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“Where’s Rin.”
“What?” Samael asks, lifting his head from where he’d previously been signing a legal document with glitter pen.
Amaimon growls and slams his clawed hands on Samael’s desk. “ Where’s. Rin.”
Samael blinks, and already he can feel fear bubbling in his chest. “I’m afraid I don’t know, Amaimon.”
“I looked in the entirety of his building,” Amaimon snarls, “I looked in the mansion. I walked up and down every sidewalk. I went to his field and I had my greenmen search the forest. Where’s Rin.”
“Did you look in the cram school?”
“Yes.”
“The Moriyama’s shop?”
“ Yes,” Amaimon says with growing agitation.
Samael stands, “Let’s go find him then.”
“Thank you so much!” Rin says, beaming, as he leaves the jewelry store.
He wears a new bracelet on his wrist - it’s an anniversary gift for Mephisto, actually, but he’s wearing it for the moment because he’s scared he’ll lose it if he doesn’t. He shoulders his bag of candy ingredients and starts down the sidewalk. He thinks, for his first ever anniversary with anyone, he did pretty good on gifts. When he gets back to the campus he’ll make Kuro keep watch for Amaimon, so he can start making candy. He thinks giddily of how pleased Amaimon and Mephisto will be with their gifts.
Rin’s thoughts are cut off when his ear twitches - someone is behind him.
Rin reacts on instinct as a hand comes down on the back of his neck; He jumps away as he turns, falling down into a defensive stance. He knows by now that the back of his neck is somewhere that should never be touched by anyone but his ma - by Mephisto or Amaimon. His instincts scream at him that something is wrong with this man, and Rin finds himself baring his fangs and letting his claws loose.
“Okumura Rin,” The man says, and that’s when Rin thinks, Yeah, okay, demonic instincts can come in handy.
“Who are you?” Rin asks. His shopping bag is on the ground a few feet away, and if he had time he would weep. Those ingredients cost a lot of yen. He prays he’ll be able to retrieve them.
The man shoots forward, and Rin’s eyes catch a silver glint - a knife. Rin almost laughs, a pocket knife? But his enemy could easily be more than he appears, so Rin dodges and stays vigilant.
That’s when the hobgoblins come.
Dozens of them, flying at Rin from all directions. There must be something wrong, there’s no way they’re doing this willingly. None of Amaimon’s kin have dared to come near Rin with malicious intent in months.
And like Hell Rin is going to hurt them, not when they’re working against their will. So Rin turns on his heel and runs, hoping he can make it back to campus unharmed.
A hobgoblin whines in what seems like apology as it rushes up to his face. Without thinking, he bats at it and sends it flying. He winces, hoping it’s not too hurt, and calls out an, “I’m so sorry!” to the wind.
And he falls.
His knees buckle underneath him, suddenly, and he’s falling to the cracked and grimy pavement. The hobgoblins swarm him, until they’re all he can see. They’re all purring sadly as they attack him with their teeth and fists. Rin can almost hear them - their apologies, their begging for forgiveness. It makes him sick. It fills him with rage. Not at them, but at the bastard doing this to them.
“I see you got the bracelet we left behind for you,” his pursuer says as he approaches. Rin snarls, a threat to stay away, but in his paralyzed state there’s no point trying. “Didn’t the jeweler seem particularly insistent on you buying that exact bracelet? ”
Rin grunts - even his throat is starting to close up, which can’t be safe - and forces his eyes down to look at the bracelet. Then he curses his own idiocy, because of what’s plain as day engraved in the silver. Several sigils, which are definitely what’s keeping him paralyzed and are probably inhibiting his powers.
With a flick of the man’s bony hand the hobgoblins disperse. Rin catches sight of something shiny at the base of a hobgoblin’s tail and knows immediately that’s how this asshole is controlling them.
He releases a low whine as the man’s hand clamps down on the back of his neck and drags him up. Rin curls in on himself involuntarily, or at least as much as he can with that damned bracelet on. The hand tightens and he goes limp. Something about that man’s hand on his neck feels inherently wrong , and it might be because there are only two people in the world whose hands should be anywhere near there.
“You really are a demon,” the man coos. Then he shoves Rin against a storefront and presses his thumb into Rin’s throat.
Rin gasps for air but it does little to help. The man laughs at him as his vision goes fuzzy around the edges and he starts to see stars. The last thing he sees before he blacks out is the man’s mouth far too close to his jugular.
When Rin wakes up, he’s in a cell. His first thought is: How cliche.
His wrists are bound to the wall above his head. When he tries to activate his flames he finds it impossible, and he thinks even his fangs have dulled a bit. But he can move just fine otherwise, so they must have removed the sigil that paralyzed him.
Then he looks down, and all he’s wearing are his boxers. He doesn’t have it in him to be embarrassed, but he does have it in him to be angry .
“Where are you?” He shouts - no doubt there’s a camera in here somewhere. “Come out! Don’t be a coward.”
The door opens. He’s blinded by the light for a minute but his eyes adjust quickly. (Still a bit slower than they would normally, he notices, and attributes that to the sigils.) The man enters, and he has some kind of jug in his hands. It takes a single cautious sniff for Rin to know that he wants that jug far, far away from him. Then, the man pulls a phone out of his pocket, and Rin doesn’t know if he likes where this is going.
“Who are you?” Rin asks, every hair on his body standing on end.
The man smiles. “You can call me Ifrit,” he says. It’s not his real name, Rin can tell without any more being said.
Now that Rin isn’t running for his life, he has time to examine the man. Tall, all skin and bones with ratty, greasy curls. His pointed ears twitch and when he smiles he shows off his sharp fangs.
Ifrit holds the jug out in front of him, making Rin lurch back on instinct. The man smirks and says, “Do you know what this is?”
Rin doesn’t respond. Instead, he watches Ifrit warily. After a moment of silence, Ifrit tuts and continues, “It’s holy water. Surely your instincts are screaming at you about it, right?” He sets the jug down just in front of Rin. Rin gulps.
Ifrit laughs, in that condescending way Rin despises because it’s been directed at him since birth, and leaves the room.
Rin furrows his eyebrows in confusion when the man leaves. He eyes the holy water as though it will eat him and then examines the room he’s in, but there’s not much to see. Just gross, grimy concrete. He can’t see what’s out the door, either, as Ifrit closed it behind him when he left.
It takes only a few minutes for Ifrit to return, and he starts setting up what looks like a tripod in front of Rin. Then, the man presses a button on the camera.
Yeah, Rin really doesn’t like where this is going.
Ifrit stalks over to him like some sort of predator, twirling a piece of cloth around in his hand. Rin growls as the man crouches in front of him. Ifrit tsks , wagging a finger. “It’s best not to get aggressive with me, Rin.” That doesn’t make Rin growl any less.
Ifrit reaches around Rin’s head and pulls the cloth tight. Rin shouts, and he can feel the flames under his skin just begging to be released. And it hurts , it hurts so fucking much to have them forced down.
Rin’s vision is cut off as Ifrit ties the cloth into a knot at the back of his head. Even though they’ve been dulled, Rin bares his fangs in a challenge.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Ifrit says. Rin is repulsed by how close Ifrit seems to be - he can feel the man’s breath on his face. “I find it difficult to resist a challenge.”
“You have no idea,” Rin says, “how much I want to punch you in the fucking face.”
He gets no response.
Instead, he gets a pain that makes his vision go white.
Rin howls as a minuscule spot on his hip suddenly erupts in pain, like Mentos in a Coca-Cola. Ifrit laughs over him. “That’s what you get for disrespect,” He says.
“Holy water,” Rin breathes, so low it’s barely even audible.
“Yes.” A finger strokes Rin’s burnt hip and he whimpers. Then it presses down and he screams. “ That is the price you will pay for misconduct.”
Ifrit’s words do not motivate Rin to be complacent. No, anything but. Rin’s never been complacent once in his entire life. He yells in a pure rage and kicks up, hoping to hit the man, but his leg goes through nothing but air.
A low rumble goes through the room. It takes everything in Rin’s power not to shudder in fear at the (currently) stronger demon’s display of power.
“My, Samael, you picked a feisty one,” Ifrit says, and Rin is very aware of the camera suddenly. There’s a noise like a phone camera, and then Ifrit is silent for a moment.
“Sent!” Ifrit cheers, “The first of many photos Samael will be receiving. And for the grand finale, he’ll get a video!” Rin’s heart drops. How would he react if he was sent a picture of Samael or Amaimon in this situation? Not well, he’s sure, and he doesn’t think his ma- boyfrie- relationship partners would either.
The pain again - this time, on Rin’s stomach. Rin screams, incoherent rage and fear and pain all rolled into one. He curses, and he doesn’t know what he’s cursing but it’s probably the fucker in the room with him. He gasps the first thing he can think, which is “ Samael-”
Ifrit laughs, almost hysterically. Then there’s a mouth on Rin’s. Rin reels back, dropping his chin to his chest in an effort to hide his neck and lips. Ifrit snorts and yanks Rin’s head up, with no reservations about digging his claws into Rin’s chin. His lips are quick to return to Rin’s, and Rin thinks Ifrit must not be very experienced because he’s using way too much fang.
When Ifrit pulls back, there’s blood dripping down Rin’s face from where Ifrit pressed his claws too deep. The older demon leans forward and licks some of it up, to Rin’s complete and utter disgust.
“You’re cute like this,” Ifrit says. There’s the click of a camera again.
Samael hasn’t even made it through the office door yet, and his blood is boiling.
He stares down at the phone screen, at the picture sent to him by an unknown number. It’s Rin - his Rin - with his hands bound above his head. His Rin is in nothing but his boxers and a blindfold, and there’s a burn scar clear on his hip.
Samael’s hands are trembling in pure fury, reality itself warping around him until he reels his power back in.
“What is it?” Amaimon asks lowly. He’s carefully still behind Samael, sensing the elder’s anger.
Samael turns and holds the phone screen up for him to see, and Samael can pinpoint the exact moment Amaimon understands what he’s looking at. The blood rushes out of Amaimon’s face and his upper lip curls, his fists clenching.
“We need to find him,” Amaimon says, furious eyes trained on the picture.
“And we will.”
It’s not hard to find Rin’s scent at the academy gate, and all they have to do is follow it.
Samael’s phone buzzes again just as they cross through the gate. The unknown number.
His heart skips a beat before he taps it - and it might as well fucking stop when he looks at the picture.
His Rin, in much the same position he’d been in in the last picture. But now, there’s blood dripping down his face from claw marks and his lips are bruised. Now, his Rin’s chin is angled up and his neck is exposed, and there’s a bite mark on him.
It takes a bit longer for him to stop reality from warping.
Amaimon taps the back of his shoulder with a claw, a silent request to see. When Amaimon’s eyes focus on the bite mark, the ground beneath them starts to shake.
“Calm,” Samael says like the hypocrite he is, and follows Rin’s scent.
“I hope you spill that fucking water all over yourself,” Rin says.
“Ah, I’m wearing protective gear,” Ifrit responds, and then for the umpteenth time this hour, pain explodes on Rin’s body. This time, the center of his chest.
Rin grits his teeth, determined not to scream. But he does snarl, he snarls and growls and shouts because he wants Ifrit to know damn well he’s not going down easily.
Ifrit hums. “You are strong, for a half breed. I see why Amaimon took a liking to you, then.”
Rin screeches. “Get his name out of your mouth , fucker!”
A laugh, searing pain on his stomach, and he is forced into another kiss.
But this time, Ifrit swings a leg over Rin’s hips to straddle him. Rin growls and pulls back as far as he can. “Get the fuck off of me.”
“No.”
Samael and Amaimon sweep the city for Rin’s scent, two vengeful demons on a warpath. The ground will shake intermittently or the street will seem to fold over on itself as one of them loses control of their emotions, but they are demon kings. They have had centuries upon centuries to train themselves. (They’ve never been in a situation quite like this, though.)
They follow the scent first to the supermarket, then down the road to a jewelry store. They interrogate the poor jeweler (and might get a bit violent), who tells them they haven’t seen Rin and that they’d only just started their shift, anyway. They follow the scent a little further down the road, and then it stops.
But before Rin’s scent goes dead, the smell of his adrenaline and fear is thick in the air. It only serves to amplify Samael’s rage.
“Damn it,” Amaimon murmurs, and Samael seconds that.
Samael’s phone buzzes again.
There’s a snarl on his lips before he even gets the picture open.
It’s a close up of Rin’s face. He’s still got a blindfold on, but there are tears mixing with the blood from before. A clawed hand presses into Rin’s throat. Despite this, Rin has a vicious look on what’s not covered of his face, his fangs bared in a threat. Samael almost feels proud. The position the picture is taken from implies the kidnapper is on top of Rin; The buildings around Samael start to bend like slinkies. Amaimon is deathly silent, his hand gripping Samael’s bicep like a lifeline. Without it, Samael is sure, the city would be falling to the ground.
Samael takes a moment to compose himself - then he hits call.
The voice on the other side of the phone speaks in a nonchalant drawl. “Hello?”
“Hello there,” Samael says, sickeningly sweet, “May I ask why you’ve kidnapped my mate?”
There’s a shuffle on the line, then a choked gasp. “Samael.”
Samael feels his breath hitch at not only Rin’s presence but also his use of Samael’s true name - not Mephisto. Samael.
“Rin,” Amaimon says, and somehow that one word conveys everything Samael wants to say. We’re coming for you. We’ll get you out of there. And we’ll kill that fucking bastard.
“Hey, ‘Mai,” Rin breathes, then takes a stuttering breath. “If you don’t get off of me, you asshole-!”
“Shush Rin, you know what happens when you disrespect.” Two separate snarls come over the line.
“I’d prefer it as well,” Samael interjects, “If you’d get off of my Rin.”
Rin screams. “Fucker-!” A series of nearly incoherent shouts of rage follow, and Samael hates to imagine what’s happening. “His name is Ifrit!” Rin chokes, “He’s got these sigils - agh! The hobgoblins - bastard! Don’t fucking touch me, I’ll kill you - fuck you! Don’t touch me!” Bloodcurdling screams come through the speaker. Samael and Amaimon release twin growls.
“Let our Rin go,” Amaimon says lowly.
“Ah, no.”
The line goes silent for a minute. It’s still connected - but there’s no noise. Then, there’s the sound of a door creaking shut as something is said too quiet to understand.
A sob, and Samael has to fight the urge to bring the city down.
“Samael,” Rin whines, “Amaimon.”
“Rin, do you have any idea where you are?” Samael asks.
“Uh, no, no, I don’t - I don’t know. I don’t.”
Stuttering. That’s not good.
“Breathe, Rin. What did he do to you?” A sob, again.
“I just - I just wanted to get you guys some fucking anniver - anniversa - anniversary gifts,” Rin slurs, “what a fucking. Fucking dick. Gonna fucking kill him, fuck.”
“Rin, tell me what he did.”
“He had - holy water? Yeah. Holy water. That shit - that shit really hurts. Do you know how much that hurts? He put, like, a single drop on me and I was seeing white. Fuck, man, that shit hurts like Hell.”
Holy water - they put holy water on his Rin. Samael feels his fangs elongate, and he has to open his mouth a bit to give them room.
“And he - fuck, he - oh my God, oh my God oh my God he-,” Rin cuts off into panicked breathing. Amaimon’s claws break Samael’s skin.
“Tell me, Rin,” Samael growls.
“He claimed me.”
A moment of silence. Then, “We’re going to find you Rin.”
“I know. I trust you.”
Samael gulps, and wishes he wasn’t too much of a bastard to say it back to Rin.
“Hey - no, hey, give it back!”
The line goes dead.
Ifrit smiles like the cat that caught quite a few canaries as he dangles the phone over Rin. “The video’s done,” he says, “you think I should send it to them? I think they’ll love it .”
“I can’t wait until I can kill you,” Rin grunts.
“Well that’s not very nice.” Pain, that at this point Rin is becoming a bit desensitized to, erupts on his cheekbone.
“Fuck you.”
“Oh, trust me, that’s what I want!” Ifrit has a skip in his step as he paces the room, and Rin thinks he might like to cut Ifrit’s legs completely off. “I’m going to die soon anyway. I did that to myself when I got you. I’m digging my own grave. But…”
He crouches and taps the tip of Rin’s nose like you would a cat, and when Rin snarls in retaliation Ifrit digs a claw into his shoulder.
“When a demon’s mate dies, the demon is severely weakened.”
Rin kicks wildly. This guy can burn in the pits of Gehenna. “What’s the poi - the point of claiming me, then?”
“Oh, just to piss your mates off, truly,” Ifrit says. He leans back on his haunches as he talks. “I despise Satan and your whole little family. You’re weak. You’re idiotic. You’re scattered to the winds. We need a strong, united front if we are to ever take over Assiah. And if I kill you, Samael and Amaimon are weakened. Amaimon is weakened, another demon comes up and kills him. With both of you dead, Samael has the strength of your average upper level demon. Another demon kills him. Three of Satan’s heaviest hitters in one!”
“Sick bastard,” Rin slurs.
“Well, I am a demon.”
A hobgoblin stumbles out of the alley in front of Amaimon, and it says, “Your majesty’s mate.”
Amaimon stops in his tracks. He yanks the hobgoblin up by the scruff of its neck. “Tell me.”
“Ifrit, he used sigils to control us,” the hobgoblin says. It brings its tail around to show a piece of metal encircling it. The sigil engraved on it has a crack straight through the middle. “Made us attack your majesty’s mate. When your majesty’s mate tossed me to protect himself, he cracked my sigil. I can lead you to Ifrit’s base.”
“Samael!” Amaimon yells, and the elder demon is there in mere seconds. He gives Amaimon a curious look. “This hobgoblin can bring us to Ifrit’s base.”
There is no base. Instead, the hobgoblin leads them to an empty field in the middle of nowhere.
Amaimon feels the fury well up inside of him and he turns to the hobgoblin, but Samael stops him with a raised hand.
“The hobgoblin didn’t trick us,” Samael says,
“There’s simply a spell.”
Amaimon grimaces and focuses his energy. It’s difficult for him to detect magic like Samael can, but the natural surroundings do make it a bit easier on Amaimon than usual. He takes a moment, and then he feels it: a powerful spell surrounding the field, hiding something from their view.
“How long will it take you to dispel it?” Amaimon asks. He chews on his claw anxiously.
Samael sighs. “Twelve hours, at the least.”
“Twelve hours?!”
“That’s what I said,” Samael warns, turning his acid gaze to the younger demon. “I want him back just as much as you do, Amaimon.” Amaimon grunts and averts his eyes.
Then, Samael plops down on the ground in an uncharacteristically messy way, betraying his anxiety. He holds his hands, alight with power, out in front of him. His eyes glaze over, and Amaimon is on his own for the next day.
Samael’s phone goes off, and Amaimon isn’t exactly sure if he should take a look. If it’s the bastard again, Amaimon might end up bringing the entire prefecture to the ground without Samael to stop him. Not that Amaimon particularly cares, but he’d invoke Samael’s wrath and upset Rin, and he does care if that happens.
So he settles on the ground next to Samael and calls for Kuro.
With a bit of effort, a demon can summon their mate’s familiar. Amaimon’s never done it before, but it’s surprisingly easy. The cat sidhe appears in front of Amaimon in a puff of smoke, and he seems to forgo all manners one should use when speaking to a demon king; Kuro is immediately asking, “Where’s Rin?!”
Exactly what Amaimon would like to know.
“He has been kidnapped,” Amaimon explains, “by the demon Ifrit. Samael and I are searching for him.”
Kuro eyes him warily. “Why are you telling me?”
“I don’t want you to overreact and take down the city. Rin would be upset, he has no idea how to have fun.”
Seemingly remembering his manners, Kuro drops into a low bow. “Thank you, your majesty.”
“Tell the human twin, I’d rather not interact with him directly.”
“Yes, your majesty!” Kuro says, and he’s gone just as quickly as he came.
Here’s hoping Yukio stays far away from Amaimon for the next twelve hours. Rin would really be upset if his twin ends up with his heart ripped out.
“How long have I been here?”
Ifrit turns a surprised glance to Rin, which quickly smooths into nonchalance. “About nine hours.”
Rin hums, and wonders whether Amaimon has destroyed the prefecture by now.
“Remember your manners,” Ifrit says with a sneer, “say thank you.”
“Thank you for showing me exactly what kind of person to stay away from.”
Ifrit crosses the room as he pulls something out of his back pocket. He holds a piece of paper in two fingers, then turns it so Rin can see, the blindfold long since removed.
“Do you recognize this? I’m sure it’s come up in class.”
It has. Shura showed it to them so they’d know what to stay away from - a pain sigil. As long as it’s touching someone, they will feel endless, blinding pain. Not exactly ideal.
“For fuck’s sake,” Rin says, “Can’t you let me rest for just a bit?”
“You’re going to fuck me and bite me,” Ifrit says, straight to the point, as he steps over Rin. “So that we can be mates. And if you don’t…” He shakes the paper in warning.
“Like Hell I am,” Rin says, then spits blood into Ifrit’s face. The older demon simply licks it off of himself. Gross , Rin thinks, then realizes he would gladly taste Samael or Amaimon’s blood, and wonders if that’s normal for demons. But the very idea of smelling Ifrit’s blood makes him gag, and he thinks maybe it’s a mat - relationship exclusive thing.
“Oh, you will,” Ifrit says with a smile as sharp as the Kurikara.
“Would you rather get the sigil first?” Ifrit asks, and Rin gives him a fang filled grin.
“Your funeral,” Ifrit says with a shrug. The way he delivers the phrase is choppy, as though imitating humans by stealing their speech. Then, he sticks the paper to Rin’s chest, and Rin sees the light.
He is convulsing, like he’s having a seizure; So much pain he can’t even scream, or maybe he’s in so much pain he doesn’t notice his own screams. It’s so overwhelming and he just wants it to stop - but the only way to make it stop is to mate Ifrit.
And like Hell he’ll do that.
The pain is making his thoughts slow, until all that’s running through his head is his mates. Mates. Mates, mates, mates - that’s what they are. Why does he avoid that word? Mates. Samael and Amaimon. Purple and green. Time and earth. Samael and Amaimon and Samael and Amaimon and Samael and Amaimon , and Rin will never think of anyone else in his life. Only them, they are all that matters now, he can’t let Ifrit take that from him. Samael and Amaimon.
He thinks he might be saying it out loud, “Samael, Amaimon,” in choked gasps over and over again between his screams, but he finds he doesn’t care.
Just keep Ifrit out of his mind.
Samael and Amaimon.
A scream rings through the field.
Amaimon jolts, startled out of the near meditation state he’d spent the last six hours in. So Samael’s spell is working - the glamor on the bastard’s hideout is wearing thin.
Amaimon’s lips quirk up nearly imperceptibly as he brings a claw to his fangs. Perfect. They’ll make the bastard pay.
Rin sobs the second Ifrit takes the paper off of him.
“Are you ready to behave yet?”
“Go die,” Rin says hoarsely, like he can do anything about it at this point.
“Hmm. You’ve been under it an hour, guess another one won’t hurt.”
And Rin’s vision goes white again.
Samael. Amaimon. Samael. Amaimon.
Samael’s phone is ringing.
Amaimon looks at it for a second, contemplating, then slides it out of Samael’s pocket. He fiddles with it for a moment before he figures out how to answer. Before he says anything, he places a hand on Samael’s shoulder to ground himself. Not that Samael will notice.
“Hello?” Amaimon asks, and immediately regrets it because-
“ Where’s Rin,” comes the human twin’s growl over the line. Amaimon’s lip curls involuntarily.
“We’ve found him and are getting him out,” Amaimon says.
“God damn it,” the human twin groans, then, “What the fuck did you do?”
Amaimon tenses, digging his claws into Samael’s shoulder. “ What.”
“What. Did. You. Do.”
“Well, currently, we’re trying to rescue him.”
“There’s no way this isn’t your fault,” the human twin says, and Amaimon feels a deep desire to rip his heart out and feed it to Behemoth.
“We had nothing to do with it,” Amaimon says, low and threatening, and blood starts to drip out of where Amaimon has Samael in a death grip.
The human twin scoffs, and the line goes dead.
“If that human twin comes anywhere near me,” he says to Samael’s unresponsive form, “don’t be surprised if he ends up with claws in his chest.”
Of course, thirty minutes later, the human twin comes on Kuro’s back.
“Leave,” Amaimon says to no avail.
“What’s Sir Pheles doing? What are you doing?” The human twin asks, like he thinks they’re just sitting here for no reason while Rin is getting tortured.
A low warning noise goes through Amaimon. He wishes Samael could be a bit more conscious. “Samael is dispelling the spell hiding Ifrit’s hideout from our view. Then we can go in and save Rin. If you’re going to stay, sit down and be quiet.”
The human twin stares for a minute, then sits down on the grass, leaning back against Kuro.
“How much longer?”
“Four and a half hours.”
Samael and Amaimon.
Samael and Amaimon.
Samael and Amaimon.
Rin’s thoughts flicker between people - his mates, Yukio, Father Fujimoto, Shiemi, the exwires and the other residents of the monastery - Yukio. Samael. Amaimon. Yukio. Samael. Amaimon. Samael. Amaimon. Samael. Amaimon. It always comes back to Samael and Amaimon.
He won’t behave like Ifrit wants. He won’t be complacent. He’ll resist until he’s out of here.
Three and a half hours left.
Amaimon hasn’t returned to his prior meditative state; The human twin’s presence is keeping him tense and on edge, every hair on his body bristling.
The screams come more often now, as Samael’s spell works. As well as words. It’s undeniably Rin’s voice. It’s hard to make out what he says, but-
Amaimon isn’t an idiot.
Sometimes he thinks he can make out what Rin, obviously not in his right mind, is yelling, and it makes him dig his claws deeper into Samael’s shoulder. He leans over, now, to smell Samael’s blood. To calm himself down.
Behind him, the human twin shifts nervously.
Amaimon is trembling, he realizes, and he shoves his nose into the crook of Samael’s neck. He takes a deep breath and tries not to do anything else that may show the human twin how afraid he is.
“It’s been four hours since I put this thing on you. Will you behave?”
Rin grunts, and if he had it in him to talk right now he’d give a resounding, “ Fuck no. ”
Ifrit smirks and steps over Rin, and that’s when Rin’s tired mind thinks, God damn it, he’s naked. I don’t like that.
“Like I said earlier,” Ifrit sneers, bringing his hand to the back of Rin’s neck. When he grabs it, Rin goes limp despite himself. “You’re going to fuck me, bite me, and mate me.”
“And like I said earlier - like Hell I am,” Rin manages to say, his abused throat screaming at him.
And he doesn’t know much of what happens after that. His brain is already so foggy and now he’s just so blacked out - he can’t struggle, not with the hand on his neck and the sigils inhibiting his powers. There are tears and blood on his face and burns covering his body and a man draped over him and he just blocks it out - until there’s a clawed hand forcing his jaw open.
Rin growls, but it’s weak, and Ifrit huffs a laugh. The hand continues to press and Rin does all he can to keep his mouth closed. But the hand on his neck makes it hard to even wiggle his toes, and-
Ifrit is bringing his neck down to Rin’s fangs. Rin screams but he can’t move .
Ifrit lodges his neck in Rin’s mouth, and presses on Rin’s jaw. And Rin can’t fight back anymore.
The door bursts open - maybe it’s loud, but Rin can’t tell. There’s Samael and his acid green eyes find Rin’s just as Rin stops fighting and locks his fangs on Ifrit’s neck.
Reality was never that great anyway.
Samael’s surroundings warp as he stalks towards Ifrit, changing to different colors and textures and sometimes changing to completely separate places. He grips the back of Ifrit’s neck and drags him up, and the other demon has the gall to laugh.
With a roar, Samael throws Ifrit against the wall. He’s on the other demon in seconds, and he’s so furious he’s not really sure what he does - but Ifrit is dead. He’s not recognizable by the time Samael finishes, and his innards are more outtards at this point.
The building is shaking. It’s bending, as well, the walls wiggling like worms, and Samael doesn’t think he’d mind very much if he brought the place down.
Amaimon doesn’t have time to help the human twin get Rin, not with Samael like this.
He is frozen in fear, at first, by the older demon’s aura. But he gets over himself and rushes to Samael, wrapping his arms around him. Grounding him.
Samael growls, his hand coming up to claw at Amaimon’s arm, but otherwise he lets Amaimon hold him. In this primal state, he would never even consider hurting Amaimon. He’s out of it, and Amaimon’s never seen him like this before. He’s never seen Samael so blind with fury.
Rin screams, then, sending a jolt through Samael who’s still looking for something to destroy. Not that Amaimon can say he doesn’t desperately want to tear something down as well - but the whole point of this is saving Rin, not making him upset.
No doubt the agony of losing a mate - a forced mate, Amaimon thinks with red hot anger - is coursing through Rin right now. The human twin has managed to get the cuffs off Rin and is now pulling him to his chest. He holds tight onto Rin as he screams, ignoring the way Rin scratches wildly at his back.
Amaimon brings himself up to Samael’s ear and says, “Come on, Samael,” partially because he wants Samael to calm down but also because he really wants to go to Rin. He starts walking, and since Amaimon is Samael’s mate the older demon lets himself get dragged along. With the added weight of Samael, who isn’t really doing much to help the journey, he trudges over to Rin.
Amaimon sits by the twins, pulling a still seething Samael down with him, and shoots a glare at the human twin. Samael, meanwhile, snarls at the person who is daring to touch his mate - but he’s still locked in Amaimon’s hold, and getting out means hurting his other mate. Good plan, me, Amaimon thinks to himself.
The second the human moves away from Rin, placing Rin carefully on the concrete below him, Samael shoots forward. He pulls Rin into a possessive grip, then growls at Amaimon until he shuffles forward and Samael wraps an arm around him, too.
Rin writhes in Samael’s arms, whining, and Samael only pulls him and Amaimon closer. Amaimon brings his mouth to Samael’s shoulder and bites down in an effort to ground him. Samael jerks, but his foggy eyes start to clear.
When Rin wakes, he’s surrounded by his mates’ scents.
He chases Mephisto’s scent, pushing further into the man’s chest. Behind him, Amaimon wraps his arms tighter around Rin’s waist.
“Good morning, Rin,” Mephisto says. Shivers go down Rin’s spine when Mephisto’s claws run through his hair and brush against his scalp.
“Shit,” Rin says, which describes his current mental state pretty well. His voice comes out raspy, and his attention is drawn to the painful dryness of his throat and the emptiness of his stomach. As if on cue, Rin’s stomach grumbles.
“You’re hungry,” Mephisto says, and snaps his fingers. Belial appears beside the bed, as cool and composed as ever. “Belial, retrieve some food and water for Rin. Something nutritious,” he orders, and Belial leaves without saying a word.
“Rin,” Amaimon mutters, his words muffled by how he has his face stuffed in the junction of Rin’s neck and shoulder. Rin doesn’t think he can talk much with the state his throat is in, so he reaches a shaky hand back until he finds Amaimon’s and locks their fingers together. He doesn’t think Amaimon was aware of the human custom of hand holding before meeting Rin. However, he’d once said he understands it as a way to keep in contact with one’s mate, which is close enough.
Belial reappears, a tray in his hands. With Mephisto and Amaimon’s help Rin is able to sit up, supported by the backboard of the bed, and Belial leaves again. The food looks wonderful - waffles and bacon and various fruits, as well as a tall glass of water. The water is the first thing Rin reaches for, and he drinks like he’s never had water in his life. When he finishes, still thirsty, Mephisto calls for Belial and has him bring another glass. Rin finishes that one just as quickly.
Then he attacks his food, and when he gets his first bite of waffle there’s no going back. As Rin eats, Mephisto rubs circles into his back and Amaimon noses at his neck. The latter is a bit of an inconvenience when eating, actually, but Rin lets him. Uncharacteristically, Amaimon never tries to steal any of Rin’s food. Rin’s glad. He thinks if Amaimon were to do that right now, Rin would end up attacking him.
When he finishes eating, he sighs and leans back into Mephisto’s arms. The events of the past day crash into him like a wave and he shudders, then realization washes over him.
“Oh, fuck,” he whispers, “I’m sorry.”
Both demon kings tense, and Amaimon pauses where he was mouthing at Rin’s neck. “Why are you sorry?” Amaimon asks, a possessive arm wrapping around his waist.
“I bit him,” Rin says, hiding his face in Mephisto’s chest. Mephisto tuts and presses a kiss to the crown of his head.
“He forced you to,” Mephisto says. Amaimon voices his agreement into Rin’s shoulder.
“I should’ve seen the sigils,” Rin says, his voice wet with tears, “God, fuck, I’m stupid .”
Amaimon growls. “You’re leagues above every human in this stupid realm.” He startles when Rin lets out a sob.
“He-,” Rin scrambles to bring his hands up to Mephisto’s shoulders, digging his claws in, desperate for something to hold on to.
“Yes,” Mephisto says quietly. He runs his hands up and down Rin’s back as Amaimon nuzzles into his neck. “He mated you. Luckily, it didn’t last long and there was no emotional connection, so your soul is not significantly affected by it. No matter how much his death may have weakened you, your power will be replenished as you unlock more of it.” The calm tone of Mephisto’s words is betrayed by the way his hands tremble against Rin’s back.
It’s almost scary - Mephisto having emotions . Rin is used to Mephisto being aloof, always dancing around what he really means and feels to the point of cruel and cold insensitivity.
Rin brings his nose to Mephisto’s shoulder and sniffs at the blood he’s drawn. The smell calms him immediately - until he is reminded of the moment when Ifrit had lapped up Rin’s own blood, and the calm is gone again.
“Darling,” Mephisto starts. Rin jolts. Pet names are new. Mephisto brings a clawed hand to Rin’s chin and Rin lets him tilt his head back, exposing his neck. Narrowed toxic eyes pinpoint the bite Ifrit left on him. “I really did enjoy killing him,” Mephisto says, then he digs his fangs into the same spot Ifrit did, covering the bastard’s scent with his own.
Shivers run down Rin’s spine. When he’s done, Mephisto retracts his hold on Rin and leans back. Rin gives him a questioning look before he is attacked from behind. Amaimon pulls Rin backwards, until he can reach Rin’s neck and push his own fangs in.
An odd mixture of a moan and a purr bubble up Rin’s throat at the sensation. Amaimon and Mephisto’s renewed claims wash over him, flushing out Ifrit’s. He meets Mephisto’s smirking eyes, seemingly uncaring of the way Rin’s claws cut deep into his shoulders, and he feels Amaimon’s fangs deep in his neck, and he thinks, This is right where I should be.
He cuts off his own purr with a sharp whine. “Amaimon, watch your claws!” Amaimon had run a claw right over one of the burns on Rin’s chest, sending a sharp pain through the younger demon.
Amaimon lets out a low growl, sending vibrations through Rin from where his back is pressed to Amaimon’s front. “Wish I could’ve killed him myself,” he says. Ignoring the content of the sentence, he almost sounds like a pouting child.
“I really ought to attend to those burns,” Mephisto says. Groaning, Amaimon releases his hold on Rin. Rin isn’t exactly happy about it either.
Mephisto maneuvers Rin, who really can’t move much on his own yet, until he is lying flat on his back. His brows furrow a bit when he pulls up Rin’s shirt and exposes his burns. Then, he snaps his fingers, and a first aid kit appears in a cloud of pink smoke.
When he is done, Rin finds he really does feel a lot better. His demonic healing, after being cut off for so long, is working overtime. Amaimon leans down and presses an open mouthed and fang filled kiss to his lips, holding it until Rin is gasping for breath.
“I think a bath is in order,” Mephisto smirks, “Don’t you think?”