Chapter 82: Throat of Hell
The deep, unnatural stillness of Dante's post-sleep breathing shattered as a powerful hand fisted brutally in his hair. He gasped, eyes flying open, instantly awake. Sukuna loomed over him, backlit by the faintest ambient glow filtering through the heavy velvet drapes. The raw vulnerability of the night before was incinerated in the furnace of Sukuna’s gaze. Crimson eyes, cold and predatory, held only command.
"Up," Sukuna growled, the single syllable vibrating with barely leashed power. He yanked, hauling Dante off the silken sheets like he weighed nothing. Dante’s bare knees hit the plush rug beside the bed – hard. The scent of their sleep, the ghost of salt tears and shared warmth, was instantly overwhelmed by the ozone crackle of Sukuna’s cursed energy and the musk of renewed arousal.
Before Dante could speak, could snarl, could even fully register the shift, Sukuna’s other hand was on himself. He fisted his already hard cock, thick and flushed, veins standing stark against the skin. He slapped the heavy length once, twice, against Dante’s swollen lower lip. The impact stung, sharp and humiliating.
"Open wide, King," Sukuna commanded, his voice a low, dangerous rasp. There was no tenderness here. No echo of the man who’d murmured apologies in the dark. This was the Curse, demanding submission.
Dante’s jaw clenched, a flicker of defiance in his bloodshot eyes. A muscle jumped in his cheek. Sukuna’s grip in his hair tightened viciously, pulling his head back at a painful angle. "Now." The pressure was immense, threatening to tear hair from the root. Dante’s lips parted on a choked gasp.
Sukuna didn’t hesitate. He shoved forward, burying his cock deep into Dante’s mouth, past the resistance of his lips and teeth, hitting the back of his throat in one brutal thrust. Dante gagged violently, eyes watering, throat convulsing around the sudden, overwhelming intrusion. Spit spilled down his chin. Sukuna’s grip in his hair anchored him, holding his head still as he began to fuck his mouth with ruthless, shallow pumps.
"Yeah, that’s it," Sukuna hissed, looking down at the sight: the powerful King of Hell on his knees, struggling to take his cock, tears streaking his face. "Swallow it, Dante. Take it deep." He pistoned his hips, forcing another inch down Dante’s throat. Dante choked, a wet, gurgling sound, tears blurring his vision. His own neglected cock, trapped hard and leaking against his stomach, throbbed painfully.
Sukuna’s free hand, the one not fisted in Dante’s dark hair, snaked down. Calloused fingers wrapped around Dante’s straining erection, squeezing the base hard enough to make Dante cry out around the cock stuffing his mouth. The sound was muffled, desperate. Sukuna began to stroke him, a tight, twisting motion, agonizingly slow. Then, just as Dante’s hips bucked involuntarily, seeking more friction, seeking release from the unbearable pressure, Sukuna stopped. His thumb pressed hard against the leaking slit.
"Ah-ah," Sukuna tsked, pulling his cock almost entirely out of Dante’s mouth, leaving him gasping, spit-slick lips trembling. "Not yet." He watched Dante’s face, the raw need warring with fury and humiliation. "You don’t come until I say. Until I’m buried balls-deep in this sweet throat." He slapped his cock back against Dante’s lips, sticky with spit and precome. "Open."
Trembling, breath ragged, Dante obeyed. He parted his lips, the humiliation coiling hot and sharp in his gut, yet his own cock pulsed in Sukuna’s unforgiving grip. Sukuna surged forward again, deeper this time, holding himself there, grinding the thick head against the constricting muscles of Dante’s throat. Dante gagged, fighting for air through his nose, his body shuddering. Sukuna’s hand on his cock resumed its torment – a few brutal, twisting tugs, then stopping, squeezing the base until Dante whimpered. Denial. Control.
"Feels good, doesn't it?" Sukuna rasped, pulling back just enough to let Dante drag in a shuddering breath before slamming back in. His strokes on Dante’s erection were faster now, demanding, then agonizingly slow, a cruel mimicry of pleasure. "Bet you’re dripping, Dante. Bet you’re aching to shoot that load all over my hand." Sukuna leaned down, his breath hot against Dante’s ear, voice dropping to a guttural whisper laced with filthy promise. "Soon. Gonna make you swallow every inch, make you choke on it while I milk that pretty cock dry. Gonna feel you come while you’re drowning on me. You ready for that, King? Ready to fucking choke?" He punctuated the question with a sharp, deep thrust that stole Dante’s breath entirely, his throat working desperately around the relentless girth. Sukuna held him there, buried to the hilt, his knuckles white in Dante’s hair, his other hand a vise on Dante’s weeping cock, holding him right on the razor’s edge. The only sounds were Dante’s ragged, strangled attempts to breathe and Sukuna’s low, satisfied growl vibrating through the air thick with salt and musk.
The only sounds were Dante’s ragged, strangled attempts to breathe and Sukuna’s low, satisfied growl vibrating through the air thick with salt and musk. Sukuna held him there, buried impossibly deep, the thick shaft stretching Dante’s throat obscenely. Sweat dripped from Sukuna’s jaw onto Dante’s flushed face, mingling with the tears and spit slicking his skin.
"Feel that?" Sukuna rumbled, grinding his hips minutely, forcing the blunt head impossibly deeper against the spasming muscles. "Feel how deep I own this fucking throat?" Dante’s eyes rolled back slightly, his body convulsing with the primal need for air, yet his cock pulsed violently in Sukuna's relentless grip. Sukuna eased back, just enough for Dante to drag in a wet, desperate gasp, air scraping like broken glass.
Sukuna slammed forward again, hard. "Swallow." The command was a guttural snarl. Dante gagged, tears streaming freely, throat working desperately around the invading flesh. "Swallow it all, you greedy fuck." Sukuna’s hand tightened viciously on Dante’s cock, squeezing the base hard, denying the building pressure. "Gonna come like this, Dante? Gonna shoot your pathetic load while my cock steals your fucking breath?" He pumped his hips relentlessly, short, brutal thrusts that battered Dante’s throat.
The hand on Dante’s dick moved with cruel intent. Calloused fingers twisted around his shaft, thumb grinding into the weeping slit, then instantly clamping down near the base, cutting off the surging tide of release. Dante made a high, choked whine against the cock stuffing him, hips jerking uselessly in Sukuna’s iron grip. Sweat plastered Dante’s dark hair to his forehead, muscles in his neck corded with strain.
"Look at me," Sukuna commanded, pulling his cock halfway out. Dante dragged his watering eyes up, meeting Sukuna’s burning crimson gaze. Raw need warred with fury and humiliation in Dante’s expression. "You want it?" Sukuna slapped his slick cock hard against Dante’s lips. "Want to choke on it while you blow?"
"Yeah," Dante rasped, voice wrecked. "Fuck, Sukuna… make me." The admission, raw and desperate, tore from him.
Sukuna grinned, feral and triumphant. "Good boy." He gripped Dante’s hair like a vice and surged forward, burying himself to the root in one savage thrust. Dante’s throat bulged. Sukuna held it there, grinding deep as Dante’s eyes widened, air completely cut off. At the same moment, Sukuna’s hand became a blur on Dante’s cock. No more denial. Just brutal, twisting friction, thumb frenziedly rubbing the swollen head.
The denial, the overwhelming fullness, the sheer force of Sukuna’s demand – it detonated Dante’s control. His spine arched violently off the rug. A silent scream tore through him as his orgasm erupted, thick ropes of come splattering Sukuna’s fist, his own stomach, the plush rug beneath his knees. His throat clenched in frantic, rhythmic spasms around Sukuna’s buried cock, milking him.
Sukuna roared. He fucked forward one last time, pinning Dante’s head as his own release pulsed hot and thick down Dante’s constricted throat. Dante choked, gagging violently as the bitter flood hit the back of his mouth, forced down by the relentless pressure. Sukuna held him impaled, hips jerking, emptying himself completely, grinding deep with each thick pulse.
Finally, Sukuna pulled back, his slick cock sliding free with a lewd pop. Dante collapsed forward onto his hands and knees, coughing violently, thick white fluid dripping from his swollen lips onto the rug. He gasped, great shuddering breaths burning his abused throat. Sukuna loomed over him, breathing heavily, spent cock glistening. He watched Dante retch, a dark satisfaction etched onto his features.
He reached down, grabbing Dante’s jaw, forcing his head up. Dante met his gaze, eyes bloodshot, face a mess of tears, spit, and Sukuna’s come. "You took it all," Sukuna stated, his voice rough but devoid of the earlier cruelty. Almost… approving. His thumb swiped roughly across Dante’s messy lips, smearing the evidence. He released Dante’s jaw with a shove.
Dante slumped back onto his heels, trembling, chest heaving. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, staring at the floor, the aftershocks of violent pleasure and violation still shuddering through him. Sukuna turned, the heavy silence punctuated only by Dante’s ragged breathing and the distant, muffled throb of the club below.
Sukuna turned, the heavy silence punctuated only by Dante’s ragged breathing and the distant, muffled throb of the club below. He stalked towards the ensuite bathroom without a backward glance, leaving Dante kneeling on the plush rug, trembling, come cooling on his stomach and dripping from his chin. The slam of the bathroom door echoed like a gunshot in the opulent chamber.
Dante stayed frozen for a long moment, the phantom pressure of Sukuna’s cock still stretching his throat, the sting of his scalp lingering. He finally dragged a shaky hand across his mouth, wiping away the mess, the taste of salt and bitter release thick on his tongue. He pushed himself up, legs unsteady, and stumbled towards the discarded silk robe draped over a chaise, pulling it around himself like armor against the sudden chill and the echoing humiliation.
Downstairs, the Inferno pulsed. Bodies writhed under strobing lights, sweat and synth-smoke hanging heavy. Dabi shoved his way through the throng near the VIP entrance, his scarred face tight, eyes scanning the dimly lit booths. He spotted Adam leaning against the polished obsidian bar, swirling amber liquid in a heavy crystal glass, watching the dance floor with detached amusement.
Dabi shouldered past a gyrating couple and slid onto the stool beside Adam. "Fucking went to talk to Dante," he announced, voice rough, grabbing a discarded glass and pouring himself a hefty measure of whiskey from Adam’s bottle. He knocked it back in one burning gulp.
Adam didn’t turn his head, just raised an eyebrow. "Yeah? How’d that go?" His tone was deceptively light, knowing.
Dabi slammed the empty glass down harder than necessary. "I walked in on some shit I should not have." He stared straight ahead, jaw clenched, the memory vivid: Dante on his knees, choked, tears streaking his face, utterly owned.
Adam finally looked at him, a slow, intrigued smile spreading across his lips. "Oh? What exactly does that mean?" He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice beneath the pounding bass.
Dabi hesitated, the image seared into his mind. "Sukuna was in there," he muttered. He paused, searching for the right word, the unexpected vulnerability he’d witnessed. "To say the least." Another pause. He met Adam’s gaze. "I didn’t know Dante could be so… submissive?"
Adam’s smile widened into something knowing, almost predatory. "He can be." He took a slow sip of his drink. "Depends entirely on who is fucking him." He set the glass down deliberately. "He’ll be submissive to an extent with most people. Polite deference, letting them lead." Adam leaned closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial murmur. "But Sukuna?" He shook his head slowly. "Sukuna is one of the very few people Dante will let dominate him. Truly dominate him."
Adam paused, letting that sink in, his eyes holding Dabi’s. "And probably," he added, the words deliberate, "the only one he lets degrade him the way Sukuna does. The way you saw."
Dabi exhaled sharply, the raw power dynamic he’d witnessed clicking into place. "Yeah," he conceded, the word rough. "I see that." He remembered Dante’s choked obedience, the way he’d opened his mouth on command, taken the brutal fucking. It hadn’t been reluctant; it had been surrendered.
Adam’s gaze sharpened, assessing. "You telling me," he asked, a challenge threading his voice, "you haven’t got Dante to submit to you? Like that?"
Dabi bristled slightly. "I have," he retorted, defensive. "He bends. He takes orders." He gestured vaguely, frustration leaking through. "But not… not like that. Not… broken open like that."
Adam chuckled, a low, dark sound. "Course not." He pushed his glass aside. "You’re gonna have to take it from him, Dabi. Force the issue." Adam leaned in, his presence suddenly overwhelming. "If you can’t show him you mean fucking business, if you hesitate for a fucking second…" He shook his head slowly. "He ain’t letting you do that shit. He’ll eat you alive instead."
A slow smirk spread across Adam’s face, dangerous and inviting. "I can give you an example," he offered, his voice dropping to a husky whisper that vibrated straight down Dabi’s spine. "If you’d like."
Dabi felt the heat of that comment bloom low in his gut, unexpected and intense. The air crackled between them. He didn’t trust his voice. He just nodded, once, sharply, his gaze locked on Adam’s.
"Good." Adam pushed off the bar. "Follow me." He didn’t wait, weaving through the crowd towards a discreet corridor lined with heavy, soundproofed doors – private rooms reserved for the club's most exclusive patrons, or its owner’s most intimate games. Dabi trailed him, pulse hammering against his ribs, the thump of the music fading as Adam stopped before an unmarked door, swiped a keycard, and pushed it open.
The room was smaller than Dante’s opulent chamber, but no less decadent: dark wood, deep crimson velvet drapes, a low, wide leather couch dominating the space. Adam closed the door, plunging them into near silence, thick and expectant. He turned, his usual playful demeanor replaced by an unnerving stillness, his eyes dark pools of intent.
"Ground rules," Adam stated, his voice devoid of its earlier warmth, flat and commanding. He took a step closer, invading Dabi’s space. "You tell me the instant you don’t like something. Say 'stop' or 'red'. Doesn’t matter what it is." His gaze pinned Dabi. "I stop. Immediately. No questions. Understood?"
Dabi swallowed hard. The formality, the explicit consent check – it was jarring. All the times he’d fucked Adam, rough and demanding, Adam had never said that. Never offered an out. The nerves he’d felt at the bar intensified, a coil of anticipation mixed with genuine apprehension tightening in his chest. "Understood," he managed, his voice tight.
Adam nodded once. "Good." Then the shift was instantaneous and absolute. The playful friend vanished. What remained was pure, focused dominance. Adam’s hand shot out, fingers tangling brutally in the front of Dabi’s shirt. He yanked him forward, off balance. "On your knees. Now."
The command brooked no hesitation. Dabi stumbled, the sheer force of Adam’s will crashing over him. He dropped, knees hitting the plush carpet hard. Adam loomed over him, a dark silhouette against the dim light. He grabbed Dabi’s jaw, forcing his head up, fingers digging into scarred flesh and unmarked skin alike. "Look at me." Dabi obeyed, meeting Adam’s intense gaze. "You wanted to see how it’s done?" Adam’s thumb traced Dabi’s lower lip, a cruel parody of tenderness. "How Dante gets broken down?" His voice dropped to a guttural rasp. "You’re gonna feel it."
Adam’s free hand went to his belt buckle. The metallic clink was obscenely loud in the quiet room. He didn’t rush, his movements deliberate, controlled. He freed his cock, already half-hard, thick and demanding. He slapped the heavy length against Dabi’s cheekbone, the impact sharp, stinging. "Open your fucking mouth."
The humiliation was instant, visceral. Dabi’s breath hitched. He hesitated, a fraction of a second, the ingrained defiance flaring. Adam’s grip on his jaw tightened painfully. "Don’t make me ask twice." The threat was implicit, thrilling. Dabi parted his lips.
Adam shoved forward, not with Sukuna’s brutal immediacy, but with relentless, controlled pressure. The thick head pushed past Dabi’s lips, forcing his jaw wide. Adam fed him inch after inch, watching Dabi’s eyes water, his throat work as he struggled to accommodate the intrusion. "That’s it," Adam murmured, a dark approval in his tone. He held himself deep for a moment, letting Dabi feel the stretch, the helplessness. "Take it. Deep." He pulled back slowly, almost entirely out, leaving Dabi gasping, spit slicking his chin. "Good boy."
The praise, unexpected amidst the degradation, hit Dabi like a physical blow. Heat flooded his face, his cock twitched violently in his jeans. Adam saw it. He smirked. "Yeah, you like that, don't you? Being a good boy for me?" He pushed back in, deeper this time, grinding against Dabi’s palate. "Taking my cock like you were fucking made for it." Adam’s hand tightened in Dabi’s hair, pulling his head forward onto his shaft. "Suck."
Dabi obeyed, hollowing his cheeks, tongue working instinctively. Adam set a punishing rhythm, fucking his mouth with measured, deep thrusts. "Fuck, look at you," Adam growled, his voice thick with arousal. "King of fucking cremation, brought to his knees." He pulled Dabi’s head forward harshly, burying himself to the hilt. Dabi gagged, tears springing to his eyes. Adam held him there for a long, suffocating moment before pulling back just enough for air. "Pathetic," he breathed, the word a hot caress against Dabi’s ear. "And so fucking perfect." His hand slid down, palming Dabi’s erection through his jeans, squeezing hard. "Such a good fucking boy."
Adam’s grip on Dabi’s hair tightened, forcing him deeper onto his cock. "Suck it properly," Adam snarled, grinding his hips forward until Dabi’s nose pressed against the coarse hair at his base. Dabi choked, gagging around the thick shaft, saliva dripping freely down his chin onto his ruined shirt. Adam’s other hand slid from Dabi’s jaw down to his throat, fingers pressing warningly against his windpipe. "You breathe when I say you breathe," Adam growled, his voice thick with lust. He pulled Dabi’s head back roughly, letting him gasp for air before slamming forward again, the head of his cock battering Dabi’s soft palate.
"Fuck," Dabi rasped, the word mangled around Adam’s girth. Tears blurred his vision, humiliation warring with the sickening heat coiling in his gut. Adam’s free hand abandoned his throat and ripped open Dabi’s jeans and boxers, yanking them down to his thighs with brutal efficiency. The cool air hit Dabi’s leaking cock. Adam’s calloused fingers wrapped around him, not gentle, just a hard, possessive squeeze that made Dabi buck and groan. "Pathetic," Adam breathed, stroking him with cruel precision, twisting his wrist on the upstroke. "Hard already? Just from sucking cock and being called a good boy?" He punctuated the insult with a sharp thrust into Dabi’s mouth.
Dabi whimpered, the sound muffled, his body betraying him utterly as Adam’s hand worked his erection. Adam suddenly pulled his cock free with a wet pop. "Stand the fuck up," he commanded, stepping back. Dabi scrambled clumsily to his feet, jeans and boxers tangled around his knees, cock jutting out, flushed and desperate. Adam shoved him backwards hard. Dabi hit the leather couch, sprawling. Before he could right himself, Adam was on him, kneeing Dabi’s legs wide apart. He grabbed the waistband of Dabi’s jeans and underwear, yanking them down and off his ankles, tossing them aside. Dabi lay exposed, vulnerable under the harsh overhead light, his pale skin stark against the dark leather, scars like twisted rivers across his torso and thighs. Adam’s gaze raked over him, lingering on the extensive scar tissue. "Christ, you’re a fucking mess," he stated flatly, no pity, just observation. He hooked his hands under Dabi’s knees, pushing them towards his chest, spreading him obscenely wide. "Stay."
Adam vanished from Dabi’s line of sight. The sound of a drawer opening, the clink of glass. He returned, a small bottle of clear lube glistening in his hand. He poured a generous amount onto his fingers, the sharp, clinical smell cutting through the musk. Dabi watched, heart hammering against his ribs, as Adam knelt between his splayed legs. He didn’t ask. He didn’t warn. Adam’s slick fingers pressed against Dabi’s tight hole, the cold lube making him flinch. "Easy," Adam murmured, not kindly, just an instruction. One thick finger breached him with relentless pressure. Dabi hissed, back arching off the leather, the burn intense, unfamiliar. Adam worked the finger slowly, twisting, scissoring slightly, his other hand pinning Dabi’s hip to the couch. "Breathe through it," Adam ordered, his gaze fixed on where his finger disappeared into Dabi’s body. He added a second finger without ceremony. Dabi cried out, a raw sound ripped from his throat, nails digging into the leather.
"Fuck! Adam—"
"Tight," Adam grunted, ignoring the protest, fingers crooking, probing deep. He found the spot. Dabi gasped, a shocked, strangled noise, pleasure detonating amidst the pain. "There it is," Adam smirked, rubbing firmly. He added a third finger, stretching him brutally fast, the burn white-hot. Dabi writhed, torn between pushing back onto those punishing fingers and trying to escape the overwhelming sensation. Adam leaned down, his breath hot on Dabi’s inner thigh. "This what you wanted? Huh? To feel how much it hurts to be taken?" His fingers thrust hard. "To be split open?" He twisted them. Dabi sobbed, tears escaping, cock dripping helplessly onto his stomach. "You think Dante likes it less? You think it’s easy for him?" Adam withdrew his fingers suddenly, leaving Dabi clenching around emptiness. He slicked his own cock, thick and rigid, glistening with lube and pre-come. The blunt, swollen head pressed hard against Dabi’s stretched, fluttering hole.
Adam’s eyes locked onto Dabi’s, burning with intent. "You take it," he commanded, voice low and guttural. "You take every fucking inch. Or you tap out." He didn’t wait for an answer. He pushed. The initial pressure was immense, a tearing, relentless invasion. Dabi screamed, a raw, animal sound, back bowing off the couch. Adam kept pushing, slow, inexorable, the thick shaft stretching Dabi impossibly wide. The pain was blinding, stealing his breath. Adam paused, buried halfway, watching the agony contort Dabi’s face, the tears streaming down his temples. "Breathe," Adam repeated, his own breath ragged, sweat beading on his forehead. He gripped Dabi’s hips, fingers digging into scar tissue. "Just breathe through it." Then he slammed the rest of the way home.
Dabi’s world dissolved into white-hot pressure and the brutal fullness. Adam bottomed out, hips flush against Dabi’s ass, balls tight against his skin. He held still for a moment, letting Dabi feel the sheer, unyielding girth impaling him. "Fuck," Adam groaned, head falling back. "Tighter than I fucking imagined." He pulled back slowly, almost completely out, the drag exquisite torture. Then he thrust back in, hard and deep. Dabi choked on a sob, the rhythm already merciless. Adam set a punishing pace, each thrust a deep, grinding piston aimed squarely at that vulnerable spot inside. The pain didn’t vanish; it fused with the pleasure, creating something jagged and overwhelming. Adam leaned forward, bracing one hand beside Dabi’s head, his other hand fisting in Dabi’s hair again. "Look at me," he demanded, fucking into him with deep, deliberate strokes. Dabi forced his tear-blurred eyes open. Adam’s face was a mask of fierce concentration, sweat dripping from his jaw onto Dabi’s chest. "This is it," Adam panted, his thrusts becoming harder, faster. "This is how you break him. You take. You dominate. You give him no choice." He slammed deep, grinding his hips. Dabi cried out, the pleasure spiking violently, his cock twitching, leaking copiously. "You make him feel owned." Adam’s hand slid down Dabi’s heaving chest, calloused fingers finding his throbbing erection, squeezing the base hard. "Not yet," he growled, denying release. "You come when I fuck it out of you." Adam’s hips snapped forward relentlessly, driving his cock impossibly deep, the wet slap of skin echoing in the small room. He lowered his head, teeth scraping the sensitive juncture of Dabi’s neck and shoulder. "My good fucking boy."