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tampered2007-01-15 02:06 pm
bitingnightmare.livejournal.com) wrote in tampered2007-01-15 02:06 pm
Log; Complete
When; Jan. 15 (late morning)
Rating; R (1/4 sex, 3/4 lols)
Characters; John Constantine![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
silkcutremix, the Corinthian bitingnightmare
Summary; a nightmarish curse visits the unsuspecting apartment
Log;
"Shit!"
John's eyes shot open. His breathing was shallow and the covers were damp with his sweat. He could hear, feel his heart shudder frantically in his chest. Bringing his hand to his sticky, moist forehead, he tried to steady himself, relax himself, remind himself: He was in the studio, in one piece. The other hand felt his belly, along a side, the beginnings of his back.
---
The nightmare stirred briefly but did not wake. Perhaps he was caught in a dream of his own if one could believe his ilk even had them. He pulled the covers, damp or not, higher to his chin, bare back to Constantine and his eyes closed. No, Cori heard it, the one word that wasn't part of the script in his dream play but its significance hadn't registered with him yet. He reached back, fingertips creeping towards John.
"You okay," he asked, voice rough from sleep.
---
"Bloody awful dream." John's hand left his forehead and grasped the nightmare's. "Wasn't your doing, was it?"
---
He returned the grasp in kind, fingers intertwining with John's. "Honestly, you never know," Cori uttered as he rolled onto his back, other hand blindly searching for his glasses on the nightstand. After finding them he slipped the shades onto his face. "What happened," he asked curiously.
---
Already the details were growing fuzzy in John's mind, but the extent of the horror, the helplessness, had yet to leave him, shuddering through his blood as his mind shakily thumbed over the details. HIs hand squeezed. The other rested on his chest, feeling nothing crawling within the flesh. Just him, only warmth, sweat and hair.
"Wasn't your doing then," he sighed.
---
The nightmare huffed a silent sigh, didn't like seeing the magician in such a sorry state of sweat, shakes, and fear. That squeeze to his hand said it all. Cori pulled himself up only to rest his arm across the man's hot chest, chin on his hmm... bare shoulder?
"That bad huh?"
---
From a nightmare to another, this one John liked more. "That bad."
---
"Is there anything I can do," asked the white blonde as his fingers walked along the other's chest, down the center of his stomach, across the hairs.
---
John shut his eyes, although they were not shut for long; it threatened to pull him back in, burned along his eyelids. "Fuck," he mumbled to himself for thinking he rest them yet, although if Cori heard, it may have well have been a request.
---
His fingertips pressed against John's skin, as if searching for the source of his pain. If Cori couldn't find it he could most certainly make the man forget about them. He kissed his neck as his hand felt under the sheets for the Englishman's soft flesh. "Forget about it," purred the nightmare.
---
"I think you know how," John mumbled, then moaned, holding his loyal phantom close. At least the Corinthian did not complain about being too sore from their last venture; that would have been something coming from Constantine anyway, as he was getting acquainted with the bog while the Corinthian reintroduced himself to his arse.
---
"Relax, I'm a professional," that said as a whisper before he licked Constantine's neck then suckled the spot. His fingers closed around his lax shaft, eager to pump it hard. Maybe a thumb slipping under his foreskin would do the trick.
---
Cori knew him well. There was heat pulsing through Constantine, but it wasn't the strange chill that shuddered through his veins. This one was passionate and somehow very intense. He had to gasp; right now he was so sensitive, so fucking sensitive. His grip grew tighter.
---
A master dreamrot, a master lover, what were the odds? He worked on marking the man's neck with his mouth as his hand worked up an erection, palm sliding at a quick but consistent pace. John was on the edge, he needed to be brought back down, or rather... pushed over completely.
---
Shit, this was the best handjob John ever had, and that was saying much, given where he had been, who he had been in bed with. He was rock hard and still gasping, on the verge of moaning like a little mesmerized slut, a bitch. His head was pressed back into the pillow. He couldn't tell if his eyes were opened or closed, now that he thought about it.
---
Did it matter if he was watching? That hand was deftly skilled, fingers wrapped tight around his slick member, aiming for nothing more than to please the magus, that and hold the key to his orgasm too. Cori smirked against his chin; purred inaudible words to him then licked the salt of his sweat from his skin.
---
Precum? No surprise. Yet, through this insanity of unrestrained pleasure, Constantine still felt a little shudder of something in him. Ominous.
Nightmares. That.
"Cori..."
---
"No," he hissed into the crook of the Englishman's neck. No, he wouldn't stop or no, he wasn't Cori. He tightened his fist, pumping harder and faster, aching for the man's release.
---
"Stop it," John moaned. His nails dug into Cori's back. But it felt so damn good...
---
"Hurt me," he begged, back arching under those nails.
---
"You... You don't... Not how... Cori, stop." John's arms unwrapped from the nightmare, seeking a pushing motion to get him off.
---
Someone was going to get off all right. He refused to release Constantine, gripped his shoulder when he broke their embrace. Pity. The nightmare squeezed the rim of his cockhead, brushed against the piercing only to pump him again. Soon....
---
"Fuck it! Cori! STOP! This is not a fucking joke! Duck! Stop! CORI!" The magus pleaded, trembled, twitched, caught between the extremes of pleasure and agony. He tried to pull away, tried to get out from under the nightmare. What was the Corinthian playing? What was his game? "Cori...! Please...!"
---
"I'm fucking it all right," he growled, using his grip to keep on top of the Englishman as he jacked away. John was heavier, but the nightmare had the weight of the world on him didn't he? Hell he figured he could have his way with the mage anyway anyhow at this point, but that wasn't the purpose of this activity, this job.
"Come for me, bleed it all out," he moaned, tongue to his chest.
---
But who's blood? Constantine found himself trying to bite the Corinthian then, those silly dull teeth trying to grind through flesh with little avail. He bit, but he bit as he was teetering on the edge of climax. His fingers clenched into the other with a tense deliberation. His whole body ached with that thing, that thing that the nightmare was only bringing forth.
He felt something choke him. He coughed into skin, gagged. Needed to throw up...
---
Constantine found his neck. The nightmare gasped from all three mouths, a mix of heavy rapture and rasp, little slave. It only steeled his grip around that solid cock, made him give it a tight tug, fuck it with his fist till he could milk it out, release it.
---
This was it. He was going to orgasm. He was going to vomit while orgasming. His stomach was heaving, pushing. He couldn't breathe. He was suffocating in unwanted lust, suffocating on something caught in his throat, creeping upwards, upwards, upwards...
And out. It neatly split his face. His consciousness was jagged, funny. It was like giving birth to himself again. He, it, twisted and thrashed, a red atrocity of muscles rendered in canid form, a forelimb shredding the shoulder as all of it blindly clawed, hatching from its tender shell. Still, there was substance to what remained of the cocoon, as very human legs clenched and struggled, the thighs stained with fresh cum. It screamed in wild freedom.
John screamed. And fell out of his bed with a thump.
"Shit!" A wiser choice of word this time, John once again a shaking, shivering heap of Englishman on the floor. There was his hand, full and not splitting at the seams, and he felt the cool floor against his cheek. Didn't ripple or shudder or distort under him, the same hardness as always, as in reality.
He pulled himself up, somehow. He was shaking too much. Didn't feel like waking Cori though.
---
Unusual for Cori to not wake over such a commotion; the noise, the fall, the cursing. For whatever reason he felt as if he'd had one of his better nights of sleep this time, a deep and dreamless sleep, no nightmares to recall, nothing. The beast must have taken the day off. Meh, the sunlight filtering through the blinds was another matter entirely. His face twitched, clearly they hadn't dusted the place in some time either, and the particles floating in the rays tickled his nose.
He yawned then, raspy tongue lolling out as Cori uncurled and strrrrreeeetched, languid.
---
Returning to the bed was a feat left abandoned when John saw what had taken Cori's place. The man's eyes were wide. Did it ever end? He patted himself on the cheek a few times, smacks he wanted them to be but he could not find the energy over the pure shock that had overtaken him, as he backed away as quietly his trembling body could. First beasts exploding from his body, now beasts in bed. Was his life doomed to be one whole fucking metaphor of false awakenings?
John made it to the couch where he could try to remember that beast charm that could divert the creature in the bed just long enough for him to get out of the flat and lock the thing inside.
---
That long tail flicked, furry and full. For all the nightmaring that had occurred in the bed Cori's mood was rather pleasant. The stretch relaxed his flexible spine, felt good to the very end. Now all he needed was a kiss of the morning breath to John, but his side of the bed was empty. Pity. The white blond shrugged once, win some lose some. He reached for his glasses instead, only to learn he had... unusual fingers.
The sunglasses clattered to the floor, swiped off the nightstand by a grey-white spotty paw. What in the name of fuck. What. The. Fuck. Instead, the nightmare sounded a rumbly 'rrrooorruhhh.'
---
John watched the cat paw at the shades on the nightstand. It should have been a sign, but with a big fucking cat right there with him and he naked, could he risk taking chances? He was shit with animals; he knew how to impale one and clean it for a ritual better than how to take care of one and keep it alive. That and he preferred cats of the little and domestic variety. Constantine slowly, slowly inched to the door. It hadn't noticed him yet.
---
Large eyes searched the apartment, caught the slightest movement out the corner of a black-rimmed blue eye.
John. John what the fuck happened, the Corinthian pleaded, but it likely sounded guttural and chuffy. He scrambled off the bed, claw tips poking into the mattress as he gracefully landed on his... his paws. That long tail followed, sensing unrest. Wait, his face. Cori flattened himself against the hard floor, rear held high as his paws rubbed over his eyes. The teeth were gone. What justice was that?
---
Now it saw him. And it was approaching him. Its behavior was sort of odd, which fortunately Constantine's experiences as a wolf had given him some idea what a predatory animal looked like, but canine and feline body language differed. Cats hunted by surprise, didn't they? But weren't humans such easy prey that they didn't need to use it? Slow, stupid things humans were in the physical scheme of things in comparison to the extremes of speed and endurance offered by nature.
"Shite, Cori, where are you?" he mumbled. No sudden movements. Slow inching to that fucking door. "What kind of joke is this?"
---
What. The nightmare ceased scratching at his face, hadn't gotten those claws to come out properly nor was his muzzle exactly fragile skin. Shit he was right here! Obviously not a 6'1" paragon of sleek masculinity, but.. he was Cori. This isn't a fucking joke, John!
The spotty pelted cat garbled at the man before making a lunge! His heavy paw took an unclawed swat at the pine stamp.
---
"Shit!" John bolted for the door, feeling the paw bat at his arse. Only luck would have it that those claws had not raked at his flesh yes? Or so John would have thought. He fumbled with the lock and chain. Fucking stupid fucking fucking chain.
---
It's me, asshole! He took another smack at the pine stamp, claws not exposed, but Cori's paws were itching to let them loose. The door to their apartment opened inward, so the most practical course of action was for the nightmare to rise up on his hind legs and pin John to the door. You're not fucking leaving me! A rrrowwrr of distress.
---
John grit his teeth. The locks were undone but he could not open the door without the cat taking a bite out of his neck. He was tense, still. Caught. Did not want to do... anything at all. What could he do? John bit his lip. He was a golden tongued Conman, but what good was that against what he figured to be a leopard very interested in him?
"Nice kitty," he hissed under his breath. "Very nice kitty." Already his hair was taking on a lighter shade, white creeping along his neck and shoulders.
---
Translating the swears that came out of the Corinthian's mouth at that moment was a pointless endeavor. The feline muzzle merely chuffed, hissed, mrrr'ed, garbled, yes even meowed. John wasn't understanding him, Cori could not communicate. Regardless of that lighting shade the nightmare did what any frustrated person would do. He started knocking his brand new furry head against the Englishman.
Stupid stupid stupid senile limey bastard cunt fuckwit.
---
Okay. Someone shoved a very special leopard in John's bed. It could not paw swipe and its idea of tearing into its hapless victim was beating its head against his shoulder. Not sink its sharp, sharp teeth into his tender flesh, oh no. Beat his head against his back. The fuck was this? At least the mat of thick, off-white fur had cushioned him. Well, might as well try the other thing he had in mind then.
”The fuck is your problem,” John snarled out of his half-muzzle.
---
”IT'S ME THE MOTHERFUCKING CORINTHIAN--John??”
The nightmare ceased his head knocking, then he noticed the half-muzzle. Don't bite now.
---
Now, John could hear this. The wrinkles in his stretching face disappeared. His eyes widened. The hell was this. His surprise muted the crunching and grinding of his bones in his ears. That was the Corinthian he heard, wasn't it?
”Well fuck me, Cori. What did you do?”
---
He treated his paw like a hand, slapping it against the door as if it were a fist. “What did I do? What did you do!” Cori turned the accusation around before finally dropping away from the Englishman to... sit on his... haunches. “I have a big fucking tail.”
---
”I did nothing!" John snapped, letting himself join the nightmare on four legs, fully lupine. Funny, being almost eye level with him, although he must have been the more haggard one compared to the immortal feline with, indeed, that very long tail. Probably did more for him than the poofy thing attached to his arse would have, other than tell her that he did not feel like having his ear nipped again for not letting her feed first.
Hm. Constantine approached his companion, circling him, studying him. Would have been better to do so with human eyes, but being able to converse with the affected nightmare was good enough for now.
---
His tail twitched left and right, like a pendulum with a life of its own really. The Corinthian cat indeed appeared sleek and stylish, his coat shiny and new, but it was only the beginning of the day after all. He watched the wolfmagus make his circle with a feline expression that did Cori's impatiently cool look justice.
”Why else am I a... a.... Fuck I'm some kind of fucking cat!” He bolted without warning to the bathroom, needed the mirror, needed to see it for himself.
---
”Yeah, I thought the same too when I first saw you," John muttered, letting the nightmare check the extent of the damage on his own, although he padded after him on his own time. He hobbled, lacking the stealth and grace that defined the leopard, but he was a creature built for the chase, not for surprise, even if he had a bum hindleg.
---
The extent of the damage was 100% pure and true... snow leopard. Why the fuck a snow leopard? Why the fuck a cat at all. Cori groaned loudly in horror. The insult to injury were his eyes, a dark unnatural sapphire blue, the ones he owned as a man. By the time John had hobbled into the bathroom the nightcat was already squeezing into the space behind the bog.
---
There John found the Corinthian (Catrinthian? That was grounds for getting his throat chewed out), hiding. A part of him could not blame the species reassigned nightmare; when Constantine had initially changed himself, he had spent a good part of the day lying there on the bed brooding and coming to terms with the weight of his predicament. However, the Corinthian was an immortal shapeshifter in his own realm of power, wasn't he? How would a little alteration to his mortal husk that devastating? Had to be the eyeteeth; he'd spend longer than the Englishman in the bathroom, taking intricate care of all three sets. Made him pleasant in their most intimate moments, really.
The wolf crept closer. The nightmare's pads would be silent against the tile. Constantine's unretractable nails still had that distinct click.
"Least you still have a backbone, mate."
---
The Corinthian had shapeshifted in dreams, very true, but the Cori that John knew was completely corporeal. He preferred his substantial human form the most for personal reasons. His eyeteeth, or lack thereof today, was another matter entirely. He peered out from the other side of the bowl.
”Change me back,” the nightmare asked of the wolfmagus, even if it hadn't been the Englishman's doing.
---
"Abrakadabra flipple bibble kaflurp." John's shoulders did not allow much in the way of a shrug. "Oh, bugger, you still seem to be a cat."
---
"... It's a fucking curse, first they gave me a pussy now I AM a pussy," Cori.... whined? Well his chuffing hardly sounded like such but his human tone was that of a rare whine, or whinge.
---
Constantine should have been all too familiar with whining, figuring that his species was better accomplished at it. "Come on, chief, you still have a backbone, don't you? Aw, shite, just stay there for a moment."
He padded off on that still ever rolling-bouncing gait, rising to two legs again when that sensitive nose of his picked out the Corinthian's stash of Mild Sevens (that's what his morning had been missing). He returned with a lit one, a man of course, after having helped himself to one of his own Silk Cuts. He didn't care about being naked here, or that he hobbled like the wounded animal he was, but perhaps what had worked for him would work on the nightmare, although he kept his distance from the bog to tempt the feline out.
---
"I'm a poster boy for Fancy Feast," he countered.
Now the world could have been crueler and given the Corinthian the body of a serpent or a piranha, but no he was an agile and elusive predatory machine. That was something to be thankful for wasn't it? Well judging from the way he remained cramped behind the toilet Cori wasn't thankful. His nose picked up a trace of smoke, his cigarette smoke, before the two-legged magus strolled back in. Seeing John's johnson unclothed was rather commonplace in the apartment, hardly fazed the nightmare cat thing.
"..........." His throat clicked, making a distinctly feline sound. Somehow he managed to crawl out of the compact space, limbs unfolding towards John.
---
Coming out? "Thatta' boy," Constantine teased the cigarette: The Corinthian was coming out of there completely. "Come on, Morris. Don't tell me you're a bigger liar than me when you can't take being a cat for a day when I've been a soddin' wolf for months."
---
He gave John a look, one that might have sent the blonde reeling with nightmarish visions were his pupils and irises made of bone and not flesh. Cori snorted briefly over the pet name but otherwise ignored it. "Can you hear me now," he asked the other, testing their communication rather than their knowledge of TV commercials. His whiskers twitched for the cigarette.
---
No, John did not. The nightmare chuffed or mewed or made some more cat noises that required his other set of ears to decipher. "Not giving this to you until you get out." The scents of the Mild Seven and Silk Cut mingled.
---
"Asshole," Cori muttered before padding along after John, his feet absolutely silent on the ground despite his translated weight, "don't check me for piercings." This last bit he added, knowing the magus couldn't hear him, because that was an embarrassment waiting to happen. The big spotty nightmare went as far as slinking along John's thigh to plead for his seven.
---
John wouldn't have wanted to see how that piercing there translated anyway; didn't cats have barbed penises? Shit, there was a place his mind did not want to go.
... But the Corinthian was out. Good. "Congrats, squire. If I give this to you, will you not crawl back there again? Face the world an' that." The cigarette continued to smolder between his fingers. Constantine exhaled a lungfull of smoke at the cat.
---
He didn't want to know, and yet he did because the nightmare would raise high holy hell if he lost it. This day was shit. Fortunately his nose was not that of the keen canid so John did not receive a heavy sneeze to the face. He did however get a Corinthian sitting on his haunches, tail having wrapped over the back of the Englishman's feet. Twitch twitch. Who knew if that meant yes or no.
---
John looked the cat in those blue eyes (shit, he had eyes). "Nod if you mean yes."
---
"Yes give me my fucking smoke," he snorted again, but nodded in his head in reply. Somewhere under all that fur the hoop in his left ear dangled.
---
More visible than a small stud in thick winter fur, for sure. Wonder where the nipple ring went. Nonetheless, that earned the nightmare his prize, which Constantine held it out for the cat to position his new mouth comfortably and take.
---
One advantage to the feline form, his tongue had excellent traction. Keeping the cigarette in place between his jaws was an easy task. At least his lungs and smoking tolerance weren't brand new. Cori's nostrils flared slightly as he emitted a 'huff' from his throat. He eyed John, still displeased by the start of his morning, but glad that someone was here to help him. They couldn't speak man to cat though, what was the use of saying thanks? Instead, he leaned against the man's bare legs, warm and begrudgingly gracious.
---
John couldn't help it: "Good kitty," he grinned, running his hand along the soft fur. There was the temptation to see if he could get the Corinthian to purr. The nicotine must be helping him. Although, the magus observed as he tapped ash, Cori looked silly with that majestic beast getup with the out of place cigarette jutting out from his great maw. It made Constantine wonder how ridiculous he looked himself.
---
Pretty damn ridiculous but people paid for works of art depicting dogs smoking cigars and playing poker.
"Don't fucking call me that," Cori's nose flared again though he didn't stop rubbing against John's hand. Eventually.... the characteristic 'rrurrr' of all felines rumbled from his throat. "Damn," he chuffed briefly, shaking ash from his cigarette.
---
It made John smile, even if he did not understand him. His fingers continued to stroke him, learned from what Zee and Cori had previously done. Had to wonder if the nightmare liked having those spots scratched as well. "Reminds me of your cycle, it does."
---
The belly was questionable but his head, ears, and throat were fair game, even though Cori felt like someone's pet this way. How the tables had turned... he didn't put it past John to use this reversal to his advantage. But he couldn't stop purring! The nightmare even chuffed between his rolling rrr's, simulating Delilah's motor.
Still not leaving the apartment, he said more to himself than anyone else.
---
So much for catching the nightmare's resolve; John was too entertained by the white furry "motorcycle." See how he liked his ears scratched just right there. If it made the hardened bastard melt, what would it do for Cori?
---
His head tilted under John's hand to give him the best reach for that spot. His leg didn't thump but that cigarette came dangerous close to his thigh. The purring rumbled against John's leg, now that Cori was rubbing his throat against him, tail wrapping around his ankles in the other direction. He was hardly the image of a formidable feline predator right now, rather he was a bit like Constantine's cat called Cori.
---
Cori had a dog at times, didn't he? John, despite his pride, had no qualms with being the nightmare's pet either. Nothing wrong with a little role reversal at all, even if he happened to be shit with pets and anything that was unfortunate enough to be dubbed "Constantine's cat" typically was sacrificed in some gristly brutal way that would appall anyone that gave any sort of damn for animals. Not that John had any reason to sacrifice the impressive beast of a feline any time soon.
"Watch the fag," the Englishman muttered, although he complied and scratched just a little more where the oversized housecat had indicated. The fur from that long tail tickled a bit, but it was just as soft as the hair around his ears his fingers had been working.
---
Mrrrrr… he definitely had an impressive amount of horsepower in that form. The nightmare in human form was already an excellent combatant, now he had weapons attached to his hands and feet, and a different hm, a different take on his deadly teeth. He circled around Constantine, careful to not burn him with the embers of his cigarette as Cori slinked his way out of the bathroom. Breakfast, make breakfast, try to do something mundane, normal.
I hope this isn’t the first step to starvation, he chuffed, an inaudible commentary on John’s cooking skills.
---
Fortunately for the Corinthian, John had not slipped back into his more understanding shape, letting the nightmare make his chuffing noises while he followed him... to the kitchen. The cigarette was stubbed out in a nearby ashtray, a look of amusement crossing the Englishman's face as he watched.
---
Oh he knew John was watching, watching like Cori had back when the man was still trying to understand bricks and use the bed as a hiding place (incidentally that beat the back of the bog). He kept that cigarette secure between his teeth, dropping ash along the way. Yes he stood in front of the fridge, stared at the door and its long handle made for upright mammals with thumbs. Rrrrurr, he could feel the laughter to come.
Cori attempted to rear up and open the cooling unit to get breakfast started. Scratch scratch, his massive paws left light marks down the door.
---
A chuckle. John might have played it kindly and tended to the nightmare's condition, but what was there to be tended to when he had the fortunate of being trapped in the body of one of the largest, most powerful predators in the world (or his natural world at least)? It was only for a day, he felt; no other reason to explain any kind of permanancy after this one.
The magus gave his companion a sly, devious look, leaning against the fridge. Oh, the joy of thumbs. "You're going nowhere, mate. Want breaky, don't you?"
---
He looked at John with unamused blue eyes, cigarette dangling still. He expertly exhaled a stream of smoke through his feline nose, smoking skills having also translated... whether it was healthy for his sinuses or not. Cori lowered himself back to all fours and sat, ears flattened. He nodded once, almost sulkingly so.
---
Constantine's fingers played teasingly for the handle. "Well, then. Sunny-side up or scrambled? Lots of bacon? What would you like on your toast?"
---
..... If cats could wooohm, which they couldn't. The Corinthian opened his mouth, letting the nearly finished cigarette butt fall to the floor. Within seconds that feline form pounced onto the kitchen counter, barely fitting on its edge, but his goal was the top of the refrigerator. He leapt onto the bare space and curled up, face to the wall and rear facing Constantine. His long tail dangled over the edge.
---
"Aww, come on, mate! Thought you had a sense of humor! Shit, I know you did when you thought pasting soddin' antlers to me head was a right laugh!"
---
The big spotty beast visibly sighed in a heavy CHUFF.
---
Now here was a familiar scenario. John shook his head before taking that tail that oh-so dangled there at his fingertips and giving it a gentle tug, as if ringing a bell. "Ding ding. I was going to suggest we spend some quality time and get some fresh breaky. How about that? Put that body of yours to good use."
---
That tail did look like a bell rope, thick enough to get his attention or serve as a muffler. Cori raised his head and looked over his shoulder to the ringer, hrm... Fresh breaky, like raw meat and bone into which he could tear with his claws while imagining the poor chosen victim to be a city deity? He could like that perhaps. Spending time with the magician of course was always a highlight.
The nightmare pulled his tail away as he turned around to face John, paws held together. He looked the man in the eye. Really, he asked, but it was just a hrrrffuh.
---
John offered the feline one of those trademark confident Constantine gazes, letting the soft tail slide away from his fingers: "That's better. I wouldn't lie... as much to you, squire. Hell, why should I lie to you now? We're both savage beasts for once and it'd be a bloody shame to let that go to waste lying around this flat, eh? Or at least I'd think so. I wouldn't think you'd be the one to turn down the thrill of the hunt, would you?"
The thought of tearing into the winter roughened hide of a deer caught in the snow made the wolf within the Englishman shudder in anticipation despite his permanent injury. Hell, the snow made hunting easier for him. Still, his gaze had not shifted, neither away from leopard nor the Constantinian one to the more primal. They needed fingers to open up the door after all, and Constantine knew just where to go to not be noticed, should the nightmare have issues with being seen as he was.
---
Damn right you wouldn't, Cori sounded another guttural meow, lying around naked at that.
As for the thrill of the hunt... the thought tickled him, John was right to say he wouldn't turn down the opportunity. He was a stealthy predator in skin or fur. Even the tip of his long tail began to twitch thoughtfully. The nightmare feline turned his head briefly before his haunches rose up in preparation for a leap. The Englishman was only sort of in the way. Cori managed to land on the floor gracefully, without snagging a claw on the other.
---
That feat of grace and power had to have meant a yes. Good. John coolly stepped past the feline to the door, not caring that it was freezing and he was nude. That problem would soon be taken care of anyway. Besides, it would be nice to converse with the nightmare again, even if he could carry a one-sided conversation with himself just fine, practiced in the dubious art as it was.
"Tally ho," John huffed to himself under his breath, that coming out in a large white puff in the sharp cold, cracking the door to allow the Corinthian out first.
Rating; R (1/4 sex, 3/4 lols)
Characters; John Constantine
silkcutremix, the Corinthian bitingnightmareSummary; a nightmarish curse visits the unsuspecting apartment
Log;
"Shit!"
John's eyes shot open. His breathing was shallow and the covers were damp with his sweat. He could hear, feel his heart shudder frantically in his chest. Bringing his hand to his sticky, moist forehead, he tried to steady himself, relax himself, remind himself: He was in the studio, in one piece. The other hand felt his belly, along a side, the beginnings of his back.
---
The nightmare stirred briefly but did not wake. Perhaps he was caught in a dream of his own if one could believe his ilk even had them. He pulled the covers, damp or not, higher to his chin, bare back to Constantine and his eyes closed. No, Cori heard it, the one word that wasn't part of the script in his dream play but its significance hadn't registered with him yet. He reached back, fingertips creeping towards John.
"You okay," he asked, voice rough from sleep.
---
"Bloody awful dream." John's hand left his forehead and grasped the nightmare's. "Wasn't your doing, was it?"
---
He returned the grasp in kind, fingers intertwining with John's. "Honestly, you never know," Cori uttered as he rolled onto his back, other hand blindly searching for his glasses on the nightstand. After finding them he slipped the shades onto his face. "What happened," he asked curiously.
---
Already the details were growing fuzzy in John's mind, but the extent of the horror, the helplessness, had yet to leave him, shuddering through his blood as his mind shakily thumbed over the details. HIs hand squeezed. The other rested on his chest, feeling nothing crawling within the flesh. Just him, only warmth, sweat and hair.
"Wasn't your doing then," he sighed.
---
The nightmare huffed a silent sigh, didn't like seeing the magician in such a sorry state of sweat, shakes, and fear. That squeeze to his hand said it all. Cori pulled himself up only to rest his arm across the man's hot chest, chin on his hmm... bare shoulder?
"That bad huh?"
---
From a nightmare to another, this one John liked more. "That bad."
---
"Is there anything I can do," asked the white blonde as his fingers walked along the other's chest, down the center of his stomach, across the hairs.
---
John shut his eyes, although they were not shut for long; it threatened to pull him back in, burned along his eyelids. "Fuck," he mumbled to himself for thinking he rest them yet, although if Cori heard, it may have well have been a request.
---
His fingertips pressed against John's skin, as if searching for the source of his pain. If Cori couldn't find it he could most certainly make the man forget about them. He kissed his neck as his hand felt under the sheets for the Englishman's soft flesh. "Forget about it," purred the nightmare.
---
"I think you know how," John mumbled, then moaned, holding his loyal phantom close. At least the Corinthian did not complain about being too sore from their last venture; that would have been something coming from Constantine anyway, as he was getting acquainted with the bog while the Corinthian reintroduced himself to his arse.
---
"Relax, I'm a professional," that said as a whisper before he licked Constantine's neck then suckled the spot. His fingers closed around his lax shaft, eager to pump it hard. Maybe a thumb slipping under his foreskin would do the trick.
---
Cori knew him well. There was heat pulsing through Constantine, but it wasn't the strange chill that shuddered through his veins. This one was passionate and somehow very intense. He had to gasp; right now he was so sensitive, so fucking sensitive. His grip grew tighter.
---
A master dreamrot, a master lover, what were the odds? He worked on marking the man's neck with his mouth as his hand worked up an erection, palm sliding at a quick but consistent pace. John was on the edge, he needed to be brought back down, or rather... pushed over completely.
---
Shit, this was the best handjob John ever had, and that was saying much, given where he had been, who he had been in bed with. He was rock hard and still gasping, on the verge of moaning like a little mesmerized slut, a bitch. His head was pressed back into the pillow. He couldn't tell if his eyes were opened or closed, now that he thought about it.
---
Did it matter if he was watching? That hand was deftly skilled, fingers wrapped tight around his slick member, aiming for nothing more than to please the magus, that and hold the key to his orgasm too. Cori smirked against his chin; purred inaudible words to him then licked the salt of his sweat from his skin.
---
Precum? No surprise. Yet, through this insanity of unrestrained pleasure, Constantine still felt a little shudder of something in him. Ominous.
Nightmares. That.
"Cori..."
---
"No," he hissed into the crook of the Englishman's neck. No, he wouldn't stop or no, he wasn't Cori. He tightened his fist, pumping harder and faster, aching for the man's release.
---
"Stop it," John moaned. His nails dug into Cori's back. But it felt so damn good...
---
"Hurt me," he begged, back arching under those nails.
---
"You... You don't... Not how... Cori, stop." John's arms unwrapped from the nightmare, seeking a pushing motion to get him off.
---
Someone was going to get off all right. He refused to release Constantine, gripped his shoulder when he broke their embrace. Pity. The nightmare squeezed the rim of his cockhead, brushed against the piercing only to pump him again. Soon....
---
"Fuck it! Cori! STOP! This is not a fucking joke! Duck! Stop! CORI!" The magus pleaded, trembled, twitched, caught between the extremes of pleasure and agony. He tried to pull away, tried to get out from under the nightmare. What was the Corinthian playing? What was his game? "Cori...! Please...!"
---
"I'm fucking it all right," he growled, using his grip to keep on top of the Englishman as he jacked away. John was heavier, but the nightmare had the weight of the world on him didn't he? Hell he figured he could have his way with the mage anyway anyhow at this point, but that wasn't the purpose of this activity, this job.
"Come for me, bleed it all out," he moaned, tongue to his chest.
---
But who's blood? Constantine found himself trying to bite the Corinthian then, those silly dull teeth trying to grind through flesh with little avail. He bit, but he bit as he was teetering on the edge of climax. His fingers clenched into the other with a tense deliberation. His whole body ached with that thing, that thing that the nightmare was only bringing forth.
He felt something choke him. He coughed into skin, gagged. Needed to throw up...
---
Constantine found his neck. The nightmare gasped from all three mouths, a mix of heavy rapture and rasp, little slave. It only steeled his grip around that solid cock, made him give it a tight tug, fuck it with his fist till he could milk it out, release it.
---
This was it. He was going to orgasm. He was going to vomit while orgasming. His stomach was heaving, pushing. He couldn't breathe. He was suffocating in unwanted lust, suffocating on something caught in his throat, creeping upwards, upwards, upwards...
And out. It neatly split his face. His consciousness was jagged, funny. It was like giving birth to himself again. He, it, twisted and thrashed, a red atrocity of muscles rendered in canid form, a forelimb shredding the shoulder as all of it blindly clawed, hatching from its tender shell. Still, there was substance to what remained of the cocoon, as very human legs clenched and struggled, the thighs stained with fresh cum. It screamed in wild freedom.
John screamed. And fell out of his bed with a thump.
"Shit!" A wiser choice of word this time, John once again a shaking, shivering heap of Englishman on the floor. There was his hand, full and not splitting at the seams, and he felt the cool floor against his cheek. Didn't ripple or shudder or distort under him, the same hardness as always, as in reality.
He pulled himself up, somehow. He was shaking too much. Didn't feel like waking Cori though.
---
Unusual for Cori to not wake over such a commotion; the noise, the fall, the cursing. For whatever reason he felt as if he'd had one of his better nights of sleep this time, a deep and dreamless sleep, no nightmares to recall, nothing. The beast must have taken the day off. Meh, the sunlight filtering through the blinds was another matter entirely. His face twitched, clearly they hadn't dusted the place in some time either, and the particles floating in the rays tickled his nose.
He yawned then, raspy tongue lolling out as Cori uncurled and strrrrreeeetched, languid.
---
Returning to the bed was a feat left abandoned when John saw what had taken Cori's place. The man's eyes were wide. Did it ever end? He patted himself on the cheek a few times, smacks he wanted them to be but he could not find the energy over the pure shock that had overtaken him, as he backed away as quietly his trembling body could. First beasts exploding from his body, now beasts in bed. Was his life doomed to be one whole fucking metaphor of false awakenings?
John made it to the couch where he could try to remember that beast charm that could divert the creature in the bed just long enough for him to get out of the flat and lock the thing inside.
---
That long tail flicked, furry and full. For all the nightmaring that had occurred in the bed Cori's mood was rather pleasant. The stretch relaxed his flexible spine, felt good to the very end. Now all he needed was a kiss of the morning breath to John, but his side of the bed was empty. Pity. The white blond shrugged once, win some lose some. He reached for his glasses instead, only to learn he had... unusual fingers.
The sunglasses clattered to the floor, swiped off the nightstand by a grey-white spotty paw. What in the name of fuck. What. The. Fuck. Instead, the nightmare sounded a rumbly 'rrrooorruhhh.'
---
John watched the cat paw at the shades on the nightstand. It should have been a sign, but with a big fucking cat right there with him and he naked, could he risk taking chances? He was shit with animals; he knew how to impale one and clean it for a ritual better than how to take care of one and keep it alive. That and he preferred cats of the little and domestic variety. Constantine slowly, slowly inched to the door. It hadn't noticed him yet.
---
Large eyes searched the apartment, caught the slightest movement out the corner of a black-rimmed blue eye.
John. John what the fuck happened, the Corinthian pleaded, but it likely sounded guttural and chuffy. He scrambled off the bed, claw tips poking into the mattress as he gracefully landed on his... his paws. That long tail followed, sensing unrest. Wait, his face. Cori flattened himself against the hard floor, rear held high as his paws rubbed over his eyes. The teeth were gone. What justice was that?
---
Now it saw him. And it was approaching him. Its behavior was sort of odd, which fortunately Constantine's experiences as a wolf had given him some idea what a predatory animal looked like, but canine and feline body language differed. Cats hunted by surprise, didn't they? But weren't humans such easy prey that they didn't need to use it? Slow, stupid things humans were in the physical scheme of things in comparison to the extremes of speed and endurance offered by nature.
"Shite, Cori, where are you?" he mumbled. No sudden movements. Slow inching to that fucking door. "What kind of joke is this?"
---
What. The nightmare ceased scratching at his face, hadn't gotten those claws to come out properly nor was his muzzle exactly fragile skin. Shit he was right here! Obviously not a 6'1" paragon of sleek masculinity, but.. he was Cori. This isn't a fucking joke, John!
The spotty pelted cat garbled at the man before making a lunge! His heavy paw took an unclawed swat at the pine stamp.
---
"Shit!" John bolted for the door, feeling the paw bat at his arse. Only luck would have it that those claws had not raked at his flesh yes? Or so John would have thought. He fumbled with the lock and chain. Fucking stupid fucking fucking chain.
---
It's me, asshole! He took another smack at the pine stamp, claws not exposed, but Cori's paws were itching to let them loose. The door to their apartment opened inward, so the most practical course of action was for the nightmare to rise up on his hind legs and pin John to the door. You're not fucking leaving me! A rrrowwrr of distress.
---
John grit his teeth. The locks were undone but he could not open the door without the cat taking a bite out of his neck. He was tense, still. Caught. Did not want to do... anything at all. What could he do? John bit his lip. He was a golden tongued Conman, but what good was that against what he figured to be a leopard very interested in him?
"Nice kitty," he hissed under his breath. "Very nice kitty." Already his hair was taking on a lighter shade, white creeping along his neck and shoulders.
---
Translating the swears that came out of the Corinthian's mouth at that moment was a pointless endeavor. The feline muzzle merely chuffed, hissed, mrrr'ed, garbled, yes even meowed. John wasn't understanding him, Cori could not communicate. Regardless of that lighting shade the nightmare did what any frustrated person would do. He started knocking his brand new furry head against the Englishman.
Stupid stupid stupid senile limey bastard cunt fuckwit.
---
Okay. Someone shoved a very special leopard in John's bed. It could not paw swipe and its idea of tearing into its hapless victim was beating its head against his shoulder. Not sink its sharp, sharp teeth into his tender flesh, oh no. Beat his head against his back. The fuck was this? At least the mat of thick, off-white fur had cushioned him. Well, might as well try the other thing he had in mind then.
”The fuck is your problem,” John snarled out of his half-muzzle.
---
”IT'S ME THE MOTHERFUCKING CORINTHIAN--John??”
The nightmare ceased his head knocking, then he noticed the half-muzzle. Don't bite now.
---
Now, John could hear this. The wrinkles in his stretching face disappeared. His eyes widened. The hell was this. His surprise muted the crunching and grinding of his bones in his ears. That was the Corinthian he heard, wasn't it?
”Well fuck me, Cori. What did you do?”
---
He treated his paw like a hand, slapping it against the door as if it were a fist. “What did I do? What did you do!” Cori turned the accusation around before finally dropping away from the Englishman to... sit on his... haunches. “I have a big fucking tail.”
---
”I did nothing!" John snapped, letting himself join the nightmare on four legs, fully lupine. Funny, being almost eye level with him, although he must have been the more haggard one compared to the immortal feline with, indeed, that very long tail. Probably did more for him than the poofy thing attached to his arse would have, other than tell her that he did not feel like having his ear nipped again for not letting her feed first.
Hm. Constantine approached his companion, circling him, studying him. Would have been better to do so with human eyes, but being able to converse with the affected nightmare was good enough for now.
---
His tail twitched left and right, like a pendulum with a life of its own really. The Corinthian cat indeed appeared sleek and stylish, his coat shiny and new, but it was only the beginning of the day after all. He watched the wolfmagus make his circle with a feline expression that did Cori's impatiently cool look justice.
”Why else am I a... a.... Fuck I'm some kind of fucking cat!” He bolted without warning to the bathroom, needed the mirror, needed to see it for himself.
---
”Yeah, I thought the same too when I first saw you," John muttered, letting the nightmare check the extent of the damage on his own, although he padded after him on his own time. He hobbled, lacking the stealth and grace that defined the leopard, but he was a creature built for the chase, not for surprise, even if he had a bum hindleg.
---
The extent of the damage was 100% pure and true... snow leopard. Why the fuck a snow leopard? Why the fuck a cat at all. Cori groaned loudly in horror. The insult to injury were his eyes, a dark unnatural sapphire blue, the ones he owned as a man. By the time John had hobbled into the bathroom the nightcat was already squeezing into the space behind the bog.
---
There John found the Corinthian (Catrinthian? That was grounds for getting his throat chewed out), hiding. A part of him could not blame the species reassigned nightmare; when Constantine had initially changed himself, he had spent a good part of the day lying there on the bed brooding and coming to terms with the weight of his predicament. However, the Corinthian was an immortal shapeshifter in his own realm of power, wasn't he? How would a little alteration to his mortal husk that devastating? Had to be the eyeteeth; he'd spend longer than the Englishman in the bathroom, taking intricate care of all three sets. Made him pleasant in their most intimate moments, really.
The wolf crept closer. The nightmare's pads would be silent against the tile. Constantine's unretractable nails still had that distinct click.
"Least you still have a backbone, mate."
---
The Corinthian had shapeshifted in dreams, very true, but the Cori that John knew was completely corporeal. He preferred his substantial human form the most for personal reasons. His eyeteeth, or lack thereof today, was another matter entirely. He peered out from the other side of the bowl.
”Change me back,” the nightmare asked of the wolfmagus, even if it hadn't been the Englishman's doing.
---
"Abrakadabra flipple bibble kaflurp." John's shoulders did not allow much in the way of a shrug. "Oh, bugger, you still seem to be a cat."
---
"... It's a fucking curse, first they gave me a pussy now I AM a pussy," Cori.... whined? Well his chuffing hardly sounded like such but his human tone was that of a rare whine, or whinge.
---
Constantine should have been all too familiar with whining, figuring that his species was better accomplished at it. "Come on, chief, you still have a backbone, don't you? Aw, shite, just stay there for a moment."
He padded off on that still ever rolling-bouncing gait, rising to two legs again when that sensitive nose of his picked out the Corinthian's stash of Mild Sevens (that's what his morning had been missing). He returned with a lit one, a man of course, after having helped himself to one of his own Silk Cuts. He didn't care about being naked here, or that he hobbled like the wounded animal he was, but perhaps what had worked for him would work on the nightmare, although he kept his distance from the bog to tempt the feline out.
---
"I'm a poster boy for Fancy Feast," he countered.
Now the world could have been crueler and given the Corinthian the body of a serpent or a piranha, but no he was an agile and elusive predatory machine. That was something to be thankful for wasn't it? Well judging from the way he remained cramped behind the toilet Cori wasn't thankful. His nose picked up a trace of smoke, his cigarette smoke, before the two-legged magus strolled back in. Seeing John's johnson unclothed was rather commonplace in the apartment, hardly fazed the nightmare cat thing.
"..........." His throat clicked, making a distinctly feline sound. Somehow he managed to crawl out of the compact space, limbs unfolding towards John.
---
Coming out? "Thatta' boy," Constantine teased the cigarette: The Corinthian was coming out of there completely. "Come on, Morris. Don't tell me you're a bigger liar than me when you can't take being a cat for a day when I've been a soddin' wolf for months."
---
He gave John a look, one that might have sent the blonde reeling with nightmarish visions were his pupils and irises made of bone and not flesh. Cori snorted briefly over the pet name but otherwise ignored it. "Can you hear me now," he asked the other, testing their communication rather than their knowledge of TV commercials. His whiskers twitched for the cigarette.
---
No, John did not. The nightmare chuffed or mewed or made some more cat noises that required his other set of ears to decipher. "Not giving this to you until you get out." The scents of the Mild Seven and Silk Cut mingled.
---
"Asshole," Cori muttered before padding along after John, his feet absolutely silent on the ground despite his translated weight, "don't check me for piercings." This last bit he added, knowing the magus couldn't hear him, because that was an embarrassment waiting to happen. The big spotty nightmare went as far as slinking along John's thigh to plead for his seven.
---
John wouldn't have wanted to see how that piercing there translated anyway; didn't cats have barbed penises? Shit, there was a place his mind did not want to go.
... But the Corinthian was out. Good. "Congrats, squire. If I give this to you, will you not crawl back there again? Face the world an' that." The cigarette continued to smolder between his fingers. Constantine exhaled a lungfull of smoke at the cat.
---
He didn't want to know, and yet he did because the nightmare would raise high holy hell if he lost it. This day was shit. Fortunately his nose was not that of the keen canid so John did not receive a heavy sneeze to the face. He did however get a Corinthian sitting on his haunches, tail having wrapped over the back of the Englishman's feet. Twitch twitch. Who knew if that meant yes or no.
---
John looked the cat in those blue eyes (shit, he had eyes). "Nod if you mean yes."
---
"Yes give me my fucking smoke," he snorted again, but nodded in his head in reply. Somewhere under all that fur the hoop in his left ear dangled.
---
More visible than a small stud in thick winter fur, for sure. Wonder where the nipple ring went. Nonetheless, that earned the nightmare his prize, which Constantine held it out for the cat to position his new mouth comfortably and take.
---
One advantage to the feline form, his tongue had excellent traction. Keeping the cigarette in place between his jaws was an easy task. At least his lungs and smoking tolerance weren't brand new. Cori's nostrils flared slightly as he emitted a 'huff' from his throat. He eyed John, still displeased by the start of his morning, but glad that someone was here to help him. They couldn't speak man to cat though, what was the use of saying thanks? Instead, he leaned against the man's bare legs, warm and begrudgingly gracious.
---
John couldn't help it: "Good kitty," he grinned, running his hand along the soft fur. There was the temptation to see if he could get the Corinthian to purr. The nicotine must be helping him. Although, the magus observed as he tapped ash, Cori looked silly with that majestic beast getup with the out of place cigarette jutting out from his great maw. It made Constantine wonder how ridiculous he looked himself.
---
Pretty damn ridiculous but people paid for works of art depicting dogs smoking cigars and playing poker.
"Don't fucking call me that," Cori's nose flared again though he didn't stop rubbing against John's hand. Eventually.... the characteristic 'rrurrr' of all felines rumbled from his throat. "Damn," he chuffed briefly, shaking ash from his cigarette.
---
It made John smile, even if he did not understand him. His fingers continued to stroke him, learned from what Zee and Cori had previously done. Had to wonder if the nightmare liked having those spots scratched as well. "Reminds me of your cycle, it does."
---
The belly was questionable but his head, ears, and throat were fair game, even though Cori felt like someone's pet this way. How the tables had turned... he didn't put it past John to use this reversal to his advantage. But he couldn't stop purring! The nightmare even chuffed between his rolling rrr's, simulating Delilah's motor.
Still not leaving the apartment, he said more to himself than anyone else.
---
So much for catching the nightmare's resolve; John was too entertained by the white furry "motorcycle." See how he liked his ears scratched just right there. If it made the hardened bastard melt, what would it do for Cori?
---
His head tilted under John's hand to give him the best reach for that spot. His leg didn't thump but that cigarette came dangerous close to his thigh. The purring rumbled against John's leg, now that Cori was rubbing his throat against him, tail wrapping around his ankles in the other direction. He was hardly the image of a formidable feline predator right now, rather he was a bit like Constantine's cat called Cori.
---
Cori had a dog at times, didn't he? John, despite his pride, had no qualms with being the nightmare's pet either. Nothing wrong with a little role reversal at all, even if he happened to be shit with pets and anything that was unfortunate enough to be dubbed "Constantine's cat" typically was sacrificed in some gristly brutal way that would appall anyone that gave any sort of damn for animals. Not that John had any reason to sacrifice the impressive beast of a feline any time soon.
"Watch the fag," the Englishman muttered, although he complied and scratched just a little more where the oversized housecat had indicated. The fur from that long tail tickled a bit, but it was just as soft as the hair around his ears his fingers had been working.
---
Mrrrrr… he definitely had an impressive amount of horsepower in that form. The nightmare in human form was already an excellent combatant, now he had weapons attached to his hands and feet, and a different hm, a different take on his deadly teeth. He circled around Constantine, careful to not burn him with the embers of his cigarette as Cori slinked his way out of the bathroom. Breakfast, make breakfast, try to do something mundane, normal.
I hope this isn’t the first step to starvation, he chuffed, an inaudible commentary on John’s cooking skills.
---
Fortunately for the Corinthian, John had not slipped back into his more understanding shape, letting the nightmare make his chuffing noises while he followed him... to the kitchen. The cigarette was stubbed out in a nearby ashtray, a look of amusement crossing the Englishman's face as he watched.
---
Oh he knew John was watching, watching like Cori had back when the man was still trying to understand bricks and use the bed as a hiding place (incidentally that beat the back of the bog). He kept that cigarette secure between his teeth, dropping ash along the way. Yes he stood in front of the fridge, stared at the door and its long handle made for upright mammals with thumbs. Rrrrurr, he could feel the laughter to come.
Cori attempted to rear up and open the cooling unit to get breakfast started. Scratch scratch, his massive paws left light marks down the door.
---
A chuckle. John might have played it kindly and tended to the nightmare's condition, but what was there to be tended to when he had the fortunate of being trapped in the body of one of the largest, most powerful predators in the world (or his natural world at least)? It was only for a day, he felt; no other reason to explain any kind of permanancy after this one.
The magus gave his companion a sly, devious look, leaning against the fridge. Oh, the joy of thumbs. "You're going nowhere, mate. Want breaky, don't you?"
---
He looked at John with unamused blue eyes, cigarette dangling still. He expertly exhaled a stream of smoke through his feline nose, smoking skills having also translated... whether it was healthy for his sinuses or not. Cori lowered himself back to all fours and sat, ears flattened. He nodded once, almost sulkingly so.
---
Constantine's fingers played teasingly for the handle. "Well, then. Sunny-side up or scrambled? Lots of bacon? What would you like on your toast?"
---
..... If cats could wooohm, which they couldn't. The Corinthian opened his mouth, letting the nearly finished cigarette butt fall to the floor. Within seconds that feline form pounced onto the kitchen counter, barely fitting on its edge, but his goal was the top of the refrigerator. He leapt onto the bare space and curled up, face to the wall and rear facing Constantine. His long tail dangled over the edge.
---
"Aww, come on, mate! Thought you had a sense of humor! Shit, I know you did when you thought pasting soddin' antlers to me head was a right laugh!"
---
The big spotty beast visibly sighed in a heavy CHUFF.
---
Now here was a familiar scenario. John shook his head before taking that tail that oh-so dangled there at his fingertips and giving it a gentle tug, as if ringing a bell. "Ding ding. I was going to suggest we spend some quality time and get some fresh breaky. How about that? Put that body of yours to good use."
---
That tail did look like a bell rope, thick enough to get his attention or serve as a muffler. Cori raised his head and looked over his shoulder to the ringer, hrm... Fresh breaky, like raw meat and bone into which he could tear with his claws while imagining the poor chosen victim to be a city deity? He could like that perhaps. Spending time with the magician of course was always a highlight.
The nightmare pulled his tail away as he turned around to face John, paws held together. He looked the man in the eye. Really, he asked, but it was just a hrrrffuh.
---
John offered the feline one of those trademark confident Constantine gazes, letting the soft tail slide away from his fingers: "That's better. I wouldn't lie... as much to you, squire. Hell, why should I lie to you now? We're both savage beasts for once and it'd be a bloody shame to let that go to waste lying around this flat, eh? Or at least I'd think so. I wouldn't think you'd be the one to turn down the thrill of the hunt, would you?"
The thought of tearing into the winter roughened hide of a deer caught in the snow made the wolf within the Englishman shudder in anticipation despite his permanent injury. Hell, the snow made hunting easier for him. Still, his gaze had not shifted, neither away from leopard nor the Constantinian one to the more primal. They needed fingers to open up the door after all, and Constantine knew just where to go to not be noticed, should the nightmare have issues with being seen as he was.
---
Damn right you wouldn't, Cori sounded another guttural meow, lying around naked at that.
As for the thrill of the hunt... the thought tickled him, John was right to say he wouldn't turn down the opportunity. He was a stealthy predator in skin or fur. Even the tip of his long tail began to twitch thoughtfully. The nightmare feline turned his head briefly before his haunches rose up in preparation for a leap. The Englishman was only sort of in the way. Cori managed to land on the floor gracefully, without snagging a claw on the other.
---
That feat of grace and power had to have meant a yes. Good. John coolly stepped past the feline to the door, not caring that it was freezing and he was nude. That problem would soon be taken care of anyway. Besides, it would be nice to converse with the nightmare again, even if he could carry a one-sided conversation with himself just fine, practiced in the dubious art as it was.
"Tally ho," John huffed to himself under his breath, that coming out in a large white puff in the sharp cold, cracking the door to allow the Corinthian out first.