Chapter 97: 1 of the 7 Sins
The dungeon air hung thick and spent, heavy with the musk of exertion and release. Adam lay sprawled on the plush velvet divan, limbs trembling, skin slick with sweat and Sukuna’s essence. His throat felt raw, scraped from screaming Sukuna’s name as wave after brutal wave of orgasm had ripped through him. Sukuna himself stood nearby, a satisfied predator wiping his cock with a discarded silk scarf, his four eyes gleaming with dark amusement at Adam’s wrecked state. Across the room, Dabi was slumped against the cold stone wall, breathing ragged. Dante’s rough handling had left bruises blooming like storm clouds on his pale skin, his own release a sticky mess cooling on his stomach and thighs. Dante, still radiating a dangerous, barely-contained energy, was pulling his trousers back up over his hips, the leather creaking softly.
The relative silence, broken only by ragged breaths and the distant throb of the club’s bass, was shattered by a sharp, insistent rap-rap-rap on the heavy oak door.
Dante’s head snapped towards the sound, irritation flashing across his sharp features. He stalked to the door, movements fluid and predatory even now. He didn’t open it wide. Instead, he cracked it just enough to fit his face in the frame, blocking the view inside with his broad shoulders.
“You have a visitor, sir,” came the gruff voice of one of Dante’s guards from the dimly lit corridor beyond.
Dante’s crimson eyes narrowed slightly, then flicked past the guard. Recognition dawned, followed by a flicker of something else – wary respect, perhaps, or the ghost of old habits. Standing there, radiating an aura of effortless, ancient carnality that made the guard seem insignificant, was Asmodeous. Dante’s uncle. The Sin of Lust incarnate. His smile was a slow, knowing curve, predatory and indulgent, his gaze seeming to pierce the narrow gap in the door, drinking in the humid, sex-scented air that escaped.
“Seems you picked up some traits from me, huh?” Asmodeous’s voice was a rich purr, laced with amusement and a hint of pride. It resonated, carrying the weight of millennia of indulgence.
Dante chuckled, a low, rumbling sound devoid of genuine mirth but acknowledging the truth in the observation. “Maybe.” He didn’t elaborate. He simply closed the door firmly, the heavy thud echoing in the suddenly tense room. Adam whimpered softly, curling in on himself. Sukuna watched Dante with narrowed eyes, a silent question hanging in the air. Dabi just breathed, his gaze fixed dully on the floor.
Dante moved swiftly. He snatched his discarded shirt from a nearby hook but didn’t bother putting it on. He merely grabbed his tailored trousers, yanked them up properly, and fastened the buckle with a sharp click. He turned back towards the trio, his expression unreadable, the air crackling with his abrupt shift in focus.
“Behave yourselves,” he commanded, his voice low but carrying absolute authority. His gaze swept over Sukuna, lingered on Adam’s shuddering form, then flicked to Dabi’s bruised stillness. “I’ll be back.” It wasn’t a reassurance; it was a statement of fact, a promise of unfinished business.
Without another word, he pulled the heavy door open just wide enough to slip through, closing it firmly behind him. The solid thunk of the lock engaging echoed like a tomb sealing. The dungeon plunged back into near-silence, thick with the aftermath of violence and ecstasy, now underscored by the unsettling presence of the Sin of Lust just beyond the door.
Adam let out a shaky breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. The raw ache between his legs, the deep throb in his ass, the utter exhaustion – it all felt amplified by Dante’s abrupt departure and the implication of Asmodeous’s arrival. He felt exposed, vulnerable, the adrenaline crash leaving him trembling uncontrollably. He pulled his knees to his chest, burying his face against them, trying to hide the tears of overwhelm prickling his eyes.
Sukuna snorted, tossing the soiled silk scarf onto a nearby table. He stretched, the muscles in his arms and chest rippling. “Fucking interruptions,” he growled, his voice rough. He stalked towards the low table laden with decanters of dark liquor. He poured a generous measure of something amber and potent into a crystal tumbler, the liquid catching the flickering candlelight. He downed half in one gulp, his eyes scanning the room with predatory restlessness. They settled on Adam’s huddled form. “Quit your sniveling, brat. He’ll be back soon enough to finish what he started.” The promise, or threat, hung heavy.
Dabi hadn’t moved. He remained slumped against the wall, staring at the intricate patterns of veins in the dark stone floor. The sting of Dante’s fingers digging into his hips, the brutal pace, the sharp bite of teeth on his shoulder – it had been rough, bordering on punishment. Yet, a treacherous heat still simmered low in his belly, a residual echo of the forced pleasure. He hated it. Hated the weakness, hated the way his body still hummed with the aftershocks. He lifted a trembling hand, wiping at the cooling mess on his stomach with a grimace of disgust. His skin felt hypersensitive, every brush of air like a whisper against nerve endings stripped raw.
Outside, muffled voices filtered through the thick wood – Dante’s low, controlled tones and Asmodeous’s deeper, smoother purr. Impossible to make out words, but the cadence spoke of familiarity, of shared understanding, perhaps even appraisal. The air in the dungeon seemed to thicken further, charged with the unseen presence of primordial desire. The candles flickered wildly for a moment, casting grotesque, dancing shadows on the walls, as if the stone itself recoiled from the concentrated essence of Lust standing guard outside their temporary prison. The silence inside stretched, taut and expectant, filled only by the ragged symphony of their breathing and the distant, relentless pulse of the Inferno Club. Waiting.
The muffled voices outside the heavy oak door suddenly ceased. The quiet felt heavier than the bass thrumming through the club’s foundations. Then, the lock clicked sharply. The door groaned open just a crack, barely wider than before. Dante’s crimson eye, narrowed and intense, appeared in the sliver of dim light. His gaze swept past Sukuna’s predatory stillness and Dabi’s bruised exhaustion, landing squarely on Adam’s trembling form still curled on the divan. The sheer, raw power radiating from that single eye pinned Adam like a moth.
“Adam,” Dante’s voice cut through the thick air, low and absolute. He didn’t ask. He commanded. “Come here.”
Adam flinched, the sound jolting through his oversensitive nerves. Every muscle screamed in protest as he uncurled, his ass throbbing fiercely, his cock still half-hard and aching between his legs. He spotted his discarded pants tangled near Sukuna’s boots. Shoving himself up, ignoring the sharp twinge in his lower back, he stumbled over. He yanked the pants up his sticky thighs, wincing as the rough fabric scraped his abused skin, not bothering with the button or zip. He moved towards the door on shaky legs, the scent of sex and sweat clinging to him like a second skin. He slipped past Dante’s imposing frame into the cooler, marginally fresher air of the corridor.
Asmodeous stood a few feet back, leaning against the opposite stone wall with an air of languid, ancient power. His eyes, pools of molten gold, widened fractionally as they took in Adam’s disheveled state – the flushed skin, the messy hair, the unmistakable tremors running through him, the open pants revealing the base of his spent cock and the glistening mess between his legs. The Sin of Lust’s perfectly sculpted eyebrows shot up towards his hairline. A sharp, incredulous bark of laughter escaped him, echoing slightly in the passage.
“Oh, shut the fuck up!” Asmodeous breathed, his rich voice laced with pure, unadulterated shock. He looked from Adam’s wrecked form to Dante’s impassive face. “You? Fucking him?”
The unspoken history hung thick between them – centuries of knowing each other’s tastes, Dante’s perceived frigidity, Adam’s complicated past as a chaotic, destructive force now seemingly tamed. Both Dante and Adam understood the source of the shock perfectly. A faint, dangerous smirk touched Dante’s lips as he looked from his uncle back to Adam.
“If that’s shocking to you,” Dante said, his voice a low purr edged with dark amusement, “wait ‘til you hear who else is cooling down in there behind me.”
Asmodeous straightened up, his predatory gaze instantly sharpening, flicking to the barely open door. Curiosity warred with disbelief on his ageless face. “Fucking who?” he demanded, his voice dropping an octave, resonating with sudden, intense interest.
Adam, leaning weakly against the damp stone wall beside Dante, managed a ragged chuckle. He met Asmodeous’s burning golden eyes, a flicker of dark pride cutting through his exhaustion. “The King of Curses himself,” he rasped, a ghost of a smirk on his swollen lips. “Ryomen Sukuna.”
The effect was immediate. Asmodeous’s jaw literally dropped. His eyes, impossibly, widened further, the molten gold seeming to shimmer. For a moment, the ancient Sin looked utterly, uncharacteristically dumbfounded. The silence stretched, thick with the weight of the revelation. Slowly, deliberately, Asmodeous snapped his jaw shut. He looked at Dante, a slow, predatory grin spreading across his face, far more dangerous than his earlier amusement.
“We,” he stated, the single word loaded with centuries of implication, his gaze boring into Dante’s, “are definitely catching the fuck up later, Dante. Believe that.” It wasn’t a request; it was an edict carved in bone. His gaze flickered back towards the door, as if he could see Sukuna through the wood. Then, his focus snapped back to Dante. “Right now, though? You gonna tell him,” he jerked his chin towards Adam, “or am I?”
Dante shifted his weight, the movement fluid and controlled. He turned his head, his crimson eyes locking onto Adam’s. The earlier amusement vanished, replaced by cold, calculating intensity. The air crackled with a shift in purpose.
“Your old little lieutenant,” Dante stated, his voice flat, devoid of inflection. “The one with the fixation on celestial gateways? Lute. She’s apparently planning on swinging by Hell.” A beat, heavy and deliberate. “To pick up what your stupid ass was doing before you got yourself killed down there.”
Adam’s breath hitched. The exhaustion, the lingering pleasure-pain, instantly evaporated, replaced by a familiar, icy dread coiling in his gut. His knuckles whitened where he gripped the cold stone. He let out a slow, shaky exhale through his nose. “Well… shit,” he mumbled, the words thick. He pushed himself off the wall, squaring his shoulders despite the ache. He met Dante’s gaze head-on. “Can’t say that surprises me, honestly. Fucker always did have more ambition than sense.”
Dante didn’t blink. His voice dropped lower, colder, the sound of glaciers grinding. “You handle it…” he said, the pause infinitesimal but laden with the unspoken alternative, “…or I handle it.”
Adam knew the implication immediately. Dante’s ‘handling’ wouldn’t involve conversation. It would be scorched earth. Annihilation. Lute erased from existence, along with anyone unfortunate enough to stand near her. Adam swallowed hard, the ghost of his own past failures, his own fall from celestial grace, tightening his throat. This was his mess. His responsibility. His chance, perhaps, to prevent another catastrophic fuck-up. He straightened fully, the movement belying the deep ache in his muscles, a flicker of his old, dangerous resolve hardening his eyes.
“I got it,” Adam stated, his voice rough but firm, cutting through the sulfur-laden air. No hesitation. No plea. Just grim acceptance.
Adam’s grim acceptance hung like smoke in the corridor’s damp chill. Dante watched him, those crimson eyes dissecting the sudden tension coiling in Adam’s shoulders, the subtle shift from wrecked exhaustion to dangerous focus. The faint, satisfied curve vanished from Dante’s lips, replaced by cold calculation. He leaned in slightly, the scent of leather and spent violence clinging to him, his voice dropping to a gravel rasp that scraped against Adam’s raw nerves.
"Adam," Dante said, the name a deliberate pressure point. "I know you’ve got a soft spot in your heart for her." He paused, letting the implication of her – Lute, the zealous fool with stars in her eyes and a death wish – sink its claws in. "If she fuckin’ shows up in Hell—"
Adam cut him off, sharp and final, his own voice roughened by recent screams but utterly devoid of hesitation. "I know." He met Dante’s gaze, the old defiance, the First Man’s dangerous pride, momentarily eclipsing the aftershocks still trembling through his limbs. "I got it." The unspoken threat in Dante’s words hung between them: Handle her, or I erase her, and everything around her.
Asmodeous let out a low whistle, pure predatory amusement dancing in his molten gold eyes. "Trouble in paradise, little First Man? Or rather… trouble returning to paradise?" He chuckled, the sound rich and ancient. Dante shot him a warning glance, then jerked his chin towards the heavy door separating them from the others. "We’re done here. For now." He didn’t wait for Asmodeous’s reply, turning on his heel and pushing the dungeon door open wide enough to stride back inside, Adam stumbling slightly as he followed, the weight of the new burden settling heavy on his already aching bones.
The humid, sex-thick air of the dungeon hit Adam like a physical blow, instantly reigniting the deep, throbbing ache in his ass and the sensitive sting across his skin. Sukuna hadn’t moved from the low table, the crystal tumbler of amber liquor halfway to his lips. His four eyes tracked Adam’s re-entry with lazy, predatory interest, noting the fresh tension in his frame, the subtle shift from broken submission to something sharper, more volatile. Dabi remained a bruised shadow against the wall, but his dull gaze flickered towards Adam, a spark of morbid curiosity briefly cutting through his own haze of pain and unwanted residual arousal.
Sukuna set the tumbler down with a sharp clink. "Enjoy the family reunion?" he drawled, his voice a low rumble vibrating through the heavy air. "Looked like daddy dearest had some fascinating news." His gaze slid past Adam to Dante, who was already moving towards the plush divan Adam had vacated, his movements radiating impatience.
Dante ignored Sukuna’s probing. He dropped onto the divan with predatory grace, the worn velvet groaning softly. He stretched his long legs out, crossing them at the ankles, the picture of indolent control that barely masked the dangerous energy simmering beneath. His crimson eyes locked onto Adam, who stood awkwardly near the door, his loose pants barely clinging to his hips, his skin still flushed and sticky. "Don't just stand there leaking, Adam," Dante commanded, his voice deceptively smooth. "Clean yourself up." He gestured dismissively towards a discarded wet towel near the wash basin.
The casual cruelty, the reminder of his current state, sent a fresh wave of humiliation prickling over Adam’s skin, warring with the lingering echoes of forced ecstasy Sukuna had wrung from him. He shuffled towards the basin, movements stiff, every step a reminder of Sukuna’s brutal claiming. He picked up the damp, cool cloth, its rough texture scraping against his oversensitive skin as he wiped clumsily at the drying come streaking his inner thighs and belly. Sukuna watched, a dark smile playing on his lips, enjoying the visible discomfort.
"Seems the angel has more pressing concerns than his well-fucked ass," Sukuna observed, his gaze intense on Adam’s trembling hands. "Something tasty on the horizon? Something that makes the First Man forget how hard he screamed my name not an hour past?"
Dante’s gaze remained fixed on Adam, but a muscle ticked in his jaw. "Business," he stated flatly. "Celestial business. Adam’s problem." He shifted his focus then, the predatory intensity landing on Dabi’s slumped form. "Yours, however," Dante purred, the sound laced with renewed menace, "is right here."
Dabi flinched, a full-body shudder wracking his bruised frame. He tried to push himself further back against the unyielding stone, but there was nowhere to go. The air crackled. Dante unfolded himself from the divan with lethal grace, stalking towards Dabi like a panther closing in on wounded prey. The promise of unfinished business hung thick and suffocating.
Sukuna’s low chuckle cut through the tension. "Leave the crispy fucker alone for a minute, Prince," he growled, pushing himself off the table. His movements were pure, contained violence. "You interrupted my fun." His four eyes burned into Adam, who froze mid-wipe, the damp cloth clutched uselessly in his hand. Sukuna closed the distance in two strides, the heat radiating off his immense form making Adam’s skin prickle anew. "You think you’re done, brat? Think just because Daddy came calling, you get to stop being my fucktoy?"
Adam’s breath hitched. The cold dread about Lute collided violently with the immediate, terrifying presence of Sukuna. "N-no," he stammered, the defiance from moments ago crumbling under Sukuna’s focused hunger. He instinctively took a step back, his bare heel hitting the cold stone wall. Trapped.
Sukuna grinned, a feral flash of teeth. "Good." One massive hand shot out, fingers like iron bands closing around Adam’s throat, not choking, but controlling, forcing his head back against the damp stone. Adam gasped, his hands flying up instinctively to claw at Sukuna’s wrist, but it was futile. Sukuna used his grip to shove Adam’s loose pants down past his hips with his other hand, the fabric pooling around his ankles. Adam’s spent cock, half-hard again with terrified adrenaline, bobbed pathetically. Sukuna leaned in, his breath hot and smelling of expensive liquor against Adam’s ear. "You screamed so pretty before," he murmured, the sound vibrating through Adam’s skull. "Let’s see if you remember the tune."
He didn’t wait. Didn’t prepare. Sukuna’s thick, monstrous cock was already hard again, slick with his own pre-come and the remnants of Adam’s earlier release. He spat roughly onto his palm, gave his cock two brutal strokes, smearing the spit, then positioned the swollen, purpled head against Adam’s abused, loose hole. Adam whimpered, a high, desperate sound, his body instinctively clenching tight, muscles protesting violently. "P-please, not agai—"
Sukuna slammed forward. A ragged scream tore from Adam’s throat, raw and agonized, as the impossible girth forced its way past the torn, sensitive ring of muscle. There was no easing in, no mercy. Sukuna sheathed himself to the hilt in one devastating thrust, the brutal invasion punching the air from Adam’s lungs. His vision whited out, pure, searing agony radiating from his core, tearing another broken scream from him. "SUKUNA!" The name was ripped from him, a plea and a curse tangled together.
Sukuna growled, a deep rumble of pure satisfaction vibrating against Adam’s back where he’d pinned him chest-first against the wall. "That’s it, brat," he snarled, teeth grazing Adam’s sweat-slicked shoulder. "Scream it." He pulled back, dragging his impossibly thick cock almost all the way out, stretching Adam obscenely, the drag against tender, inflamed flesh excruciating. Adam sobbed, tears blurring his vision, his fingers scrabbling uselessly against the rough stone. Then Sukuna hammered back in, harder, deeper, the brutal impact jolting Adam’s entire body, forcing another choked scream past his constricted throat. "LOUDER!" Sukuna commanded, setting a punishing, jackhammer rhythm.
Each thrust was a world-ending collision. Sukuna’s hips pistoned relentlessly, pounding Adam’s ass with savage force, the wet, obscene slap of flesh on flesh echoing off the stone walls, punctuated by Adam’s broken cries and Sukuna’s guttural growls. The Curse King held Adam immobile, one hand still a vise on his throat, the other clamped on his hip, fingers digging deep into bruised flesh, using him as nothing more than a living sheath. Adam’s cock, trapped between his belly and the cold wall, throbbed painfully, caught between agony and the sickening friction. "Sukuna! Fuck! PLEASE!" Adam babbled, the words shattered by the force of the assault, tears and snot streaking his face. "Hurts! Too... too much!" He tried to twist, to escape the relentless battering, but Sukuna’s grip was absolute.
"Take it, you fucking celestial slut!" Sukuna roared, his breath hot and ragged against Adam’s neck. He shifted his angle minutely, grinding deep on the inward thrust, the swollen head of his cock striking something inside Adam that detonated a fresh wave of white-hot pain mixed with a sickening jolt of electric pleasure. Adam’s scream hitched, turning into a strangled wail. His cock jerked violently, spitting a pathetic string of pre-come against the stone wall. "You love it!" Sukuna snarled, pistoning harder, faster, the brutal pace making Adam’s vision blur. "Love getting split open on my cock! SCREAM FOR IT!"
Adam’s body was betraying him utterly. The agony was immense, a raw, tearing fire in his guts, his ass stretched beyond belief. Yet, with each brutal thrust that hammered that brutal spot inside him, a coil of unwanted, degrading pleasure wound tighter and tighter in his belly, sparking alongside the pain. He was trembling violently, held upright only by Sukuna’s crushing grip. "S-Sukuna!" he screamed again, the name ripped from him, high and desperate, no longer knowing if it was a plea to stop or a surrender to the violent ecstasy being forced upon him. His cock was rigid now, leaking steadily, the tip an angry red. "I... I can't—!"
"You fucking will!" Sukuna roared. He slammed in deep, buried to the hilt, grinding brutally, his hips circling. He released Adam’s throat, his hand instead fisting roughly in Adam’s hair, yanking his head back at a painful angle. The sudden shift, the grinding pressure deep inside, the sharp sting on his scalp – it was the detonator. The coil snapped. Adam’s back arched violently against Sukuna’s immense frame as an orgasm tore through him, raw and shattering, ripped from him not by pleasure but by overwhelming sensation and brutal dominance. He screamed, a sound utterly broken and raw, as his cock jerked uncontrollably, spilling hot stripes of come across the dungeon wall in weak, pulsing jets, untouched.
Sukuna laughed, a sound of dark triumph, feeling Adam’s ass clamp down in convulsive, involuntary spasms around his buried cock. "Pathetic," he sneered, tightening his grip in Adam’s hair, holding him impaled and shuddering through the degrading climax. "Fucking comes untouched like a bitch in heat just from getting properly fucked." He began moving again, slow, deliberate thrusts now, dragging his cock through the clenching, overstimulated passage, prolonging Adam’s agony and humiliation. Adam whimpered, his body twitching with oversensitivity, tears streaming freely, utterly wrecked. Sukuna leaned close, his lips brushing Adam’s ear. "Remember this," he breathed, each word a hot brand. "Remember who owns this fucking hole, Angel. Now..." His thrusts began to build again, harder, deeper. "...let's see if I can make you do it again."