A/N: BOO-YAH. FINALLY GOT THIS OUT OF MY HEAD. YOU SHOULD HAVE SEEN THIS COMING. I've seen quite a lot of fanarts, so I knew it was meant to be to that I had to write about these two no matter how much I suck. I'm keeping Touya/Hilbert's name to Black. Don't ask why. I also couldn't pick a title, so think of the one in brackets the alternative.
Extra note: I want to thank Perpetual Dreams so freakin' much for checking this over. But since we were dead tired, we are not even perfect enough to patch every mistake up. If anything, we both suck at tenses :'D Lulz, leave us be.
Warnings: Twincest. My second attempt at writing (half a) lemon, so no guarantees it will work out great (OR AT ALL ACTUALLY HURR HURR :B). Angst? I dunno.
Summary: It was about our colors. It was about our names. It was about our place. It was about our opposite meanings. It was about us. Let's play a game. —Blankshipping
Disclaimer: Pokémon belongs to Nintendo. A huge business that someone as unworthy as I can never come close to such greatness. -kneels-
тнe pυreѕт wнιтe
[тнє нυмαи ѕιяєи]
Black - villainous, wicked, sinful.
White - clean, innocent, untainted.
Get our point?
It was more of a game to win dominance.
The pokéball spun on his forefinger before being thrown in the air and landing safely on Emmet's palm, his gloved fingers wrapped around the small catching apparatus, the glee expressed in his eyes and the intimidating smirk added to his opponent's nervousness. His silver eyes drifted over the informational television bulletin, several ads vibrantly being displayed on the screen one after another. The smirk on his face grew even larger, quickly he shoved the pokéball back inside his pocket: eyeing the electronic clock, he knew it was definitely time. Emmet remained a graceful spark of energy on the subway train: on cue he would merrily jump on a seat, one hand locked firmly around the metal handlebar, his foot searching the indent on the seat to balance his stance, and the other half of his body would be freely stretched out. His eyes narrowed in amusement as his body followed the forceful direction of the subway's swift turn, his trainer had her focus broken an instant as she tumbled forward.
Emmet laughed for a fraction of a second before his voice delved into a more serious tone, his grin had yet to twitch downward to match his serious composure, a snap of the fingers had his Haxorus sprint forward in a glowing blue dash to the opposing Zweilous with dragon rush. He brushed off the feeble attempts the girl commanded for her dragon pokemon to dodge yet her efforts fell to naught when Emmet's Haxorus collided with the two-headed dragon, but he was distracted by a sudden buzzing vibration on his wrist to see the actual impact. Cursing childishly under his breath, Emmet turned the opposite direction of his opponent to privately roll up his sleeve, disregarding the awkward mumbles the girl emitted for the traditional gratitude of having a battle. Will nobody ever learn how terrible the reception is underground?
The screen displayed noise, its snowy black and white discoloration blocking the reception of the caller in spite of his attempts to walk a bit forward in hope of a better reception—for all he knew, the chances were as slim as the famous gambler of the elite four losing at his own game—regardless his efforts went to no avail: the transmission was cut off.
Emmet walked forward to the opening doors of the station, the girl quickly joining his side. Honestly, it took every cell in his body from rolling his eyes towards the trainer's persistence—it was not so often he lacked patience—to hear a few words spoken from a Subway Boss. "I won against you," he said offhandedly, unaware the girl physically flinched, "but this is not the end. I am sure you will show up here again."
Emmet clasped his hands together on his back, taking the first jesting steps forward and finally hopped on the station's bench. He faced the trainer, his hands slowly loosening their grasp from one another, "I will wait for it and win against you…again." He balanced himself uneasily on the thin ledge of the bench before hopping off the edge; his next destination is the handlebar of the station's stairs. His gloved fingers ran down the metal, Emmet situated himself on the metal but allowed one hand to grasp the aged chain dangling out-of-place from the metallic rod. Craning his neck, his silver eyes narrowed in the same amount of amusement as earlier. The Subway Boss offered the dumbfounded girl a few more words, "Because I'm a Subway Boss. I am Emmet." he released his hold on the chain and slid down the handlebar.
If he appeared to have the slightest twinge of excitement in his face, Ingo did not show it. He was thrilled, anxious, and happy he would have a worthy trainer after so long. Once Plasma has been brought down by Black, the trainer spent the rest of his time in the fields with his pokémon to win the League like he would always announce to the world. Slowly, but surely, Black won the title of Champion of Unova without the intention of remaining everyday in the league: he became a wandering champion, just like Alder. Several trainers practiced the last bit of their skill before entering the League at the subway battles. He would admit there were several occasions he had almost been pushed into a corner, just on the brink of losing, but somehow the tables would turn in the result of his victory. Ingo had nothing to complain about from his victories, no matter the circumstances he would try to win before his twin did.
Arceus knows Emmet's lecherous hands would enjoy roaming every inch of his body if he lost a battle. A distinctive sound of heels clicking made Ingo's blood run cold—it was not that he hated it, he hated when it did not go his way. Evidently enough because he had a decent amount of respect for Black not to lose to eager trainers so Black wouldn't go against someone way over their head: a loss would be unfavorable for his own disposition but a win for the Champion. The notion of black being the dirty, wicked color while white is the pure, untainted definition was such stretch.
Quite the opposite in roles, Ingo thought. Emmet was more aggressive, blunt, almost heartless towards anyone other than his twin. Ingo felt a twinge of pity for Emmet, his twin brother was wrapped around the notion of superiority after taking offense to the meaning of their names: Emmet caused quite the racket as a child at the simple two words…
Up and down.
According to their parents, they named their children jokingly, but Emmet was not so kind. Emmet screamed childishly, "Is he better than me? Is it that I'll always be second place? He-He'll go to better lengths than I will?"
The first few days were rough, nevertheless Ingo would sneak inside his brother's room to sleep on the floor to comfort his sobbing twin – no words were shared, and by a few months Emmet created a terrible habit of an inability to fall asleep unless his twin would be sleeping right by his side. Up until the teenage years, Emmet grew more "touchy-feeling" despite Ingo assuming it was just a phase. It was a matter of acceptance that gradually came along, albeit awkwardly the few times Emmet would seize the opportunity to slide his fingers on Ingo's thighs.
The black-coat Subway Boss directed his focus on his shoes: black shoes, black shoelaces. He truly wondered if it was Emmet who should have been wearing black throughout his Subway Boss years.
Ingo silver's eyes met white sleeves wrapping around his chest, with his neutral frown on his expression he flicked the white-coat wearer's forehead before he attempted to have his hands roam anywhere. Emmet whined pathetically, though what came out of his mouth was something Ingo least expected his twin to catch on, rather he assumed Emmet would ask about the transmission that was abruptly cut off when he accidentally bumped his own Xtransceiver on the subway's car railing that immediately sent a call to his twin.
"What are you so happy about?" Emmet asked darkly, the arms wrapped around Ingo's neck drew in closer.
He knew he could lie, but Emmet was sharp. He knew his way around lies.
"Black is going to battle me soon," Ingo replied plainly.
Emmet hummed, his words breathing hotly in Ingo's ear. "Your win time?"
All or nothing, Ingo reminded himself. He took a breath and answered, "Eight minutes, twelve seconds. Recorded."
A paused rolled by before Ingo was introduced with his brother's bubbly laugh, "Seven minutes, fifty-nine seconds. Recorded."
Emmet's battle length was undoubtedly better than Ingo's, much to his disdain, which means it was Emmet's call for anything he wanted. Every battle was to be recorded ever since Ingo faked several battle lengths to avoid having to deal with a groping brother on tiring late nights battling trainers, it was also Emmet to relish being first instead of the downwards named child. Ingo sighed in disappointment to his brother's victory, his expression blatantly waiting for Emmet to make his demand. It came to odd surprise when Emmet's arms released his hold on Ingo, with his playful smile he added, "I'll leave it on hold."
Ingo could barely contain the excitement of having his adrenaline rushing for a full three-on-three battle with Unova's headstrong champion; he was waiting inside his car while Black finished off all the other trainers to hold his place in the last subway car. A door opened, but it was only the car in the next room where the operating conductor would control the subway, yet he was met with astonishment Emmet appeared from the door. The bolt of the door locked with a loud clink! Sound it echoed, in all honesty Ingo already had gut-wrenching feeling something was awfully strange his twin would appear for any other purpose other than double battles. Ingo's eyes continued to follow his brother's white coat; and an instant the ambient screeches of pokémon battles from the other car was blocked when the door was completely bared shut by its lock.
Ingo growled, "What are you doing? I have a battle today."
Emmet blinked, "Really? I had no idea."
"Stop lying!" Ingo crowed.
Emmet put both his hands up, a chuckle escaping his lips, "You caught me!" The hands fell back to his side. He took a few daring steps forward to which Ingo took a few steps back. The white-wearer of the Subway Bosses eyes flared, a gloved white finger pointed at his brother accusingly, "I said it was on hold. I want it now."
Ingo's silver eyes widened, "Are you—No! I have been waiting for this battle for a long time; you cannot take it away from me like this!"
The twin replied angrily, "It's the rule of the game: you win, I do what you want. I win, we do what I want."
Pity. Absolute pity.
Ingo closed rubbed the bridge of his nose. Unfastening the belt buckle, he let his pants drop, ignoring his brother's childish squeal of content. The pair chose a corner of the subway car where the two of them can remain unnoticed by the ovular glass framed on the metal door that separates the entrances of each car. Ingo knew better never to wear any undergarments if Emmet did not hastily proceed into sex, so he was left completely exposed in a cold, air-conditioned subway car. His hands planted on the dirty floor riddled with tracks from the fleck of trash his and Emmet's Garbordor leaves behind when battling.
Emmet licked his lips, his eyes feasting on the sight while he tossed aside his white gloves, his bare hands separated the cheeks from behind as he proceeded to prod the hole with the tip of his tongue, swirling it around its ring teasingly to indulge his twin's heavy breathing and quivering disposition. Emmet pushed his tongue in further; twirling around the inner walls of the small pink hole, the sensual sounds of his brother's pleasure was slowly hardening his own member. As much as he wanted to thoroughly satisfy his own craving at the moment, by no means did he want to cause any discomfort or pain on Ingo's side. Bringing on hand into his mouth, Emmet licked his own fingers moist enough to stick each digit it, one by one-
"Hellooo? Ingo, the door is locked!" Black cried, the handle on the lock jarred shut that it only created poorly attempted turning noises.
Ingo glared back at his brother.
"Camera is off, but your little trainer might hear you," Emmet said slyly.
Inserting the first digit it made his brother twitch underneath him, widening the grin on Emmet's face even wider. The time felt like it went agonizingly slowly before all three fingers were in, every so often touching the very spot that had Ingo's cock twitching in response, he knew it was a false hope his brother would not notice the reaction, but when he felt another hand run down his shaft, he almost could barely withstand the pressure. Ingo turned under Emmet's demand, the only layer of clothing protecting him from being completely touched all over was his white-button down shirt – like it offered any help from Emmet's idiotically horny expression. Emmet's tongue was plastered on the side of his mouth as he traced along the vein of his brother's member.
The button-down shirt was tossed aside as Emmet absorbed the realization, his pale-white fingers running circles around the hardened pink nubs, and when Ingo clenched his eyes shut Emmet drew forward. Emmet's tongue ran from the navel upwards to the perky pink nipples, he flicked his tongue over and around in hope of Ingo's deep breathing or gracious moaning but met with disappointment when his twin turned away, biting down on his bottom lip to restrain pleasing Emmet's pleasure. Emmet's brows furrowed and took the initiative to clamp down, grinding the nubs softly with his teeth.
"Em-Emmahh…" he breathed, his gloved black hands grabbing a fistful of his sibling's silver hair.
Gaining the proper response he desired, Emmet released his hold on Ingo's member and used the hand to push his sibling down flat on the cold floor. Violently fiddling to open his belt buckle, Emmet tossed aside his belt, and pulled the zipper to let his cock freely stay erected out of his pants. Emmet let both his hands roam freely on his twin's chest, twiddling the nipples while his mouth could suckle on the member left abandoned. It was the ghostly kisses that ran a chill down Ingo's spine, and it was the same ghostly kisses that released his hold on Emmet's hair to close his mouth shut from the excessively loud noises that could escape his mouth: he would rather die than have Black listen to the relationship of two brothers.
"Open your legs."
Without hesitation, Ingo did as told and pried his legs further apart. He almost felt like his world would go completely white - his brother knew all the right places, all the right corners, and his incredible sensitivity when Emmet licked his balls - but it was moments like these were Ingo chose the wrong moment to admire the Emmet's beautifully long eyelashes. Ingo's toes clenched as Emmet bit down on the skin lightly. His silver irises observed the alike pools of gunmetal silver, "Don't get too comfortable, Ingo," Emmet reminded with his damned smile.
"I-I am n—! Ahh, wa-wait! Don't—"
It was too late.
Emmet knew exactly when to twirl his tongue around his sibling's cock, the exact precision to swallow and recoil, back, forth, back, forth… Emmet could no longer hold himself from having his finger once again prod inside the tight ring, earning him double the satisfaction from Ingo's rolling moans. He took all eight inches in his mouth, giving the right amount of licks to the point where he could sense Ingo's member would gush out its seed. Without assistance, he turned his sibling around and pried a cheek wide open with one hand whilst the other hand roamed his back pocket for a small bottle of lubricant.
Ingo listened once again to his brother's demand to raise his hips.
The squirt of the bottle was loud enough to give Ingo goosebumps, he felt a creeping fear as Emmet propped himself into a comfortable pose, a hungry look of lust in his silver eyes slightly frightened Ingo as he dared to look back. He wanted his battle with Black; he still does, and would gladly reject sex if he had the chance. But he could not just leave his brother; he was a hopeless case in and out. Emmet broke down by his name and place,
But I knew there was a certain place between my brother and I.
A rank I cannot yet defined.
Hah, I think I should have worn the white coat to redefine the meanings.
"C'mon, open the door already!" Black protested again.
We say it was fight for dominance.
Most of it just a game.
Emmet rubbed the head of his member on his sibling's hole, "Ready?"
I…do not know anymore…
A/N: What the fuck am I posting.