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Dante’s hands clenched over his chest, shivering as the massager inside him sent continuous waves of pleasure through his body. He squirmed in the silk sheets, trying to get a better angle even as his hard cock was bound in a ring, no release in sight. His thighs quivered as he twitched, metal links chiming as they were pulled taut. He huffed through the gag in his mouth, struggling to stay still lest he cut off his own airways again.
Silver bangles adorned his wrists and ankles, pulsing in a soft red glow as they restrained his energy. The ones around his ankles were chained to the posts at the end of the bed, while his wrists were chained to a choke collar that held yet another chain leading to the head of the bed. They granted him a mockingly small amount of movement.
He glared at the dark ceiling above. While there wasn’t much he could do about all the restraints, he had pulled off the blindfold- just some simple silk. Maybe he’d regret it later, but he didn’t care very much if it would get Sparda to finally do something when he came back. Thankfully, he didn’t have to wait long as the door to the chamber opened. And there he was, his father, the smug asshole.
Sparda took his time shrugging out of his coat while appraising Dante like a cut of meat, seemingly amused by the silent glare he was getting. He walked up to the bed, clicking his tongue as he nodded at the discarded blindfold.
“I believe I told you to leave that on,” he chided even though he was smiling, unreadable.
Dante growled through the gag and gave him a jazz hands gesture. His father simply laughed with a hint of a dark tone that made Dante’s heart skip. With gentle hands, Sparda untied the gag.
“How are you, son?” he asked as he sat on the edge of the bed, as if about to engage in casual conversation. Dante snorted. Ever since finding out their relation, his father seemed particularly entertained with emphasizing it.
“Just fine, daddy,” he replied in a sarcastic tone.
Though he meant it to be a snarky comment, he caught the slight edge in Sparda eyes, the gentle curl of his lips in a small smirk, and the way he eyed Dante like a prized jewel. Heat flared through Dante’s veins and he suppressed a shudder of delight and apprehension. He could swear the massager’s vibrations were increasing in intensity.
“Not too bored yet?” Sparda asked as he reached out to touch one of the anklets.
“About to be.” Dante kept his voice steady while a hand slid around his right ankle to raise his leg as much as the chain allowed. “Any reason why I’m locked in here?”
Sparda moved between his legs, observing his plugged entrance. “Because I feel like it,” he answered in a matter of fact tone.
“Figures-” Dante’s breath hitched as Sparda grabbed his other leg and tugged him a few inches down the bed, collar tightening just enough for him to feel the threat. He gasped at the feeling of the toy pulled out and replaced by a cock pressing into him unceremoniously.
“Problem?” Sparda prompted.
“Not like I can do much- ah!” Dante moaned and bit his lip as Sparda began thrusting into him at a near mechanical pace. The sudden stimulation was a jolting contrast to his past few hours of passive torture. In reflex, he tried reaching for Sparda, but only succeeded in pulling the chain to the collar and choking himself. His father gave him a toothy grin.
“If you’re so bored, I can think of-” Sparda was cut off by a single knock on the door followed by it immediately swinging open by Quintus Silvergale.
“Oh,” he said, hardly surprised as he walked in. “Afternoon fuck already?”
Dante bit back a whine, resisting the urge to turn his head away. Sparda smiled wryly and didn’t cease his thrusts. “Can I help you, Quin?”
“No. I might help you, though,” the demon replied as he sat down in a nearby armchair. “Did you get the briefing?”
“What briefing?”
“Today’s meeting. You did miss it! Amazing.”
Dante bit his lip as the two carried on their conversation as if Sparda wasn’t fucking him. It stung his pride more than he expected that his father’s full attention wasn’t on him. He clenched down purposefully, moaning out loud. Sparda’s gaze flickered over him briefly. His claws pinched Dante’s legs and he gave one sharp thrust, making him flinch, and then stopped entirely. Dante grit his teeth, breathing heavily. The abrupt stop drew a low whine from him.
“I didn’t think it would be important,” Sparda said.
He held Dante’s thighs firmly. Dante clenched and tried to move in his grip, but Sparda wouldn’t move an inch. A shudder ran through his spine as he was forced to be made a cockwarmer. The feeling of his father’s hard member inside and unmoving was slowly driving him insane.
“My goodness! The golden boy, our Dark Knight, is slipping,” Quin said dramatically as he draped himself over the back of the chair.
“Just tell me what it was about.” Sparda shifted his weight, a small movement just enough to grind into Dante’s prostate. He cried out and tried to get more, but Sparda gripped his hips sharply.
“Some potential dissent in some other domains,” Quin said waving his hand.
“You don’t sound very sure.”
“I wasn’t really paying attention.”
“Pft, why did you even attend the meeting?”
Dante continued to squirm and moan, trying to get Sparda to do anything. The chains to his ankles rattled as he tried and failed to close his legs around Sparda’s waist. His inner walls were throbbing with the need for stimulation. Precum dripped onto his belly as he panted. He bit his lip and ceased his struggles for a moment.
“Anyway we might be requested on an expedition. Or not,” Quin said.
“You are being entirely unhelpful right now,” Sparda sighed with a shake of his head.
“I’m sure there will be clearer orders distributed if needed.”
“I see. Anything else?” As Sparda spoke, he rolled his hips once. Dante twitched and moaned, arching into the small mercy. He bit back a growl when Sparda stopped moving again.
“Not much. Some reports from others.”
As Quin went into details, Sparda listened and gave a few remarks. Dante tossed his head to the side as he received a small thrust. This time he held back his sounds. A few seconds later, Sparda grinded into him. Sparks of pleasure ran through him. So, his father wanted him to be a quiet doll.
The conversation above him was totally lost as Dante struggled against his sensitive nerves. He shuddered, heat burning up under his skin as Sparda rocked into him gently, slow and steady. Dante breathed harshly, nearly biting through his lip as he stifled his moans and cries. His entrance fluttered involuntarily as Sparda began thrusting in small movements. Even the slightest stimulation was putting him on edge. He needed more. But the more Sparda fucked him, the harder it was to hold back.
A particularly sharp thrust pulled a yelp from him, back arching, collar cutting him off. And his father stopped again. Dante wanted to cry out in frustration as he writhed quietly, his cock and entrance twitching. And then he lay still, panting heavily until he was granted the smallest movements again.
“Doesn’t sound like any change for us any time soon,” Sparda said, his tone infuriatingly even while Dante was losing his damn mind.
“At this point, no,” Quin agreed. “Boring, but at least a bit of leisure time.”
Dante’s hands twisted in the chains, desperate for anything to hold onto. He let out a low whimper as Sparda grabbed his wrists and pulled him into his thrusts. The collar tightened as a result, making him gasp for breath and choke on stuttered moans.
“Time that can be used wisely.”
Quin smirked. “Time to play with your toys,” he drawled.
Sparda chuckled and picked up his pace, making Dante arch and scream as his father’s cock slammed into his prostate. Dante’s eyes stung with unshed tears, nearly sobbing as he tried to meet Sparda’s thrusts. He was so close at this point, but the cockring denied him climax.
“Would you like your other son and grandson as well?” Quin offered.
“No, let them rest. This one deserves a little more attention.”
“Alright. Have fun!” Quin stood up, gave a little wave, and left the room.
The moment the door clicked shut, Dante moaned. “Please, please, please .”
His father rocked into him, deep and slow. “Yes? Sweet little son of mine.”
“Fuck me, please.”
Chuckling, Sparda squeezed his hips. “Should I? You haven’t been very obedient.”
Dante bit his lip, stuck between wanting to beg and unwilling to give in. A whine escaped him as Sparda pulled out completely. “N-No, please. I’ll be good,” he moaned hoarsely, cheeks burning. His suddenly empty entrance twitched, needing to be filled.
“Hm, we’ll see,” Sparda whispered darkly.