Begging starts with 'please', Prince." Dante gritted his teeth. The throbbing emptiness was maddening. "Fuck. Please. Suck my cock, Sukuna."
A satisfied glint lit Sukuna’s eyes. He obliged, swallowing Dante whole again, setting a deep, rhythmic pace that had Dante clawing at the sheets. He worked him relentlessly, the wet sounds loud in the quiet room, Dante’s moans growing higher, more desperate. The pressure built again, fierce and undeniable. "Oh god, yes, right there… fuck, I’m so close…" Dante choked out, his body tensing, ready to explode. Sukuna stopped. Instantly. Pulled off, leaving Dante gasping on the precipice, cock twitching violently. "You bastard!" Dante snarled, chest heaving.
"Second time," Sukuna breathed, leaning up to lick a stripe up Dante’s sternum, nipping at his collarbone. "Your begging needs work. More sincerity." He lowered his head, took Dante in deep again, but slower this time, agonizingly deliberate. He used his hand too, fisting the base tightly, twisting on the upstroke. Dante writhed, the dual sensation overwhelming. "Please," he gasped, the word barely audible. "Please, let me come." Sukuna hummed, the vibration a cruel tease. He sucked harder, faster, driving Dante towards the edge with ruthless efficiency. Dante felt his balls draw up, the pressure coiling impossibly tight. "Sukuna! Please, I need to—" He was cut off again as Sukuna released him, his cock slapping wetly against his stomach. Dante cried out in pure frustration, tears pricking his eyes. "Why?"
"Third." Sukuna stated, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He looked utterly in control, his own arousal evident but contained. "Your desperation is… improving." He lowered his head once more. This time he focused on the head, swirling his tongue around the sensitive ridge, sucking just the tip with relentless pressure. Dante whimpered, the sensation exquisitely torturous, building the peak slowly, excruciatingly. "Please, Ry," he moaned, the name slipping out, raw and vulnerable. "Please let me cum. I need it. Need to come on your tongue." Sukuna’s eyes darkened at the name. He took Dante deep again, fucking his mouth on Dante’s cock with hard, fast strokes. Dante felt the orgasm rip through him, unstoppable this time. "Yes! Fuck, YES!" he shouted.
Sukuna ripped his mouth away. Dante’s shout turned into an agonized sob as the climax slammed back down, denied again. He panted, trembling violently, sweat slicking his skin. "Fourth," Sukuna growled, his own breath hitching slightly. He looked wrecked, his lips swollen, chin wet. "You don't get to decide when." He spat onto Dante’s cock, the warm fluid a shocking contrast. He wrapped his hand around the shaft, slicking it roughly, his grip almost painful. He began to stroke, fast and hard, his thumb grinding over the slit on every pass. It was too much, too rough, too good. Dante arched, babbling. "Please! Sukuna, god please! I'll do anything! Please let me fucking cum!" Tears streamed down his temples now, the denial a physical torment.
Sukuna slowed his strokes, a cruel smile touching his lips. "Anything?" His hand kept moving, relentless. "Promise you’re mine? Only mine, when I’m here?" Dante didn’t hesitate, the words tumbling out. "Yes! Yours! Only yours! Please!" Sukuna’s hand stopped. Dante whimpered, trapped on a knife-edge. Sukuna leaned down, his breath hot on Dante’s ear. "Fifth." Then he took Dante deep, deeper than before, his nose pressing into Dante’s pelvis. He sucked with brutal, wet intensity, his throat convulsing, his free hand pinching and rolling Dante’s nipple hard. Dante shattered.
The orgasm detonated, obliterating thought. It wasn’t a release; it was a seizure. Ropes of thick come erupted into Sukuna’s mouth, hot and pulsing. Dante screamed, a raw, broken sound, his body convulsing violently, back arched impossibly high off the bed. Sukuna swallowed greedily, sucking him through it, milking every last drop, every pulse, his tongue working relentlessly until Dante collapsed, boneless and trembling, onto the sweat-soaked sheets. He gasped for air, his vision blurry, every nerve ending screaming. Sukuna finally pulled off, licking his lips slowly, watching Dante’s wrecked form with possessive satisfaction. The intensity of it echoed through Dante’s bones, a relentless aftershock.