Chapter 84: Cursed Submission
The heavy oak door slammed shut behind Sukuna, the sound echoing through the cavernous bedroom like a gunshot. Dante, sprawled decadently across the velvet chaise near the eternally crackling fireplace, didn’t even flinch. He merely lifted his gaze, a slow, predatory smile spreading across his face as he took in the figure silhouetted against the dancing firelight. Sukuna looked exactly as he had centuries ago – the sharp planes of his face, the unsettlingly intense eyes, the powerful build barely contained within simple, dark clothes. The scent of ozone and something ancient, something wild, flooded the room, momentarily overpowering the usual aromas of aged leather and woodsmoke.
"Took you long enough," Dante drawled, his Detroit accent thick with amusement. He stretched languidly, the muscles in his bare torso rippling beneath intricate ink, the firelight catching the silver hoops in his ears and the gleam of piercings along his collarbone. "Was starting to think you'd found someone else to torment."
Sukuna didn't answer immediately. He prowled forward, his movements silent on the thick Persian rugs. His eyes, dark and fathomless, raked over Dante with an unnerving intensity. "Torment implies displeasure," he finally said, his voice a low rumble that vibrated in Dante's bones. "We both know you crave it." He stopped directly before Dante, looking down at him. "Like a moth craves the flame it knows will burn it."
Dante chuckled, a low, rich sound. "Maybe I just like playing with fire." He reached out, intending to trace the line of Sukuna’s jaw, to pull him down.
Faster than thought, Sukuna moved. His hand shot out, not to Dante’s face, but to his wrists. Dark, shimmering tendrils of cursed energy erupted from Sukuna’s fingertips, coiling around Dante’s forearms like living chains forged from pure malice. The energy crackled, cold and biting against Dante’s infernal heat, binding his wrists together with impossible strength. Dante gasped, a sharp intake of breath more from surprise than pain – the cursed energy felt like ice water poured onto molten rock, a shocking counterpoint to his own nature.
With a powerful, effortless yank, Sukuna hauled Dante off the chaise. Dante stumbled, momentarily off-balance, before Sukuna shoved him hard. Dante landed heavily on his knees at the foot of the massive four-poster bed, the plush rug doing little to cushion the impact. The cursed energy bonds pulled taut, forcing his arms behind his back, arching his spine slightly. He glared up, defiance flashing in his hellfire eyes, but beneath it, a familiar, dangerous heat was already igniting.
Sukuna stood over him, a dark god surveying his offering. A slow, predatory smirk curved his lips as he deliberately unfastened his trousers. He freed his cock – thick, already half-hard, and flushed a deep, angry red. He wrapped his fingers around the base, giving himself a slow, deliberate stroke. The sight, combined with the helpless position and the biting cold of the cursed bonds, sent a jolt of pure, unadulterated lust straight through Dante. His own cock, thick and heavy, sprang fully erect, bobbing untouched between his spread thighs. Pre-cum beaded at the slit, glistening obscenely in the firelight.
"Look at you," Sukuna murmured, his voice thick with dark amusement. He continued the slow, maddening stroke, his thumb swirling over the swollen head, smearing the wetness leaking there. His eyes were locked on Dante’s face, watching the play of emotions – the flicker of annoyance, the deepening flush on Dante’s high cheekbones, the way his lips parted slightly as his breath hitched. "King of Hell himself, brought to his knees. Bound. Needy." Another slow stroke, the sound slick and filthy in the tense silence. Sukuna’s gaze dropped deliberately to Dante’s straining erection, untouched and weeping. "Pathetic."
Dante growled, low in his throat, a sound more animal than human. He strained against the cursed bonds, the dark energy flaring brighter, biting deeper into his wrists. It was useless. Sukuna’s cursed technique was absolute. The struggle only served to emphasize his helplessness, his utter vulnerability. The cool air of the room kissed his leaking cockhead, a torturous contrast to the furnace burning inside him. Every muscle in his thighs and abdomen tensed, aching for friction, for pressure, for anything.
Sukuna chuckled, a dark, rumbling sound. He took a step closer, his thick cock now fully erect, jutting proudly inches from Dante’s face. The musky, primal scent of him filled Dante’s nostrils, overwhelming the sulfur and smoke. Sukuna used his free hand to grasp Dante’s jaw, forcing his head up, forcing him to look directly at the rigid flesh before him. Dante’s molten veins pulsed visibly beneath his skin, tracing fiery paths across his chest and neck, a testament to the inferno Sukuna was stoking.
"Beg for it, Morningstar," Sukuna commanded, his voice dropping to a guttural whisper laden with cruel promise. His thumb stroked Dante’s lower lip, a mockery of tenderness. His other hand never stopped its slow, deliberate torture on his own cock. "Beg me to let you taste it. Beg me to fuck that insolent mouth shut. Beg me for the mercy of my cock filling that tight, desperate hole you’re clenching right now." He leaned down slightly, his breath hot against Dante’s ear. "Beg like the needy little slut you are."
The words, filthy and degrading, hit Dante like a physical blow. Yet, instead of fury, a shuddering wave of pure, unadulterated want crashed through him. The denial, the helplessness, the raw display of Sukuna’s dominance – it stripped away centuries of practiced control, reducing him to primal need. His cock throbbed violently, another thick bead of pre-cum spilling onto the rug beneath him. The defiance in his eyes fractured, replaced by a desperate, hungry gleam. He licked his lips, tasting Sukuna’s thumb, tasting his own desperation.
"Fuck," Dante breathed, the word ragged, torn from him. His gaze was locked on Sukuna’s cock, so close he could feel the heat radiating from it. The slow slide of Sukuna’s fist was hypnotic, agonizing. He swallowed hard, the sound loud in the stillness. "Sukuna..."
"Louder," Sukuna demanded, tightening his grip on Dante’s jaw. His own stroke quickened fractionally, a bead of precum welling at his tip and dripping onto Dante’s bare thigh. The hot splash made Dante flinch, a whimper escaping his clenched teeth.
"Please," Dante gasped, the word foreign and thick on his tongue. He hated begging. He loved it. The surrender was its own exquisite torture. "Sukuna... please..."
"Please what?" Sukuna’s voice was a whip crack. He stopped stroking himself entirely, leaving his cock jutting, flushed and demanding, inches from Dante’s mouth. The sudden absence of movement was its own torment. "Use your fucking words, Morningstar. Tell me what you want."
Dante’s chest heaved. The cursed bonds dug deeper. The ache in his groin was a white-hot brand. He felt stripped bare, reduced to pure, desperate need. He met Sukuna’s dark, triumphant gaze. The words spilled out, raw and obscene, fueled by centuries of pent-up desire and the exquisite agony of submission.
"Please... fuck my mouth," Dante rasped, his voice rough with lust. "Shove that thick fucking cock down my throat. Make me choke on it. Use me." He strained forward against Sukuna’s grip, his eyes blazing with infernal hunger. "Please, Sukuna... I need it... I need your fucking cock... Now."
A feral grin split Sukuna’s face. "Good boy." He didn't hesitate. His hand fisted in Dante's dark hair, yanking his head forward brutally. Dante gasped, his mouth forced wide open just as Sukuna thrust his thick, angry-red cock deep down his throat. The sudden invasion choked Dante, his eyes watering instantly, gagging violently around the thick shaft filling him. Sukuna groaned, a deep, satisfied sound vibrating through Dante's skull. "Fuck, that tight throat... just like I remembered." He pulled back slightly, letting Dante gasp for air, spit and pre-cum slicking his lips and chin, before slamming forward again, deeper this time, hitting the back of Dante's throat with punishing force.
Dante’s body convulsed, his bound wrists straining uselessly against the biting cold of the cursed energy bonds. His cock throbbed painfully, untouched, weeping onto the rug beneath his knees. Air was a luxury Sukuna denied him, fucking his throat with relentless, brutal strokes. Each thrust stretched Dante’s jaw wide, the salty-bitter taste of Sukuna flooding his senses, the thick vein along the underside rubbing roughly against his palate. Tears streamed freely down Dante’s cheeks, mingling with spit and precum, his choked gags and desperate attempts to breathe the only sounds besides Sukuna’s harsh grunts and the slick, obscene rhythm of flesh pounding into throat.
"Take it," Sukuna growled, his hips pistoning, driving his cock impossibly deep with each thrust. He watched Dante’s face, the tears, the flushed skin, the utter submission, with dark, possessive hunger. "Swallow it, Morningstar. Every fucking inch." He held Dante’s head firmly impaled, grinding his hips against Dante’s face, balls slapping his chin, forcing him to feel the entire, monstrous length buried in his gullet. Dante’s vision blurred, his lungs screamed, but the infernal heat within him roared louder, a perverse pleasure coiling tight in his gut alongside the suffocating agony. He managed a weak swallow around the invading flesh, the muscles of his throat fluttering desperately.
Sukuna roared, a sound ripped from deep within his chest. His thrusts became erratic, frantic, slamming into Dante’s throat with bruising force. He held Dante’s head locked in place, grinding deep as his cock pulsed violently, thick jets of hot cum flooding Dante’s throat. Dante gagged violently, trying to swallow, choking as the salty, viscous fluid overwhelmed him, spilling from his nostrils and the corners of his mouth. Sukuna shuddered, emptying himself completely down Dante’s convulsing throat, his grip on Dante’s hair tightening almost painfully as he rode out the intense climax.
Finally, Sukuna pulled out with a wet, sucking pop. Dante collapsed forward onto his hands and knees, coughing violently, strings of thick cum and spit dangling from his lips, gasping in huge, ragged lungfuls of air. His throat felt raw, bruised, utterly violated. Sukuna stood over him, breathing heavily, his cock still slick and glistening, watching Dante struggle to recover. The cursed energy bonds still held Dante’s wrists firmly behind his back, a cold reminder of his helplessness. Dante spat onto the rug, trying to clear the taste of Sukuna from his mouth, his body trembling with aftershocks and unresolved need.
Sukuna crouched down. His fingers, surprisingly gentle now, brushed the tears and mess from Dante’s cheeks. The dark amusement was gone, replaced by an intensity Dante hadn't seen in centuries. Without a word, Sukuna raised a hand. The shimmering black tendrils of cursed energy binding Dante’s wrists dissolved instantly, vanishing like smoke. The sudden release made Dante gasp again, his arms falling limply to his sides, the cold bite replaced by a dull ache. Sukuna didn’t pause. He slid powerful arms beneath Dante’s trembling body – one under his knees, the other supporting his back – and lifted him effortlessly off the floor.
Dante was too spent, too raw, to protest. He let his head loll against Sukuna’s shoulder, the scent of ozone, sweat, sex, and something uniquely Sukuna filling his nostrils. Sukuna carried him the few steps to the massive four-poster bed, the velvet drapes casting deep shadows. He laid Dante down gently on the cool, impossibly soft silk sheets, the contrast sharp against Dante’s overheated skin. Sukuna climbed in beside him, his movements deliberate, almost careful.
He pulled Dante close, turning him so Dante’s back was pressed flush against Sukuna’s chest. Sukuna’s arm slid around Dante’s waist, holding him firmly, possessively, but without the earlier brutality. His other hand came up, fingers carding slowly, almost tenderly, through Dante’s sweat-dampened hair. Sukuna buried his face in the crook of Dante’s neck, inhaling deeply. The only sounds were the crackle of the eternal fire in the hearth and their mingled, slowing breaths. The heat radiating from Sukuna’s body seeped into Dante’s bones, a different kind of warmth than his own infernal fire – comforting, anchoring. Dante closed his eyes, the tension leaching from his muscles, replaced by a profound, unexpected exhaustion. Sukuna’s thumb traced idle patterns on Dante’s hipbone, the touch feather-light, a silent promise in the flickering shadows.
Sukuna’s thumb traced idle patterns on Dante’s hipbone, the touch feather-light, a silent promise in the flickering shadows. Dante’s breathing had deepened, the frantic pulse of his infernal blood finally settling into a slower, exhausted rhythm against Sukuna’s chest. The raw ache in his throat, the lingering sting of the cursed bonds on his wrists, the profound emptiness after brutal fullness – it all blurred into a heavy, welcome numbness pulling him under. Sukuna’s solid warmth, the possessive arm anchoring him, felt like the only real thing left in the vast, opulent room. The fire crackled, a low, hypnotic counterpoint to Sukuna’s steady heartbeat against Dante’s back. Dante surrendered, eyelids fluttering shut, sinking into the deceptive safety of oblivion wrapped in Sukuna’s scent of ozone and sex.
A jolt ripped through Dante like a lightning strike grounding in his spine. He gasped, a strangled, panicked sound tearing from his abused throat, his body arching violently off the mattress as if electrocuted. His eyes flew open, wide and unseeing, pure, terrifying white orbs devoid of iris or pupil, glowing faintly in the dim firelight. Sukuna reacted instantly, tightening his grip, pulling Dante back against him. "Dante! Easy! It's me! You're safe!" Sukuna’s voice was low, urgent, trying to pierce the sudden, suffocating terror radiating off Dante’s rigid form. His hand moved from Dante’s hip to his chest, pressing firmly over the frantic hammering of his heart.
Dante twisted in Sukuna’s arms, his movements jerky, unnatural. He looked directly at Sukuna, those horrifying white eyes locking onto his face. Then, like ink bleeding into water, the white dissolved, replaced by a deep, swirling, unnatural violet. Recognition flickered, but it was distant, fractured. Dante’s lips parted, forming a single, breathless whisper that carried the chill of the grave: "Balial." The name hung in the air, thick and poisonous. Sukuna’s blood froze. Fuck. A summoning spell. Strong. Fast. Before Sukuna could react, shout a counter-charm, tighten his hold, Dante’s form shimmered violently, like heat haze over asphalt. One second he was solid, trembling against Sukuna; the next, he was gone. Vanished. Utterly. Only the indentation on the silk sheets and the lingering scent of sulfur and sex remained.
The sudden, absolute emptiness beside him hit Sukuna like a physical blow. A cold, sharp panic, alien and unwelcome, sliced through him. Balial. The name echoed in the sudden silence, louder than the crackling fire. Sukuna surged from the bed, the luxurious sheets tangling around his legs for a split second before he kicked free. He moved with lethal speed, bare feet silent on the thick rugs, bursting out of Dante’s bedroom door into the mansion’s shadowed hallway. "ADAM!" Sukuna’s roar shattered the quiet, raw with urgency, bouncing off the high ceilings and ancient tapestries. "GET THE FUCK OUT HERE! NOW!"
A door further down the hall slammed open. Adam stumbled out, rubbing sleep from his eyes, his usual sardonic expression replaced by bleary confusion. Dabi appeared right behind him, shirtless, hair tousled, eyes sharp and instantly alert, scanning the hallway for the source of the alarm. "What the fuck, Sukuna?" Adam demanded, his voice rough with sleep but edged with concern. "What’s the goddamn problem? It’s the middle of the fucking night!"
Sukuna stood rigid in the hallway, the flickering light from Dante’s room casting long, jagged shadows behind him. His face was a mask of controlled fury and chilling dread. "Someone just hit Dante with a summoning spell," he stated, the words clipped, brutal. "Pulled him right out of his fucking bed while I was holding him. He’s gone. Vanished." Adam’s face went slack, all color draining away. The sleepy confusion vanished, replaced by pure, unadulterated horror. Dabi stiffened, his gaze darting between Sukuna’s grim expression and Adam’s sudden pallor.
Sukuna’s eyes, dark and dangerous, locked onto Adam’s. "He whispered a name right before he blinked out." He paused, letting the awful weight of it settle. "‘Balial’." Adam froze completely. It was as if the word had turned him to stone. His breath hitched audibly. Dabi frowned, the name meaning nothing to him, but the reaction of the two ancient beings spoke volumes. "Who?" Dabi asked, his voice tight. "Who the fuck is Balial?"
Sukuna turned his head slowly, pinning Dabi with a look that could flay skin. "The fucker who murdered Dante’s children," Sukuna said, each word dropping like a stone. "Who slaughtered his first love right in front of him." He took a step closer, the air crackling with suppressed violence. "The reason Dante’s Inferno exists – not the fucking club. The real Inferno. The Pit." He jabbed a finger towards the floor, as if indicating the depths below. "And Balial? He was its very first fucking guest." A bitter, mirthless twist touched Sukuna’s lips. "Dante’s own brother."
Adam finally found his voice, though it was thin, strained. "This... this isn't good." The understatement hung pathetically in the charged air. Sukuna snorted, a harsh, dismissive sound. He looked from Adam’s terrified face to Dabi’s dawning comprehension, his own expression grimly furious. "No shit," Sukuna shot back, the words dripping with icy contempt. He scanned the empty hallway, then the spot where Dante had vanished, his fists clenching at his sides. The hunt was on.