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tampered2007-01-09 11:28 am
bitingnightmare.livejournal.com) wrote in tampered2007-01-09 11:28 am
Log; Complete
When; Jan. 7 (early evening)
Rating; MA (language&lusty things)
Characters; John Constantine![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
silkcutremix, the Corinthian bitingnightmare
Summary; the magus tries a different approach to an old dilemma
Log;
Well what do you know, 4 o'clock in the late afternoon (early evening for some) and the condog was still asleep on the sofa, dropping white hairs on everything. Hadn't he learned from Zatanna's earlier visit? The woman had picked up on the presence of animal hairs, now John was leaving more trace evidence around the apartment. At the very least the old man could wake up. Just to ensure he did, Cori waved a freshly lit silkie under that big black nose.
---
Wake up and smell the fag? The familiar odor, even fragmented and individually particled in the lupine sections of Constantine's brain, brought the animal to stir, which he had apparently forgotten he was an animal in the first place. His arms wanted to reach for the cigarette but they didn't quite bend that way. Nor did his fingers want to grasp.
Shit. That's right. Last night, or beginnings of the morning, had left him absolutely exhausted, leading the man to drag the clothes satchel he normally had buried away out in the woods inside the studio with him. Cori knew about his nightly activities and thank Christ he did; he could bypass reverting and leaving the bag to the side, crawl up to the couch to collapse, unconscious within seconds of closing his eyes. The nightmare finding him like this was still sort of ... embarrassing.
Bloody shame to let a good cigarette smolder away like that. Constantine allowed himself to lounge a bit, letting his eyes focus, letting reality settle into something less overwhelming.
---
"If you're not going to smoke it, I will," the nightmare 'threatened'. He brought the cigarette to his mouth, sucked a drag off to let the grey wisps trickle from his eyes.
Finding John curled up on the couch hadn't been so bad now that he knew what the man did on his nightly runs. Must have been tiring, finding all those books via the expansive city library or the underground's occult community (hell Cori didn't even know John read) then running off to feed The Bitch. No litter yet huh? He didn't think so.
"It's 4 o'clock," he mentioned, as if that might get the Englishman's ass into gear.
---
Constantine shuffled, secretly annoyed by seeing one of those precious fags of his smoked up by anyone else but him, shaking that heavy head of his when he was on his forelegs, his bottom yet to follow as those thick ears comically flopped. Blink, blink. Shit, had he really slept for that long? At least The Bitch had been all right. Hadn't seen her in awhile. Amazing she let him get near, even try to crawl, into the den they made. Bloody thing was small and suffocating, just her size but enough for him to let his furry white arse serve as a plug.
---
Cori reached out to pinch one of those ears, the pierced one to be exact, then blew his second hand smoke into John's muzzle.
"Rise and shine, old man."
---
Oh yes, that piercing was there, small and hidden under all that fur. The smell was driving him mad. Had to have a smoke now.
His upper lip puckered and teeth were bared.
---
Showing teeth now? Too bad for John, no bricks. He offered a little smirk to the white wolf, released his ear but did not offer the cigarette. At his height of 6'1 it wasn't as if the magus could jump for it either, unless he were to maul the nightmare over a fag ehehe.
---
That smirk drove him onward, but who was he to attack the nightmare? Constantine, his vigor seemingly magically renewed, had no problem with pulling himself off the couch, then jumping up on Cori as a normal dog would, trying to get his (still filthy) forepaws on his shoulders or chest for support.
---
"Aw christ," Cori muttered when those paws made prints on his white shirt, but he wasn't going to give in. He gave the cigarette a little side tap then raised it over his own head. His other arm circled around John to keep them both from toppling over. He hardly weighed the minor 60lbs of a labrador retriever. "Magic word," he requested, magic shift as it were.
---
Oh, Cori had to be kidding. He wasn't going to be that easy.
His jaws went around Cori's face instead, an easy feat for a canid of his monstrous size, those fangs gentle against his cheek. His breath was warm, moist and very rotten. Too bad Cori couldn't see the pseudosmile.
---
........ For a nightmare who took great care of his own hygiene this was quite possibly the worst thing he could do. Cori's mouths instantly twisted into a mix of disgust and mild horror. Too bad John couldn't see the expression. It was like kissing--well he imagined it was like kissing John after a few bouts of beer and a ride on the porcelain bus without the assistance of a toothbrush and mouthwash.
"You win you win," the white blonde conceded, waving the cigarette for the other to take, just get that mouth off him brrr.
---
Deal. John pulled back, snapping his teeth on the filter of the cigarette, then fell back to all fours. Giving the nightmare one more glance up at him, looking very much like the iconic Constantine dog the Corinthian last described with that cigarette protruding from his jowls, he trotted off to the bathroom to shower the mess of last night away, as well as, much to Cori's relief, to brush. The white brush of a tail, the last thing to disappear into the other room, was held high.
---
Damn him. Cori tried to wave the stench away but to no avail. Rotting flesh wasn't anything new to him, hardly, but to have it blown into his face by the man with which he shared a bed? God, wasn't that why they had those green toothbrush-shaped treats on top of the fridge, really now. At some point he too entered the bathroom to gargle with some spearmint Scope. No John's dog breath wasn't that bad, but Cori was known for being particular about his dental health.
"Are you looking to finish your masters thesis," he asked the magician, assuming he was in the shower or sharing the sink.
---
John was human although not yet in the shower, sitting there on the bog to finish the fag up. Puff. "Masters thesis?"
---
For the curious, he did feel a minty tingle in his eyes when he gargled, but the wash and saliva he spat out of his main mouth only. The Corinthian ran the faucet to splash some of that cool water over his lips and cheeks, not to imply he was overtly concerned about the plague on John's wolf teeth either.
"Saw some of your haul, didn't look through any of it." Lies of course. "Enochian sex magic," Cori asked with an amused quirk of his brow.
---
"Crowley. Why the hell not." John smiled, his teeth not as noxious looking as they had smelled. He could taste his sour breath much better as a human now, but the soft flavor of smoke helped dull it. "Picked up whatever I could for say, a little improvement on the state of meself."
---
He turned around to lean back against the sink. "If you wanted something tantric you could have asked," Cori mentioned jokingly, "what're you trying to do anyway." He folded his arms loosely across his... paw-printed chest.
---
"Improvement," Constantine repeated, noting those lovely paw prints of his on Cori's shirt and glancing at his own hands for a moment before turning back to him. "The prints suit you. Welcome to the tribe."
---
"Improve what," he prompted the other then looked over his shirt and pinched at one of the more prominent prints, "thanks, I think I look better in spots or stripes." Cori joked.
---
"Shit, you'll see." Something saved for later. Constantine puffed, the burning end approaching the filter. "They look a little like spots to me."
---
"Oh a surprise," the nightmare remarked thoughtfully before he studied the prints again, "real big spots, a little on the stone-washed vintage side." Reviewed like a true couturist.
---
"Haw." The cigarette was thrown into the toilet and Constantine stood up in all his naked glory in full view for a moment before turning around to the tub. "I'm going to piss off for a shower now, hop in if you want, unless my breath is that terrifying."
---
"Your brush hasn't rotted yet," he retorted to Constantine while peeling the shirt of his back, accepting the man's offer to join him in the shower. Cori tossed his jeans aside too, now that a certain lady guest was gone they could afford to be a little bit on the slob side again.
---
John grinned, his teeth yellowed and maybe a little crooked, surprised that the nightmare would take him up on his offer. A foot on the ledge, he looked back. "Scope before or after?"
---
"After, I've got enough dental health for the both of us." The ultimate sacrifice, his cleanliness for John's smoke-stained aging chompers, though one wondered how Cori managed being a smoker himself, and for longer than the other had been alive. He gave that pine a brief smack to get John in the shower already.
---
John complied with Cori then, although turning on the water before stepping in. Nothing like both of them showering, it saved water after all.
---
True it saved water but one wondered if it saved time... Cori grabbed the soap and gave it a lather between his hands before slicking it down John's shoulder. "Are you going to tell me about this self-improvement or not," he asked, pretty certain the blonde hadn't gone out to grab Chicken Soup for the Soul Vol. 15, that would have been a surprise.
---
"About me other life. I think you would have preferred 'give me the fucking cigarette' than what I did, although I consider the latter more effective, personally." John, letting the nightmare clean him, maybe eyeing parts down south (mmph, no, there was work to be done today), could assure the nightmare that there were no instances of "A Better You in 5 Steps or Less" in the pile of tomes he had stumbled home with.
---
Ironically anything like 'A Better You in 5 Steps or Less' would have yielded the cigarette to John even faster while laughter consumed the Corinthian. But the man had a point, outright asking for the cigarette was preferable despite the jumping being more effective. He rubbed over the man's chest, soaping his skin and hair, shaded eyes on his work.
"I should've known there'd be shit like that out there, no spell in your arsenal though," hence the tomes, he figured.
---
"Maybe one, or two, but memory fails." John was relaxed as the nightmare scrubbed him down. "Y'see, I had a druid friend that could play Doolittle with a little enchantment, among other things. Really tight lipped about them but a night with me helped, oh, her change her mind. Bloody shame I did it because I knew I could. I could care less what Fido had to say to me."
---
"Is this another one of your sordid affairs," Cori asked with a smirk. John never failed to make any of his stories cryptic and positively licentious in nature, or maybe the nightmare was just reading too much between the lines. His hands moved lower but he washed away like a professional, curse not required today. "So this is a little different from being a dog whisperer?"
---
"Something like that." John noticed that smirk. "Worse comes to worse, really. I'd like something sort of like Matt's deal. Too easy to die out there, mate. Would rather take care of the death options that I can talk meself out of and deal with the ones I can't, you know?"
---
"Birds got lucky, they're built for talking," Cori mentioned, not to rub it in his face or anything, "you thought about asking Zee?" Even better, had the Englishman given thought to revealing his double nature to her at all? The woman seemed like a powerful magician, clearly with some limitations, but no one else had pulled the same trick against John's wards. His hands worked to clean the necessary equipment too, careful about handling the curved bar.
---
John grunted, enjoying the nightmare's fingers down there a little too much, especially considering that he had to bring up Zee. Zee! She was going to find out eventually, he realized. Better to do while he's in check as himself rather than after he fucked something up with his teeth when we was not so much, like someone's undeserving face.
"Maybe. Let's see what I can do first."
---
"It's your call," he concluded. Yeah Cori had the gall to mention her name while his thumb worked around John's piercing too. Someone deserved to have a little fun after getting his face engulfed by teeth and the stench of rotting meat. He shook droplets of water from his sunglasses. "You remember Krypto," the nightmare asked, offering the soap.
---
Mmph, John was getting into it, but he took the soap, his turn to wash down the Corinthian. Despite the magus' cleanliness, or lack thereof, he was careful in lathering his partner. "Shit, don't bring up the bloody Superpets. Fuck, they have nothing on me."
---
It was Cori's turn to bask in that glory then, knowing full well John had the skill to bathe and do his own laundry, he just failed to make it habitual. He studied his fingertips while the Englishman lathered then smirked. Not a fan of the superdog? The Corinthian wasn't either but he laughed anyway. Genuinely laughed. "How's a spiked collar sound," as wolf or otherwise really.
---
"Make sure the tag says 'Bastard.'" Constantine scrubbed suds along the nightmare's sides, his palms and fingertips rough, calloused not like a dog's but from his habits, his age.
---
"Yeah I can do that, does little to help aside from addressing your name," he stated this obvious observation coolly. Cori thought about John's books again, his lack of communication in the quadruped form. "Don't they make shit you can wear around your neck for that," said the nightmare with his lesser experience in the occult world.
Rough hands weren't a problem either, they were almost massaging by nature.
---
"You're saying I should wear a collar all the time." The magus' look was incredulous; he'd wear a collar for the hell of it and for laughs, all of it for Cori, but certainly not as a permanent thing. He thought he swore, through his continuing double lives, to be a man rather than a beast, someone in control of the lesser aspect. Although people calling him "Bastard" rather than John Constantine worked; interchangeable they were.
---
"No for your speech problem," he clarified but not without a brief look of amusement. There were other occasions for John to don a collar, most of them not particularly public, but leave those nightmarish machinations for when such tools were within hands' reach. Right now all he had within reach were John's hands. "What do you magic types call that, talisman? Fetish?"
---
"Either or." John pinched at the Corinthian's ass. "I'd like something that stays in me, not on me."
---
"You're the professional," conceded the nightmare whose skills laid in more than just hole ethics. The pinch made him inch forward, just a little. "Okay, but I will help with your research later," Cori promised to come through on both gestures.
---
The word "professional" made the magus snicker as his palm rubbed lather on Cori's arse, working around, spending more time than what was needed (shit, needed to stop thinking with his other head). "I can find anything I want, mate. It's how I work."
---
That felt nice, achingly so... He placed his hands over John's to halt his manipulations briefly. "You really need to pay attention to the shit that comes out of your mouth," Cori said with a smug look before moving forward to press the Englishman's back against the wet wall.
---
"What?" Despite the steam and moister, the tile was cool against John's warm, no, hot back. "An' you told me you were crap at scrying?"
---
"You heard me," shitty liars they were, at least to each other. Cori nuzzled the crook of John's neck only to bite it when he mentioned scrying. He didn't break the skin, but mild teeth marks were essential for that face chomping earlier. "So I'm a little modest," the nightmare uttered, pressed up against the magician. What another bold-faced lie.
---
Funny that too, as Constantine's life had been built around lying. Easier to lie to strangers and stupid prats than your closest mates and family. His arms still around the nightmare's waist, his hands squeezed both lobes of his bum. "So you can scry?" Constantine was smug as flesh ran against warm flesh.
---
It wasn't supposed to be in the nightmare's nature to lie, considering his function, but mirrors proved to be a staple of the master illusionist. Not with Constantine though, he was a different story entirely. The clutch on his ass made that flesh warm and hard. "Among other things," Cori added. Shit had they even made an effort to hide the lubricant during the magic lady's visit?
---
That was when Constantine's eyes fell to the ledge where they normally kept it. It was still there. They were on the same wavelength: "Do you think she saw it?"
---
Still there, untouched. Shit she had to know what it was, the clear bottle with its trademark logo wasn't exactly a mundane tub of vaseline. Cori appeared thoughtful for a moment, "you said she lives in San Francisco right?"
---
"I met her last there. I thought it was fucking obvious yesterday when you were, you know! She- she knew!"
---
Flustered old Englishman, it was kind of cute in a way, because John Constantine was never cute. He reached out of the curtain to grab the item in question. "It's okay, John, I'm sure she knows what sex is," the nightmare teased with a toothy grin. Shameless sort, really.
---
"Tantric sex," John corrected, knowing where this was going. Funny, being a known womanizer when his current fuckbuddy happened to have a nice set of cock and balls with a metal bit added, who influenced him to get a piercing of his own down there on a random, bold whim. Shit, everyone probably knew they were buttbuddies by now. It was fucking obvious. Emphasis on fucking.
---
"Not my cup of tea," said the Corinthian, regarding tantric sex. He just didn't have the spirituality for it, though he had the perfect equipment for that Enochian ritual. And who didn't know about their bedroom habits these days? A little drizzle on his hands and his fingers scissored between John's thighs. It was this kind of detail they kept private.
---
Privacy- "Nnmph." -best- "Yeah." -kept. "Auh..."
---
Secret? The better to further fill Constantine up... with more sordid anecdotes that is. The Corinthian wasn't one to kiss and tell himself, relentlessly anyway, though he hardly exhibited restraint in this case.
---
Funny how life is, with the Corinthian disgusted by the fetor emitted from a gaping toothy maw and here he was kissing what it was now. Did it taste of smoke or did it taste of what he had consumed the night before, the rotten iron of a lame stray dog that had been struggling so much more than his mate?
The words struggled to come out: "Cori... Finish later... We have shit to do."
---
"I was thinking of doing your shit," he replied against John's lips, emphasizing the task at hand with a third finger.
---
John's back arched. He had an erection but... Who was he to say no to sex? He shut his eyes. "Cori." His voice was firm.
---
"Hard and fast," he concluded for John, whether the man's tone was a request or not, at least Cori's own was a dedicated promise. If the blonde made no motion to stop him he removed his fingers from his tight hole and made to lift the Englishman's thigh, to get John's foot situated on the edge of the tub.
---
John felt his lip wanting to curl, but the nightmare had his way. His felt the muscles of his bottom bunch; he wanted this, his dick wanted this, and then he didn't. "Cori... Are you listening? Later."
---
Blocked? Rarely did he ever get blocked, and the Corinthian wondered briefly if it had something to do with yesterday. Still the sudden change in John's demeanor got through enough, and he wasn't one for repeating that history. So despite the blood rushing to his dick he leaned in to kiss the side of the blonde's rough jaw and took a step back.
---
Good phantom (although what concerned Constantine was his increasing tendency to fall back on the fangs and claws rather than a spot of lacerating wit and a kick in the shins; the first felt more effective, the second pissed everyone off and made breaking him in two more likely). The two men stared at each other for a moment, the water still going. The Corinthian had backed off and Constantine was allowed to stand with both feet on the bottom of the tub, rather than present his arse for another round of shagging.
"Thanks." Then perhaps appearing a bit vulnerable, he reached over for the shampoo to degrease his hair.
---
"I'm going to jack myself off on this side, if you don't mind," he said to John, turning to face the opposite wall. He was disappointed certainly but too worked up to let that hard on get away. It wasn't Cori's attempt at guilt-tripping the man either, rather it was a courtesy to let him know that... he really needed to beat it off or let it get him in trouble.
---
A deal: John's scalp was greeted by a seldom seen visitor while the Corinthian brought himself release, maybe a nod to his name. As a token of gratitude, once the suds were gone and his skull cleansed, a finger teased his opening.
---
A little undecided wasn't he? The nightmare pumped himself to near release, could have gone on longer if John's ass had complied. He kept one hand on the slick tiles, his hair warm and damp. Then he felt it, a single digit. Shit what was the magus' game, too much balls to take it face to face? Cori glanced over his shoulder briefly, cheeks flush.
---
John smiled. "I'm finished. I'm ready for business. I'm helping you finish up there." His finger dared to push, not yet in.
---
If there was another battle or spot of business going on within Constantine himself the white blonde was oblivious to it. He ceased stroking himself and tilted his head back. "You fucking tease," worse yet what a trick, and how easily Cori had fallen for it. So why the hell did it turn him on.
---
John noticed Cori stopped playing with himself, which the finger withdrew. "Sorry, mate, am I distracting you?"
---
"No," he reasserted his grip on his own cock, pumped it at a slower pace. Now the Corinthian resented being played the way he was, and yet it was that edge that gave Constantine his allure. He concentrated on manipulating the tip and his frenum.
---
"You have fun then, old son," Constantine chuckled, giving the nightmare one more tease of his rim before stepping out to dry off and then dress himself.
---
"Not so fast," Cori reached out to snatch that teasing hand by the wrist. John was asking for it, achingly so, Mr. Laughing Magician, the cocksure Con Job. Well he was in for a job all right. He followed the blonde out of the tub, letting him get as far as only the towel rack before he pressed his still hard cock against the Englishman's ass. "I've got an itch."
---
This thrilled against the Englishman's nerves. "Shite, I'm tempted to compare your arsehole to a power outlet. Bet you didn't wash that lovely white mop of yours yet."
---
"Here's the kicker," Cori leaned in, teeth hissing against John's pierced ear, "I showered this morning." He pressed his fingers to the back of the magus' neck and insisted he bend over the bog.
---
John, meet the john. John, meet John. Right. John tried to turn back and give Cori a funny look, an eyebrow raised. "Oh. Hard and fast I take it?" Out the corner of his eye he saw himself in the water. The face reflected looked somewhat worried.
---
Oh he doubted John was that oblivious to his own actions, always pushing, pushing just to see how far he could go. Well tough it out now. Cori reached around the other's leg with his foot, toes pulling the lid down with a quick clack. "Old man like you needs all the stimulation he can get," said the nightmare, lovingly forceful. Just to emphasize his point he squeezed the man's balls.
---
John cringed and his muscles, especially the ones situated in his rear, bunched. No way he could get out of this saying no; the Corinthian could sense his lust for him. Haven't even conquered his damn inner dog yet. What made him think he could conquer his most carnal, most primitive, human desires?
"Struggling or no." He made it sound painstakingly casual in a manner that would rival Stephen Fry.
---
"Struggling or no, sir," Cori corrected for the Englishman, the painstakingly casual and dry Englishman. Damn had he dried up too? At least the lube was nearby, easy access though he wondered briefly if John would try to take advantage of the few seconds he required to uncap the thing and get to the drizzling once more.
---
Well, the Corinthian was being forceful, wasn't he? If there was a man that would not go down easily, John would be the one and indeed any moment allowed would allow the man to get away (although he had other methods if he had truly wanted to).
"Wanker," he growled.
---
A quick polish on his pierced knob and Cori had his fingers in John once again to emphasize his words. "Don't kid yourself, you love it."
---
"Yeah, I know," panted the magus. "And you're bloody determined."
---
"You know how to pull all the right strings," and similarly Cori knew where all those strings were. He eased himself into John, and just to maximize the benefit for the man's prostate health the nightmare pushed him down lower, but not too much lest he throw out his back or something equally embarrassing.
---
Christ, he was not that old! Not yet! His hip was a moderate concern but the rest of him? Who was the Corinthian kidding? Who was John kidding if he could look down into the reflection again and say he was not enjoying this? He grunted and moaned, his tree butt at his mercy.
---
Without any protest or the distinctive crick of bones the Corinthian had no ethical problem pressing Constantine's cheek to the steam-warmed top of the tank. His fingers threaded into that blonde hair, exercising a grip on it as he pounded against his tree butt. For good measure he gave the sacred pine a firm smack before reaching around to grab John's shaft and beat him off.
---
My, my (Auuuh!), the Corinthian was different this time around. Here he wasn't into hole ethics but instead beating the living daylights out of his still very tight arse. At least that reach around helped to get him off faster. "Gonna'... ah..."
---
Needed to get the old man used to it, and by used to it he didn't mean used to being fucked. John needed to adjust to not always being the one hammering the walls to pieces around here. The magus was tight though, muscles clenched like a damn professional. He pressed his cheek to the back of his shoulder, wrapped an arm around John's chest to pinch at his nipples. "That's it... hff come for me," Cori muttered, close to spilling inside him.
---
"Rather... would come on your face," he moaned, his body hot under the nightmare, hot from the shower, hot from his passion in lust and fucking. "If you would allow me that honor... sir."
---
"Wait your turn," he grunted against Constantine, having gotten a head start on the game after a good beating on his own. He stopped jerking John's cock to come inside him, spilling his hot semen balls deep. Cori breathed heavily into his neck. "You want it... all over my face huh," he asked, easing out of the man's hole halfway.
---
John shuddered. He might as well have followed suite and let himself go right there, his cock aching for that last bit of stimulation, that last push. He gasped, fighting against every fiber of him wanting to jerk off and finish, his body hot as the nightmare's seed left deep inside him, arse muscles tight: "All over. S'wanna... lick it off. Clean. Like a good dog." Face still against the top of the tank, he grinned.
---
"A dirty hound," he corrected John, pulling himself out complete with a trail of that slick seed along the other's thighs. He kept his tongue close to the blonde's ear. "Spill it on me... every last drop," Corinthian Sir complied, releasing his hold on John to take a step back and kneel like a good phantom.
---
Hot against the rim and his cheeks too. Dear, Cori would have to clean that although Constantine's interests were in, as he pumped, coming on the nightmare's face as he wanted. Those words lingering like how serpents crept, the serpent in the magus' hand releasing its load, marking his partner's visage in the hot white. When the nerve explosion subsided, his hand spread the cum along the Corinthian's forehead, cheeks, his nose, his lips, especially his lips.
---
Dangerous game, considering how the Corinthian had removed his sunglasses specifically for this moment (really it was only practical to keep those clean). He kept his eyes shut but a small pink tongue couldn't help slithering past his lids, tickling his lashes as he licked at a smear of cum high on his cheek.
---
This tongue would have terrified any normal person, but Constantine grinned in amusement as he finished his artistry, settling down with the Corinthian. His warm tongue traced along his face, over the slickened skin (practice for grooming his puppies? The hell.). He stopped along his lips, the tongue slipping past and pulling him into a kiss.
---
Grooming was an appropriate word for it, though Cori would have likened it to taste testing, but he was already familiar with John's unique flavor. That eyetongue reached out to flick against the other's, some sort of grotesque twist on a French kiss. It receded when the Englishman moved on to his lips. He couldn't help but slide his fingers along those stained thighs as they kissed, introduced a remnant of his own cum fresh from John's ass between their mouths.
---
Their tastes mingled as their cum did, although Constantine momentarily had broken the kiss to let his tongue trail to the other eye, coaxing that other hidden tongue out. After all, the Corinthian had three of those to play with, a sign of trust that the magus could have his fun and keep his own intact.
---
His eyetongue parted his lids in kind, careful to open just enough to toy with the magician's but not enough to pose a threat, though his teeth were very much there. Cori licked at his jaw then, slipped a hand (clean? not likely) into the blonde's freshly washed hair, urging him to lick out that eye. Unlike his normal mouth it was cool to the touch.
"You're like teflon, shit just doesn't stick to you," he uttered into the man's ear. For all those warnings he gave regarding the teeth only Constantine would have the balls to fuck with them.
---
John lacked the other two mouths the nightmare had to respond, curiously, somewhat cautiously probing his tongue into the Corinthian's eyemouth, the depths cool, the exploration blind unless he wake into a self created Hell. He was not the one to listen, to heed warnings. He pursued danger, danced with it, as his tongue danced with the supernatural one. His lips brushed lids.
---
The neglected eyemouth hissed briefly as Constantine probed the other. It felt great to have something there, something inside it, even if he dared not chew on the man's tongue. There weren't many who came back from such a gesture without a little bloodletting, something else John Constantine could add to his list of achievements.
"Just had a thought..." Cori mentioned, perhaps a result of the stains on his face, the Englishman's licking away, the urge to eat, "you know how eyes work for me." He prompted while guiding once of John's hands to his nipple ring.
---
The guided hand played as Constantine grunted an inquiring "Hmmmph?" attending to the other cool hissing mouth. He felt as if he were split between two waiting pets to be pampered equally. What could the Corinthian be thinking of? It better not be a new acquired taste for tongues, and both mouths wanted an equal share of the muscular slab of warm flesh.
---
Pampered, humored, worshipped, whichever. The Corinthian loved it. The other eyetongue twisted along John's, urging him to probe deeper into its cool and supernatural depth. Rarely did they taste tongues altogether, usually just eyes, fingers, the occasional cock (really just Constantine's cock these days).
"Think the same... nn," he sounded over the ring play, "might work for you... with a tongue?"
---
Funny, once John thought about it: He was making out with a pseudo-eye socket. Interesting feeling, with lids across his lips with those hard teeth right behind them. All of this was blind still, all of this done by touch. His other hand pressed the back of the Corinthian's head, pressed his lips against the socket, pressed his tongue as deep as possible.
Then he pulled away, eyes still closed. His finger was still around the ring.
"If I were some kind of nightmare out to eat tongues instead of eyes," the magus snickered, even if the Corinthian had an idea.
---
They were his eyes, and then they were mouths without lips. His lids could open and close, his teeth the same as well as bite, but they only grazed Constantine. The Corinthian may as well have been making out or getting rimmed by the way he hissed when the man's tongue edged deeper. There was nothing substantial beyond the socket, and then there was something that tasted ice cool, velvet and dark.
"It's worth a shot, you're not just any old man," Cori replied with a matching smirk, hooked on John's finger.
---
"Comes with being a bloody Constantine." A closed grin and teasing tug. "Did I just make out with oblivion?"
---
He felt around for his sunglasses and propped them on his saliva-cum-stained face. Talk about moisturizing. "Yeah you come all right," the nightmare remarked with a smirk before the tug, "ahh... Shit maybe."
---
"Maybe?" John let the joke slide, even if the Corinthian's face would be nice and soft with his pale complexion tomorrow. "Can I open me eyes now?"
---
Shithole of the Dreaming jokes aside, it was almost ironic that that was the most intimate they'd ever gone with his eyes. Cori adjusted his shades and nodded. "Yeah, open," he settled back on his rear with a smirk.
---
The blue gaze met those familiar shades, the shine of the nightmare's skin. His finger unhooked itself from the ring. "So, off to find a bleedin' tongue and see what I can hex it with then?" An image of their first visit to the Underground was conjured, with bones and vice and demons writhing.
---
"You want to pick up sign language," he asked John with a shrug and a smirk, suggesting the alternative which would no doubt consist of one-word commands and maybe even a clicker.
---
A clicker. That was Constantine for "Yeah, you must not like your soddin' fingers then!" The magus picked up the meaning very quickly, but did not care to acknowledge it. "Don't you need two arms for that?"
---
"Oh yeah and from experience? Procuring a tongue is way easier than two arms," the nightmare joked, pointing at the magus with a sly smile.
---
"I don't know, mate. I'd need all four of me legs for that little phenomenon, yeah?" John shrugged, returning the look.
---
"In any case you've got an extra set of hands right here," he gestured to himself, two extra mouths included though the Corinthian was confident in his ability to procure a tongue without having to use that special look.
---
"But do you speak Rover?" Constantine could possibly look into those toothy sockets and still be there on the floor of the bathroom, the bog right at his back.
---
"No, but I'll bet we can get you to talk John in Rover's skin," he pointed at the blonde again then shrugged, "I'm not the licensed mage around here though. I'd just know how to cook the thing to make it taste better for you." Cori wasn't exactly modest about his culinary tongue-broiling skills.
---
A modest nightmare still was something to snicker about, even if he were confident of his abilities now, which John had no reason to question; the Corinthian could cook and could cook well. "I'm for speaking Constantine in any skin," Constantine replied. "Now tell you what: I feel like I need to take a shit. You were nothing like yesterday."
---
"Good thing, bad thing," he asked but it may as well have been a rhetorical question. He rose to his feet, offering John a hand.
---
"Bit of both." John took that hand... then sat on the bog, his elbows on his knees in that comfortable slump, casually sitting there as if someone possibly watching him shit was the most normal thing in the world. Well, if Cori was able to stand him letting bloody diarrhea loose in the streets... "Think this is where you go get dressed, mate."
---
Bit of both? Well if that wasn't the sound of encouragement to make the grade. Heh, he leaned in to kiss the magician's forehead. "I'll make you something to eat while I'm at it," Cori added, nothing better than a shower&shag the minute Constantine woke up, though what it must have been 4:30 or 5 now. He gave a little smirk then made his way out of the bathroom, naked still, but he had enough courtesy to close the door behind him.
---
Enough courtesy for John to do his business with some privacy as well. Smiling and shitting and sitting. Now there was a much better lot in life than what he had during those final days in London, continuously checking the dark corners and over his shoulders for any sort of sign of those he had pissed off in his Tate Club stunt. The arson bit was easier to get away with. Aw hell, it was nice walking the streets with no one who knew him, those that knew him not out for his blood.
After finishing and washing, he shut the bathroom door and made a beeline for the drawer, the floor cool against his feet. The studio small, whatever the Corinthian was preparing, he could smell it.
---
What could have been a standard ham&cheese omelet was spiced with chives and potlatch. John's appearance deceived the class of his palate. Cori remained shirtless despite the winter season, though he had rinsed off any drying liquids before putting his jeans on. He folded the thing like an expert, burning it to the Englishman's specific taste before slapping it on a plate.
---
The smell was enough for Constantine to dress faster, donning the familiar getup he usually had worn; tonight he would be out trying to procure a tongue on the black market in the Underground and he still wasn't too sure about what was available, common, rare and whatnot. He'd be haggling for something spell-worthy for sure.
"Ta," the magus said as he took the plate. "Looks delicious.
"Just to remind you, Cori, that tonight is going to be long. I don't know what's out there an' I don't know who's pissed at me yet."
---
Imagine that, olfactory power right in the palm of his hand, no knives or nightmare looks necessary. Well, a knife was necessary to dice the ham. He gave John a grin, glad to always have his other more mundane skills appreciated. "No problem, you slept the day away long enough, doubt you even need the coffee," and nothing got the blonde's blood running better than adrenaline instead of caffeine anyway.
---
The nightmare knew well. John helped himself to a hot mouthful of drippy omelet, looking almost silly as if it were too hot for him, but shit, he was hungry. His need for rest was tended to but now he needed food. Food for humans, not exhausted, worn dog easily dispatched and ready to eat by a bite to the jugular. Ham tasted better than raw old dog any day. "Yeah, no coffee. Keep your teeth and knife ready.
"If you want to come."
---
"Well, I accept your invitation, sir," he said to John, taking a seat across from him at the kitchen table.
Rating; MA (language&lusty things)
Characters; John Constantine
silkcutremix, the Corinthian bitingnightmareSummary; the magus tries a different approach to an old dilemma
Log;
Well what do you know, 4 o'clock in the late afternoon (early evening for some) and the condog was still asleep on the sofa, dropping white hairs on everything. Hadn't he learned from Zatanna's earlier visit? The woman had picked up on the presence of animal hairs, now John was leaving more trace evidence around the apartment. At the very least the old man could wake up. Just to ensure he did, Cori waved a freshly lit silkie under that big black nose.
---
Wake up and smell the fag? The familiar odor, even fragmented and individually particled in the lupine sections of Constantine's brain, brought the animal to stir, which he had apparently forgotten he was an animal in the first place. His arms wanted to reach for the cigarette but they didn't quite bend that way. Nor did his fingers want to grasp.
Shit. That's right. Last night, or beginnings of the morning, had left him absolutely exhausted, leading the man to drag the clothes satchel he normally had buried away out in the woods inside the studio with him. Cori knew about his nightly activities and thank Christ he did; he could bypass reverting and leaving the bag to the side, crawl up to the couch to collapse, unconscious within seconds of closing his eyes. The nightmare finding him like this was still sort of ... embarrassing.
Bloody shame to let a good cigarette smolder away like that. Constantine allowed himself to lounge a bit, letting his eyes focus, letting reality settle into something less overwhelming.
---
"If you're not going to smoke it, I will," the nightmare 'threatened'. He brought the cigarette to his mouth, sucked a drag off to let the grey wisps trickle from his eyes.
Finding John curled up on the couch hadn't been so bad now that he knew what the man did on his nightly runs. Must have been tiring, finding all those books via the expansive city library or the underground's occult community (hell Cori didn't even know John read) then running off to feed The Bitch. No litter yet huh? He didn't think so.
"It's 4 o'clock," he mentioned, as if that might get the Englishman's ass into gear.
---
Constantine shuffled, secretly annoyed by seeing one of those precious fags of his smoked up by anyone else but him, shaking that heavy head of his when he was on his forelegs, his bottom yet to follow as those thick ears comically flopped. Blink, blink. Shit, had he really slept for that long? At least The Bitch had been all right. Hadn't seen her in awhile. Amazing she let him get near, even try to crawl, into the den they made. Bloody thing was small and suffocating, just her size but enough for him to let his furry white arse serve as a plug.
---
Cori reached out to pinch one of those ears, the pierced one to be exact, then blew his second hand smoke into John's muzzle.
"Rise and shine, old man."
---
Oh yes, that piercing was there, small and hidden under all that fur. The smell was driving him mad. Had to have a smoke now.
His upper lip puckered and teeth were bared.
---
Showing teeth now? Too bad for John, no bricks. He offered a little smirk to the white wolf, released his ear but did not offer the cigarette. At his height of 6'1 it wasn't as if the magus could jump for it either, unless he were to maul the nightmare over a fag ehehe.
---
That smirk drove him onward, but who was he to attack the nightmare? Constantine, his vigor seemingly magically renewed, had no problem with pulling himself off the couch, then jumping up on Cori as a normal dog would, trying to get his (still filthy) forepaws on his shoulders or chest for support.
---
"Aw christ," Cori muttered when those paws made prints on his white shirt, but he wasn't going to give in. He gave the cigarette a little side tap then raised it over his own head. His other arm circled around John to keep them both from toppling over. He hardly weighed the minor 60lbs of a labrador retriever. "Magic word," he requested, magic shift as it were.
---
Oh, Cori had to be kidding. He wasn't going to be that easy.
His jaws went around Cori's face instead, an easy feat for a canid of his monstrous size, those fangs gentle against his cheek. His breath was warm, moist and very rotten. Too bad Cori couldn't see the pseudosmile.
---
........ For a nightmare who took great care of his own hygiene this was quite possibly the worst thing he could do. Cori's mouths instantly twisted into a mix of disgust and mild horror. Too bad John couldn't see the expression. It was like kissing--well he imagined it was like kissing John after a few bouts of beer and a ride on the porcelain bus without the assistance of a toothbrush and mouthwash.
"You win you win," the white blonde conceded, waving the cigarette for the other to take, just get that mouth off him brrr.
---
Deal. John pulled back, snapping his teeth on the filter of the cigarette, then fell back to all fours. Giving the nightmare one more glance up at him, looking very much like the iconic Constantine dog the Corinthian last described with that cigarette protruding from his jowls, he trotted off to the bathroom to shower the mess of last night away, as well as, much to Cori's relief, to brush. The white brush of a tail, the last thing to disappear into the other room, was held high.
---
Damn him. Cori tried to wave the stench away but to no avail. Rotting flesh wasn't anything new to him, hardly, but to have it blown into his face by the man with which he shared a bed? God, wasn't that why they had those green toothbrush-shaped treats on top of the fridge, really now. At some point he too entered the bathroom to gargle with some spearmint Scope. No John's dog breath wasn't that bad, but Cori was known for being particular about his dental health.
"Are you looking to finish your masters thesis," he asked the magician, assuming he was in the shower or sharing the sink.
---
John was human although not yet in the shower, sitting there on the bog to finish the fag up. Puff. "Masters thesis?"
---
For the curious, he did feel a minty tingle in his eyes when he gargled, but the wash and saliva he spat out of his main mouth only. The Corinthian ran the faucet to splash some of that cool water over his lips and cheeks, not to imply he was overtly concerned about the plague on John's wolf teeth either.
"Saw some of your haul, didn't look through any of it." Lies of course. "Enochian sex magic," Cori asked with an amused quirk of his brow.
---
"Crowley. Why the hell not." John smiled, his teeth not as noxious looking as they had smelled. He could taste his sour breath much better as a human now, but the soft flavor of smoke helped dull it. "Picked up whatever I could for say, a little improvement on the state of meself."
---
He turned around to lean back against the sink. "If you wanted something tantric you could have asked," Cori mentioned jokingly, "what're you trying to do anyway." He folded his arms loosely across his... paw-printed chest.
---
"Improvement," Constantine repeated, noting those lovely paw prints of his on Cori's shirt and glancing at his own hands for a moment before turning back to him. "The prints suit you. Welcome to the tribe."
---
"Improve what," he prompted the other then looked over his shirt and pinched at one of the more prominent prints, "thanks, I think I look better in spots or stripes." Cori joked.
---
"Shit, you'll see." Something saved for later. Constantine puffed, the burning end approaching the filter. "They look a little like spots to me."
---
"Oh a surprise," the nightmare remarked thoughtfully before he studied the prints again, "real big spots, a little on the stone-washed vintage side." Reviewed like a true couturist.
---
"Haw." The cigarette was thrown into the toilet and Constantine stood up in all his naked glory in full view for a moment before turning around to the tub. "I'm going to piss off for a shower now, hop in if you want, unless my breath is that terrifying."
---
"Your brush hasn't rotted yet," he retorted to Constantine while peeling the shirt of his back, accepting the man's offer to join him in the shower. Cori tossed his jeans aside too, now that a certain lady guest was gone they could afford to be a little bit on the slob side again.
---
John grinned, his teeth yellowed and maybe a little crooked, surprised that the nightmare would take him up on his offer. A foot on the ledge, he looked back. "Scope before or after?"
---
"After, I've got enough dental health for the both of us." The ultimate sacrifice, his cleanliness for John's smoke-stained aging chompers, though one wondered how Cori managed being a smoker himself, and for longer than the other had been alive. He gave that pine a brief smack to get John in the shower already.
---
John complied with Cori then, although turning on the water before stepping in. Nothing like both of them showering, it saved water after all.
---
True it saved water but one wondered if it saved time... Cori grabbed the soap and gave it a lather between his hands before slicking it down John's shoulder. "Are you going to tell me about this self-improvement or not," he asked, pretty certain the blonde hadn't gone out to grab Chicken Soup for the Soul Vol. 15, that would have been a surprise.
---
"About me other life. I think you would have preferred 'give me the fucking cigarette' than what I did, although I consider the latter more effective, personally." John, letting the nightmare clean him, maybe eyeing parts down south (mmph, no, there was work to be done today), could assure the nightmare that there were no instances of "A Better You in 5 Steps or Less" in the pile of tomes he had stumbled home with.
---
Ironically anything like 'A Better You in 5 Steps or Less' would have yielded the cigarette to John even faster while laughter consumed the Corinthian. But the man had a point, outright asking for the cigarette was preferable despite the jumping being more effective. He rubbed over the man's chest, soaping his skin and hair, shaded eyes on his work.
"I should've known there'd be shit like that out there, no spell in your arsenal though," hence the tomes, he figured.
---
"Maybe one, or two, but memory fails." John was relaxed as the nightmare scrubbed him down. "Y'see, I had a druid friend that could play Doolittle with a little enchantment, among other things. Really tight lipped about them but a night with me helped, oh, her change her mind. Bloody shame I did it because I knew I could. I could care less what Fido had to say to me."
---
"Is this another one of your sordid affairs," Cori asked with a smirk. John never failed to make any of his stories cryptic and positively licentious in nature, or maybe the nightmare was just reading too much between the lines. His hands moved lower but he washed away like a professional, curse not required today. "So this is a little different from being a dog whisperer?"
---
"Something like that." John noticed that smirk. "Worse comes to worse, really. I'd like something sort of like Matt's deal. Too easy to die out there, mate. Would rather take care of the death options that I can talk meself out of and deal with the ones I can't, you know?"
---
"Birds got lucky, they're built for talking," Cori mentioned, not to rub it in his face or anything, "you thought about asking Zee?" Even better, had the Englishman given thought to revealing his double nature to her at all? The woman seemed like a powerful magician, clearly with some limitations, but no one else had pulled the same trick against John's wards. His hands worked to clean the necessary equipment too, careful about handling the curved bar.
---
John grunted, enjoying the nightmare's fingers down there a little too much, especially considering that he had to bring up Zee. Zee! She was going to find out eventually, he realized. Better to do while he's in check as himself rather than after he fucked something up with his teeth when we was not so much, like someone's undeserving face.
"Maybe. Let's see what I can do first."
---
"It's your call," he concluded. Yeah Cori had the gall to mention her name while his thumb worked around John's piercing too. Someone deserved to have a little fun after getting his face engulfed by teeth and the stench of rotting meat. He shook droplets of water from his sunglasses. "You remember Krypto," the nightmare asked, offering the soap.
---
Mmph, John was getting into it, but he took the soap, his turn to wash down the Corinthian. Despite the magus' cleanliness, or lack thereof, he was careful in lathering his partner. "Shit, don't bring up the bloody Superpets. Fuck, they have nothing on me."
---
It was Cori's turn to bask in that glory then, knowing full well John had the skill to bathe and do his own laundry, he just failed to make it habitual. He studied his fingertips while the Englishman lathered then smirked. Not a fan of the superdog? The Corinthian wasn't either but he laughed anyway. Genuinely laughed. "How's a spiked collar sound," as wolf or otherwise really.
---
"Make sure the tag says 'Bastard.'" Constantine scrubbed suds along the nightmare's sides, his palms and fingertips rough, calloused not like a dog's but from his habits, his age.
---
"Yeah I can do that, does little to help aside from addressing your name," he stated this obvious observation coolly. Cori thought about John's books again, his lack of communication in the quadruped form. "Don't they make shit you can wear around your neck for that," said the nightmare with his lesser experience in the occult world.
Rough hands weren't a problem either, they were almost massaging by nature.
---
"You're saying I should wear a collar all the time." The magus' look was incredulous; he'd wear a collar for the hell of it and for laughs, all of it for Cori, but certainly not as a permanent thing. He thought he swore, through his continuing double lives, to be a man rather than a beast, someone in control of the lesser aspect. Although people calling him "Bastard" rather than John Constantine worked; interchangeable they were.
---
"No for your speech problem," he clarified but not without a brief look of amusement. There were other occasions for John to don a collar, most of them not particularly public, but leave those nightmarish machinations for when such tools were within hands' reach. Right now all he had within reach were John's hands. "What do you magic types call that, talisman? Fetish?"
---
"Either or." John pinched at the Corinthian's ass. "I'd like something that stays in me, not on me."
---
"You're the professional," conceded the nightmare whose skills laid in more than just hole ethics. The pinch made him inch forward, just a little. "Okay, but I will help with your research later," Cori promised to come through on both gestures.
---
The word "professional" made the magus snicker as his palm rubbed lather on Cori's arse, working around, spending more time than what was needed (shit, needed to stop thinking with his other head). "I can find anything I want, mate. It's how I work."
---
That felt nice, achingly so... He placed his hands over John's to halt his manipulations briefly. "You really need to pay attention to the shit that comes out of your mouth," Cori said with a smug look before moving forward to press the Englishman's back against the wet wall.
---
"What?" Despite the steam and moister, the tile was cool against John's warm, no, hot back. "An' you told me you were crap at scrying?"
---
"You heard me," shitty liars they were, at least to each other. Cori nuzzled the crook of John's neck only to bite it when he mentioned scrying. He didn't break the skin, but mild teeth marks were essential for that face chomping earlier. "So I'm a little modest," the nightmare uttered, pressed up against the magician. What another bold-faced lie.
---
Funny that too, as Constantine's life had been built around lying. Easier to lie to strangers and stupid prats than your closest mates and family. His arms still around the nightmare's waist, his hands squeezed both lobes of his bum. "So you can scry?" Constantine was smug as flesh ran against warm flesh.
---
It wasn't supposed to be in the nightmare's nature to lie, considering his function, but mirrors proved to be a staple of the master illusionist. Not with Constantine though, he was a different story entirely. The clutch on his ass made that flesh warm and hard. "Among other things," Cori added. Shit had they even made an effort to hide the lubricant during the magic lady's visit?
---
That was when Constantine's eyes fell to the ledge where they normally kept it. It was still there. They were on the same wavelength: "Do you think she saw it?"
---
Still there, untouched. Shit she had to know what it was, the clear bottle with its trademark logo wasn't exactly a mundane tub of vaseline. Cori appeared thoughtful for a moment, "you said she lives in San Francisco right?"
---
"I met her last there. I thought it was fucking obvious yesterday when you were, you know! She- she knew!"
---
Flustered old Englishman, it was kind of cute in a way, because John Constantine was never cute. He reached out of the curtain to grab the item in question. "It's okay, John, I'm sure she knows what sex is," the nightmare teased with a toothy grin. Shameless sort, really.
---
"Tantric sex," John corrected, knowing where this was going. Funny, being a known womanizer when his current fuckbuddy happened to have a nice set of cock and balls with a metal bit added, who influenced him to get a piercing of his own down there on a random, bold whim. Shit, everyone probably knew they were buttbuddies by now. It was fucking obvious. Emphasis on fucking.
---
"Not my cup of tea," said the Corinthian, regarding tantric sex. He just didn't have the spirituality for it, though he had the perfect equipment for that Enochian ritual. And who didn't know about their bedroom habits these days? A little drizzle on his hands and his fingers scissored between John's thighs. It was this kind of detail they kept private.
---
Privacy- "Nnmph." -best- "Yeah." -kept. "Auh..."
---
Secret? The better to further fill Constantine up... with more sordid anecdotes that is. The Corinthian wasn't one to kiss and tell himself, relentlessly anyway, though he hardly exhibited restraint in this case.
---
Funny how life is, with the Corinthian disgusted by the fetor emitted from a gaping toothy maw and here he was kissing what it was now. Did it taste of smoke or did it taste of what he had consumed the night before, the rotten iron of a lame stray dog that had been struggling so much more than his mate?
The words struggled to come out: "Cori... Finish later... We have shit to do."
---
"I was thinking of doing your shit," he replied against John's lips, emphasizing the task at hand with a third finger.
---
John's back arched. He had an erection but... Who was he to say no to sex? He shut his eyes. "Cori." His voice was firm.
---
"Hard and fast," he concluded for John, whether the man's tone was a request or not, at least Cori's own was a dedicated promise. If the blonde made no motion to stop him he removed his fingers from his tight hole and made to lift the Englishman's thigh, to get John's foot situated on the edge of the tub.
---
John felt his lip wanting to curl, but the nightmare had his way. His felt the muscles of his bottom bunch; he wanted this, his dick wanted this, and then he didn't. "Cori... Are you listening? Later."
---
Blocked? Rarely did he ever get blocked, and the Corinthian wondered briefly if it had something to do with yesterday. Still the sudden change in John's demeanor got through enough, and he wasn't one for repeating that history. So despite the blood rushing to his dick he leaned in to kiss the side of the blonde's rough jaw and took a step back.
---
Good phantom (although what concerned Constantine was his increasing tendency to fall back on the fangs and claws rather than a spot of lacerating wit and a kick in the shins; the first felt more effective, the second pissed everyone off and made breaking him in two more likely). The two men stared at each other for a moment, the water still going. The Corinthian had backed off and Constantine was allowed to stand with both feet on the bottom of the tub, rather than present his arse for another round of shagging.
"Thanks." Then perhaps appearing a bit vulnerable, he reached over for the shampoo to degrease his hair.
---
"I'm going to jack myself off on this side, if you don't mind," he said to John, turning to face the opposite wall. He was disappointed certainly but too worked up to let that hard on get away. It wasn't Cori's attempt at guilt-tripping the man either, rather it was a courtesy to let him know that... he really needed to beat it off or let it get him in trouble.
---
A deal: John's scalp was greeted by a seldom seen visitor while the Corinthian brought himself release, maybe a nod to his name. As a token of gratitude, once the suds were gone and his skull cleansed, a finger teased his opening.
---
A little undecided wasn't he? The nightmare pumped himself to near release, could have gone on longer if John's ass had complied. He kept one hand on the slick tiles, his hair warm and damp. Then he felt it, a single digit. Shit what was the magus' game, too much balls to take it face to face? Cori glanced over his shoulder briefly, cheeks flush.
---
John smiled. "I'm finished. I'm ready for business. I'm helping you finish up there." His finger dared to push, not yet in.
---
If there was another battle or spot of business going on within Constantine himself the white blonde was oblivious to it. He ceased stroking himself and tilted his head back. "You fucking tease," worse yet what a trick, and how easily Cori had fallen for it. So why the hell did it turn him on.
---
John noticed Cori stopped playing with himself, which the finger withdrew. "Sorry, mate, am I distracting you?"
---
"No," he reasserted his grip on his own cock, pumped it at a slower pace. Now the Corinthian resented being played the way he was, and yet it was that edge that gave Constantine his allure. He concentrated on manipulating the tip and his frenum.
---
"You have fun then, old son," Constantine chuckled, giving the nightmare one more tease of his rim before stepping out to dry off and then dress himself.
---
"Not so fast," Cori reached out to snatch that teasing hand by the wrist. John was asking for it, achingly so, Mr. Laughing Magician, the cocksure Con Job. Well he was in for a job all right. He followed the blonde out of the tub, letting him get as far as only the towel rack before he pressed his still hard cock against the Englishman's ass. "I've got an itch."
---
This thrilled against the Englishman's nerves. "Shite, I'm tempted to compare your arsehole to a power outlet. Bet you didn't wash that lovely white mop of yours yet."
---
"Here's the kicker," Cori leaned in, teeth hissing against John's pierced ear, "I showered this morning." He pressed his fingers to the back of the magus' neck and insisted he bend over the bog.
---
John, meet the john. John, meet John. Right. John tried to turn back and give Cori a funny look, an eyebrow raised. "Oh. Hard and fast I take it?" Out the corner of his eye he saw himself in the water. The face reflected looked somewhat worried.
---
Oh he doubted John was that oblivious to his own actions, always pushing, pushing just to see how far he could go. Well tough it out now. Cori reached around the other's leg with his foot, toes pulling the lid down with a quick clack. "Old man like you needs all the stimulation he can get," said the nightmare, lovingly forceful. Just to emphasize his point he squeezed the man's balls.
---
John cringed and his muscles, especially the ones situated in his rear, bunched. No way he could get out of this saying no; the Corinthian could sense his lust for him. Haven't even conquered his damn inner dog yet. What made him think he could conquer his most carnal, most primitive, human desires?
"Struggling or no." He made it sound painstakingly casual in a manner that would rival Stephen Fry.
---
"Struggling or no, sir," Cori corrected for the Englishman, the painstakingly casual and dry Englishman. Damn had he dried up too? At least the lube was nearby, easy access though he wondered briefly if John would try to take advantage of the few seconds he required to uncap the thing and get to the drizzling once more.
---
Well, the Corinthian was being forceful, wasn't he? If there was a man that would not go down easily, John would be the one and indeed any moment allowed would allow the man to get away (although he had other methods if he had truly wanted to).
"Wanker," he growled.
---
A quick polish on his pierced knob and Cori had his fingers in John once again to emphasize his words. "Don't kid yourself, you love it."
---
"Yeah, I know," panted the magus. "And you're bloody determined."
---
"You know how to pull all the right strings," and similarly Cori knew where all those strings were. He eased himself into John, and just to maximize the benefit for the man's prostate health the nightmare pushed him down lower, but not too much lest he throw out his back or something equally embarrassing.
---
Christ, he was not that old! Not yet! His hip was a moderate concern but the rest of him? Who was the Corinthian kidding? Who was John kidding if he could look down into the reflection again and say he was not enjoying this? He grunted and moaned, his tree butt at his mercy.
---
Without any protest or the distinctive crick of bones the Corinthian had no ethical problem pressing Constantine's cheek to the steam-warmed top of the tank. His fingers threaded into that blonde hair, exercising a grip on it as he pounded against his tree butt. For good measure he gave the sacred pine a firm smack before reaching around to grab John's shaft and beat him off.
---
My, my (Auuuh!), the Corinthian was different this time around. Here he wasn't into hole ethics but instead beating the living daylights out of his still very tight arse. At least that reach around helped to get him off faster. "Gonna'... ah..."
---
Needed to get the old man used to it, and by used to it he didn't mean used to being fucked. John needed to adjust to not always being the one hammering the walls to pieces around here. The magus was tight though, muscles clenched like a damn professional. He pressed his cheek to the back of his shoulder, wrapped an arm around John's chest to pinch at his nipples. "That's it... hff come for me," Cori muttered, close to spilling inside him.
---
"Rather... would come on your face," he moaned, his body hot under the nightmare, hot from the shower, hot from his passion in lust and fucking. "If you would allow me that honor... sir."
---
"Wait your turn," he grunted against Constantine, having gotten a head start on the game after a good beating on his own. He stopped jerking John's cock to come inside him, spilling his hot semen balls deep. Cori breathed heavily into his neck. "You want it... all over my face huh," he asked, easing out of the man's hole halfway.
---
John shuddered. He might as well have followed suite and let himself go right there, his cock aching for that last bit of stimulation, that last push. He gasped, fighting against every fiber of him wanting to jerk off and finish, his body hot as the nightmare's seed left deep inside him, arse muscles tight: "All over. S'wanna... lick it off. Clean. Like a good dog." Face still against the top of the tank, he grinned.
---
"A dirty hound," he corrected John, pulling himself out complete with a trail of that slick seed along the other's thighs. He kept his tongue close to the blonde's ear. "Spill it on me... every last drop," Corinthian Sir complied, releasing his hold on John to take a step back and kneel like a good phantom.
---
Hot against the rim and his cheeks too. Dear, Cori would have to clean that although Constantine's interests were in, as he pumped, coming on the nightmare's face as he wanted. Those words lingering like how serpents crept, the serpent in the magus' hand releasing its load, marking his partner's visage in the hot white. When the nerve explosion subsided, his hand spread the cum along the Corinthian's forehead, cheeks, his nose, his lips, especially his lips.
---
Dangerous game, considering how the Corinthian had removed his sunglasses specifically for this moment (really it was only practical to keep those clean). He kept his eyes shut but a small pink tongue couldn't help slithering past his lids, tickling his lashes as he licked at a smear of cum high on his cheek.
---
This tongue would have terrified any normal person, but Constantine grinned in amusement as he finished his artistry, settling down with the Corinthian. His warm tongue traced along his face, over the slickened skin (practice for grooming his puppies? The hell.). He stopped along his lips, the tongue slipping past and pulling him into a kiss.
---
Grooming was an appropriate word for it, though Cori would have likened it to taste testing, but he was already familiar with John's unique flavor. That eyetongue reached out to flick against the other's, some sort of grotesque twist on a French kiss. It receded when the Englishman moved on to his lips. He couldn't help but slide his fingers along those stained thighs as they kissed, introduced a remnant of his own cum fresh from John's ass between their mouths.
---
Their tastes mingled as their cum did, although Constantine momentarily had broken the kiss to let his tongue trail to the other eye, coaxing that other hidden tongue out. After all, the Corinthian had three of those to play with, a sign of trust that the magus could have his fun and keep his own intact.
---
His eyetongue parted his lids in kind, careful to open just enough to toy with the magician's but not enough to pose a threat, though his teeth were very much there. Cori licked at his jaw then, slipped a hand (clean? not likely) into the blonde's freshly washed hair, urging him to lick out that eye. Unlike his normal mouth it was cool to the touch.
"You're like teflon, shit just doesn't stick to you," he uttered into the man's ear. For all those warnings he gave regarding the teeth only Constantine would have the balls to fuck with them.
---
John lacked the other two mouths the nightmare had to respond, curiously, somewhat cautiously probing his tongue into the Corinthian's eyemouth, the depths cool, the exploration blind unless he wake into a self created Hell. He was not the one to listen, to heed warnings. He pursued danger, danced with it, as his tongue danced with the supernatural one. His lips brushed lids.
---
The neglected eyemouth hissed briefly as Constantine probed the other. It felt great to have something there, something inside it, even if he dared not chew on the man's tongue. There weren't many who came back from such a gesture without a little bloodletting, something else John Constantine could add to his list of achievements.
"Just had a thought..." Cori mentioned, perhaps a result of the stains on his face, the Englishman's licking away, the urge to eat, "you know how eyes work for me." He prompted while guiding once of John's hands to his nipple ring.
---
The guided hand played as Constantine grunted an inquiring "Hmmmph?" attending to the other cool hissing mouth. He felt as if he were split between two waiting pets to be pampered equally. What could the Corinthian be thinking of? It better not be a new acquired taste for tongues, and both mouths wanted an equal share of the muscular slab of warm flesh.
---
Pampered, humored, worshipped, whichever. The Corinthian loved it. The other eyetongue twisted along John's, urging him to probe deeper into its cool and supernatural depth. Rarely did they taste tongues altogether, usually just eyes, fingers, the occasional cock (really just Constantine's cock these days).
"Think the same... nn," he sounded over the ring play, "might work for you... with a tongue?"
---
Funny, once John thought about it: He was making out with a pseudo-eye socket. Interesting feeling, with lids across his lips with those hard teeth right behind them. All of this was blind still, all of this done by touch. His other hand pressed the back of the Corinthian's head, pressed his lips against the socket, pressed his tongue as deep as possible.
Then he pulled away, eyes still closed. His finger was still around the ring.
"If I were some kind of nightmare out to eat tongues instead of eyes," the magus snickered, even if the Corinthian had an idea.
---
They were his eyes, and then they were mouths without lips. His lids could open and close, his teeth the same as well as bite, but they only grazed Constantine. The Corinthian may as well have been making out or getting rimmed by the way he hissed when the man's tongue edged deeper. There was nothing substantial beyond the socket, and then there was something that tasted ice cool, velvet and dark.
"It's worth a shot, you're not just any old man," Cori replied with a matching smirk, hooked on John's finger.
---
"Comes with being a bloody Constantine." A closed grin and teasing tug. "Did I just make out with oblivion?"
---
He felt around for his sunglasses and propped them on his saliva-cum-stained face. Talk about moisturizing. "Yeah you come all right," the nightmare remarked with a smirk before the tug, "ahh... Shit maybe."
---
"Maybe?" John let the joke slide, even if the Corinthian's face would be nice and soft with his pale complexion tomorrow. "Can I open me eyes now?"
---
Shithole of the Dreaming jokes aside, it was almost ironic that that was the most intimate they'd ever gone with his eyes. Cori adjusted his shades and nodded. "Yeah, open," he settled back on his rear with a smirk.
---
The blue gaze met those familiar shades, the shine of the nightmare's skin. His finger unhooked itself from the ring. "So, off to find a bleedin' tongue and see what I can hex it with then?" An image of their first visit to the Underground was conjured, with bones and vice and demons writhing.
---
"You want to pick up sign language," he asked John with a shrug and a smirk, suggesting the alternative which would no doubt consist of one-word commands and maybe even a clicker.
---
A clicker. That was Constantine for "Yeah, you must not like your soddin' fingers then!" The magus picked up the meaning very quickly, but did not care to acknowledge it. "Don't you need two arms for that?"
---
"Oh yeah and from experience? Procuring a tongue is way easier than two arms," the nightmare joked, pointing at the magus with a sly smile.
---
"I don't know, mate. I'd need all four of me legs for that little phenomenon, yeah?" John shrugged, returning the look.
---
"In any case you've got an extra set of hands right here," he gestured to himself, two extra mouths included though the Corinthian was confident in his ability to procure a tongue without having to use that special look.
---
"But do you speak Rover?" Constantine could possibly look into those toothy sockets and still be there on the floor of the bathroom, the bog right at his back.
---
"No, but I'll bet we can get you to talk John in Rover's skin," he pointed at the blonde again then shrugged, "I'm not the licensed mage around here though. I'd just know how to cook the thing to make it taste better for you." Cori wasn't exactly modest about his culinary tongue-broiling skills.
---
A modest nightmare still was something to snicker about, even if he were confident of his abilities now, which John had no reason to question; the Corinthian could cook and could cook well. "I'm for speaking Constantine in any skin," Constantine replied. "Now tell you what: I feel like I need to take a shit. You were nothing like yesterday."
---
"Good thing, bad thing," he asked but it may as well have been a rhetorical question. He rose to his feet, offering John a hand.
---
"Bit of both." John took that hand... then sat on the bog, his elbows on his knees in that comfortable slump, casually sitting there as if someone possibly watching him shit was the most normal thing in the world. Well, if Cori was able to stand him letting bloody diarrhea loose in the streets... "Think this is where you go get dressed, mate."
---
Bit of both? Well if that wasn't the sound of encouragement to make the grade. Heh, he leaned in to kiss the magician's forehead. "I'll make you something to eat while I'm at it," Cori added, nothing better than a shower&shag the minute Constantine woke up, though what it must have been 4:30 or 5 now. He gave a little smirk then made his way out of the bathroom, naked still, but he had enough courtesy to close the door behind him.
---
Enough courtesy for John to do his business with some privacy as well. Smiling and shitting and sitting. Now there was a much better lot in life than what he had during those final days in London, continuously checking the dark corners and over his shoulders for any sort of sign of those he had pissed off in his Tate Club stunt. The arson bit was easier to get away with. Aw hell, it was nice walking the streets with no one who knew him, those that knew him not out for his blood.
After finishing and washing, he shut the bathroom door and made a beeline for the drawer, the floor cool against his feet. The studio small, whatever the Corinthian was preparing, he could smell it.
---
What could have been a standard ham&cheese omelet was spiced with chives and potlatch. John's appearance deceived the class of his palate. Cori remained shirtless despite the winter season, though he had rinsed off any drying liquids before putting his jeans on. He folded the thing like an expert, burning it to the Englishman's specific taste before slapping it on a plate.
---
The smell was enough for Constantine to dress faster, donning the familiar getup he usually had worn; tonight he would be out trying to procure a tongue on the black market in the Underground and he still wasn't too sure about what was available, common, rare and whatnot. He'd be haggling for something spell-worthy for sure.
"Ta," the magus said as he took the plate. "Looks delicious.
"Just to remind you, Cori, that tonight is going to be long. I don't know what's out there an' I don't know who's pissed at me yet."
---
Imagine that, olfactory power right in the palm of his hand, no knives or nightmare looks necessary. Well, a knife was necessary to dice the ham. He gave John a grin, glad to always have his other more mundane skills appreciated. "No problem, you slept the day away long enough, doubt you even need the coffee," and nothing got the blonde's blood running better than adrenaline instead of caffeine anyway.
---
The nightmare knew well. John helped himself to a hot mouthful of drippy omelet, looking almost silly as if it were too hot for him, but shit, he was hungry. His need for rest was tended to but now he needed food. Food for humans, not exhausted, worn dog easily dispatched and ready to eat by a bite to the jugular. Ham tasted better than raw old dog any day. "Yeah, no coffee. Keep your teeth and knife ready.
"If you want to come."
---
"Well, I accept your invitation, sir," he said to John, taking a seat across from him at the kitchen table.