the loser game [SHORT STORY]

faust and luka have a game where the loser has to do whatever the winner wants. after weeks of trying, faust has never won this game.

Word Count: 6,060

Rating: NSFW

Content Warnings: mouthplay, oral sex, bullying/banter, it's not non-con but faust is angry about everything so if you're sensitive to non-con maybe don't read

———

“One more time! This time, I’ll win for sure!”

Luka faltered midstep and stared at the tiny demon standing on the bed he had nearly passed by. The unprompted declaration bordered on incomprehensible, but at the very least, it certainly succeeded in garnering his full attention.

“Huh?” replied Luka, his momentary confusion evident only for a moment before uneasy understanding took its place. He could hazard a guess as to what his smaller companion was yelling about, but at this point, it was beginning to seem excessive. “Ah…I guess you’re talking about the ‘Loser Game,’ right?”

There was no response, but from the unwavering pout of determination that Faust maintained, he could tell he’d been right. The human huffed a sigh and ran his fingers across his nape as he searched for a reply. “Um, yeah…maybe we should give that a rest for now.”

As Luka had come to expect after living with a short-tempered, foul-mouthed monstrosity for so long, his suggestion was met with bitter vitriol. God forbid those apartment walls ever see a calm, rational discussion between its two inhabitants. “What? Why?! Coward! You’re just afraid of what I’ll make you do when you lose!” Faust taunted, his pointed teeth forming a defiant snarl.

Luka frowned. He couldn’t tell if his companion was being delusional, over-confident, or just plain stupid. Maybe all three? It wouldn’t have been the first time. Resigning himself to having been fully dragged into this conversation, he lowered himself in order to be closer to the other’s eye level, settling in a kneel beside the bed. Even then, he still had to hunch over slightly to compensate for his excessive height.

“Opposite, actually,” he sighed, poking a scolding finger against Faust’s forehead and earning a string of curses in response, “I’m afraid that if you keep going on a losing streak, you’ll come to resent me.”

The game was simple, with rules anyone could follow: after an activity of either player’s choosing, the loser would have to do whatever the winner commanded. It wasn’t either roommate’s sole idea as much as it was a collaborative effort; Faust introduced the competition, and Luka introduced the stakes. What hadn’t been as equal was the win-to-loss ratio, with Luka sitting as the reigning Loser Game champion for the past few weeks they’d been playing. And he made it a point to enjoy each victory prize to the absolute fullest.

Of course, he was no shameless crook when it came to the game itself. Every challenge he offered or accepted gave Faust a fair, fighting chance. Some even had the scales tipped in favor of the little imp winning. It was just that, well…if the perfect opportunity to make his favorite speck of a demon squirm and whimper just laid itself at his feet, of course Luka would snatch it up. He wasn’t that foolish. But as someone who’d made a habit of half-assing his way through most of life, giving it his all in a series of petty competitions was getting rather draining.

Faust, on the other hand, seemed as energetic as ever, and was becoming increasingly annoyed by his roommate’s refusal. “I’m not that sore of a loser, jerk. And I bet you only made that comment in the first place just to gloat about all your wins!” he accused. Luka didn’t deny this. “Plus, if you run away, that’s an automatic loss. Which means you’d be giving me a free win!”

The human quirked a brow. “Since when was that a rule?”

“Since right now, duh,” Faust replied matter-of-factly, “I’m fifty percent of the reason this game exists, so I have the authority to add rules in the name of fairness. It’s common sense!”

“…Right. Fairness.” Luka decided that this probably wasn’t a battle worth fighting for now. Plus, he may be able to spin that new rule to his advantage at some point. But what options did he have now? Walk away and have Faust screech at him for forfeiting the game, or play along and have Faust screech at him for “cheating” whenever he won? Neither were ideal.

Though, he supposed there was technically a third option. He stilled for a moment, eyes clouding in thought as a scheme developed in his mind. Maybe this could be interesting after all.

“Hm. Alright, fine, but we’re doing something quick and easy. Like…a staring contest,” Luka proposed, opting for something that required minimal effort. “You may actually have an advantage at that, considering how much you stare at me while I sleep.”

The wild-haired imp shot upright. “Wha…! How— how did you know that?!” he demanded, a reddened moue striking his face.

Luka paused. “I didn’t. Until about two seconds ago, anyways,” he replied, unable to hold back a small smirk. There was a small moment of stunned silence, and if Faust was heated before, he was practically aflame now.

“Well…whatever! I- I was joking anyway!” came the noisy retort. It was wholly unconvincing, but neither attempted to linger on the topic; Luka was content with his newfound information, and Faust was just eager to change the subject. “Fine, we can do your stupid idea. I personally would have suggested a contest involving intense martial prowess and grueling physical endurance, but seeing as you humans are ridiculously weak and squishy, I’ll compromise this time. And only this time!”

Luka nodded, briefly expressing that he acknowledged the demon’s merciful whim, then readjusted his position so that they could proceed with the game. For the sake of comfort, he opted to sit instead of kneel, folding his legs in front of himself and settling his hands in his lap. He then leaned forward, curling his back until his chin rested against the mattress Faust stood on, just a few inches away from him. Now that they were eye-level, the little demon seemed somewhat uneasy about the sudden close proximity. Ever prideful, though, he refused to back away and stared forward with a burning gaze. The battlefield was set, so now all that was left was a declaration of the rules.

“There’s not much to a staring contest. Close your eyes, and then when I say ‘go,’ open them and try not to blink. The first person to blink loses. And as you know…” The brunette’s eyes glinted with a hint of mischief as the corners of his mouth upturned ever so slightly, “The loser has to do whatever the winner says. Sound good?”

Faust bristled under Luka’s condescending glare. It doubled his conviction to rip the satisfaction of winning from the hands of the most annoying (and only) human he’d ever met, so he furrowed his brows and nodded determinedly. “I get it, so hurry up already. And if you cheat by doing anything to make me blink by force, I’ll seriously fucking kill you!” he warned. The larger man rolled his eyes.

“For someone who attempted to cheat at Checkers and still lost, you sure do like accusing me of foul play. Now close your eyes.” Not granting Faust the opportunity to burst into another recriminatory rage, Luka started the countdown immediately. “Three, two, one…go.”

The demon’s eyes shot open, whereas the human’s eyelids lifted a bit more lazily. Faust was surprisingly silent for once, likely honing his entire consciousness into concentrating on not blinking. It was a welcome change of pace, and notably quite amusing to see how hard he was striving for just one victory. After a few moments of uneventful staring, however, Luka admittedly felt his mind begin to wander. He still had a lot of work to get done, plus the chores he’d been in the middle of completing when his tiny companion challenged him that remained unfinished. It would likely be another sleepless night. Of course, he was used to that by now, but it didn’t stop him from yawning in anticipatory dread. How many all-nighters could a person take before they hibernated for the rest of their life, he wondered? Maybe he was on his way to finding out.

As his gaze came back into focus, it was evident that Faust’s demeanor had changed. It was only for a moment, but rather than the burning concentration from earlier, he seemed completely shocked. But why? All he did was yawn–

Ah, right. He yawned.

“Ah…aha…haha!” the smaller of the two beamed as the bewilderment subsided, jabbing a pointed finger in Luka’s direction, “You blinked! You just blinked!”

“Yeah, I suppose I did.” Luka affirmed.

“Which means you lost!”

“Also true.”

“Which means I won!”

“That is, in fact, what that means.”

Too pleased to be put off by Luka’s sarcasm, Faust hopped in place and raised his arms in the air as a wide, toothy grin stretched across his face. “Yes! Ha-hah! Finally!” he cheered, “I beat you! You’re not the undisputed champion anymore! You’re more like the…the disputed champ– wait, no, you’re like…um… Whatever, nevermind! I won!”

Luka straightened himself to sit upwards again as he watched the scene with a small smile, thoroughly enjoying the scene of a positively elated Faust celebrating his own victory. Even though he was gloating with no intention of being polite or gracious, his enthusiasm and tendency to fumble over his taunts were an adorable sight. Delightful as it was, though, Luka was rather eager to test a personal theory of his. He allowed the demon just a moment more to celebrate before he continued, “So then, what’ll you be having as your prize?”

Faust faltered mid-guffaw, white pinpricks staring at the human absently. “…Hah?”

Luka shrugged and allowed himself to lean backwards, resting his palms on the floor as he settled into a more relaxed stance. “I mean, I lost, after all. And the loser has to do whatever the winner says,” he reiterated, eying his smaller roommate inquisitively, “Did you already forget?”

“What? No,” Faust scoffed. His gaze turned troubled and sidelong, clearly searching for some sort of retort to a challenge he had not anticipated. “Of course I remembered. I just wanted to savor my complete and total victory for a bit,” he snapped after a moment, his tone indicating that he felt as if he’d regained the upper hand. Hesitating a second longer, the imp chewed at his lip, then added in a distinctly quieter voice, “I just figured I’d…get back with you on that later.”

“No can do. I have a lot on my plate today, so we’ll have to take care of it now. Plus, you’re the one who challenged me; why would you start something you didn’t intend on finishing?” Luka denied with a click of his tongue. The other’s face went hot, an impatient glower stretching across his face.

“Alright, fine. Just make me mac ‘n cheese for my prize and we’ll call it a day.”

“That’s all?” his responses became much more insistent and probing, and a barely noticeable lilt in his voice signaled that, at this point, he was getting a rise out of teasing Faust. “I do that just about every other day. You could wish for me to do anything, and you choose something so mundane?”

A thin, black tail thrashed in annoyance. “Then I wish you’d just fuck off and go away!”

“No. In fact, let’s establish a new rule.” Luka bent forward again, though instead of resting his head on the same level as his companion, he made it a point to leave himself looming just above the other’s reach. “From here on out, all of the winner’s ‘prizes’ have to follow the same pattern as the ones from the previous games.”

Faust froze, coldness lacing his veins. He knew what that meant. Luka won all those games. And Luka was, as he’d come to learn, an insatiable pervert. Losing at Tic-tac-toe landed him a spot as Luka’s hard candy for the day, losing at a hold-your-breath contest ended with him keeping Luka ‘company’ from inside his pants while he worked, and losing after the Checkers debacle… Well, Luka made sure to teach Faust a lesson about cheating that he’d never forget (though he’d love to). He shook the thought from his head before it could linger much longer.

“Th- that’s…” Faust croaked, swallowing back the dryness in his throat before continuing, “That’s stupid! You can’t just make up new game rules out of nowhere!”

“Really?” Luka asked, his face stoic but his tone all too delighted, “Because I’m fifty percent of the reason the game exists. It stands to reason that I should be able to add rules in the name of… How exactly did you put it? ‘Fairness?’”

Faust wanted to strangle his past self. Or Luka. Both, really.

There was no way. Not a snowball’s chance in hell he’d ever be caught asking Luka to do something like that. He’d die of shame, if the embarrassment didn’t off him sooner. Even being confronted with the pressure to do so had his face burning scarlet, and although every ounce of his pride screamed at him not to back down, that fierce facade was quickly waning.

“In…in that case…” the tiny victor replied unsteadily, figuring he’d attempt one final stand, “I– I choose not to choose at all!”

Luka tilted his head, a blank stare somehow neutralizing the atmosphere. “Oh,” he murmured, “Okay.”

Faust blinked, unsure of how to process the current development. ‘Okay?’ That was pretty anticlimactic, even if it technically was in his favor. Not that he had any particular interest in taking advantage of this new rule, of course — he was more shocked that his roommate had given in so easily. Maybe he just really valued the sanctity of the winner’s choice?

That notion only lasted for the briefest of moments. A sudden shifting snapped Faust from his thoughtful daze and dashed all hopes that he’d managed to weasel out of this. In fact, he felt stupid for being so gullible in the first place. Of course that wretched human wouldn’t pass up an opportunity to mess with him. He was an incorrigible pervert, after all.

“You don’t have to choose, but like I said, I don’t have a ton of time. So I’ll just coax it out of you instead,” Luka explained nonchalantly, quick to plant one hand directly next to Faust and hover the other just in front of him. “It’s your first victory, after all. I’d be positively beside myself if you couldn’t enjoy a proper prize.”

With that, his slender fingers collided with the demon’s shoulders, effortlessly knocking him off his balance and succeeding in splaying him flat on the springy mattress. Before he could scramble away — which he certainly tried — Luka pinned his companion beneath his palm, undeterred by the flurry of kicks and struggles he received in response.

“You stupid dumbass jerk! This is the exact same outcome of you winning the staring contest!” Faust protested. He succeeded in dislodging one of his arms from the overbearing grasp, but before it could inflict any damage, the hand Luka kept on standby shifted to subdue the rogue limb with his thumb.

“Not true. Those other times had a central focus on my pleasure, whereas this time is focusing on yours. And I’m not even doing anything that extreme, see?” Luka demonstrated, carefully sliding his fingertips down the tiny man’s body with a pressure that was gentle enough to be reassuring, but firm enough to keep him from scurrying away. His slow trace stalled as he reached Faust’s thighs, then slid back and forth in a sensual massage, even daring to nip his nails into the thinly clothed skin there now and again. The desired response – a tremble and a choked back, reluctant whine – sparked a surge of thrill within Luka’s chest.

“You’re welcome to keep up the grumpy act, of course, but at least be truthful with yourself; there wasn’t a single one of my ‘prizes’ that you didn’t get off on, too. I wouldn’t have put you through them otherwise,” the human all but purred, slyly working two fingers between Faust’s legs in order to nudge them apart. “I guess you really are addicted to getting pushed around.”

“N-no, I’m nh…!” he paused to gasp. Luka’s fingertip ghosted his crotch, the faint heat radiating from his skin only intensifying the swelling bulge there. Even still, he maintained his fierce stubbornness. “I’m not…”

“You know, I almost didn’t play along this time, but I was really dying to test something out. A bet I made with myself, I guess,” Luka continued as he eyed his handiwork, “I had a feeling that even if you managed to win, you wouldn’t know what to do with yourself. That you’d get swept away by your competitive spirit and be content with bragging rights alone. Looks like I was right on the money.”

Lots of Luka’s words had begun to blend together in Faust’s mind, but he registered enough to momentarily snap back to his senses. “Wait…” he growled, weakly propping himself up on one elbow, “You— you mean…you let me win?!”

Luka paused to consider this, glancing upwards and pursing his lips until he seemed content with his answer. “No, but I was planning to. The yawn actually happened on its own. So hey, congrats on a real win.”

Faust, now thoroughly irate, did not seem nearly as satisfied with that response as Luka did. He clenched his teeth and tensed, ready to lash out in a demonstration of his rage. “You little—!”

Whatever minuscule attempt at violence the demon planned was swiftly deescalated by the slightest movement of Luka’s finger. He ground against the underside of Faust’s erection and cut his threats short with a pitiful squeak, and though he was eager to draw out more of those darling little noises, it would be a shame to rush this impromptu interrogation of his. So he settled instead for slowly, agonizingly swirling his digit against the fabric protecting the other’s twitching cock, mindful to keep his touch featherlight.

“Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if you lost all those other games on purpose,” came another playful jab, and whether it was from the accusation or the increasing stimulation, Faust’s entire body jolted, “I guess I could see that. It’d be like your own cute little scheme to ask for punishment, but without having to confront the shame of being so desperate. If that were the case, then wouldn’t I actually be the one getting played here?” As if to accentuate the nature of his question, he upped the pressure and rhythm of his casual stroking, only enough to make the demon’s head roll back and draw a keening whimper, before returning to a slow, barely-there tracing pattern.

“That’s completely— ngh, ridiculous. I keep telling you, I’m not…” Faust panted. It seemed that whatever inner battle of temptation was raging beneath his half-lidded eyes had almost reached its messy end, but to his credit, he was a headstrong little hellspawn through and through. “Fuck,” he hissed, impatiently jutting his hips forward, “Y-you’re so goddamn chatty. If you’re going to do something, can you just fucking do it?”

In immediate response, Luka lifted his finger, leaving Faust to breathe a string of curses as he strained against the remaining extremities holding him down. “Sorry, but that’s not specific enough. You still haven’t told me what you want for your prize, and I’d hate to just go ahead and do something lackluster if you had a more exciting idea in mind,” he muttered, flicking his fingernail idly against the waistband of the demon’s attire. It was enough to inch the pants down with every small tug, but never quite enough to grant him any kind of reprieve.

“Tch…” Faust’s glossy gaze slid to the furthest corner of the room it could reach. He was clearly at his wit’s end. “It’s fine…it’s fine, I don’t care, just—“

“What’s fine?” Luka asked, leaning his face closer. The movement didn’t really have much conscious intention behind it — the lack of proximity made the situation more intimate, sure, but really he just wanted to make sure he’d be able to hear anything his tiny roommate might try to hide under a whisper — yet it somehow caused a far greater reaction than anything he’d attempted so far. More specifically, the second Luka exhaled, the puff of warm air seemed to set off some electric current within Faust. His eyes snapped back in his head, legs spasming as a startled cry escaped him. Luka‘s heart nearly stopped beating. So that’s how it was. Even he’d admit that this development was unexpected.

He bent his pinky finger, which had been aiding in pinning the other’s shoulders, and softly rubbed the knuckle against Faust’s cheek. It was the closest imitation of a caress that he could manage, given the stark contrast in size and unusual position. The skin there was burning. “Come on, you can do it,” he whispered, the airy words making the smaller man shudder again, “Tell me what I should do.”

Faust hiccupped. “You…ugh…”

“Faust,” Luka spoke the other’s name as if it was a command on its own. His intense verdant stare, normally cold and nonchalant, gleamed with unconcealed desire. “Just say what you want.”

With that, the obstinate exterior melted away wholly. “W-want…” he babbled, a full-body tremble cracking his voice as he tried to speak, “I want you to…use your tongue to m–make me cum…”

Luka couldn’t stop the enamored grin that spread across his face. He bent the rest of the way down, pressing a surprisingly tender kiss against Faust’s tiny abdomen. “Good job,” he praised in a whisper. Unlike his previous taunts, there was nothing mocking or provoking in his tone. Only genuine adoration. It would have been nice to stay like that for a while, but he wouldn’t force the little victor to wait on his prize any longer. So, he eagerly got to work.

The restraints on Faust’s body lifted, moving instead to dig into the pliable mattress and cradle the demon’s body. He was much too resigned at this point to bother fighting against being scooped up, simply allowing himself to be handled however the other saw fit. Luka shifted his position so that instead of facing the bed in a kneel, his back rested against it in a comfortable lounge. Seeing as Faust’s pants had spent their use as his tool for teasing and now became an obstacle, the brunette wasted no time in deftly tugging them out of the way. Now that his bottom half was exposed, Luka could fully see the effect of his actions up till now. The demon’s length was fully erect, and even leaking. There was plenty to be said about how just a few minutes of teasing could reduce such a loud and prideful devil to this state, but he abstained. He’d talked plenty already.

Finally raising Faust to his face and parting his lips with a light pop was enough to make the imp shiver. But when Luka pushed the tip of his tongue against him, Faust was gone. He barely moved his arm in time to muffle a shaky moan with the back of his hand, the insistence of the muscle and the wetness of it and, god, the heat overloading his senses all at once. Luka seemed to be gauging what he had to work with, sometimes prodding certain areas and sometimes just holding his tongue in place, and while the inconsistency was mildly frustrating, the unpredictability of his movements made the sensations uniquely exhilarating.

Content with whatever data it was that Luka was searching for, he began to change his tactics. Faust’s palm-sized stature certainly made things like this trickier to pull off, but not impossible; it just required getting a little creative. With that in mind, he pressed his tongue against the base of Faust’s dick and carefully slid upwards, an act that hardly took any movement, but resulted in quite a reaction all the same. He continued this pattern, lapping up and down to the sound of the other’s soft whimpers, before switching his play once more and gliding to the tip. Covering the sensitive head with the underside of his tongue – velvety and smooth as opposed to the rougher, textured upper surface – Luka swirled and rubbed at a steady pace that had tiny claws gripping into the skin of his palm. He even allowed his companion to grind into the slick flesh as he saw fit, going so far as to match the rhythm of the frantic thrusts with his own movements.

As both men began to lose themselves more and more on the pleasurable high, the heated scene devolved into messiness. Luka, unable to keep his calculated pace as an irrepressible hunger took over his senses, lapped and pressed more greedily with each flustered cry fueling his appetite. Faust, hardly recognizable as the same petulant imp who had been steadfastly resisting this exact treatment mere minutes prior, twitched and arched and melted against the overwhelming force that worked his most sensitive areas to their limits. Being a skilled yet not fully precise organ, Luka’s tongue often overshot its target, leaving smears of saliva and precum against Faust’s heaving abdomen. The demon’s entire lower half was more or less drenched by the time a brief parting gave each of them a moment to catch their breath, exhales mixing together in the near nonexistent space between them.

From the way he’d tense and shudder, to the string of unintelligible mewls escaping him at any given time, Luka knew Faust was already close. Which was well and good, but he’d admittedly feel a tad unsatisfied if his little champion became too unraveled and worn out before he could try everything he wanted to. Thoroughly motivated by this internal goal, Luka carefully tipped his hand backwards and curled his fingers to prevent the other from taking an unwanted free-fall. He jutted his wrist out slightly to raise Faust’s back end even more, before dipping his head and sliding his tongue out once more.

Faust, who seemed to be just lucid enough to understand that his position had changed somewhat, lifted his head in bleary-eyed confusion. “What…are you…” he panted in an attempt to make heads or tails of the situation, only to jolt again with a high-pitched, “Hiee—?!”

Luka had pressed his tongue against Faust’s asshole. He didn’t swipe it past, he didn’t withdraw with a ‘just kidding,’ no, he pressed, and kept pressing, and whether it was the fear feeding the arousal or the arousal feeding the fear, Faust began to squirm.

“A-are you stupid? There’s no way that’ll fit! You’ll never be able t– haahh…!” It would be false to say that his cries fell on deaf ears, because Luka most certainly heard them. They just happened to have a reverse effect on what Faust may have been intending. He prodded more persistently, working against the tight barrier with a series of inquisitive wriggles and pokes. Obviously, the demon’s words were correct: there was no way a tongue the size of his own body could fit inside of him. But that didn’t necessarily mean they couldn’t squeeze a relatively small amount just partway in. And as it turned out, that was a lesson they both learned just a moment later.

Faust convulsed as the foreign feeling of a ridged tastebud cluster, not quite solid in form, shoved past his rim and filled him with a slick, unreal, pulsating and intoxicating heat that he’d never experienced in his life. The thrusting attempts to bury them deeper inside of him rocked his entire body, drawing out unabated moans and sounds he hadn’t known he could make. His own tongue fumbled in a desperate attempt to form coherent words, and in being unable to sync it with any logical part of his brain, he ended up babbling the only thing he could make sense of.

“T-too…mmnghh, too much! It’s too mu– uuuch…!” Faust gasped, the tears in his eyes having long since welled over from the stimulation. He couldn’t believe how his body reacted to it – how his body allowed it – and how all his inner thoughts screamed for more. But in this specific instance — a tear-stained Faust crying out that he couldn’t take it — Luka faltered. The stifling pressure cautiously withdrew from its place in the demon, leaving his hole twitching in the absence. It was a needy emptiness, as if the space was never meant to exist without a sweltering mass violating it. Whining from the sudden change, Faust slowly propped himself up somewhat to try and figure out what had been the cause. The expression that Luka wore was nearly enough to knock him back down on its own.

“Should I stop?” he asked. Though his eyes were still alight with lust, they had sharpened into concentration. Not only that, but also…concern. Just as quickly as he’d lost himself, Luka was ready at any time to bring himself back to the present. To reality. To Faust. That realization made Faust’s chest ache in a frustrating way that he couldn’t quite name. Or maybe he could. But it was easier not to.

“Should I?” Again, but softer. The smaller man bit down on his lip. Surely, at this point, any onlooker would think the natural hue of his skin was red rather than gray. He clenched his eyes shut and dipped his head away, ashamed by his own clumsy desperation. Normally, he’d sooner be caught dead than humiliate himself like this, but if it was just this once…if it was just for Luka, then maybe it was okay.

“N…gh…” was the only verbal confirmation he offered, though a slow shake of his head conveyed his answer clearly. Luka sighed, both in relief and adoration. Before picking up where he’d left off, he bent down to press another soft kiss against Faust’s midsection, and smiled against the burning skin gently.

“Seriously…” he breathed, cupping the trembling mess against his face for just a moment longer, “You’re so cute when you’re honest.”

After resuming the tilted-back position Luka had arranged Faust in before, he continued his effort of easing himself into the other’s backside. This time, though, he kept the pace slower and somewhat less forceful, also mindful to gauge Faust’s reactions as an indicator of whether he should speed up or slow down. Even with the extra care, it didn’t take very long to find the rhythm they’d been in before. Faust’s breath hitched as the tongue tip breached him once more, thrown into a fit of shudders as each fleshy bump rubbed against him and catalyzed a growing, intense feeling of wild unrestraint.

The further Luka crammed himself into Faust, the less the smaller man felt that his own bodily movements were of his own agency, rather than a helpless extension of the slick muscle inside of him. If Luka’s tongue curled, then Faust’s limp body raised with it. If he tried thrusting in even deeper, he’d have to hold the demon in place with his thumb to keep him from sliding around from the force. He was at the complete and utter mercy of the unpredictable organ that stretched his insides with an insatiable greed. And that thought made his head spin in a way he…truly didn’t hate.

“Can’t…I can’t, I can’t anymore,” he keened, tears and saliva streaking his face. The tongue inside of him — or at least what amount could fit that would ensure Faust would still be able to walk after this exchange — pressed and pulsed and twisted and writhed and fucked and fucked and fucked to the point where he couldn’t recall anything but the maddening sensation. It made his spine melt against the curve of Luka’s palm, his legs shudder erratically, his mind defenseless to instincts. “Cu– cumming, Luka, I’m…! Nnh–!”

Luka couldn’t offer much verbal confirmation (seeing as his tongue was somewhat preoccupied), but breathed out a low noise in response nonetheless. The thumb he’d utilized to hold Faust in place moved downwards to brush the side of his erection as additional encouragement to aid in the other’s release. At that moment, had he simultaneously flexed his tongue upwards and prodded against Faust’s abdomen, Luka may have been able to meet his tongue with his fingertip between a thin wall of flesh and muscle. But he didn’t have the chance to, as Faust unraveled just a moment later.

The climax threw his body into a series of frenzied convulsions. Faust’s voice broke as the semen splashed across his front, mixing in with the still moist trails of saliva to paint a tremendously lewd scenery against his skin. Heat came from every direction – his blood, his face, his breaths, his cum, the hand he was laid on, the tongue still inside his ass – it was nearly enough to knock him out entirely. But as he came down and Luka eased out of him, he blinked, only then registering the presence of the ceiling he’d been staring at for who knew how long.

The pressure was gone, but he still throbbed, shivering whenever a glob of drool oozed its way out of him. Faust hadn’t a clue as to what he should do now, but it’s not like it mattered. He didn’t exactly have the strength to move yet, and he quite frankly couldn’t be bothered to care about maintaining appearances anymore. Both parties simply allowed the other a moment to cool down and catch their breath, before Luka eventually broke the silence.

“...Well. That was exciting. I wasn’t sure it’d actually fit.”

“It didn’t fit,” Faust snapped weakly, though his tone lacked the usual bite it carried, “Hardly any went in at all. Don’t get too full of yourself.”

Luka chuckled breathily. “Agree to disagree,” he concluded, carefully depositing Faust back on the mattress to give him some space to breathe. After making a sour face when he tried to sit normally, the smaller of the two settled for resting on the side of his hip as he awaited the strength to return to his legs. Once he was assured that his companion was comfortable, Luka continued, “Don’t get me wrong, I’m pretty thrilled with the outcome, but I can’t believe you actually asked for something like that. Or went along with the new rule, like, at all.”

Faust shrugged. “I’m not so lowly that I’d disrespect the rules of my own game. That’s only something you humans would do,” he pointed out, “And I only chose…ahem, that because I knew it would shut you up. It was worth it just to keep you quiet for a bit.”

“Sure. That was why.”

There was a stretch of silence as the casual atmosphere resettled in the apartment bedroom. Luka glanced towards his desk, then to Faust, and then to the floor. He rubbed his neck unsurely.

“So…what now?” he asked. Faust looked up, an expression of miffed confusion striking his features.

“What?”

“I mean…what’s happening with this?” Luka gestured downwards, and with a bit of straining and crawling forward on the bed, Faust understood what he meant. A very evident protrusion appeared beneath the denim of the human’s jeans, and though it made sense given the situation, it was no less annoying of a sight. Faust upturned his eyes with an incredulous sulk, contrasted by Luka’s hopeful, idiotic grin. “We could always settle it with another game, you know.”

“Weren’t you the one bitching about how much work you had to get done today?” came the crabby response. It was met with a small shrug. Evidently, Luka had gone remiss to his prior schedule.

“It can wait. I’d much rather reclaim my title as Loser Game champion, seeing as the position was ruthlessly stolen from me from a nefarious demon.”

Faust tried to remain cross. He really did. But even he couldn’t stay grouchy in the face of that stupid, infectious grin. He snorted, then laughed in spite of himself, cursing Luka inwardly for the fluttering in his chest that always seemed to appear in situations like these. That human would seriously be the death of him one of these days. But until then, he didn’t see the harm in indulging in happiness every now and then.

“Fine. You’re on,” he readily accepted, shakily bringing himself to a stand, “One more time! This time, I’ll win for sure!"

-

[this was all part of my master plan to have context to this sketch. it may have taken weeks but at least you can't say i don't see things through]