It was hard to say when he'd finally decided to give up.

Perhaps it was after Michael came back that Sunday and talked of valour (Valour) and games. Perhaps it was earlier than that and he'd just never been able to allow himself to cave.

All he knew is that he'd raised his eyes from the same books, from the same trials, from the same abyss that he'd been looking at every day and realized that he couldn't look back into it again.

He felt armed with a suicide's strength. The simple gaiety of knowing that from here, it was either going to get better or worse. Not staying the same for - God, how long had things been without changing?

Too long. The number was there for him, but in the end it was simply - too long.

So that day he found himself smiling as he went, like he did once a year - his personal yearly torment - to talk with the Game.

***

"Good day," Dominic greeted Asmodeus as he walked into the Prince's private study. There was a different one each year, with no rhyme or reason to the choice except that Dominic would not have known to look there. This year, it was a large English manor. After today, it would be someplace else again.

Asmodeus's eyebrow arched, the usual look of disgust settled on his face.

"Good day, Judgment." An elegantly manicured hand made a tiny gesture to the chair across from him. Mahogany. Hard as the Prince's soul. The gesture had no real energy to it and hadn't for a long time. Oh, there was energy in him, the energy of the hunt and the kill, but that was not to be wasted on a simple invitation.

Dominic sat. "You are well, I trust?"

A brow pulled inward slightly. Dominic had difficulty telling why - irritation? Curiousity? More disgust? So hard to tell, now, so hard to tell.

Indeed. I shall not ask about you." A hint of a smile. One of Asmodeus' games was simple: he knew that he had hurt Dominic, and every moment that he could spend reminding Dominic of that pain, making it sink further into him, was a moment he had taken a piece. No more.

Dominic smiled. It was broad, almost manic, and he could see the hint of sadistic humour flee Asmodeus' face at once. "I am well," he said. It was true, though not as Asmodeus thought.

The edge was so close. Sink or swim. Change. Fall or - do not. Choices. God. *Choices*.

Asmodeus was looking irritable, but attempting not to show it, an angry glitter in red eyes. Another gesture, without energy, was aimed - this time at the decanter on the table. "A drink?" Dominic had always refused.

"If you're offering," Dominic said.

The eyebrow pulled in slightly further and Asmodeus poured. "A game?" he asked, tilting his head to the chessboard nearby as he offered the glass.

Dominic took it and downed it. "No," he said, almost avoiding the choke in his voice from the burn of the liquor. "We're playing games right now, aren't we? Why hide it beind other, more obvious games?"

A smirk. "True."

Dominic smiled blandly at him. "Another, if you will," he said.

The smirk vanished but the glass was refilled. Asmodeus put the decanter down considerably more on his own side of the table, possessively, and poured himself a drink.

The Archangel was finished his drink before Asmodeus had taken a sip. The burn was less the second time around.

Asmodeus was positively scowling now. "Taken to drink, have you?"

Dominic tongued the inside of his mouth, tasting the sharp tang of spirits. "This is my first drink in, hmm, several thousand years."

"Go easy. Even you will feel it if you drink too much, too quickly, in a Vessel this unused to it."

With a smile, Dominic asked, "Taking a handicap to the game by warning me off a course of self-destructive action? Ah, Asmodeus, that is not fair; if I wish to take my penalty of intoxication, you cannot deny it me."

"I can if it's my bloody spirits you're drinking." Asmodeus' gaze had darkened, anger disguising what Dominic was fairly sure was confusion.

"Would you deny a guest a drink?" Dominic asked. "I thought the rules were that all tools were allowed."

Asmodeus met his eyes and then quite deliberately raised the decanter itself to his own lips and drank, draining it dry. It must have burned, but his face didn't show it, though he took a few seconds to breathe after putting the decanter back down to say, "Alas, old friend, we seem to be out of brandy; I cannot pour you another glass."

Dominic tsked as he rose and, feeling Asmodeus' suddenly *flummoxed* gaze on him, headed over to the liquor cabinet and took the three bottles he found there out. "Ah, 'old friend',"Dominic murmured, "That was not good for you either. If you will not protect yourself, I shall have to do it for you."

He uncorked one of the bottles and tipped it back, drinking, eyes closed against the tears that rose there automatically at the sting of it. He had nearly drained the bottle when it was swatted out of his hand by Asmodeus. He had time for gasp for air before his wrist was snatched up in Asmodeus' thin white hand.

"You fool," the Prince hissed. "What are you *doing*? Have you lost your *mind*?"

"Worried about me?" Dominic managed breathlessly.

A snarl. "Worried? Hardly. It is simply - those are *mine*."

"There was a time I was yours and you were mine, Asmodeus, yet you did not hesitate in throwing that away."

Red eyes went wide for one stunned moment before Asmodeus flung Dominic's wrist away from him as if it had bit him. Dominic took a step backward and ended up cracking his tailbone hard as the room swam about him and the floor seemed to surge inexplicably. He clung to the floor as if it would buck him off, one hand clapped over his mouth as if he could keep the vomit he felt rising in with that. He willed it down, willed the room to stop and managed to keep himself from throwing up at least, though he didn't dare move in case he fell off the floor.

"You little coward," Asmodeus hissed. "What the hell do you think you are *doing*?"

"Giving up," Dominic said. He slowly lowered his forehead to rest against the floor. It was delightfully cool, a relief to the sudden heat that had seized him like a fist. "You win. You win, Asmodeus."

"...What?"

"You win?" Dominic said again, a question inexplicably in his voice, and laughed. "Really, you've been trying for such a long time. The game's over. What will you play now, I wonder?"

There was a long moment of silence which Dominic felt was dizzy elation. It was over. Finally over. And he hadn't even Fallen yet. Certainly there would be repercussions, he told himself, but he wasn't really listening. After all - Asmodeus wouldn't be able to stand this. There was something delightful in that. The only person he'd ever wanted to play games with refused to play anymore. Poor poor Djinn. Poor little Djinn.

"You," Asmodeus said after a long moment, "are heading into my bedroom right now, where you will rest until the alcohol and whatever the *hell* you're on has worn off."

"It's decisiveness," Dominic said, and heard a certain amount of pomposity drift into his voice. He laughed at himself for a long moment - too long, really, but what *could* you do? "It's not going to - wear off."

Asmodeus picked him up. "Shut up. You're not sane right now."

He sighed and muttered 'Untrue', but cuddled into the strength of the arms carrying him. It had been a long time, really.

The Prince pulled the sheets back with one hand before dropping Dominic unceremoniously on the matress. The world spun alarmingly again and Dominic's hands tightened on Asmodeus' shirtfront as he gasped, waiting for it to stop.

"I *told* you not to drink that much," Asmodeus muttered. "You're making a nuisance of yourself."

Dominic managed to get his breath back. "You," he informed Asmodeus, "Are merely using your irritation to cover up your fear that your gaming partner is leaving you. It takes two to play games."

Asmodeus' face pressed close to Dominic's. "Fear?" he hissed. "You think that *I* am *afraid* of anything that *you* -"

"Yes," Dominic said, and kissed him sloppily.

Dominic watched Asmodeus' face in the resulting long, long silence. It was blank, though thoughts were clearly warring behind that mask; every so often his cheek would twitch. It was somewhat cute, Dominic thought, in a way. In another way, he was preparing himself to attempt to dodge whatever was coming his way.

After a long moment, Asmodeus relaxed slightly, a smug smile crossing his face. "Ah," he said. "So that's your game."

"No," Dominic said. "No games. I'm not playing."

Asmodeus clearly didn't believe it, still smirking, his pale hand running down the front of Dominic's shirt. Dominic pushed himself to one elbow.

"No games?" Asmodeus asked, and chuckled.

"I should probably mention," Dominic said, "that in the state I'm in-"

"Sober yourself up. You want no games? Then don't play the drunkard."

Dominic attempted to raise an eyebrow and got it on the second try. "And our 'no Essense expenditure' rule?"

"No games, no rules."

"There are rules in other things than games," Dominic muttered, but spent the Essence and inhaled sharply at the rush of clarity. And then took another breath in at the weight of Asmodeus settling over him.

A chuckle. "You want this."

"Not - this, precisely," Dominic said. He tilted his head back as Asmodeus bit at his throat.

"What, then? Turn over."

Dominic pushed lightly at Asmodeus' shoulder. "Compromise."

A flash of red eyes. "I assure you *I* am not turning over for *you*."

Dominic smiled wryly. He'd expected that. "No, a compromise. I - 'turn over' for you and you are careful not to hurt me."

Asmodeus smirked down at him. "And how do you plan to enforce this agreement?"

He was waiting for Dominic's hidden cards, Dominic knew. Waiting for the next step. Making this another game.

"I have no way of doing so," Dominic said calmly. "I could leave now, of course, if you chose not to agree, or simply not argue if you chose to hurt me after all. Either way, Asmodeus, I'm not *playing*."

"You will play," Asmodeus murmured low and nearly threatening. "It's all a game."

Dominic reached out and touched Asmodeus' cheek. "You're terrified of losing me, aren't you?"

A moment later his face was in the pillows and the air was cool on his thighs as Asmodeus *somehow* shredded his pants. Two fingers prodded between his buttocks roughly and he forced a wince back.

"Did you make this Vessel pretty just for me?"

"Not particularly," Dominic said, then sighed, relaxing slightly as Asmodeus' fingers slid to run over his testicles and stroke. He crossed his arms under the pillow and turned his face to one side so he could breathe.

And winced suddenly as Asmodeus squeezed *hard*. He fought back the fighting instinct, forced himself to exhale, and spread his legs more.

No response he could hear, so Asmodeus was sure that he'd still give in and fight. Make this a game of dominance.

He arched back as Asmodeus resumed stroking, finger pressing against the spot behind his testicles. Eyes closed, his perception shifted to hearing and to touch; there was a faint rustle, the sound of flesh on flesh that wasn't him - Asmodeus touching himself? Dominic wondered how much foreplay he'd get if Asmodeus was stroking himself to hardness while having done barely more than inspect Dominic's own 'goods'.

Dominic didn't expect much, but pressed back into Asmodeus' hand, let himself be as aroused as he was going to be. Submitted to this. Asmodeus wanted someone almost equal to him. Perhaps this would be an appropriate shock. Hopefully.

A pause, then slick fingers pressing into him too quickly, his thighs tensing as he attempted to fight back the urge to flinch. A quick twist and that was all the preparation he was getting, apparently, as the fingers withdrew. He took a deep breath, tilted his hips back, tried to relax.

Even if he'd never done this before in Vessel - and not celestially for a very, very long time - talking to Creationers did seem to give a Seraph *some* idea of what to expect...

He wasn't able to keep from tensing as Asmodeus pushed in with a blunt tearing heat; it *hurt*, though no more than he'd expected, and he bit back a whimper, was pleased that it didn't come out at all. Another thrust, pushing further, a feeling like he was splitting, ripping, and he forced himself to take calm, even breaths.

Asmodeus made a noise somewhere between a purr and a growl, fingers scraping down Dominic's spine under the shirt he hadn't bothered to remove.

He stayed still for a long moment - giving time for Dominic to adjust? Enjoying the feel? Dominic wished he could guess - and then *moved*, pulling back and slamming in again, hard, a jolting movement Dominic could feel both as the sharp pain of entry and the jarring pound that seemed to hit all the way to the back of his throat. He couldn't bite back a small sound of pain, fingers clenching on the undersheet.

"Fight me," Asmodeus breathed, picking up a hard, fast rhythm.

Dominic couldn't find enough breath to talk, but could find enough breath to hum out pained, brief pidgin Angelic. "[Love you. Tired.]"

A pause, and then the rhythm picked up pace and strength. "*Fight me*."

"[No. Not anymore.]"

Asmodeus' hand pushed down on the small of Dominic's back and he pressed forward - and a sudden spark of *something* okay, something sharp that wasn't *pain* - "Then Jump. Fall."

"[You don't want that.]" That feeling again, stronger, a heat spreading up his spine and he broke the humming to gasp into the pillow. "[You - You need me as partner. Ah- a challenge.]"

Asmodeus paused on an inward thrust, ground in against the spot - the prostate, of course, the prostate, Dominic's mind provided - and hissed, "Say that again."

"[I love you.]"

A hand tangled in Dominic's hair, twisted his head around enough that he could mostly face Asmodeus. "Don't say *that*."

"[It's what matters.]"

Silence. Dominic kissed Asmodeus as best he could at that twisted angle, got a growl in response.

"It's all right," he told Asmodeus.

"No Angelic for *that*?" A hard, sharp thrust - but good, this time, a wash of heat from his spine to his throat and Dominic moaned.

Silly to ask for Angelic from a Seraph, but perhaps Asmodeus believed he'd Fallen already. Did he need the reassurance that much, the truth? "[You and I - we will be all right. Don't be afraid.]"

Asmodeus forced his head back around, away, and that choked sob of a noise might have been pleasure, perhaps, or perhaps not. His nails scratched down Dominic's back, hard, but the angle he was moving at was deliberate, pain and - ah, yes, *pleasure* - as if the clawing was his last defense.

Intense, though, the pleasure more *intense* than anything Asmodeus's fingernails could cover up; Dominic found his hands scrabbling on the blankets, found himself making noises that he hadn't known he could make, and especially not in a situation like this. Heat, rising on him fast - too fast, perhaps, but he was *new* to this, new to this freedom - a sudden vice grip of heat almost painful, his body rocked with it, choking, feeling his saliva hot on the pillow as he cried out, the stuttering burn of ejaculation-

Fading into the dull stretched pain as Asmodeus continued to move, one hand kneading at one of Dominic's shoulders. Dominic shivered at the throb inside him and the burst of heat as Asmodeus came, growling.

He winced as Asmodeus pulled out, expected the Prince of the Game to be gone now that the pleasure was over, out the door. Didn't expect the weight of Asmodeus settling back on top of him, one hand looping around his waist. Asmodeus' lips were pressed to his neck from behind, his weight keeping Dominic immobile. He was silent, just holding Dominic possessively, almost protectively.

Dominic smiled. He was sore, bleeding, low on Essence, tired, the wet spatter of ejaculate uncomfortable on his stomach. It didn't matter. It didn't matter at all.

So this, he thought, quiet, was what peace was like.

It had been so long.