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tampered2006-12-19 01:54 am
bitingnightmare.livejournal.com) wrote in tampered2006-12-19 01:54 am
Log; Complete
When; Dec. 19 (after midnight)
Rating; MA (language, sex, minor violence)
Characters; John Constantine (![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
silkcutremix), the Corinthian (bitingnightmare)
Summary; the end to a sexy curse day
Log;
He returned from the shower, clean as a whistle though he really hadn't been dirty thanks to that spell. The heater was back in shape and Cori was back to being a man so he had no problem walking out in just his boxers. His hair was still damp but his metal was still warm. Too bad, he didn't look very amused.
"I need a drink," muttered the nightmare, shades adjusted.
---
"Should be some left in the fridge," mumbled the cockblocked Englishman collapsed on his rump on the couch, one arm resting on the back, the other tapping ash to the floor. "I don't know."
---
Not too long after midnight, still a great hour to poison his liver. He went to the fridge and pulled out a beer, lacking the energy to make the effort to grab the hard liquor. He cracked the bottle open with his bare hand and tossed the cap aside before settling on the couch, next to Mr. Cockblocked. Hell, the Corinthian thought John understood.
"You're damn lucky you're still you," he said before tipping his head back to drink.
---
"I think," he replied with a slight undertone of bitterness. Funny, he should have shrugged off Cori's rejection. Guess ol' Cori was too much of a faggot to fathom having sex with a pussy.
---
Damn right he was a faggot and faggots were faggots because they didn't like vaginas, not fucking one, not owning one. The fact that John had a problem with that, well, he was starting to notice now. Not happy to have the nightmare back in his original shape? He quirked a brow at John, hearing that hint of bitterness.
"What," he prompted the Englishman.
---
John shook his head. "Well, wouldn't you have done it if we were bleedin' dykes?" He attempted to smile. Bloody idiot he was yesterday. Guess he needed to shag a real woman instead of one on four legs.
---
"........" His jaw sort of dropped, allowing beer to trickle down the corner of his mouth. Gah! Cori lowered the bottle and wiped the Heineken from his mouth with the back of his hand. "No," muttered the white-blonde, sort of a half-truth. He might have been more open to the possibility because misery loved company.
---
Then again, John learned quickly and knew better. "Bloody shame." More he thought about it though, the more it disturbed him; funny that he could only think down south when Cori had changed but Cori had tolerated his, say, other self. Best not to linger on it for now. His belly subconsciously twitched when his eyes fell on his lap again. Jesus, addicted already? Was it better to suck his cock or let him rub him down?
---
"That's what porn's for," where a lesbian sex fix was concerned anyway, he reminded the Englishman. Cori sure as hell was indifferent to that. He slurped his beer again then set it down on the coffee table, teeth eyes noting the look between John's blue eyes and his lap.
---
"Better to have the real thing," the Englishman grinned again, knowing the attempt was futile; Cori would have nothing of him. Aw well. Sigh. "Forgive a horny old bastard?"
---
He gave the old man a dubious look. As if a full on cock blocking hadn't gotten his message across. Still he wasn't angry with Constantine, who was after all pitching for both teams. Sometimes the Corinthian wondered if that would spell the destruction of their relationship, but those were things he preferred not to dwell upon. He huffed softly and pat John's knee. "Forgiven," he said.
---
Oh, John was perfectly aware of his terrible relationship track record and despite the fact that the Corinthian's immortality had spared him from the very mortal death that had befallen most his loves, there was very much the alternative of being ditched.
Grunt. He wasn't sure if he could take it. The nightmare abandoning last time had...
... The other day with the broken heater and his fingers whispering along the thick fur of his belly in warm euphoria. He remembered those thoughts that crossed his mind. Was that dog bite a turning point, one of the better things to happen in his life? His shoulder where it once was itched terribly. Those nicotine stained fingers scratched at the spot.
"Great."
---
"Come on, you're not telling me you miss it," his female form with its supple flesh, god how he appreciated his very human and very male form all the more. He smirked, so easily taken in by the old man's gaze, he enjoyed pleasing him. Cori's hand gave John's knee a squeeze.
---
"Gnnn. I miss it," he growled, wishing he could stay fixated on that lovely body that he could never truly have, and probably never will. Maybe he could have something else of the Corinthian though, although... Christ, he'd have to be insane to do it, but... Maybe...
---
"I can make you forget it," he suggested to the Englishman, a sly smile on his masculine face. Yeah he was that confident in his skills as a cocksucker as to make John forget he ever liked women in the first place. That wasn't to say they couldn't enjoy feminine company now and then... His fingers crept higher along the blonde's thigh.
---
The touch of the other man was tempting but still, Constantine did indeed play for both teams and his preference still was mainly for women. A male companion was something not completely out of the question, as the nightmare had proven. His rough, weathered hand fell on that other one spidering up his thigh.
No, a little later. It guided the other instead.
---
He knew John's preference for women well, a minor detail. He knew he could never be as soft in the hands as a woman, and he would never choose to be. A pale brow cocked upward when Constantine guided his hand. Taking initiative? Cori didn't mind that at all, allowing the blonde to gesture just what he wanted from the nightmare. It was the least he could do after buffering the man's advances all day.
---
Guess John could allow Cori to persuade the Englishman back, taking his hand to his zipper. "Come on, show me that you're better than a bird."
---
A challenge, one he knew John should know better. Hell if anything he assumed that man was just feigning doubt to get Cori to put out. Sometimes he relied too much on the physical. Nonetheless he smirked at the other and worked at the button first before pulling at the zipper.
"Are you sure," he asked, a stall to tease the magician.
---
Challenge accepted then. John appeared smug, letting the nightmare ready himself to work his, erm, magic, even if that magic making business was something he was better suited at doing. It beckoned the Corinthian to try.
---
Cori slid over the edge of the couch, having a preference for working on his knees when his... reputation was at stake. He settled between John's legs and pulled that waistband down a little, parted the seam wider and gripped to get that erection up.
---
His knees, hm? John was glad he cut the bloody teasing and got right down to it, even literally. "Alright, mate, give it your all for ol' Johnny and show him that he shouldn't be chasing all those ladies around." His lips were licked in an almost canine manner.
---
He licked his lips as well, always welcome to a challenge especially one of this nature. Unfortunately without a table for er, protection, Cori had to keep his glasses on, denying him the feather light rasp of his eyetongues. The nightmare was more than certain he did just as well with his hands and mouth though. No time to be teasing, he held John erect and slid his mouth over it.
---
Aw, a shame to be denying those eyetongues, if that was what else that was caressing his bollocks the other night as he was fucking with the terminal and Cori was groveling for his mercy (he enjoyed the feeling of control all too much, he would admit).
If just to be an asshole: "Come on, harder. You're better than that."
---
Just as much as he had enjoyed licking the man's shoes. There was a submissive streak in the nightmare just as there was a dominant one in him, two extremes that balanced out to one interesting fellow. His eyes narrowed slightly, on to John's game. He took the man deep in his throat.
---
"Take it all, you toothy git!" John hissed, stifling his breath, his cock very hard.
---
John was already large, any thrusting was likely to trigger his gag reflex, and so he pressed down on the man's thighs to keep him still as possible. It wasn't much but the Corinthian liked to exert some control in these situations. Certainly he was a giver at the moment, but he controlled how much he gave and when he wanted to give it.
---
Hfff, hfff. Oh, that big really? He continued to huff, watching the nightmare work on his throbbing dick, although ready to take that white head and press down for good measure. He too had control.
---
He was at that point where he didn't mind Constantine fucking his mouth, within reason of course. His lips slid up and down his shaft, teeth grazing the rim of his head when he could.
---
"Thatta' boy," John purred, his fingers knitting through the white-blonde hair and guided him, much as his hand did earlier. Just a little. Shit the temptation to just push was there still...
---
That's right, boy, not a girl, not some ladybird. He liked it when John weaved fingers through his hair, pulled it when necessary, or pushed as the matter at hand may be. Cori continued to deep throat the man, one hand on his thigh as the other cupped his balls.
---
The Corinthian would be tasting pre-cum at this point, John's body hot and sweat beginning to bleed. The knitted fingers squeezed, giving a passionate yank to his partner's roots, hopefully having the effect of a whip stroking a horse's flank.
---
He sounded a brief choke, the yank anticipated but when he did it it was unexpected. And damn it felt good, his head tilted back, halfway off of John, a little white fluid coating his lips. The man was lucky he knew how to control his bite reflex.
---
He's likely to bite cha' if he feels any teeth, the words would hovered to the nightmare. Biting the man's cock would grant him another wound in addition to the ones on the back of his neck from that god awful night and having a normal blow job that did not involve gods, dogs and monsters was a seldom pleasure enough.
And John chose this moment to yank down.
---
Down, down on his thick and throbbing cock like some sort of whore. Admittedly the Corinthian liked that, liked it once when he had concluded he was no good at anything else. That time had passed, he was not the man he once was. He made another choking sound, released John's balls to place a hand on the man's wrist: Slow down.
---
The other man's breath was heavy but the touch of fingers on his wrist, combined with that choking noise, was message enough. Slave to his fucking begging cock he was. What was that safety word again...? "Duck, mate?"
---
Turning that game around on him? Cori narrowed his eyes, for a brief moment disregarding why they had that word in the first place. He took it as a challenge, poor nightmare grown too soft to handle rough trade. No, the Corinthian thought not. He dropped his hand from John's wrist and took hold of the base of his dick again.
---
Oh, John still wasn't over whatever the Corinthian had shoved up that tight arse of his. Doubt he was going to find out anytime soon. For now, he just wanted to come, in Cori, on his face, wherever the fuck it went. He didn't care. He just wanted to be fucked. His hands were still in that mess of hair, giving the nightmare a little hint that he wanted it, he wanted him to hurry the fuck up.
---
John's exertion had grown a hard on of his own, bulge beneath the cotton of his boxers. Now was not the time to ask for the lube, as much as he wanted that thing in his mouth to be jammed up his ass. Taking it dry, shit he considered it, and recalled what happened the last time he allowed the Englishman to practically force it. Cori continued to fuck him with his mouth, couldn't resist letting go of John to jack himself off.
---
John's member felt tight, ready to explode if Cori just pushed a little more. His breaths were shallow and quick and all of him begged for release now more than ever, ready to scalp the man between his legs if he needed to.
---
Constantine didn't have to come in his mouth for Cori to taste it. The pounding down the back of his throat was enough, leaving the salty taste of natural lubricant in him. Any second now he expected a warm shot, the taste of magus.
---
John gave a gasp and, well, it wasn't quite a scream but he did give a loud cry as he felt his equipment explode in basic pleasure. The Corinthian was rewarded for his efforts, although perhaps unknowingly with another dose of bestial taint. Constantine had to wonder if it had any effect, any at all, on him. Ah well, he was too busy recovering from the throes of orgasm to really pay any mind to it at the moment.
---
Hot in his mouth and hardly sweet, but that was the way he liked it, swallowing all that John gave him with just a little to spare down the corner of his lips. The nightmare pulled his mouth off his cock and pressed his forehead against the Englishman's thigh as he jerked on himself. He had to come, soon, wet breath against the man's pants. Thank god, or the gods, whomever, that they had a hard floor.
---
As John recovered and his cock went flaccid, he watched the Corinthian jerk himself off. He was picturing him in a different way, revisited by those thoughts of a certain STD that burned along his veins, a threat to the nightmare's relationship no doubt. But what if he saw things from his point of view? Suppose it couldn't hurt, with just one venture...
Hm.
---
His breaths become short as he huffed against the man's thigh, semen covering his hand as he orgasmed. He was none the wiser of the thoughts going through Constantine's mind, but he could tell John was thinking. In the haze of cum and sweat, Cori could tell the man had ideas.
---
Ideas indeed. John wasn't sure whether to put his dick away even; if things would go his way, maybe he wouldn't be needing to zip his pants back up. Instead he grinned: "Alright, you showed me."
---
That flaccid thing was in his face, but the Corinthian didn't mind so much. He did have a hand covered in his own cum though which he brought up to his own mouth for a taste. Never did have a problem cleaning himself off. "Damn right I did," he said between licks.
---
John threw up his arms in mock defeat. "Yeh, you win. Now what?"
---
"You treat me like a fucking king," said the nightmare with a little smirk for that double meaning. He draped his... well neither hand was clean at the moment, but that which hadn't been severely sullied rested on John's leg as he brought he stained fingers to the magician's lips.
---
King, huh? John tasted those fingers, knowing if he left this would be the last time he would taste his nightmare. Maybe. Would Cori...? His lips wrapped and sucked, his tongue warmly caressing the tips.
---
That felt nice, a good end to their otherwise normal activity. John liked to dwell on his inadequacies but the Corinthian would argue otherwise. He smiled against his thigh.
---
It dropped when the fingers parted from his lips so that the magus may speak: "Cori, you ever... thought about what it would be like to, say... run with me?" Nicest way he could put it without sounded like a complete dullard.
---
"Run with you? I kind of do," he replied with a smirk, still nestled between the magician's legs. He hadn't grasped what the other was trying to say, figured he meant the magic.
---
"Really?" John cocked a brow. "Even after all that?"
---
"I'm still here right," he said to the Englishman, brow quirked.
---
"Yeah, you are, but... You told me to change back the other day. Bloody cold too. Missing me ugly old mug already?"
---
"......" Cori brought his arm down to rest on John's leg, palm licked clean under his chin for a moment. "What are we talking about again," he asked.
---
"Me other side isn't that bad. Suppose you would..."
---
"Yeah I know," except once a month, but Cori kept the rag comments to himself. "Would what...." the nightmare prompted, almost fearing what John might have to say. He'd never said it outright, but the Corinthian was nervous around that wolf form.
---
"I guess I... wouldn't mind seeing you run around in nothing but a fur coat, eh?" John gave him a weak smile. Not a grin, a smile. How rare and uncharacteristic.
---
"How the hell would I do that," he asked John, mildly curious for now because the blonde was smiling. In the back of his mind it hurt him to see John smile for that even if Cori was included.
---
It was strange too, the magician uneasy but how often it was he did not hassle someone into his requests? "You have it in you, don't you? If not, you do now. You just bleedin' swallowed it, mate."
---
Well he should have expected that. Ever since John had bitten him Cori had felt a little ill. Was it his body that had gotten used to the disease? Harboring it like a virus waiting for a catalyst to come and pull the trigger. The Corinthian shook his head and stood, but he remained close, claiming a seat on the couch beside John.
"I can't, I don't think I can."
---
John cocked another curious eyebrow, the blue eyes seeming more intense. At the very least he had the dignity to put his dick away, although his trousers remained open. "What makes you don't think you can, mate?"
---
They were kind of lazy like that weren't they, but Cori managed to shuffle his back into his boxers with ease. He adjusted his glasses briefly, a gesture John might have come to associate with the nightmare's skepticism. "Because of what I am," he answered.
---
"Are you a human in dreams?" inquired the magician, unconvinced.
---
"No, not all the time," he admitted.
---
"What about in the waking world?"
---
He disregarded that question for a moment, hand to his forehead in thought. "You're saying every time we've fucked I've been getting this thing you have. What about the full moon," he asked John who knew more about lycanthropy as a magic than Cori did.
---
"Guess it's dormant," John figured. He was not sure about the Corinthian's body composition, the magic sand he was composed of, but why couldn't he model that sand a bit?
---
"Then I don't want to try fooling around with it," he shook his head again. John was a monster under the full moon. Cori didn't want to know what he could be like.
---
A gnnn noise of thought. "You're not bound by the will of a god, mate. You saw what it was normally, yeah?"
---
"I don't want to, John," he said with a slight bristle over the magician's persistence.
---
John appeared a little hurt, just a little. It wasn't often Constantine was afraid to ask of these things, but, "You don't know what it's like, do you? It's different when you know when you want to go back."
---
"Maybe I don't, but what's it to you," he asked, turning to face John this time. "What the hell do you mean different."
---
"You've been a shapeshifter in dreams. You'd know."
---
"Yeah I've done it, but that's my job. Why do you want it," he posed the question to the Englishman.
---
Honesty then: "Company."
---
"You have mine," he replied, honestly.
---
"But can it be otherwise?" John looked uneasy.
---
"Why..." Cori asked, a little uneasy himself.
---
"It's... easier. You have no bloody idea how much goes away when all I have to worry about is eating, sleeping and not shitting on the floor. No magic bollocks. No fucking nonsense I can' t do nothing about."
---
"Are you listening to yourself," he asked John, in near disbelief.
---
"I burned me old life away and gave the high prats the finger the best way I knew how." A weak smile. "I can afford an escape."
---
"An escape from what," Cori got to his feet again, this time to stare down at the Englishman, "from this?" He gestured to their studio, their lives, at least... the nightmare's life for now.
---
A look of hurt. "If it's anything: You're what's keeping me here."
---
"And you--you want that to change?" He was becoming angry, frustrated with the magician.
---
"Just one night."
---
"Just one night..." the nightmare repeated those words in disbelief. Just one night, like the nights Constantine spent away from the studio, away from him. And he wanted that to change. It boiled his blood. "Tell me you're happy with the way you are," Cori asked, steady and cool.
---
"Yeah."
This was beginning to feel like one of those god awful dramas where some poor bloke was pretending to be something he was not. What did that make John? There was a moment of silence as he thought about this, between hangover sludge and innocent euphoria. Would sacrificing the pains and joys of deeper understanding (as well as a few more decades of lifespan) be worth the scheduled simplicity? Should he not settle into the life of a pet, would the comforts of humanity be worth the cold and constant hunger but purest freedom, or was it no different than his thirst for the arcane and dark things? Did the bloodline curse recognize his other shape? Were there other shapeshifters in the line that had been faced with this same option? Was it humanity that was truly free?
Did the Corinthian understand or was he only set into what he was: A function?
"You think I've crawled through enough shit to realize that I finally have the means to break this soddin' cycle of mine without ending some kind of fiery death?"
---
Function? Yeah that's right, mirror of humanity, unmasker of deceit and all that. Elle had summarized it soundly: his function was to be the whistle blower of bullshit, and he swore he could smell John's. Crawled through enough shit, a 'soddin' cycle' that could lead only to some kind of fiery death, that's what this all was right. He balled his fist tightly then cracked it against the man's face. That wasn't the end of it, whether Constantine had taken the blow or not the Corinthian grabbed him by the shirt to pull him off the couch and throw him down to the floor.
---
John was no stranger to being out rightly punched in this face, snapping back from the surprise impact. Before he could react or even counter, he was on the floor, warm blood trailing down from his nose to pool in red constant drips. He almost saw himself in the puddling crimson, he almost did, but he looked up at the nightmare instead. Right now, Constantine was a very different man, his blue eyes hurt, but he said nothing, not even bothering to plug his nose.
---
Not fighting back? Not going furry? Good. Cori mounted the man on the floor, straddling his chest so he could pull John up face to face by his shirt again. Never mind the bleeding, he wasn't there when his nose had broken. The nightmare didn't care if the blood flecked across his own face either.
"Fuck the shit you had dropped in your lap, you pulled through because you're John Constantine," he said to the Englishman's face, voice unsteady, "I work damn hard to be what I am, it took me a few thousand years to get what you have in only fifty. I'm not going to fucking give up on me so you sure as hell better not give up on you."
---
John's nose felt red, tender and swollen. Broken, yes, but he could have easily shifted and the facial rearrangement would have repaired the injury; nothing dehabilitating. He considered snapping back at the nightmare, but he had more sense than that. Perhaps his hair had paled a bit but that had been the extent. More of his tainted, polluted blood trailed down his face, his neck, staining his clothes and the floor.
"I'm not good at this promises thing," he muttered quietly, squeaking the words. Hardly sad, but it was a tiny noise of defeat.
---
He lowered John to the floor again, placed both hands to the sides of the man's face. There'd been sweat, cum, and now blood on his hands as he felt the bristle of stubble along the Englishman's jaw.
"I don't need your promises, John," Cori said with a shake of his head, trying to quell the slight tremble in his fingers. Promises were unfair at times, obligations as it were, things he would not want to enforce upon the other. "I just want you to stay," and it was a broad thing to say, stay where? In his human shape? With him?
---
Those stained fingers might have felt that some of the stubble was uneven, some longer. How badly Constantine wanted to tear off the nightmare's fingers, but no, he laid there, he too wondering what he meant. "I can stay alive. I'm good at that. Shit, fifty years of it and knowing when something wants your balls on a platter becomes second nature."
---
Uneven yes. Even he could feel the flesh's urge to shift under him. That lupine aspect was a part of him now, and Cori had just turned a wolf belly up, but he had faith that Constantine dominated the beast, not the other way around. Full moons and gods be damned. Average mortals couldn't do or live through what John did, Houma glory days to the 'devil' himself. It was enough of an explanation, the Corinthian didn't know how else he could say what he wanted to.
He huffed softly, shoulders less tense. "I've got your back, don't forget that," the white-blonde added.
---
Had the beast dominated him, or had John chosen to embrace the damn thing instead? Was the animal John or was it completely something else? He was an extraordinary man, but long ago, in a niche of park in the dark bowels of London, he had corrected the once proud King of Vampires: Just a normal man pretending to be something bigger than he was. What was his current situation then? An ordinary man killing himself in a way no other human being could only fathom to do?
"Got me back so you can bloody me nose," the magus weakly smiled.
---
Even that could be considered just another extension of his addiction, a need to go out in a fiery death, a blaze of glory, or just in some way no one else expected of a cunt from Liverpool. The Corinthian knew this, he did not want to see it happen, did not want to see John resign himself to something that didn't require a fight. But unlike immortals ordinary men grew tired much faster, however, John Constantine was not an ordinary man to Cori, no matter how much he thought so. Ordinary men did not piss on the King of Vampires, ordinary men did not sleep with nightmares.
"Yeah," he said almost matter-of-factly, as if it was his right to smack the magus with a clue by four, but then he released John and stood up to grab him the tissue box, and a towel. "Here," said the nightmare, firm but a little apologetic.
---
Let the Corinthian wield it, although John still felt an obligation to take care of her: She did not choose to be a starving horny bitch while he had every choice to be either man or beast. Experience had shown that even animals could come back as ghosts and he would rather keep his dead pack all human.
What was he trying to prove anyway? He took the towel, cushioning his mangled nose and rather than setting it, allowed a slight facial shift instead. Didn't involve a snout; it felt something like a sort of preparation for his body before the dramatic changes. Still hurt like hell but it did the job.
"Some bloody Christmas." It was muffled.
---
Good point, ghostly animals were just as terrifying as human ones, less likely to join the honor guard or jury, more likely to just bite cha. As for trying to prove anything, well, Cori didn't know either except that his fist was getting used to breaking John's face. Funny how they both needed a good punch to get a message across. He sat beside the magus on the floor.
"It's my first," the nightmare admitted, wiping his hand with some kleenex.
---
John shut his eyes, propping himself up to clean the blood, injuries and bone repaired. "You're kidding."
---
"No," Cori shook his head. With the demon blood and the lycanthropy, and John's already hard skull, cracking his knuckles against his nose had left a nice bruise that was already starting to color. He tried to get the blood out from under his nails. "It's not my first time in the waking world during the season," he hooked a thumb at their tree, "but that's a first."
---
John grunted in response, pulling himself up to the couch. Didn't freeze his arse for one. He'd clean the blood later, if the Corinthian didn't. He would have pondered the nature of the nightmare, but still there was phantom throbbing in his nose and with it the fact that he needed to get himself back in order.
---
The Corinthian was already busy trying to get the blood out, thinning it with a cleaner then trying to wipe it away. He was a good sort of housemate, or maybe Cori was just accustomed to getting blood out of the floor. He knew how long they had before it became a permanent stain detectable by luminol and blacklight. It was a semblance of normalcy, really.
---
Normalcy. What was normalcy around Constantine? Especially now? Once most of the wet blood had been cleaned, the Englishman got up.
"Me clothes are stained." Obvious point. "Going to change into something else." Clothes, not fur.
---
He looked at John from behind his shades. "All right," said the nightmare, still clad in just his boxers. He trusted the blonde meant clothes and not fur.
---
John made a quick stop to the bathroom to clean off the remaining blood, then to the drawer to change, finding that tacky sweater he picked up for himself the other day which he luckily did not stain. No fur still, any sort of whiteness that had trickled into his hair fading away to that familiar blonde. He ran his hands through his hair as if to be sure.
---
If John wasn't paying attention perhaps he'd be surprised by the nightmare coming up from behind him, hands clean and washed in the kitchen circling around the Englishman's waist. He was taller, noted the full color of blonde in John's hair. Funny, fifty-something and barely graying was he?
---
A surprised grunt. "Cori..." Bloody love hate relationship. John's own hands rested on his loyal phantom's, palms free from black callouses and course hair. Indeed his hair was still yellow, a boon from the double-edged sword that was his demon blood.
---
Two extremes, even though hate was a strong word and love... well that was something he preferred not to discuss, if only because the Corinthian didn't know how. He didn't say anything to John, delivered a kiss below the magician's ear unless that sweater was so tacky as to have a high turtleneck.
---
Nah, John wasn't that tacky, although that kiss made him smile. The nightmare gave him a reason to stick around.
---
A smile, a rare expression for John Constantine these days, and even rarer that it was a nightmare who could bring it about. But he was his nightmare too, and he hoped that the other was his magus.
---
His magus. That begged a question: "Cori... Why do you want me?"
---
"......." The question caught him off guard. He'd never expected John to even ask, it was one of those things they didn't discuss. Though, why they never talked about it was up for speculation. "I don't know," Cori admitted, gaze lowered to John's shoulder, "but I can't think about not being with you."
---
They were making up, but John had to probe: "Am I any different on four legs?"
---
"When you're on four legs you're not with me anymore." Of course that was a two-way street, how could the Corinthian feel otherwise if he remained on two legs while John ran on four.
---
"Not even as a pet?" Some humor in that tone.
---
A comedian huh? Cori tightened his hold around the man's waist and smirked against his neck. "I've got better ways to make you a pet...." he suggested, not to say that a four legged one wasn't welcome in his presence, "I'm just worried about you sometimes."
---
"You're going to be worried a lot then." John sounded distant, even with the Corinthian close. Kit must have been constantly worried about him when he engaged in the magic shit, yeah? No, not just Kit, it had been with almost everyone he had been with, trying to keep them and his other side separate.
---
Whether it worked to his advantage or not, the Corinthian wasn't Kit, he wasn't even human. The man with white hair was just his shadow, the one he liked the most. John was the real thing, real flesh and real blood, a finite existence compared to his own. The nightmare's existence was not his own to command, but he guided and guarded what freedom he had.
"I've got the time," he said against the magus' neck, hearing that distance and trying to bring him back.
---
A finite existence, and that finite existence was the more worthwhile part of the substance of existence, as far as the cycle of a soul went. Would John Constantine always be John Constantine, even after death, or was this identity only this lifetime? Things he could not care less to ponder deeply about at the moment, preferring the Corinthian's embrace rather than his fist cracking against his nose.
"Can't say I have the same thing."
---
The Corinthian preferred the same, although the crack of a whip against his body was... Well his mind hadn't delved into that territory yet. He kissed John in that same spot again, just under his ear, vulnerable here.
"That makes it more important to me," he said under his breath.
---
There was something just a little more precious about mortality then the steadfast reliability of immortality. One could afford to be a little more careless if one knew that they would never see the supposed other side when one's time came. The fragility of mortality made John wise after all.
"Even a loathsome bastard like me."
---
If John would only listen to himself sometimes, he could have answered his own question as to why Cori wanted him. "Even a loathsome bastard like you," said the nightmare (who was hardly one to talk about being loathsome) against the lobe of his ear.
---
"For a twisted object of fear, you care a damn lot about me more than the blokes you were made to haunt." Another smile.
---
"I've got to make up for being a jackass somehow," Cori replied with a similar smile.
---
"Caring for another jackass."
---
"Yeah you got it," he quirked a brow but smirked faintly.
---
When Constantine had pulled his sorry arse up from the floor, he had made sure to redo his fly, but anything sexual? He needed to recover.
"Now do you have anything else in mind or you like me arse just that much?"
---
Come now, the Corinthian was a marathon runner but he could abstain.... for a few hours, maybe even twenty-four. "Come to bed," he asked, hardly sexual, but it was a little late and he didn't feel like finishing his beer. He was just glad to not have broken anything more than the man's nose.
---
"Shut eye then?" Constantine realized since his arrival in the City, he had been able to sleep better, even more so with the Corinthian next to him. Sort of funny, he being a nightmare and all. Good thing the nightmare was immortal then; it'd only be him buggering his age chipping away at his own sexual endurance.
---
"Could use it," both of them really. Constantine's absence during the forest fire hadn't gone unnoticed, but it wasn't his place to ask, not now. And clocking the man after they'd... well that was two ways of expending energy in one night. He too felt more comfortable sleeping with the magician at his side, not cold like the mirrored halls of the citadel or a lonely cot in the middle of Amsterdam.
---
"Come on then, let's piss off to bed, less you wanna' sleep there attached to me lovely arse rather than next to it." There was that typical Constantine grin again.
---
"I don't know, now that you've brought it up it's tempting," said the Corinthian with his own characteristic smirk, but he lowered his hands from John's waist to lead the other to the bed. Sweater and trousers for him, Cori could make due with just his boxers and a magus under the covers.
Rating; MA (language, sex, minor violence)
Characters; John Constantine (
silkcutremix), the Corinthian (bitingnightmare)Summary; the end to a sexy curse day
Log;
He returned from the shower, clean as a whistle though he really hadn't been dirty thanks to that spell. The heater was back in shape and Cori was back to being a man so he had no problem walking out in just his boxers. His hair was still damp but his metal was still warm. Too bad, he didn't look very amused.
"I need a drink," muttered the nightmare, shades adjusted.
---
"Should be some left in the fridge," mumbled the cockblocked Englishman collapsed on his rump on the couch, one arm resting on the back, the other tapping ash to the floor. "I don't know."
---
Not too long after midnight, still a great hour to poison his liver. He went to the fridge and pulled out a beer, lacking the energy to make the effort to grab the hard liquor. He cracked the bottle open with his bare hand and tossed the cap aside before settling on the couch, next to Mr. Cockblocked. Hell, the Corinthian thought John understood.
"You're damn lucky you're still you," he said before tipping his head back to drink.
---
"I think," he replied with a slight undertone of bitterness. Funny, he should have shrugged off Cori's rejection. Guess ol' Cori was too much of a faggot to fathom having sex with a pussy.
---
Damn right he was a faggot and faggots were faggots because they didn't like vaginas, not fucking one, not owning one. The fact that John had a problem with that, well, he was starting to notice now. Not happy to have the nightmare back in his original shape? He quirked a brow at John, hearing that hint of bitterness.
"What," he prompted the Englishman.
---
John shook his head. "Well, wouldn't you have done it if we were bleedin' dykes?" He attempted to smile. Bloody idiot he was yesterday. Guess he needed to shag a real woman instead of one on four legs.
---
"........" His jaw sort of dropped, allowing beer to trickle down the corner of his mouth. Gah! Cori lowered the bottle and wiped the Heineken from his mouth with the back of his hand. "No," muttered the white-blonde, sort of a half-truth. He might have been more open to the possibility because misery loved company.
---
Then again, John learned quickly and knew better. "Bloody shame." More he thought about it though, the more it disturbed him; funny that he could only think down south when Cori had changed but Cori had tolerated his, say, other self. Best not to linger on it for now. His belly subconsciously twitched when his eyes fell on his lap again. Jesus, addicted already? Was it better to suck his cock or let him rub him down?
---
"That's what porn's for," where a lesbian sex fix was concerned anyway, he reminded the Englishman. Cori sure as hell was indifferent to that. He slurped his beer again then set it down on the coffee table, teeth eyes noting the look between John's blue eyes and his lap.
---
"Better to have the real thing," the Englishman grinned again, knowing the attempt was futile; Cori would have nothing of him. Aw well. Sigh. "Forgive a horny old bastard?"
---
He gave the old man a dubious look. As if a full on cock blocking hadn't gotten his message across. Still he wasn't angry with Constantine, who was after all pitching for both teams. Sometimes the Corinthian wondered if that would spell the destruction of their relationship, but those were things he preferred not to dwell upon. He huffed softly and pat John's knee. "Forgiven," he said.
---
Oh, John was perfectly aware of his terrible relationship track record and despite the fact that the Corinthian's immortality had spared him from the very mortal death that had befallen most his loves, there was very much the alternative of being ditched.
Grunt. He wasn't sure if he could take it. The nightmare abandoning last time had...
... The other day with the broken heater and his fingers whispering along the thick fur of his belly in warm euphoria. He remembered those thoughts that crossed his mind. Was that dog bite a turning point, one of the better things to happen in his life? His shoulder where it once was itched terribly. Those nicotine stained fingers scratched at the spot.
"Great."
---
"Come on, you're not telling me you miss it," his female form with its supple flesh, god how he appreciated his very human and very male form all the more. He smirked, so easily taken in by the old man's gaze, he enjoyed pleasing him. Cori's hand gave John's knee a squeeze.
---
"Gnnn. I miss it," he growled, wishing he could stay fixated on that lovely body that he could never truly have, and probably never will. Maybe he could have something else of the Corinthian though, although... Christ, he'd have to be insane to do it, but... Maybe...
---
"I can make you forget it," he suggested to the Englishman, a sly smile on his masculine face. Yeah he was that confident in his skills as a cocksucker as to make John forget he ever liked women in the first place. That wasn't to say they couldn't enjoy feminine company now and then... His fingers crept higher along the blonde's thigh.
---
The touch of the other man was tempting but still, Constantine did indeed play for both teams and his preference still was mainly for women. A male companion was something not completely out of the question, as the nightmare had proven. His rough, weathered hand fell on that other one spidering up his thigh.
No, a little later. It guided the other instead.
---
He knew John's preference for women well, a minor detail. He knew he could never be as soft in the hands as a woman, and he would never choose to be. A pale brow cocked upward when Constantine guided his hand. Taking initiative? Cori didn't mind that at all, allowing the blonde to gesture just what he wanted from the nightmare. It was the least he could do after buffering the man's advances all day.
---
Guess John could allow Cori to persuade the Englishman back, taking his hand to his zipper. "Come on, show me that you're better than a bird."
---
A challenge, one he knew John should know better. Hell if anything he assumed that man was just feigning doubt to get Cori to put out. Sometimes he relied too much on the physical. Nonetheless he smirked at the other and worked at the button first before pulling at the zipper.
"Are you sure," he asked, a stall to tease the magician.
---
Challenge accepted then. John appeared smug, letting the nightmare ready himself to work his, erm, magic, even if that magic making business was something he was better suited at doing. It beckoned the Corinthian to try.
---
Cori slid over the edge of the couch, having a preference for working on his knees when his... reputation was at stake. He settled between John's legs and pulled that waistband down a little, parted the seam wider and gripped to get that erection up.
---
His knees, hm? John was glad he cut the bloody teasing and got right down to it, even literally. "Alright, mate, give it your all for ol' Johnny and show him that he shouldn't be chasing all those ladies around." His lips were licked in an almost canine manner.
---
He licked his lips as well, always welcome to a challenge especially one of this nature. Unfortunately without a table for er, protection, Cori had to keep his glasses on, denying him the feather light rasp of his eyetongues. The nightmare was more than certain he did just as well with his hands and mouth though. No time to be teasing, he held John erect and slid his mouth over it.
---
Aw, a shame to be denying those eyetongues, if that was what else that was caressing his bollocks the other night as he was fucking with the terminal and Cori was groveling for his mercy (he enjoyed the feeling of control all too much, he would admit).
If just to be an asshole: "Come on, harder. You're better than that."
---
Just as much as he had enjoyed licking the man's shoes. There was a submissive streak in the nightmare just as there was a dominant one in him, two extremes that balanced out to one interesting fellow. His eyes narrowed slightly, on to John's game. He took the man deep in his throat.
---
"Take it all, you toothy git!" John hissed, stifling his breath, his cock very hard.
---
John was already large, any thrusting was likely to trigger his gag reflex, and so he pressed down on the man's thighs to keep him still as possible. It wasn't much but the Corinthian liked to exert some control in these situations. Certainly he was a giver at the moment, but he controlled how much he gave and when he wanted to give it.
---
Hfff, hfff. Oh, that big really? He continued to huff, watching the nightmare work on his throbbing dick, although ready to take that white head and press down for good measure. He too had control.
---
He was at that point where he didn't mind Constantine fucking his mouth, within reason of course. His lips slid up and down his shaft, teeth grazing the rim of his head when he could.
---
"Thatta' boy," John purred, his fingers knitting through the white-blonde hair and guided him, much as his hand did earlier. Just a little. Shit the temptation to just push was there still...
---
That's right, boy, not a girl, not some ladybird. He liked it when John weaved fingers through his hair, pulled it when necessary, or pushed as the matter at hand may be. Cori continued to deep throat the man, one hand on his thigh as the other cupped his balls.
---
The Corinthian would be tasting pre-cum at this point, John's body hot and sweat beginning to bleed. The knitted fingers squeezed, giving a passionate yank to his partner's roots, hopefully having the effect of a whip stroking a horse's flank.
---
He sounded a brief choke, the yank anticipated but when he did it it was unexpected. And damn it felt good, his head tilted back, halfway off of John, a little white fluid coating his lips. The man was lucky he knew how to control his bite reflex.
---
He's likely to bite cha' if he feels any teeth, the words would hovered to the nightmare. Biting the man's cock would grant him another wound in addition to the ones on the back of his neck from that god awful night and having a normal blow job that did not involve gods, dogs and monsters was a seldom pleasure enough.
And John chose this moment to yank down.
---
Down, down on his thick and throbbing cock like some sort of whore. Admittedly the Corinthian liked that, liked it once when he had concluded he was no good at anything else. That time had passed, he was not the man he once was. He made another choking sound, released John's balls to place a hand on the man's wrist: Slow down.
---
The other man's breath was heavy but the touch of fingers on his wrist, combined with that choking noise, was message enough. Slave to his fucking begging cock he was. What was that safety word again...? "Duck, mate?"
---
Turning that game around on him? Cori narrowed his eyes, for a brief moment disregarding why they had that word in the first place. He took it as a challenge, poor nightmare grown too soft to handle rough trade. No, the Corinthian thought not. He dropped his hand from John's wrist and took hold of the base of his dick again.
---
Oh, John still wasn't over whatever the Corinthian had shoved up that tight arse of his. Doubt he was going to find out anytime soon. For now, he just wanted to come, in Cori, on his face, wherever the fuck it went. He didn't care. He just wanted to be fucked. His hands were still in that mess of hair, giving the nightmare a little hint that he wanted it, he wanted him to hurry the fuck up.
---
John's exertion had grown a hard on of his own, bulge beneath the cotton of his boxers. Now was not the time to ask for the lube, as much as he wanted that thing in his mouth to be jammed up his ass. Taking it dry, shit he considered it, and recalled what happened the last time he allowed the Englishman to practically force it. Cori continued to fuck him with his mouth, couldn't resist letting go of John to jack himself off.
---
John's member felt tight, ready to explode if Cori just pushed a little more. His breaths were shallow and quick and all of him begged for release now more than ever, ready to scalp the man between his legs if he needed to.
---
Constantine didn't have to come in his mouth for Cori to taste it. The pounding down the back of his throat was enough, leaving the salty taste of natural lubricant in him. Any second now he expected a warm shot, the taste of magus.
---
John gave a gasp and, well, it wasn't quite a scream but he did give a loud cry as he felt his equipment explode in basic pleasure. The Corinthian was rewarded for his efforts, although perhaps unknowingly with another dose of bestial taint. Constantine had to wonder if it had any effect, any at all, on him. Ah well, he was too busy recovering from the throes of orgasm to really pay any mind to it at the moment.
---
Hot in his mouth and hardly sweet, but that was the way he liked it, swallowing all that John gave him with just a little to spare down the corner of his lips. The nightmare pulled his mouth off his cock and pressed his forehead against the Englishman's thigh as he jerked on himself. He had to come, soon, wet breath against the man's pants. Thank god, or the gods, whomever, that they had a hard floor.
---
As John recovered and his cock went flaccid, he watched the Corinthian jerk himself off. He was picturing him in a different way, revisited by those thoughts of a certain STD that burned along his veins, a threat to the nightmare's relationship no doubt. But what if he saw things from his point of view? Suppose it couldn't hurt, with just one venture...
Hm.
---
His breaths become short as he huffed against the man's thigh, semen covering his hand as he orgasmed. He was none the wiser of the thoughts going through Constantine's mind, but he could tell John was thinking. In the haze of cum and sweat, Cori could tell the man had ideas.
---
Ideas indeed. John wasn't sure whether to put his dick away even; if things would go his way, maybe he wouldn't be needing to zip his pants back up. Instead he grinned: "Alright, you showed me."
---
That flaccid thing was in his face, but the Corinthian didn't mind so much. He did have a hand covered in his own cum though which he brought up to his own mouth for a taste. Never did have a problem cleaning himself off. "Damn right I did," he said between licks.
---
John threw up his arms in mock defeat. "Yeh, you win. Now what?"
---
"You treat me like a fucking king," said the nightmare with a little smirk for that double meaning. He draped his... well neither hand was clean at the moment, but that which hadn't been severely sullied rested on John's leg as he brought he stained fingers to the magician's lips.
---
King, huh? John tasted those fingers, knowing if he left this would be the last time he would taste his nightmare. Maybe. Would Cori...? His lips wrapped and sucked, his tongue warmly caressing the tips.
---
That felt nice, a good end to their otherwise normal activity. John liked to dwell on his inadequacies but the Corinthian would argue otherwise. He smiled against his thigh.
---
It dropped when the fingers parted from his lips so that the magus may speak: "Cori, you ever... thought about what it would be like to, say... run with me?" Nicest way he could put it without sounded like a complete dullard.
---
"Run with you? I kind of do," he replied with a smirk, still nestled between the magician's legs. He hadn't grasped what the other was trying to say, figured he meant the magic.
---
"Really?" John cocked a brow. "Even after all that?"
---
"I'm still here right," he said to the Englishman, brow quirked.
---
"Yeah, you are, but... You told me to change back the other day. Bloody cold too. Missing me ugly old mug already?"
---
"......" Cori brought his arm down to rest on John's leg, palm licked clean under his chin for a moment. "What are we talking about again," he asked.
---
"Me other side isn't that bad. Suppose you would..."
---
"Yeah I know," except once a month, but Cori kept the rag comments to himself. "Would what...." the nightmare prompted, almost fearing what John might have to say. He'd never said it outright, but the Corinthian was nervous around that wolf form.
---
"I guess I... wouldn't mind seeing you run around in nothing but a fur coat, eh?" John gave him a weak smile. Not a grin, a smile. How rare and uncharacteristic.
---
"How the hell would I do that," he asked John, mildly curious for now because the blonde was smiling. In the back of his mind it hurt him to see John smile for that even if Cori was included.
---
It was strange too, the magician uneasy but how often it was he did not hassle someone into his requests? "You have it in you, don't you? If not, you do now. You just bleedin' swallowed it, mate."
---
Well he should have expected that. Ever since John had bitten him Cori had felt a little ill. Was it his body that had gotten used to the disease? Harboring it like a virus waiting for a catalyst to come and pull the trigger. The Corinthian shook his head and stood, but he remained close, claiming a seat on the couch beside John.
"I can't, I don't think I can."
---
John cocked another curious eyebrow, the blue eyes seeming more intense. At the very least he had the dignity to put his dick away, although his trousers remained open. "What makes you don't think you can, mate?"
---
They were kind of lazy like that weren't they, but Cori managed to shuffle his back into his boxers with ease. He adjusted his glasses briefly, a gesture John might have come to associate with the nightmare's skepticism. "Because of what I am," he answered.
---
"Are you a human in dreams?" inquired the magician, unconvinced.
---
"No, not all the time," he admitted.
---
"What about in the waking world?"
---
He disregarded that question for a moment, hand to his forehead in thought. "You're saying every time we've fucked I've been getting this thing you have. What about the full moon," he asked John who knew more about lycanthropy as a magic than Cori did.
---
"Guess it's dormant," John figured. He was not sure about the Corinthian's body composition, the magic sand he was composed of, but why couldn't he model that sand a bit?
---
"Then I don't want to try fooling around with it," he shook his head again. John was a monster under the full moon. Cori didn't want to know what he could be like.
---
A gnnn noise of thought. "You're not bound by the will of a god, mate. You saw what it was normally, yeah?"
---
"I don't want to, John," he said with a slight bristle over the magician's persistence.
---
John appeared a little hurt, just a little. It wasn't often Constantine was afraid to ask of these things, but, "You don't know what it's like, do you? It's different when you know when you want to go back."
---
"Maybe I don't, but what's it to you," he asked, turning to face John this time. "What the hell do you mean different."
---
"You've been a shapeshifter in dreams. You'd know."
---
"Yeah I've done it, but that's my job. Why do you want it," he posed the question to the Englishman.
---
Honesty then: "Company."
---
"You have mine," he replied, honestly.
---
"But can it be otherwise?" John looked uneasy.
---
"Why..." Cori asked, a little uneasy himself.
---
"It's... easier. You have no bloody idea how much goes away when all I have to worry about is eating, sleeping and not shitting on the floor. No magic bollocks. No fucking nonsense I can' t do nothing about."
---
"Are you listening to yourself," he asked John, in near disbelief.
---
"I burned me old life away and gave the high prats the finger the best way I knew how." A weak smile. "I can afford an escape."
---
"An escape from what," Cori got to his feet again, this time to stare down at the Englishman, "from this?" He gestured to their studio, their lives, at least... the nightmare's life for now.
---
A look of hurt. "If it's anything: You're what's keeping me here."
---
"And you--you want that to change?" He was becoming angry, frustrated with the magician.
---
"Just one night."
---
"Just one night..." the nightmare repeated those words in disbelief. Just one night, like the nights Constantine spent away from the studio, away from him. And he wanted that to change. It boiled his blood. "Tell me you're happy with the way you are," Cori asked, steady and cool.
---
"Yeah."
This was beginning to feel like one of those god awful dramas where some poor bloke was pretending to be something he was not. What did that make John? There was a moment of silence as he thought about this, between hangover sludge and innocent euphoria. Would sacrificing the pains and joys of deeper understanding (as well as a few more decades of lifespan) be worth the scheduled simplicity? Should he not settle into the life of a pet, would the comforts of humanity be worth the cold and constant hunger but purest freedom, or was it no different than his thirst for the arcane and dark things? Did the bloodline curse recognize his other shape? Were there other shapeshifters in the line that had been faced with this same option? Was it humanity that was truly free?
Did the Corinthian understand or was he only set into what he was: A function?
"You think I've crawled through enough shit to realize that I finally have the means to break this soddin' cycle of mine without ending some kind of fiery death?"
---
Function? Yeah that's right, mirror of humanity, unmasker of deceit and all that. Elle had summarized it soundly: his function was to be the whistle blower of bullshit, and he swore he could smell John's. Crawled through enough shit, a 'soddin' cycle' that could lead only to some kind of fiery death, that's what this all was right. He balled his fist tightly then cracked it against the man's face. That wasn't the end of it, whether Constantine had taken the blow or not the Corinthian grabbed him by the shirt to pull him off the couch and throw him down to the floor.
---
John was no stranger to being out rightly punched in this face, snapping back from the surprise impact. Before he could react or even counter, he was on the floor, warm blood trailing down from his nose to pool in red constant drips. He almost saw himself in the puddling crimson, he almost did, but he looked up at the nightmare instead. Right now, Constantine was a very different man, his blue eyes hurt, but he said nothing, not even bothering to plug his nose.
---
Not fighting back? Not going furry? Good. Cori mounted the man on the floor, straddling his chest so he could pull John up face to face by his shirt again. Never mind the bleeding, he wasn't there when his nose had broken. The nightmare didn't care if the blood flecked across his own face either.
"Fuck the shit you had dropped in your lap, you pulled through because you're John Constantine," he said to the Englishman's face, voice unsteady, "I work damn hard to be what I am, it took me a few thousand years to get what you have in only fifty. I'm not going to fucking give up on me so you sure as hell better not give up on you."
---
John's nose felt red, tender and swollen. Broken, yes, but he could have easily shifted and the facial rearrangement would have repaired the injury; nothing dehabilitating. He considered snapping back at the nightmare, but he had more sense than that. Perhaps his hair had paled a bit but that had been the extent. More of his tainted, polluted blood trailed down his face, his neck, staining his clothes and the floor.
"I'm not good at this promises thing," he muttered quietly, squeaking the words. Hardly sad, but it was a tiny noise of defeat.
---
He lowered John to the floor again, placed both hands to the sides of the man's face. There'd been sweat, cum, and now blood on his hands as he felt the bristle of stubble along the Englishman's jaw.
"I don't need your promises, John," Cori said with a shake of his head, trying to quell the slight tremble in his fingers. Promises were unfair at times, obligations as it were, things he would not want to enforce upon the other. "I just want you to stay," and it was a broad thing to say, stay where? In his human shape? With him?
---
Those stained fingers might have felt that some of the stubble was uneven, some longer. How badly Constantine wanted to tear off the nightmare's fingers, but no, he laid there, he too wondering what he meant. "I can stay alive. I'm good at that. Shit, fifty years of it and knowing when something wants your balls on a platter becomes second nature."
---
Uneven yes. Even he could feel the flesh's urge to shift under him. That lupine aspect was a part of him now, and Cori had just turned a wolf belly up, but he had faith that Constantine dominated the beast, not the other way around. Full moons and gods be damned. Average mortals couldn't do or live through what John did, Houma glory days to the 'devil' himself. It was enough of an explanation, the Corinthian didn't know how else he could say what he wanted to.
He huffed softly, shoulders less tense. "I've got your back, don't forget that," the white-blonde added.
---
Had the beast dominated him, or had John chosen to embrace the damn thing instead? Was the animal John or was it completely something else? He was an extraordinary man, but long ago, in a niche of park in the dark bowels of London, he had corrected the once proud King of Vampires: Just a normal man pretending to be something bigger than he was. What was his current situation then? An ordinary man killing himself in a way no other human being could only fathom to do?
"Got me back so you can bloody me nose," the magus weakly smiled.
---
Even that could be considered just another extension of his addiction, a need to go out in a fiery death, a blaze of glory, or just in some way no one else expected of a cunt from Liverpool. The Corinthian knew this, he did not want to see it happen, did not want to see John resign himself to something that didn't require a fight. But unlike immortals ordinary men grew tired much faster, however, John Constantine was not an ordinary man to Cori, no matter how much he thought so. Ordinary men did not piss on the King of Vampires, ordinary men did not sleep with nightmares.
"Yeah," he said almost matter-of-factly, as if it was his right to smack the magus with a clue by four, but then he released John and stood up to grab him the tissue box, and a towel. "Here," said the nightmare, firm but a little apologetic.
---
Let the Corinthian wield it, although John still felt an obligation to take care of her: She did not choose to be a starving horny bitch while he had every choice to be either man or beast. Experience had shown that even animals could come back as ghosts and he would rather keep his dead pack all human.
What was he trying to prove anyway? He took the towel, cushioning his mangled nose and rather than setting it, allowed a slight facial shift instead. Didn't involve a snout; it felt something like a sort of preparation for his body before the dramatic changes. Still hurt like hell but it did the job.
"Some bloody Christmas." It was muffled.
---
Good point, ghostly animals were just as terrifying as human ones, less likely to join the honor guard or jury, more likely to just bite cha. As for trying to prove anything, well, Cori didn't know either except that his fist was getting used to breaking John's face. Funny how they both needed a good punch to get a message across. He sat beside the magus on the floor.
"It's my first," the nightmare admitted, wiping his hand with some kleenex.
---
John shut his eyes, propping himself up to clean the blood, injuries and bone repaired. "You're kidding."
---
"No," Cori shook his head. With the demon blood and the lycanthropy, and John's already hard skull, cracking his knuckles against his nose had left a nice bruise that was already starting to color. He tried to get the blood out from under his nails. "It's not my first time in the waking world during the season," he hooked a thumb at their tree, "but that's a first."
---
John grunted in response, pulling himself up to the couch. Didn't freeze his arse for one. He'd clean the blood later, if the Corinthian didn't. He would have pondered the nature of the nightmare, but still there was phantom throbbing in his nose and with it the fact that he needed to get himself back in order.
---
The Corinthian was already busy trying to get the blood out, thinning it with a cleaner then trying to wipe it away. He was a good sort of housemate, or maybe Cori was just accustomed to getting blood out of the floor. He knew how long they had before it became a permanent stain detectable by luminol and blacklight. It was a semblance of normalcy, really.
---
Normalcy. What was normalcy around Constantine? Especially now? Once most of the wet blood had been cleaned, the Englishman got up.
"Me clothes are stained." Obvious point. "Going to change into something else." Clothes, not fur.
---
He looked at John from behind his shades. "All right," said the nightmare, still clad in just his boxers. He trusted the blonde meant clothes and not fur.
---
John made a quick stop to the bathroom to clean off the remaining blood, then to the drawer to change, finding that tacky sweater he picked up for himself the other day which he luckily did not stain. No fur still, any sort of whiteness that had trickled into his hair fading away to that familiar blonde. He ran his hands through his hair as if to be sure.
---
If John wasn't paying attention perhaps he'd be surprised by the nightmare coming up from behind him, hands clean and washed in the kitchen circling around the Englishman's waist. He was taller, noted the full color of blonde in John's hair. Funny, fifty-something and barely graying was he?
---
A surprised grunt. "Cori..." Bloody love hate relationship. John's own hands rested on his loyal phantom's, palms free from black callouses and course hair. Indeed his hair was still yellow, a boon from the double-edged sword that was his demon blood.
---
Two extremes, even though hate was a strong word and love... well that was something he preferred not to discuss, if only because the Corinthian didn't know how. He didn't say anything to John, delivered a kiss below the magician's ear unless that sweater was so tacky as to have a high turtleneck.
---
Nah, John wasn't that tacky, although that kiss made him smile. The nightmare gave him a reason to stick around.
---
A smile, a rare expression for John Constantine these days, and even rarer that it was a nightmare who could bring it about. But he was his nightmare too, and he hoped that the other was his magus.
---
His magus. That begged a question: "Cori... Why do you want me?"
---
"......." The question caught him off guard. He'd never expected John to even ask, it was one of those things they didn't discuss. Though, why they never talked about it was up for speculation. "I don't know," Cori admitted, gaze lowered to John's shoulder, "but I can't think about not being with you."
---
They were making up, but John had to probe: "Am I any different on four legs?"
---
"When you're on four legs you're not with me anymore." Of course that was a two-way street, how could the Corinthian feel otherwise if he remained on two legs while John ran on four.
---
"Not even as a pet?" Some humor in that tone.
---
A comedian huh? Cori tightened his hold around the man's waist and smirked against his neck. "I've got better ways to make you a pet...." he suggested, not to say that a four legged one wasn't welcome in his presence, "I'm just worried about you sometimes."
---
"You're going to be worried a lot then." John sounded distant, even with the Corinthian close. Kit must have been constantly worried about him when he engaged in the magic shit, yeah? No, not just Kit, it had been with almost everyone he had been with, trying to keep them and his other side separate.
---
Whether it worked to his advantage or not, the Corinthian wasn't Kit, he wasn't even human. The man with white hair was just his shadow, the one he liked the most. John was the real thing, real flesh and real blood, a finite existence compared to his own. The nightmare's existence was not his own to command, but he guided and guarded what freedom he had.
"I've got the time," he said against the magus' neck, hearing that distance and trying to bring him back.
---
A finite existence, and that finite existence was the more worthwhile part of the substance of existence, as far as the cycle of a soul went. Would John Constantine always be John Constantine, even after death, or was this identity only this lifetime? Things he could not care less to ponder deeply about at the moment, preferring the Corinthian's embrace rather than his fist cracking against his nose.
"Can't say I have the same thing."
---
The Corinthian preferred the same, although the crack of a whip against his body was... Well his mind hadn't delved into that territory yet. He kissed John in that same spot again, just under his ear, vulnerable here.
"That makes it more important to me," he said under his breath.
---
There was something just a little more precious about mortality then the steadfast reliability of immortality. One could afford to be a little more careless if one knew that they would never see the supposed other side when one's time came. The fragility of mortality made John wise after all.
"Even a loathsome bastard like me."
---
If John would only listen to himself sometimes, he could have answered his own question as to why Cori wanted him. "Even a loathsome bastard like you," said the nightmare (who was hardly one to talk about being loathsome) against the lobe of his ear.
---
"For a twisted object of fear, you care a damn lot about me more than the blokes you were made to haunt." Another smile.
---
"I've got to make up for being a jackass somehow," Cori replied with a similar smile.
---
"Caring for another jackass."
---
"Yeah you got it," he quirked a brow but smirked faintly.
---
When Constantine had pulled his sorry arse up from the floor, he had made sure to redo his fly, but anything sexual? He needed to recover.
"Now do you have anything else in mind or you like me arse just that much?"
---
Come now, the Corinthian was a marathon runner but he could abstain.... for a few hours, maybe even twenty-four. "Come to bed," he asked, hardly sexual, but it was a little late and he didn't feel like finishing his beer. He was just glad to not have broken anything more than the man's nose.
---
"Shut eye then?" Constantine realized since his arrival in the City, he had been able to sleep better, even more so with the Corinthian next to him. Sort of funny, he being a nightmare and all. Good thing the nightmare was immortal then; it'd only be him buggering his age chipping away at his own sexual endurance.
---
"Could use it," both of them really. Constantine's absence during the forest fire hadn't gone unnoticed, but it wasn't his place to ask, not now. And clocking the man after they'd... well that was two ways of expending energy in one night. He too felt more comfortable sleeping with the magician at his side, not cold like the mirrored halls of the citadel or a lonely cot in the middle of Amsterdam.
---
"Come on then, let's piss off to bed, less you wanna' sleep there attached to me lovely arse rather than next to it." There was that typical Constantine grin again.
---
"I don't know, now that you've brought it up it's tempting," said the Corinthian with his own characteristic smirk, but he lowered his hands from John's waist to lead the other to the bed. Sweater and trousers for him, Cori could make due with just his boxers and a magus under the covers.