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Amaimon wants to play. And he won't take no for an answer... WIP. May magically update from time to time. Amaimon/Rin. Yaoi, DubCon, incest, Sensation play, ShiroPhisto hints. No idea where this is meant to be in canon. Don't like, don't read. (Apologies if slight ooc, been ages since read manga) ---------- Amaimon is not…a gentle lover, even for a demon. His brothers, of pure and mixed blood know this, know the temper of the King of Earth, and know how much he hates to lose, and love is no different a battlefield from any game. He chooses his opponents carefully, enjoys every game, every conquest. And there is one who he enjoys the game of lovemaking with more than any other. Here. Here he is. He stalks. He hunts, planning out opening gambits, hands, ways to begin this game. He skips across rooftops, He moves silent into the room, sinuous, slow. Ah. His prize. He hovers, attentive, spectral over Rin’s bed, impossibly, perfectly balanced on the chair. His shadow falls across the young man’s form, across his crumpled clothes, which now lie scattered on the floor, dumped from the chair haphazardly. Rin sleeps soundly, curled up, with only his messy dark hair sticking out above the plain white sheets. A deep sleeper, a sweet sleeper. It…almost seems unfair to wake him, and thus, for the moment, Amaimon is content to watch him sleep, the lollipop in his mouth the only movement in that still, cold room. The candy is sweet, a little sickly in fact- a present from his dear brother, who no doubt prowled the grounds in the form of that faintly ridiculous, but oddly endearing little dog. Ah well…at least he and Rin wouldn’t be disturbed. But, something’s missing. But what, he thinks, those dark blue eyes flicking around, attempting to answer the question. Not here. Not here. The other boy. His other half-brother with human blood. Yes. Yukio. But he wasn’t the only thing missing. A long shape, usually propped up against a wall… Kurikara. Where was it? Rin, dear Rin didn’t have it. He’d keep it close, within reach. So…ah. Yukio. He must have it. A pity. To give Rin a chance would…have been fun. To give him that sword that burns bright. To give him a chance to fight back. Yes. Ah well...playtime. He steps from the chair, a movement that topples it silently onto the fallen clothes, against the bed, and clambers deftly onto the bed, switching the lollypop to the other side of his mouth. Stooping a little, he stands over the boy, a soft smile playing on his lips, then flops down, sitting by Rin’s feet, admiring his prize for a second, the mind beneath the mess of bright green hair plotting, planning in the silent cold. Before him, the young man continues to doze. He’s sweet, and so unaware of what the King of Earth is about to inflict upon him. Move one. He gets back to his feet, boots pushing into the deep pile carpet, fingers sliding under the duvet. Warmth. He lifts the cover back, exposing the boy’s slight figure, the lithe arms, with more than a little muscle-he’d learnt so much about the boy from talking to his brother, about the manual labour, about part-time jobs he’d tried to hold down. Hugged against his chest, a pillow, his knees pulled up a little. Amaimon’s…almost surprised that Rin doesn’t stir, so warm is the duvet against his woollen arm-warmers. He smiles, flicking the lollipop to the other corner again, like the cigarettes he’s seen people smoke in films. Above the smell of empty coffee cups, discarded across the desk, and the plate of curry all but scraped clean, Rin smells nice, and slightly of cherry-if Amaimon was to wander into the shower, he guesses he’d find that-scent in his shampoo. It suits him, at once sweet and childish and traditional. Amaimon leans close, taking the lollypop from his mouth, holding it delicately between thumb and fore-finger, and gently kisses the warm skin of Rin’s pointed ear, his tongue peeping from those sharp teeth to lick the lobe. No biting, Amaimon. Not yet, anyway. Rin’s skin’s still slightly damp to the touch, and, softly reaching out, Amaimon isn’t amazed to find Rin’s hair is the same. Tut, tut. Brother, you’ll catch a cold like this. Move two. Now to get that pillow out of Rin’s arms, and prepare the board, so to speak. No toys. Compared to his own bed, festooned with plushies of his favourite video game characters and cute character pillows, Rin’s is so spartan. Poor Rin doesn’t even have a teddy-bear. Maybe next time he’ll bring his brother something; one of his Last Adventure RPG characters, perha-Concentrate, Amaimon. Keep your head in the game, plan your next move. Turning Rin over is easy enough, but Amaimon is…almost envious of how tightly that pillow is hugged to Rin’s chest, an amused flicker of the corner of his mouth as he imagines Rin’s warm arms around him, holding him close. Another time, later. After a game. He softly eases the pillow out of Rin’s grip, amused at the little noises Rin makes, tosses it into a corner, and once more straddles the bed. Rin’s sweet scent fills the air, a mix of deodorant, shampoo and his underlying body scent…he smells so nice…good enough to eat. He leans in and softly strokes the black locks from his face. He moves down, smiling to himself, planning strategies across Rin’s form, pausing at his slim hips, hand sliding to the back of Rin’s childishly printed boxers. Ahah… Move three. His hand curls around the base of Rin’s black tail, the coarse black fur. He moves the hand down, careful not to pull it, not to wake his ever-so-naïve half-brother. Opening moves, totally one sided, pawns moving forward unchecked. Good. He can’t resist kissing Rin’s smooth thighs, relaxed and not quite as toned as his arms, but equally bruised in places. His fingers reach the curl, the thick stub of Rin’s tail before it becomes so much fluff. And… He pulls it. Hard, digging his nails in, jerking it like a pullswitch, the other hand reaching out to hold Rin down as he wakes, thrashing, angry as a scalded cat, his hand instantly scrabbling at the side of the bed, before that lithe-fingered hand forms a fist, swinging at Amaimon. “YOU.” That furious glare, that childish yell. Oh, Rin. He ducks the punch, leaning sideward, ever economic with his movements, and pins Rin down, tugging his tail all the harder, both hands pinning him down, straddling the struggling boy. “Ah, dear half-brother …I want to play a game. Our usual pastime, perhaps..?” He tugs the tail again, ignoring the yell from Rin, and lets go, letting the teased and aching part of Rin’s anatomy flick back into a more comfortable place. From his own experimentation, often in the shower, Amaimon knows all too well the sensations that Rin must be feeling, pain and pleasure mixed in the sharp tug. He moves a little, shedding the arm-warmers. “G-get the hell off me, Amaimon! O-or I’ll tell Meph-“ Amaimon stifles Rin’s yell with a kiss, both hands pinning him to the bed; beneath him, the young man continues to struggle, attempting to kick him off, to somehow regain any control in this game. Rin is angry, angrier than he’s ever seen him before, and Amaimon half-expects the blue flames to lick across the bed. Straddling Rin’s lap, Amaimon smirks, breaking from the kiss. Between the tail-pulling and the fervent kiss, Rin is aroused. The King of Earth is…almost disappointed. He’d expected his half-brother to have more restraint. No matter. Reaching behind him, he catches Rin’s tail in mid-thrash and bites down. Hard. Another yowl of pain from Rin. An unmistakable buck against him. “Sensitive, aren’t you?” Sensitive is putting it mildly. Even on the few occasions when he’d spied on his brother being pleasured by the young man with glasses who stank of cigarette smoke-Shiro, he thinks his name was-and even though Shiro had been fond of kissing and stroking and tugging his tail as they’d made slow, passionate, and ever so gentle love tangled in expensive sheets, he’d never reacted this much, this loudly, or this quickly. Ah well; if Rin comes from his tail being toyed with alone, it’s something to tease him about later. Rin gasps, trying to punch him. He’s reaching the end of his tether already, his boxers tented, pressing hard against Amaimon’s arse. How dull. Might as well make this interesting. He flops back, half climbing off Rin, who blinks in surprise, before rolling off the bed, and half lunging for the door. Amaimon’s there before Rin takes more than a step, all smirk and lollipop back in his mouth. “Better. A game’s so boring when only one person really plays, brother. You make a fine player 2, so push some buttons.” Rin aims a punch that misses the demon’s head completely, and slams against the thick wooden door. He’s pissed off, shoulders heaving with every ragged breath. “F-fuck you…” Another punch, followed by a kick. Both connect, and the smirk, the retort halfway to his lips, are wiped away. The King of Earth sprawls for a second, then is back on his feet, pinning Rin to the door, then sending him half-crashing into the wall. There’s something about the way Rin fights back, in that meeting of aggression with aggression, that makes the demon hard. Rin is…imperfect, headstrong, quick to anger to defend his brother and his friend. Not unlike myself, Amaimon realises. He’s on top of Rin, pinning him to the wall, before the other young man has a chance to even move. He smiles softly, taking Rin’s tail between long-nailed fingers, the other arm holding Rin in place with ease. Ah yes, the killer line. Very action movie. “Of course I’ll fuck you, Rin. You fought well, but…ah. Victory to Player One, I think?” He strokes the tail, back and forth, around the nub, enjoying Rin’s gasping moans. Other demons hated the noises humans made during sex, but…if it were Rin…well… “Are you going to concede, dear brother?” He leans close, kissing Rin’s cheek, feeling the warm flush of humiliation across his pale skin. He retraces his previous ministrations on Rin’s soft tail, the same shapes making different, more desperate noises. Poor Rin. Such pride, such a feeling of fear at giving in to the flood of pleasure that awaited him. All he had to do was admit his defeat, level his king and whisper up to his half-brother “Checkmate”, and he would win far more than he lost. He gently tugs on the tail, and finally, nails dug deep into the plaster on the wall, Rin moans a response. “A-Amai-“ Another tug, and Rin bucks hard, crotch pushed up against the wall. Amaimon smirks, and softly kisses the scarlet cheek. Rin is desperate, the smell of his precum cloying, to Amaimon’s heightened scent. The devil himself seems to realise quite how aroused he is, by the tussle before, and the intermittent torture of his younger half-sibling, and decides to bring the game forcefully to an end. Fingers wrapped around the tail, he tugs it hard, fingers sliding along its length, the warm fur a little coarse to the touch. Squeezing the nub as it slips from his hand, he lets it flop, amused at how it pendulums for a second, time-keeping Rin’s gasping moans, before his legs give way and he half crumples. Amaimon takes a step back, letting Rin sink to his knees, before kneeling himself behind the young man. All the fight seems to have gone out of him, and as the devil slides his arms around the young man, there’s no response, other than a deepening blush. “Why always me?”